A resolution I kept right up until I was sitting across from Mickey in a gay bar off Church Street we knew. I hadn’t told any teammates where I was going.Just seeing an old friend.
Hairs had given methatlook and I’d fought the urge to tell him to fuck off. Given he appeared to get lucky every night we were in a city, I figured he could just screw himself.
I deserved a night off.
“That hurt.” Mickey held his beer bottle for me to clink.
“Yeah.” We’d arrived in Brampton ready to kick some ass. Ialso had to prove I was abadassand not soft toward my old team.
I’d scored twice. Not bad for a D-man.
“Think the city will forgive me?” I batted my eyelashes. I didn’t give a fuck. I was one of the best players on the team, and they traded me. A bunch of outraged fans had made their opinion known—but management had been resolute; I had to go. And so I had. To the Grizzlies. Hopefully tonight I’d both proven myself to my new team and shown my old team that they’d been stupid to let me go.
Except we’d lost. By one fucking goal.
“Who gives a shit?” he asked. “Live your best life. Get called up. Vancouver’s got a solid team. They’d be crazy not to give you a shot.”
I sipped my beer. I wanted my shot. But that also meant being away from Coach.Well, you’re not with him right now…are you?
Memories of the stairwell haunted me.
Mickey nudged my shoulder with his. “Who is he?”
“What?” I nearly choked on my beer.
“The guy you’re hung up on.”
“What?”God, I hope I injected enough disbelief in that.
He shook his head. “Don’t fuck with me. We’ve known each other too long. No way you blow me off if you’re not seeing someone.”
“I’m not ‘seeing someone’.” I used air quotes.
And instantly realized my mistake.
Mickey laughed. Wholeheartedly. Almost enough to attract attention.
Almost…but not quite. We were getting close to last call since this was a weeknight. Everyone was hooking up before the bar closed.
“Dare I ask?”
“There’s no one.”
“Don’t bullshit the bullshitter. I’ve known you forever. I’ve had your cock in my ass and welts on my back from your whip. Hell, after a particularly epic paddling, I couldn’t sit comfortably for a week.”
“You loved it.”
“Not saying otherwise.” He sobered. “Man, you’re in deep.”
I shook my head vehemently. “No. Absolutely not.”
He cocked his head. “Fellow player, management, a coach, or someone underage?”
“Ew. Gross.”
“To all or none?”
“Underage? Fucking hell. Even when I was barely legal, I didn’t do under eighteen.Notfor me. Ever.”