Page 109 of False Start

twenty-four

“We didn’t needone more thing stacked against us,” I said as we finally walked into my apartment four hours later, Priest right behind me carrying bags of food from Banked Track.

I didn’t go in. My hand had finally quieted to the dull ache, tingling instead of the heartbeat dancing under the skin there just a couple hours earlier, and I just wanted to sneak away to somewhere warm, quiet, and question free.

Word would get around soon enough that one of those girls from the derby team finally snapped. By the time the story made the rounds, they’d no doubt have Tilly in the ICU on life support, or at the very least permanently disfigured with stories of a gruesome eye popping out of the socket injury.

Total fiction, but hey, this town had a knack for fiction. It’d be nice if they’d start using that particular talent for good instead of evil.

Question was, how the hell did I think I was going to fare when I was a transplant here at best and Priest still had to face backlash for a situation no one actually knew the real details of and he was one of their own?

“At least it’s only a sprain,” he said with no indication in his voice as to whether I had totally fucked our shot out there.

We played with injuries all the time. It came with the territory. Going hard had consequences. We all accepted them.

But this was a new level for me, for all of us really. I’d never intentionally hurt another player.

And because of my outburst, I had a sprained hand and Tilly had six stitches. We got an unceremonious send off with a smart-ass warning about looking into anger management from Sheriff Chase who was lovely enough to stop in when the hospital reported a possible assault to make sure neither of us wanted to press charges.

Totally unnecessary.

Okay, Priest said it was necessary, but still, I couldn’t trust that guy’s opinion, being so by the book and hell-bent on self-punishment and all.

I’d always been the person who cooled off tempers—I mean, look at Milton and Gerald—but then I came all strutting in, full of unresolved feelings with a taste for whoop ass and flirted with the letter of the law.

A few letters of them.

I couldn’t remember which ones specifically…not really my area of expertise.

I sent a message to my teammates to let them know we were okay and called a truce. They invited us out for dinner, but between the practice, the sex—can he get a hallelujah, please—and four hours in the ER, all I wanted was food and a shower.

Actually, I’d love the shower first, but the scent of those steak tips whispered pretty nothings in my ear and sighed my name.

And Priest was here.

Since I didn’t know where we were in that department, I really wasn’t sure what to do next. I mean, most guys, you know, right? Hot stranger and someone you barely knew—hey, no judgment—hot, drive-by quickie sex in public, that didn’t even equate to a dinner commitment or a ride home necessarily. A movie and laid-back bite to eat, that could go either way. A fancy date that you made a waxing appointment for, yeah, probably a good roll after that once everyone had their fill of drinks. Maybe they’d stay over, maybe not. But no one would be offended in the end either way.

Hard, angry fuck, following two bursts of violence punishable by law against a barn wall almost fully clothed, both in skates?

I’m not even sure subreddits had the answers for that one.

So, shower after food it was. I figured by the time I struggled through peeling off my clothes one-handed and rinsed a full bottle of shampoo through my hair on account of my one bum hand and no other way to get the job done, I’d be ready for ibuprofen and falling into bed for sweet oblivion.

Had to fill up my reserves for the ass I needed to kick tomorrow.

The Shipwreck was going to suck balls in the morning. Hairy ones. Sweaty, hairy balls. With ball cheese.

“Level with me, how bad is this going to hurt when we go to the exhibition?”

He made himself at home and headed right for my kitchen where he started sliding takeout boxes out of the bags. “Pretty bad by the end. Jackson will keep it wrapped for you though, and he’ll make sure you have everything you need to take care of it throughout.”

“Jackson?”

He flattened his palms on the table but didn’t look at me. “He’s going with you guys…as your coach.”

“Oh.”

His eyes flashed to mine then. “I have to stay with Lilith until Jordan makes it back. I can’t leave town, even for a couple nights.”

---