Page 9 of Blindside Me
“Damn, she fucking hoovered your ass,” Easton says.
Someone snorts. “Hoovered?”
Easton clarifies, “Like the vacuum cleaner.”
“That couldn’t have felt good,” Blake says, eyeing me like I’m a medical anomaly.
“She was getting off on it,” I shoot back. “It was …hot.”
No chance I’m admitting how much it hurts now. Should’ve cut the gin after round four. That numbing buzz? Gone. Regret? Full force.
Ryan’s face shifts from worry to relief. “That’s why you wanted an icepack? Dude, I thought you pulled something.”
“I’m fine,” I say. Then mutter, “Well, except for my dick.”
More cackling. The crude jokes keep coming.
“Never seen a hickey dick before.”
“That’s not a hickey dick. That’shickey head.”
“Hardcore foreplay,” Country laughs. “She could’ve at least finished you off.”
“Pretty sure shedid,” a defenseman says. “Likefinishedyou.”
The teasing snowballs. It’s relentless.
“Should we call the trainer? Or the fuckin’ coroner?”
“Do they make prosthetics for that?”
“I can’t believe he’s not limping.”
“How you gonna piss?”
“Does it hurt?”
I don’t even know which dumbass to answer. So I don’t. I just stand there, arms loose at my sides, letting them gawk.
My jaw tightens, but I manage a grin. “As much as you’d like to find out … don’t worry. It won’t fall off.”
More laughter. More noise. I try to tune it out, but it’s buzzing in my ears, too loud, too fast. All of it feels like high school again, dick jokes, bad decisions, and spiraling fast.
And I’ve seen where spiraling ends.
The laughter dies down as guys start heading for the showers, but Blake hangs back. He’s not grinning anymore. Great. I know that serious face. He’s about to drop some captain wisdom.
I brace myself, grabbing my towel. The last thing I need is a pep talk.
“Hey, Klaas.” Blake’s tone is so low, I doubt anyone hears. He jerks his head toward the corner by the lockers. “A word?”
I follow, my gut twisting. Blake’s been a Wildcat as long as me, but he knows the league history. Knows about Jake. Everyone does, but most are smart enough not to bring it up.
He leans against the wall, arms crossed. “Look, I get it. Blowing off steam after a loss. But that fight Saturday? Then disappearing on Sunday? It’s got shades of your brother all over it.”
My fists clench at my sides, nails digging into palms. “Don’t go there, man.”
Blake doesn’t flinch. “I have to. I watched Jake play when I was a kid. He was a beast on the ice. Faster than you, even. But off it? The partying, the fights, the girls … It caught up. One bad night, one stupid decision, and boom. Career over. Scouts walked away. I don’t want that for you.”
