Page 45 of Breakneck Hockey

He knew it was me. He knew I wasn’t Stacey.

I’m stuck on that. It’s doing weird shit to me. Before we collected our found family, only Mom could tell us apart. Does it mean something that he can? A surge of wild energy has abducted my common sense because I want to ask Sutter to be … to be what?

He knew it was me. He knew it was me. He knew it was me.

Fuck, am I seeing something there isn’t because I want a little security? It tracks. That’s something I would do. But it’s also a big deal that heknowsit’s me. Like a cheat code. It says he’s paid attention to the little things, beyond what’s on the outside. It’s true that he’s spent a fair amount of time destroying my insides, but you can’t detect someone with your dick alone—I know that much.

Plot twist, Sutter’s taken the time to get to know me and my head’s spinning.

There’s also something else choking me up, letting my brain wander into this dangerous sort of “what if” territory.

We—Stacey and I—tried so fucking hard to trick Mom when we were kids. Our height difference didn’t happen till after puberty, and it’s impossible to detect unless we’re standing back-to-back or side by side. We tried to mimic the other, and we rehearsed. We’d send one twin in first, leave, and switch out. Nothing we did fooled her.

I asked Mom what it was. How were we giving ourselves away?

“You’re not giving yourself away,” Mom said. “You two do an excellent each other, but I’ll always be able to feel what youfeellike. You have a unique spark that I’d know in the darkness.”

She was our mom, though. She was next level with that kinda shit. I’ve never asked our friends, but pretty sure they learned to pick out the differences in our mannerisms.

Sutter hasn’t seen me with Stacey enough to figure that shit out.

Does he feel me like Mom did?I miss the special way Mom knew my face.

“How about we, y’know, make it official?” Those words are hard evidence I’ve taken too many hits to the head. Why the fuck did I say that? It’s so not the move for us. But I’m a fucking sapwho believes in breadcrumbs and himknowingit was me felt like one.

His face screws up and not in the way you want it to when you ask something like that. My stomach does the bad kind of somersault. I want to throw up. What a fucking, impulsive, Casey Alderchuck thing to do. My emotions got the best of me.

“Are you asking me to be your boyfriend?”

“I dunno. Something like that. Yes? No. I dunno.” I wish I could take it back, but it’s out there now. I just gave Sutter the power to crush me.

“I’m not boyfriend material,” he says. At least we agree on that. “No way. We’ve got a good thing going. Let’s not ruin it, kitten.”

He advances as if I’m letting him touch me now. “I don’t think so, Sutter. We’re done.”

“What the fuck? So it’s an ultimatum? I sign with you exclusively or else?”

“Yeah,” I say. I might as well own it now. I couldn’t even handle him flirting with Stacey as fake me, I think I might kill the next person who touches him when I feel like I’ve got a claim to him. Thinking like that’s got to stop and the only way to do that is to finally spit out the over-chewed gum that is our fuckuationship.

He cages me against the wall. “I don’t do ultimatums.”

I wouldn’t if I were him either, but fuck him. I harden my stance.

“Why are you bein’ a little bitch?”

“You’re the bitch, Sutter. What’s wrong with you? Afraid you can’t handle me?”

He digs his fingers into my tender ass cheeks. “I’ve handled you just fine. Look, I’ll even give you that this one’s on me. How about we forget this, and I’ll see you later. After your shift?”

“Is that your version of the it’s not you it’s me speech?”

“Well, it’s true.”

I know what that speech means. I’ve given that speech. I’m good enough to fuck, but not good enough to date. The realization of what we really are pelts against me as sharp as Vancouver rain in the winter. For one fucking second, I thought I was something to him. I imagined a connection as special as I had with Mom.

That bout of idiocy is on me. Sutter’s been clear. He’s never promised me more than his dick. Hell, it’s that way in the first place because I was clear, too. I wanted to stay fuck buddies.

Does that mean I’m not murderously pissed at Sutter? No. He shouldn’t do things like know me. He shouldn’t give the impression that I mean more so that I make a fucking fool out of myself.

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