Page 9 of Dangle

Two.

The middle of my blades touched the ice, and I moved into the back spin out of the jump. A signature move of mine from before hockey beat out figure skating as the love of my life.

“Yes!” I yelled, punching the air.

My teammates hooted and beat on my shoulders while my eyes scanned the crowd to find the super hot fucker sitting several rows behind the bench. He stood with a smirk as he clapped, then bowed. His buddies sitting on either side grabbed the guy’s belt and pulled him back into his seat, shaking their heads. I thanked my lucky stars that the cold and exertion kept the satisfied flush from my face.

But then the music hyping us all up dimmed, and the announcers’ voices broke over the softer musical beats.

“And that, folks, is what you get when one of the most decorated figure skaters in the world marries into a hockey dynasty.”

“It’s definitely a rare combination, Jared. Trey Malachek possesses all the hockey power of his father and grandfathers as well as all the figure skating grace of his mother, Oksana Petrova, who has more medals and championships to her name than we could list before the puck drops.”

“The power is always there. Trey’s a menace on the ice. The epitome of a two-way player, but it’s when his playful side comes out of hiding, like it just did, that’s when you can really see his mother’s beauty and grace.”

Nothing. Not one motherfucking thing would ever be mine. It didn’t matter what the fuck I did. It belonged to either Mom, Dad, my grandfathers, the team, or the school.

I literally landed a double axel and a backspin in hockey skates in full fucking gear. Not one of my family had ever done that. I did.

Would I ever be or do anything that didn’t get attributed to someone else?

My head down, I headed for the bench, stumbling with my blade guards at the gate before disappearing into the tunnelbeyond, despite knowing dinner with my parents after the game would be a nightmare. I needed a moment or twelve.

“Trey!” Coach Grigor yelled, but I ignored him.

Coach Storm said, “Leave him be, Will.” His voice was loud enough that it carried to me.

I ignored him, too. At this point, a fucking week wouldn’t be enough minutes for me to get my head sorted. My gloved hands smacked the locker room door the minute it appeared in front of me. My helmet flew across the room, hitting the back of my cubby and bouncing to the floor.

“Holy fuck!”

My gaze spun across the room and locked on the startled face of Matty, the equipment manager, and I advanced on him. His eyes dropped to my feet, then climbed my legs, to pause at my hips.

“You game?” I asked, my hand cupped over my crotch.

“You’re gay?”

Swearing under my breath, I gave the simple answer because it was the easiest path to what I wanted. “Obviously. You?”

He nodded, then glanced around. “Here?”

A smirk and a shrug accompanied my “Why not?”

“I need this job,” he said while licking his lips and staring at my dick.

“I know a place,” I said, pushing him into the back corner of the showers, away from prying eyes coming in from the tunnel or the bathrooms and offices in the back hallway.

“How…umm…all the gear…”

I smirked and dropped to my knees. “It’s your lucky day,” I murmured, parting the guy’s pants and swallowing him whole.

“Jesus fuck. Definitely my lucky day.”

Coach’s eyesbored into my head when I returned from the locker room. He waved me over, and I sighed. His tablet came to rest behind my head, and he tucked his face between it and my ear.

“That’s a first.”

“The axel?” I asked.