Page 2 of Coach's Son
I take another swig of my neat vodka and puff out an obnoxious cloud, hotboxing my flat. My world, my rules. If the sprinklers go off, so be it. That’s what insurance is for. I pay enough for the fricking premium. About time they pay out.
What a scam insurance companies are, you pay out your arse and your premium only goes up and up.
Those cheap bastards… at least I don’t have to worry about being sober for the next few months.
The offseason. Until October.
My favorite stretch of the year. No games, no travel, and no cameras up my bum begging for any part of me. I'm sure they'd sell photos of my feet if I let them.
Being off the ice gives me plenty of time to sharpen my teeth and wank off to my heart’s desire. Free time to torment my baby brother, to make sure he’s not getting too cozy or too bloody sappy with the latest love of his life.
Charlie thinks he’s found forever. Poor bloke, strutting around high on the world, as if he’s a duke who’s finally found his duchess. Or maybe a B-list wide receiver in his case? Makes me chuckle. I’ll show him how fragile forever is. Shatter his glass fantasy into a trillion bloody pieces. I’m the bastard who’ll keep him in check. That’s what brothers are for, especially since we share the same nose, lips, and abs.
Forever isn’t real. It’s a made-up fairytale for children.
He should thank me. I’ve saved him from marrying so many fucking losers over the years. Even torpedoed his first so-calledgirlfriend.
Charlie is about as straight as a figure eight. His voice isn’t as alto, a tad more annoying than mine. Imagine a hyena in the realms of puberty, shrieking how marvelously they can kick some leather. That’s Charlie.
Back in our formative years, I’d catch him staring at the lads a tad too long. Eyes locked on their groins and their behinds, painfully obvious what he was fishing for.
I kept my mouth shut about it back then for the sake of brotherly love. Or maybe I was clever enough to save it for blackmail. Either way, it didn’t take him long to come out and embrace his lifestyle once he hit the pros. Golden boy finally giving himself permission to shine.
Doesn’t bother me none, I’m happy to dabble with both teams. Why limit yourself? As long as they’re whimpering under me, I don’t give a toss if they’re wearing work boots or glass slippers. I can't say no to a carpenter's fit arse arched over the hardwood or a Cinderella mopping the floor.
Because in the end, everyone breaks the same once I’ve got a few ropes around their limbs.
My father is a terrible man, but he taught me one thing:you take what you want.
What the world owes me.
I can’t wait to meet his new little love bird. Get close enough to breathe in his nerves, to whisper filth in his ear while Charlie’s not looking. Leave shadows in the cracks of his golden façade, remind him that the world he’s clinging to is nothing but smoke and mirrors. I don’t even know the lad’s name yet, but I already know the truth: he isn’t good enough for my brother. No one ever is.
They never want Charlie for Charlie. They want the status and glitter that comes with being tied to the best kicker in the league. They’re all parasites, bleeding him dry one smile and martini at a time. And Charlie, poor sweet Charlie, is too blinded by his own need to be loved to see it. Picture a kitten without milk or its mother, meowing for the slightest morsel of attention.
Pitiful and desperate, am I right?
So, it falls to me. I’m the one who must protect him—by burning the fantasy to the ground before it takes root, setting the luscious vines on fire before they thicken like concrete. I’ll ruin his lad. Shred every chimaera, every golden promise, until all that’s left is the futile truth.
If Charlie’s heart is going to break, it’ll be under my hands. That’s the least he deserves. I can’t allow him to forget about me. He never cared about me when we were children and I intend to never allow him to forget what he owes me.
I’ll peel back the shine, strip his lad down to his rawest edges, show him what festers beneath all that blind devotion and pretty-boy charm. I’ll dig until I find the cracks, and then I’ll pry them wide open. By the time I’m finished, Charlie won’t be staring at somegolden forever. He’ll be staring at a wreck—his wreck. A trembling cheater who can’t meet his eyes without remembering how exquisite it felt to fall to the heathen.
That’s mercy, in my book. Malice dressed up as love, charity-wrapped in the truth no one else is brave enough to give him.
I'll be the one to drive the shank through his heart. Show him that dear old Drew hasn't forgotten his sins.
I'm the only one ruthless enough to prove forever is nothing but flimsy porcelain waiting to be thrown against the floor.
I'll show him how much reality stings. How much it can really burn…
I want him to suffer the agony of a million wasps injecting their venom simultaneously around his heart. The pain of a thousand sins that need to be repaid in gut-wrenching screams. For him to be lashed with endless nightmares. To see him weep at my feet, begging me to stop my malignant crusade.
To experience a sliver of what I endured, while he slept at ease.While I was tortured across the hallway…
My mouth salivates, picturing his eyes as he witnesses his loss. His lad in my sheets, branded to my liking. Golden tears pooling in my brother's eyes, his chest quivering as he loses control.
He's too much of a pussy to do anything about it. He knows I'll smack him one in the jaw if he so much thinks aboutstopping me.
