Page 72 of These Wicked Games
Sitting down on the bench, I focus on getting ready. I feel like everyone’s staring at me even though I know they aren’t. Logically, I know that no one else knows what’s going on between Oli and me. Well, except Grey now. Maybe Atlas. I wonder what excuse Oli told him.
Ugly and potent, my thoughts eat at me when I think aboutwhat he may have said.
He’s nothing.
It was one time.
It’s just sex.
All of the thoughts that months ago were true for me. What we were doing was just sex. But shit has changed and I don’t know . . . at one point everything became so real for me. Maybe it was on the anniversary of his mother’s death. Maybe it was before that, when he bought me a coloring book. Maybe it was that first night Oli rammed himself down my throat. I sure as fuck have been slowly losing my mind since then. No matter when it changed, though, I can’t make my mind or my heart go back to before.
And I don’t want it to. I finally have my friend back and I don’t want to let go now. Not when I have him the way I’ve always dreamed I could.
I feel eyes on me and lift my own, expecting to see Oli, but I see Grey instead. He’s trying to watch me subtly, without really looking at me. I look away, I can’t help it, but confusion slaps me when he grabs his gear and squeezes my shoulder as he passes me before walking away.
That one gesture calms all my nerves.
Though they ratchet up a second later when Oli comes into the room. It’s like I feel him before I see him. I look up, watching him walk in fully dressed in his jersey and gear. His gaze finds me and something unreadable fills his blue eyes. I look away as he comes toward me.
He kicked me out like I was trash. Like I meant nothing.
Coach saves me a moment later as he comes into the locker room with a wide smile. “Alright, listen up. We have a special guess here tonight, gentlemen.”
“Gentlemen.” Ryker snorts next to me. I laugh at him, before my laughter dies and burns a moment later as I watch my father walk into the locker room.
Fuck no.
Ice squeezes my lungs. I think I’m going to black out. I knew he wasn’t gone. I’m just surprised it’s taken this long for him to show himself again. This was supposed to be my escape, but I knew logically he would find me. What has he been doing since that practice? He’s in my fucking city, not his! My new city. He can’t find out where I live, he can’t taint this part of my life. I won’t let him.
Even as I say this in my mind, I know he will. Tripp’s hold on me is something no one else would understand unless they’ve been in this situation. Why not tell him to leave? Why not tell him off? It’s all so simple, right? But abuse is one of the most complicated things someone can experience. It’s not just physical, it’s not just feeling pain. It’s a mindfuck rotting your brain. It manipulates you to do things you otherwise wouldn’t. Abuse is just as psychological as it is physical, and my father is the great circus master of manipulation.
He did it to my mother for years, and then me.
He can’t find out where I live.
I feel something to my left and I look over, seeing Oli’s eyes on me. They’re hard. Angry almost. He looks like he’s studying me or seeing me for the first time.“Fuck you,”I mouth, then look back to Coach and my father.
“Tripp is going to do the puck drop for the game tonight. We’ll have a photo opp with both captains,” Coach is saying.
I look at Oli again and see pride flash over his gorgeous stupid face. I hate it. I want to scream the truth at him. I want to shout. I want everyone in this locker room to know what’s going on. This man is a monster, and you all need to get him out of here.
Instead, I sit here in silence, unable to look at my father. “Andre?” Coach’s voice snags my attention. “Would that be alright?”
So lost in my own thoughts I didn’t hear him. “What’s that?”
“He’s asking if we can take some photos together tonight.” Tripp smiles at me, and it’s so fucking fake I want to wipe it off his smarmy face.
Just play the part. Come on. You’ve done it all your life, what’s another game. “Oh uh, yeah, sure.”
“Tripp will be inducted into the hall of fame in November.” Coach continues to talk, but it’s like I’ve plunged into water after falling off a cliff. I can’t make sense of anything; I don’t know where the surface is. I knew he’d do this. To think I could just move and that would be that. I was kidding myself. It’s just so fucking unfair.
You could tell them all.
Who the fuck would even believe me? I feel heat on me and lift my eyes, instantly wishing I hadn’t. Tripp is glaring at me, his brown eyes holding me hostage. I’m sure at one point in his life he was quite the charming fuck. Now in his fifties, age and his life as an athlete have taken their toll on him.
Still, he’s no less terrifying.
He will always be my boogeyman.
