Page 13 of Ricochet

Callum and I could play really fucking well together if he was at all interested in winning games.

Apparently, he’s not.

Then later, I got into a puck battle with Brooks and shoved him into the boards a bit harder than I meant to. He ended up in a heap on the ice. I had to take my frustrations out on someone, and for reasons that were made clear in the locker room, I didn’t want that someone to be Callum.

However, after I made the goal, Callum scowled at me, like he wanted to avenge the guy he wished washiscenter.

So much for either one of us keeping our shit off the ice.

Of course, I didn’t get any heat for it. Coach Hill told the assistant coach he needs to work with the second line more and barked at the team’s goalie coach that “Fitz needs to get his head out of his ass.” Then I got a slap on the back for a job well done.

I play just as well when I get that quiet moment to myself beforehand as I do when I don’t. The difference is that, in the case of the latter, there’s typically more blood and the risk of broken bones.

After practice, I’m the first one in the locker room, stripping out of my sweater and pads so I can change into my regular clothes. I don’t remember the last time I skipped a shower directly after practice or a game, but I have to get out of here.The noise in my head is too loud, demanding more than what I’ve already given.

If I don’t leave now, that beast will take more for itself.

I don’t look at Callum, but I can feel his eyes on my back as I exit the locker room.

Shoving open the back door to the building, I march outside and toward the lot where my black Dodge Charger is parked. I yank open the driver’s side door and throw myself into the seat. The engine roars to life, and I peel out of campus and toward my apartment.

I don’t live far, less than a ten minute drive. I also live alone. So as soon as I climb the stairs up to the second floor and get inside, I once more strip out of my clothes, tossing them onto the floor on my way to the bathroom.

The water heats up quickly, and I step into the shower beneath the steaming spray. I bow my head, letting it beat against my shoulders. Closing my eyes, I let out a satisfied moan.

I don’t know what it is about Callum that has me so worked up. His animosity is seeping into me when that’s the last thing I should be allowing. I want to fight back, counter everything he throws at me, but at the same time, I don’t want to hurt him worse than he’s already been hurt.

I’ve always had strong protective instincts, and they’ve only grown over the years.

To dangerous levels.

It’s why I’m careful not to make what I do personal. I didn’t know Callum all that well, so it was easy enough not to make it personal when I murdered his stepfather. Okay, maybe noteasy. But it’s what I had to do.

However, things are different now.

Itispersonal.

I’ve saved him once before, and I’ll be damned if I let anyone else hurt him again.

I want to protect him.

But this other side of me?

It wants to fucking ruin him.

It wants to be the only one allowed to ever touch him.

Callum Hayes is the first person to make me think the two halves of me might be able to overlap.

When I open my eyes again, I see that my cock is half hard. No idea what the fuck that’s about.

Okay, I do. But I refuse to acknowledge it.

I’m tempted to finish what it’s started, but it’s not the release I really need right now.

After I finish with my shower, I dry off and change into clean clothes. Picking up my cell, I go into the living room and crash onto the couch.

It’s so quiet.

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