Page 103 of Dangle

“I won’t always want you to fight my battles for me, but it’s nice knowing you’re there behind me, supporting me.”

My chin trembled. This boy brought me to my knees. The moment I laid eyes on him, I felt something inside click into place. Did I still have morose moments? Yeah. But they were growing fewer and farther between. Trey didn’t fix me, nor could I fix his issues; that was something we each had to tackle ourselves, but just having him beside me and in my life made the weight of the world less.

“Always, baby boy. For as long as you’ll have me, I’ll be here.”

TWENTY-SEVEN

TREY

October

The blades of my skates tore up the ice as I shot down the ice, chasing after the puck with Devin Abrams, the third-line center, chasing after me.

Fuck, I love hockey!

Stretching my stick forward as much as I could, I hooked the puck and pulled it back to me, not slowing down.

“Pass!” I yelled, knocking the puck to the left where I knew Ethan would be.

He scooped it up, only to knock it back to me when Carly, Josh Carlson, one of the D-men on the third, came at him hot and heavy.

The puck bounced around on my stick, left side then right then back to left, my eyes focused in on the goal, the third-line D-man, Jacob Malany, or Lany to the team, the only thing left between me and Paddy, the third-string goalie. Faking a deke one direction, I dragged my outside skate, slowing down just enough…

Lights and horns sounded.

“And the crowd goes wild as Captain Trey Malachek scores the winning goal.”

“I fucking hate you, Malachek!” Lany yelled.

He could suck it. The guy had hated me all our lives. He was a decent player—a homebody, which meant he would never be the superstar he thought he was. The problem was that he knew it and he knew I knew it.

My linemates piled on, shaking me, knocking our helmets together, and beating their fists on my shoulder pads.

“The way you dangle? Fuck me; it’s beautiful,” Ethan said, kissing my helmet.

A whistle blew from the bench. “Alright. That’s it for today, boys. Hit the showers, then get the fuck out of here.”

Cheers went up, and Grigor shook his head. “Don’t forget, you have morning skate tomorrow, and our first roadie in three days. So no fucking hangovers.”

“Yes, Coach!” I yelled over all the whining and moaning. I glanced at Coach as he made his way to the tunnel, and called out, “Coach? The Storm rules?”

Coach Grigor looked at me with a smirk. “An excellent idea, Trey. Thanks for the reminder. We’ve not done them yet.” He turned back to the team. “You heard your captain. Rule one!”

Everyone but the new guys—who looked confused as hell—yelled back, the sound echoing through the cavernous arena. “Drinking, driving, swimming, and sex…don’t do any two at the same time.”

Coach yelled, “Rule two!”

“Don’t end up in the hospital, the news, or the cemetery.”

“That one’s for our reigning Prince of Hockey!” Lany yelled.

I flipped him off with both hands, then called out, “Rule three!” before Grigor could.

“Don’t add to or subtract from the population.”

Isaiah nudged me, and I caught Lany glaring at me. Did putting an asshole teammate on IR count?

“Rule four!”