Page 100 of These Wicked Games
Why would he be there? I don’t have much longer to wonder, as Oli comes in flanked by the rest of our guys. I look down to the gift box he’s holding. Everyone circles us. “What’s going on?”
I look at the gift box before he hands it to me. I look around at my teammates. What the hell is going on? Then Coach and Jessica walk in, flanked by Melanie. “What’s this?”
“Open it.”
Swallowing, I tear the paper off, seeing a box inside. I set it on the bench and open it. My eyes go wide. Holy shit.
I pull the helmet out of the box. An otter swirls around the top of the helmet, with colored pencils in it’s paw. My number is on one side, and on the other, where my father’s used to be . . .sixty-two. “Oli.” I look at his number. I’d been planning on getting a new helmet for the new season. “This is amazing.”
“Our new goalie needs a new helmet. A fresh start.” I swallow. When I got my helmets designed on my old team, my father always insisted on putting his number on it. After a while it was just expected that I’d always have his numbers on my helmet. More control. Not anymore. I’m free of him.
“Thank you.” I have no words; I’m speechless. Oli cups my wrist, pulling me to stand. Finally he hugs me, and I feel bumped aseveryone around us joins in. News of my father’s abuse went wild the Monday after his arrest, so I’ve been glad for the busy schedule we have. I don’t have time to answer thousands of questions about what happened. I’m going to let the law speak for itself. The only thing I know is that these are my people. My family. Even Grey. We’re all family.
Everyone lets us go, then it’s just Oli and me, hugging here in the locker room. “This is incredible. Thank you.”
“All the guys pitched in. It took a little longer than I thought, but I think it’s worth it.”
“It’s amazing. Are you excited about tonight?”
Oli nods. “Thank you for coming with me earlier. I appreciate you being there.”
“He’ll come around. He’s in pain. Inside and outside.”
Oli nods, then looks me up and down. “You look so cute in your jersey.” A hot blush spreads on my cheeks. “We did good, Andre.” I grin wider now, standing to put on the rest of my gear, and Oli watches me, taking my hair and putting it up for me before he grabs my helmet. “I love you, Dre.” He slips it over my head and I tug it down, looking at Oli through my grate.
I can’t wait until later. Oli and I have a two-week vacation coming, and I’m going to drink in every second with him.
“If I trip, I’m going to punch you.”
Yeah, okay, sure. This man would never raise a violent hand to me unless I was begging for it, but I’ll make him feel like the big bad man he thinks he is. “Don’t be a baby, you’re not going to trip.” My hands remain over his eyes as I walk him through our living room. It feels weird to think about, since we’ve only been living together a month.
Grey said we’re moving too fast, but Grey’s been cynical of everything lately. I thought he’d be a little better after surgery, but it’s like he got a personality change along with a repaired ACL.
Hockey this year is off limits for him, the tear way worse than the doctors anticipated. Oli’s trying to act like everything will be okay, for both Grey and Atlas, but I know the truth.
It’s unlikely that Grey will ever play again.
I feel his hand reach behind and cup my dick. “Don’t distract me!”
He chuckles, letting me lead him through to the empty wall . . . or the previously empty wall. We didn’t get to celebrate Christmas, not really, and I know how much he loves it. So I had this idea, and I just hope he likes it.
“Okay, ready.”
“Ready for you to choke on my—” I let his eyes go, and he stands, blinking at the wall. Maybe this is bad. Maybe it’s lame, I don’t know. He blinks, taking in the shiny green paper shaped like a Christmas tree. There are little ornaments I made with pictures from our games. Of him and Atlas and Grey. A couple of myself on the Vipers, and then at the top, a picture of his mother in a shiny yellow star.
“Oli?”
I watch his throat work as he takes in the shitty tree. It’s not the best. “I didn’t have much time, and it could use some—” He tugs me to him, burying his face into my neck, and it takes a minute for my brain to come back online before I hug him back. I love this sappy bastard. “You’re such a baby.”
“Fuck you,” he mumbles into my neck. Then kisses. My skin warms, then blooms with heat as I feel those lips again. “I love you.”
“Damn right you do.” I smile. “Who’s romantic as fuck now?”
Rolling his eyes, he peels himself away from my neck. “It’s a little crooked.”
“Oh, fuck you, Oli. This tree is fantastic.” He smiles slightly, touching it. “Say it. Say I’m more romantic than you.” I fold my arms. “Say it!”
“I can do that,” he says, still looking at the tree, but then those sapphire eyes land on me. “Or we can go upstairs and you can fuck me.”
