Page 41 of Breakneck Hockey

God, I’m pathetic. I sound like I’m pining after my first high-school crush. But I need to save my pride somehow, and having a leg up on him feels like the move. Because if he’s into me for real,I can twist that to my advantage. I’ll fuck with him even more on the ice.

I could ask him.

Yeah, no. Worst idea ever. Then he’ll have the leg up on me, and that’s never happening. Sutter can have a leg up on me when I’m cold in the ground.

Or in his bed, I guess.

“Change shirts with me in the kitchen.”

Not rolling his eyes at me is a feat only he could pull off but, because he’s a fucking awesome brother, he follows me into the kitchen.

“Parent Trapping someone?” Dirk says from behind the hot-side pass bar. He’s acting kitchen manager while Travis is away.

“Yeah, fucking Sutter,” I tell him.

“Ah, your boyfriend.”

“Not my boyfriend, asswipe.” I pull my shirt over my head as Stacey does the same. We’re both wearing black slacks per uniform requirements, but he’s wearing the black button-up shirt bartenders wear, and I’ve got the Wicklow’s server’s t-shirt.

“You kind of wish he was, though,” Stacey says.

“How dare you?” I put a hand on my bare chest. “My own flesh and blood.”

Once we’re changed up, Stacey fixes my collar. He can’t help himself. He’s only five minutes older, but he’s forever the older brother. “Mom would be so proud.” He smirks, slapping my face.

“Fuck off.”

It’s not hard to put my Stacey on. The people who know us well can tell us apart easily. But an idiot like Sutter will never tell the difference. I take my place behind the bar and Stacey heads off to their table with the tray of drinks.

I’ve spent many a night behind this bar myself—we switch between bar and server shifts—so I get to work, taking a look atthe screen for my next round of orders. All the while, I keep my eyes and ears open without being obvious.

My brother plays me up. He can do a good me. Maybe too good.

He gives off my “go fuck yourself” vibe nicely, and Sutter falls for it. He’sflirtingwith my damn brother. My hands clench tightly around the high-ball glass in my grip. I know it’s technically me he’s flirting with, but it’s not me, and I don’t fucking like it.

Can I still rip his balls off?

Stace saunters toward the bar with a smirk on his face, enjoying my glare as he punches their food order into the computer because, shit, forgot to give him my iPad. With his back turned from Sutter, he laughs. The new drink order pops up on my bar screen.

Four shots tequila, pitcher of Canadian, another dainty drink for Sutter. This time I’ll be making it for him … should I get him wasted? Not that they need my help, doin’ shooters at one in the afternoon. Jesus, Sutter. They must be planning to do some partyin’. After last season with Coach Meyer, I’m still afraid to look at a party.

I slip an extra shot of vodka into his double vodka, breaking BC liquor laws.

Leaning against the bar, crossing my arms over my chest, I watch, extreme itch building under my skin. I guess I should be happy he’s leering at “me” so much. It does things to me, even from all the way over here. And fuck does that grind my gears. Why does Sutter have to be the lay of my life? Also, why am I obsessing over something my dick chose? There’s no other reason to like Sutter other than his massive dick and skill for using it.

Like, literally no other reason.

Fuck, I can’t watch this anymore. I need some damn nicotine. I’m not proud of my vaping habit. I usually kick it by the time the season starts, with only a few cheats here and there, but working in the restaurant industry requires it and copious amounts of alcohol.

I head out to the back, behind the restaurant, and inhale a puff into my lungs. The air fills with cotton candy scent, and I rest against the building.Ahhhh.Sweet relief. I take another two hits from my vape pen, enjoying the head rush, and pocket it. That’s all I need. I should start weaning myself off again, anyway.

“Alderchuck.” My insides cringe. Did the bastard follow me out here?

“What do you want … Mitch?” I ask, his name weird on my tongue. But I’m pretty sure Stacey doesn’t call him by his last name off ice like I do. Or maybe he does. I don’t actually know. I should have paid more attention before I began this farce.

“Saw you across the bar. I thought to myself, why have one Alderchuck when I can have two?”

What the fuck? He’s hitting on my brother? No, no. He’s got to be fucking with me. Does he know it’s me? He can’t. Outsiders don’t know. They never know. But just in case, I’m fucking with him back.

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