Page 83 of These Wicked Games
“Alright boys, I’m going to head home and shower. I’ll meet you both at the arena at two. Both of you get ready and head down as soon as you can.”
“Yes.”
“Yeah.” Andre nods. I need to be alone with him. He’s been suspiciously quiet, and I need to get inside his mind and find out where he’s at. I walk Jess out and have to shove Grey and Atlas out my door with her. After shutting and locking it I come back into the kitchen. Andre’s head is in his hands.
I crouch next to him, grabbing his hands away from his face. “I’m so fucking stupid.”
“No you’re not—”
“Oli, I kissed you outside on your fucking doorstep!”
“Hey.” I cup his face. “You were upset, okay?” And I love that he came running to me. “I don’t blame you, okay? I don’t.”
Andre’s phone buzzes on the counter, and I glance over, my anger shifting when I see it’s his father. “He’s going to kill me.”
“Look at me.” I hold his gaze to mine. I lean in gently, kissing his lips, and it’s almost like everything’s okay. Honestly, it will be. I have to believe it, if not for me then for him. “He’s not going to touch you, do you hear me? I won’t let him near you.” Andre pulls back, searching my eyes. My words aren’t empty. I mean every single one of them. If Tripp even breathes wrong on this man, I will snap his fucking neck. “I’m not going anywhere. I’m not running from this. You aren’t doing this alone. Okay? We’re okay. Say it.”
Andre finally nods, swallowing. “We’re going to be okay.”
twenty-four
Andre
It’s been eighty four years . . .
Okay, more like a couple of minutes, but still, the silence feels endless. I don’t know how to feel. Thankfully the GM isn’t here right now because dealing with Coach is enough and he hasn’t said a word to either of us since we sat down. We snuck in through a back way to avoid the press and the bulk of employees working here right now. I don’t even know where Melanie is, and I just pray she doesn’t rip either of our balls off. Coach is bad enough. He’s just sitting in his chair, glaring at both of us with his fingers steepled against his thick mustache—a real thick porn stache from like the seventies. It’s impressive. Must be where all the hair on his head has gone because there certainly isn’t any on top. My mouth moves tomake that joke, but snaps shut when Oli shoots me a glare. What? He doesn’t know what I was going to say!
I’m shitting my pants right now, but not for the reasons one would think. Coach being mad at me is not new, nor will it be the last time. I think he has a board somewhere, where he gives stars to the players who piss him off the most that day. I know I’ve got plenty of them.
No, it’s not that.
I can handle his anger if he’s mad that we hid this.
What I can’t handle is him being mad that I’m gay. While I know Oli is still figuring himself out, I’ve always known who I am. I’ve never felt shame about it. Yes, I hid it, but solely because of my father and the horror that would bring on me. I didn’t want to deal with it.
If this league doesn’t want me because I’m queer, then fuck it. Fuck them, honestly. Who I’m attracted to has no bearing on how I play this game. Looking at Coach now I realize that I admire this man more than I thought, and if he turns out to be another homophobic prick it may break me.
Still, while I sit here toeing the edge of a breakdown, none of this was the first thought I had when I saw those pictures this morning. No. My first thought wasn’t that people were going to find out. My first thought was,I’m going to lose Oli.That is the one thing I don’t think I’ll be able to handle.
Somehow this giant asshole has stitched his heart to mine, and I’m so afraid he’s going to tear the threads.
Fuck, okay, I can’t take the silence anymore. It’s making me itch. “To be fair, Coach, you said we needed to get along. Whatever wehad to do.” His brown eyes freeze me to this chair. “I mean, we may have overdone it but—”
“Do you ever know when to shut up?” Coach barks.
“No, he doesn’t.” Oli glances at me, and I feel my gut settle slightly with the tiny smile he gives me. I don’t know when this shift happened, but I need him almost as much as I need to breathe. I’ve lost him once, and I don’t think I’ll handle losing him again very well.
“Charlie—” Coach holds his hands up, silencing Jessica who seems to have come straight here after she stopped at home.
“I don’t even know where to begin.”
Thankfully Oli speaks first, because I’m fresh out of smartassness and courage. “I don’t know why this matters. It’s no one’s business what happens while we’re off the ice.” His voice is steady, but I still remember the frantic set of those beautiful eyes this morning when he found out about the tabloid.
“We’re working to get the photos down. Melanie is working on it now,” Jessica says softly. “While you’re right, Oli, this still is an odd situation. It’s never happened before. At least not publicly.” Jessica’s small hand lands on my shoulder, giving me a squeeze.
Oli nods, not looking at her. Instead that blue gaze is focused on Coach. “Are we fired or not?” I choke, then cough at his bluntness.
Coach rolls his eyes, shaking his head. “Sometimes I lie awake at night and wonder why the fuck I deal with either of you. Then I remember you shitheads are amazing players and all the stress and gray hair you cause me is worth it.”
