Page 76 of Breakneck Hockey

The sun moves behind a cloud. Dad’s … where’s Dad?

Rusty red.

Squelch.

A muffled whimper.

I shake my head, shedding the pull to go there. Not there. I won’t go there. The sun’s bright again. “Dad.Dad!”

His deathless stare meets my gaze from across the ice.

There you are, Dad.Thank fuck. I thought he was gone. Taken from me.

The wind picks up his locks, waving them over his shoulder. “This way, buddy. Don’t fall behind.”

Dad’s still there. I won’t fall behind. Won’t let Dad out of my sight. He needs me for something.

I skate as fast as my little legs will carry me. It’s an endless sheet of ice, heading toward the edge of the earth. I’m going so fast I don’t know if I can stop.

“Dad! Dad, where are you?”

There are shadows ahead, but they’re not Dad’s protective shadow. Something more sinister. My skate catches, I trip and slide. It’s cold. I spin like a starfish over the ice, clawing, searching for something to hang onto. When I land, I’m there.

There.

Under the bed.

A hand over my mouth—my hand.

Don’t breathe. Don’t make a sound. Don’t breathe. Don’t make a sound. Does my heart count? What if they hear? Dad? Dad? Dad!

There’s a thud, and then quiet. Bone quiet. Dead quiet. Freeze in the darkness quiet.

Rusty red.

Blood.

Squelch!

I reach my hand. Dad’s wiry beard. Dad’s wool sweater. Caramel hair. Sweat on my face. Shaking limbs. My heart beating, beating?—

It’s like waking up in the middle of drowning. Afraid to pull breath. Afraid not to pull breath. Then my body jockeying for oxygen so bad it burns my lungs. My mouth opens maybe to scream—I’m not sure—but it’s a dead scream. No sound.

A hand hooks over my shoulder.

Y’know the whole fight, flight, or freeze thing? Yeah, I’m fight. Always fight. The wrist attached to that hand is in my grip so fast, body under me, my fist raised.

“Whoa, Sutter. Fuck, it’s me.”

Too late. My fist lands just as he’s rolling. I hit pillow. The voice finally registers. “Alderchuck?”

It rushes back. His mouth on my dick. Saliva, wet, cumming down his throat. He sucks cock so good. He’s ruining me for other mouths.

My bewildered face scans the room. Are we in Boston or Vancouver? Can’t remember. I just know it’s gotta be one or the other if he’s here. That’s something I can build on. I look into Casey’s brown eyes, and I don’t like what I see there.

Fear and pity.

Fuck that.

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