Page 71 of Shift Change

He scoffed and scrubbed the back of his neck. “I think you were goddamn lucky this time, but if you pull this kind of stunt again, you’ll be on the first train to the North Pole. Is that clear?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Show more respect for your teammates. And for the love of God, respect yourself enough to show you’re not a firecracker.”

I felt a little like I might pass out, but at least it didn’t sound like he was sending me back down. “I will, Coach. Thanks for understanding. It won’t happen again.”

“I hope not.” He paused, and when he went on, his voice was softer. “You’re one of the most talented young players I’ve seen in years. If you focus on playing hockey, you should be able to retire as a Warrior. I can even imagine you in the Hall of Fame someday if you keep your nose clean and have some good luck. Don’t blow this, son. Channel your anger and frustration into playing well. My first coach always said the best revenge is beating their asses, and by some crazy fluke, we did that tonight despite you.”

“Yes, Coach.” My mind was reeling. If Criswell thought I had a chance at things like that, I’d have to focus harder. He’d gone quiet, so I asked, “Is that all?”

Hart spoke for the first time. “The head coach can’t tell you everything that needs to be said, but I can. As unacceptable as what you did was—good for you. The Cohos think their shit doesn’t stink, and that bastard Messer is delusional enough to think he’s the toughest SOB in the league. The truth is, he’s not that good of a player. He’s not in good shape, he’s not greatness material, and he’s so fucking far from being a gentleman it makes me laugh to even think about it. He’s nothing but a schoolyard bully all grown up.”

Criswell cleared his throat. “Agreed.”

Hart twitched his lips into—I don’t know—at least not a frown. “You’d better listen to what Coach Criswell said, but since you jumped into it tonight, let me say it was a good job, well done. You beat the shit out of Messer without actually hurting him too badly, and you left him lying on the ice humiliated. Part of being a dominant player is following through, but so is showing restraint.”

“I understand, Coach. It won’t happen again, but thank you.”

“That’s all,” Criswell said. “Go home and take care of your hand.”

I got up and headed for the door, but before I could open it, Criswell called my name. “If anybody asks, this meeting was pure hell from beginning to end, and you’ll be lucky if I don’t send you to play for the Rotten-Ass Bombers tomorrow. Understood?”

I couldn’t hold back a grin. “Absolutely. It’ll keep me up all night worrying about it.”

23

holky

Shit—two eggsin a row with broken yolks. Since Chuck loved breakfast, I was making fried eggs, bacon, sausage, and a fruit plate. It was the least I could do after keeping him up till 4:30 a.m. I rubbed my jaw as I took more eggs from the refrigerator. I couldn’t remember if I’d sucked him off three or four times. The last time he came, he groaned like a wounded man and immediately passed out.

When the eggs and meat were ready, I took the fruit out of the fridge and realized I’d screwed up. I wanted to take him breakfast in bed, but I didn’t know where my trays were. While I wondered if I should put everything on a small table and carry it to the bedroom, I remembered—large cabinet on the left of the sink. I was bent over, reaching for the trays, when a hand squeezed my ass. Grinning like a goofball, I stood, but before I could turn around, he hugged me from behind and kissed my neck. A thrill rippled up my spine, and I couldn’t resist the devil in me. “Logan, is that you, baby?”

He loosened his grip enough for me to turn around, and I found him wearing a big smirk. “Fuck off, Holky. He doesn’t suck dick nearly as well as I do.”

“And you’d know that how?”

Rolling a shoulder in a halfhearted shrug, he said, “Hooked up after practice the other day while you got a massage.”

That hit like an unexpected punch to the gut, brutal enough to knock the breath out of me. I grabbed the counter to stay upright, and I stared down at the granite, trying to make sense of what he’d said.

Had they really? Would Chuck actually…?

We hadn’t talked about being exclusive, but he had to know how I felt. Neither of us had said it, but… Fuck. He’d thrown it out there like it was a joke, as if it wouldn’t gut me.

I raised my head but couldn’t look him in the eye. “Are you serious?”

His jaw dropped. He grabbed my arms, and when I tried to pull away, he wouldn’t let me. “Nate? Look at me. I was kidding, sweetheart. I didn’t think you’d take me seriously. I’ve never been with another man, and I don’t want to be. You’re the only person I want. I’m not interested in anyone else. You’re my…”

I looked at him. His eyes were almost comically wide, and the veins in his neck were throbbing. When my heart rattled like a snare drum, I forced myself to ask, “I’m your what?”

He glanced around. “You made breakfast?”

“Yes, but… You and Logan didn’t really…”

“No.” He squeezed my arms. “Never. Only you, Nate. I’m sorry I said that. Please forgive me.”

I nodded, still needing to know what he’d almost said. “Your what? I’m your what?”

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