Page 87 of Breakneck Hockey

I stroke Casey’s dick, imprinting the image of him wearing my jersey to my memory bank. Know what? Why rely on memory? I reach past him to my nightstand, snatching my phone. I get one of him half biting his lip, half smiling. I get one of him actually being shy for maybe the first time in his life.

That one may end up bein’ my favorite.

Then I chuck my phone and swallow his cock.

He's calm and settled for once.

Me too. For once I’m calm and settled, too.

I finally undressed him, wanting his hot skin against mine, wanting to feel his bare chest rise and fall against my ribcage.Breathe in sync with him. He draws circles over the tattoo on my left shoulder. It’s of a skull with a backdrop of irises.

“Do you want to know what it means?”

His eyes catch mine. “You’ll tell me?”

“I asked you, didn’t I?” I’m on edge about telling him, even though I was the one to offer. “It has to do with all the locks on my doors.”

“I’m dying to fucking know that, but you don’t seem like you want to tell me. And before you say it, dickface, yeah, I know it was your idea. Did you lose a bet or somethin’?”

This is going badly. I’m not going to think about it. I’m just gonna jump. I close my eyes.

“The iris is a symbol of protection.”

Casey sits up. “I think I’m with you.”

I frown. “How could you be?” I’ve barely said anything. This isn’t the first time he’s gotten something I haven’t said. It’s starting to creep me out.

He counts off on his fingers. “You ambushed me from a bush—is that irony? Not sure—and it wasn’t even the first time. You want me to carry a knife, even though I usually roam some of the safest neighborhoods on the planet. Not to mention, while I might not be as big as you, I’m still an almost six-foot hockey player. You’ve got more locks on your doors than a prison … shall I go on?” I shake my head. “You consider yourself a protector,” he summarizes.

“More or less.”

“I guess it’s kind of endearing in a Sutter-ish kind of way.” He thinks about it. “Nope, I need the context, otherwise it’s just fucking weird, man. Of course, you don’t have to tell me, but I reserve the right to my opinion until further notice.”

It’s clear in the air that I’m on the precipice of something serious, which is why he’s making jokes. That’s exactly what I needed.

“Before Mom married Francisco, we lived in a different neighborhood. We were broken into one night. After that, I knew I had to protect my mom.”

“I think your perspective as a child was a bit skewed. I’ve never met her, but she birthed you. That alone should scare away any monster I can think of.”

My lips crack a smile. “She’s pretty damn resilient on her own, but I was nine, and I got it in my head that it was my job to protect her. She seemed to, I dunno, encourage it…? She knew I needed something new to hang onto, so she deemed me her protector.”

Casey rolls toward me. “And then it became your entire personality. Good job, Sutter’s mom.” He gives her a round of applause.

I snag him by the roots of his hair and kiss him.

“That’s not what I expected for snark like that,” he says.

Me neither. Even I can’t predict what I’ll do when I’m with him, and I like that. He doesn’t do the same shit everyone else would do. A little knot in my gut unfurls.

“I’ve got cool tattoos with meaning too. I’m sure you’ve seen the one on my back?”

“The one that says poutine in the middle of a heart?”

“Yeah. Some people get the actual poutine image, but that would have been stupid.”

I raise a brow. “That’s what would have been stupid?” He’s ridiculous. The most ridiculous person I’ve ever met. I yank him back to my chest and nuzzle my face into his neck. “I get it, we all get it, Alderchuck. You love poutine.”

“Mom and I loved poutine,” he corrects.

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