Page 89 of Dangle

Please

My phone started ringing immediately.

“Hey, baby boy. You okay?” I asked.

“I fucking hate it here,”Trey whispered through the cell connection. Storms were ravaging the Livingstone area and were fucking with cell service. Static and a glitchy connection made it hard enough to hear him, but add in the whispering and how tiny and vulnerable he sounded, and the fact I put myself on the schedule at EDGE to distract myself from the fact my boy flew halfway across the country at his asshole father’s request, also known as psychological and emotional manipulation and torture.

Waving at Ewen and pointing to my phone, I told Trey, “Let me get somewhere quieter, baby boy.”

“Okay,”he muttered, and I realized he must speak Russian at home at least partially because the slight accent I’d caught once or twice had grown thicker.“Can you just talk?”

“Sure. What do you want me to talk about?” I asked, skirting kinksters and looky-loos. Tonight was one of the few nights of the month we opened the club to non-members. Usually, we only allowed non-members to join us at the munches hosted by a childhood friend of Ewen’s.

“What are you doing? It sounds like a party,”he said hesitantly.

Jesus. Again with the small voice that gutted me. What had they done to the kid in the two days he’d been back in New York? “Working. Tending bar, actually. And yes, I have people for that, but I enjoy being busy, so Ewen and I put ourselves behind the bar several times a week. Normally on the slower nights, but a bartender called off, so we’re filling in for them.”

The line—other than the shitty connection sounds—fell silent. I closed myself inside the office and locked the door behind me. “Baby boy, if you’re nodding, I can’t see you.”

“Sorry.”

Sorry, not oops like he would’ve normally said.

“No need to be sorry. Now, tell me what’s going on.”

“Can we video chat?”Tears clogged his voice, which worried me even more.

Before we started seeing each other, every spiral I witnessed from Trey regarding his family had resulted in erratic, self-destructive, and sometimes violent behavior. Most of that lessened after we talked and agreed to our arrangement, but this was something else. Something more.

I pressed the button, and the moment his face came into view, blood filled my mouth from the hole I bit in my cheek. Trey had a bruise, one he hadn’t had when I last saw him or in any of the photos he’d sent me since. I could be jumping to conclusions, but…

“It’s not what you think.”

Yeah, that didn’t reassure me at fucking all. “Looking at that bruise, I think someone hit you,” I said as I pulled up the contact info for Taz.

Me

Hey Gunny. I need a flight to NYC, and I need to be there yesterday. Can you help? I’m on the phone.

He shook his head. “Someone was a puck.”

Taz

Get your shit together. I’ll text you with the info. Your boy okay?

Loaded fucking question.

Me

Thanks.

“You took a puck to the face? Did you get checked out?” I asked, thinking of Sasha. He’d taken a puck to the head that cost him his NHL career and half of his hearing and vision.

He nodded.“Mama sent the Wardens GM a message, and they had me come in for an evaluation. I’m fine.”

Relief flooded my system until Trey spoke again.

“Is it bad that I wish they’d just hit me? Sometimes I think it would be easier to deal with.”