“Good.” I kiss her one more time, and before I do something stupid, I take off, leaving her behind.
But I admit there’s a large smile on my face because those words, “I’ll be here when you get back,” gave me chills. I. Want. That. More than I thought I wanted.
“Good morning, boys,”I say as I walk into the locker room, feeling like that meme of Leonardo DiCaprio walking along the street, a gleeful pep in his step and a smirk on his face.
All my guys look up from where they sit and watch me sit on the bench of the locker room where I start removing my shoes.
They’re silent for a moment and then Silas speaks up. “Someone sucked his dick.”
“I agree,” Eli says. “I haven’t seen him this happy since the chef put an extra piece of bologna on his sandwich.”
OC leans forward and examines me. “He has a permanent smile on his face. That’s a my dick was sucked smile.”
Pacey checks me out as well. “I concur.”
Halsey remains quiet off to the side, but I do feel his gaze on me as I look up at all my boys. “You’re being offensive.”
“Dude, tell us it’s not true,” Pacey says.
“I don’t have to tell you anything,” I say. “Can’t a guy just be nice to other guys without the assumption that his dick was sucked?”
“Yes,” Silas says. “But when said guy has been a real bastard recently, evasive, basically MIA, then we have the right to question about the sucking of your dick.”
“He’s right. It’s the law,” Eli adds.
“The law of what?” I ask.
“Brotherhood,” OC says. “It’s the law of brotherhood.”
“There’s no such law,” I defend.
“It’s unspoken,” Pacey says.
“Then how do we know it’s enforceable?” I ask.
“Because . . .” Eli says. “Because we said so.”
“Wow, great argument, remind me to use that when I’m in the pits of a controversy.” I slip out of my sweats, leaving me in my compression pants.
“He’s avoiding the topic,” OC points out. “Makes me think that he really did get his dick sucked.”
“Of course he did,” Silas says. “Just look at his stupid grin. The only time I’ve ever seen him grin like that is after a wild night with a woman and when he tried ground mustard with his bologna for the first time.”
“He’s right,” Pacey says. “That grin is reserved for two occasions.”
“The question we now pose is . . . who was it?” Silas asks.
“Great question,” Eli says. “Could be a random . . . could be the assistant.”
“It’s not the assistant,” I say, maybe a touch too quickly and a touch too defensively. “Don’t even suggest that.”
“Whoa,” Pacey says as he looks around at the boys. “Just a joke, man.”
“A joke that’s not funny,” I say.
“He seems pretty defensive,” Silas says.
“Very defensive,” OC adds as he leans in close to me and takes a sniff. “He doesn’t smell like he’s lying, though.”
“What the fuck does that mean?” Pacey asks.
“Gross, dude,” Silas says.
Eli points back and forth between OC and me. “The more you two hang out, the more you start to act like each other. I don’t like it.”
I glance over at OC and then back at the boys. “It’s true, there’s a certain scent people get when they lie.”
“See?” OC thumbs toward me.
“Holmes, tell them they’re idiots,” Pacey says.
Halsey looks up from where he’s taping his stick. “I’m not paying attention. Don’t include me in this idiocy.”
Grumbling, Silas says, “Just tell us who sucked your dick, Posey.”
“What the fuck are you talking about?” Coach Wood shouts from the entrance of our locker room, scaring the shit out of all of us.
To my dismay, my teammates duck their heads, acting like they weren’t just talking about Coach Wood’s daughter sucking me off, leaving me looking like a deer in headlights.
“I, uh . . . you know—”
“My office, now,” he says before turning away and walking to his office.
Fuck.
Me.
When he’s out of earshot, Silas says, “That doesn’t sound good.”
“You think?” I shout. “Christ, here I was in a good mood—”
“Because of the dick sucking,” OC says.
“Because I was just in a good mood, for fuck’s sake,” I yell. “And you guys ruined it.”
I put my pants back on and then slip my feet into my slides before I head to Coach Wood’s office.
I swear, if he heard anything about the assistant talk, I’m going to murder all my friends. Sorry, Agitator fans, your starting lineup is now deceased.
I walk past an assistant coach and give him a head nod before I knock on Coach Wood’s office door.
“Get in here,” he yells.
Great, he seems like he’s in a good mood.
I let myself in and take a seat, not even waiting for him to tell me to do so.
Studying me, he leans back in his chair and says, “You fucking my daughter?”
Dear God in heaven.
Sweat creeps up the back of my neck as I try to remain calm and not give away anything. “No,” I say. “Why would you think that?”
“What was Silas saying, then?”
I feel tempted to shift, to fidget, to do anything to help dispel my nerves, but I remain calm instead and try to relax the shake in my bones.
“He was being an idiot. All of them were. I arrive in a good mood, and they think that I had sex with someone.”
“Did you?”
“No,” I say, the lie flying out of my mouth before I can even think about it.
“So you’re not doing anything with my daughter?”
“With all due respect, sir, I’m trying to avoid her as much as possible. I really don’t think traveling with her and having her stay in my room was a good idea.”
“Why?” he asks, his scowl growing.
“Because I was a goddamn nervous wreck the whole time, and I wasn’t able to focus on my gameplay.” Semi true. “I need my space and time to, you know . . . take care of myself, and having her there is not helping.”
He slowly nods, still studying me. “You have been off your game lately.”
“This whole arrangement has been stressful,” I say. “Maybe we should, I don’t know, call it quits.”
“Not happening,” he says. “Just apply pressure in other ways. Make her rewrite more books, make her repaint your place, decide you don’t like the color and repaint it again.”
I run my hand over my brow. “Isn’t there something I can get her involved with here at the stadium? Like a charity or something? Maybe I can have her talk with Penny or Blakely, get her involved in a way that focuses more on the business side of things so she gets a taste of that, rather than making her do menial tasks.” I clear my throat. “I think . . . I think she doesn’t care about the work I’m giving her. She still finds time to do her art it seems. So maybe you’re going about this the wrong way. Maybe you need to show her what a corporate job could be like. That it’s not boring, that she could have fun with it.”
He rocks back in his chair, pursing his lips together as he gives it some thought. After a few seconds, he says, “Might not be a bad idea.”
Um . . . come again?
Did he just say my idea wasn’t bad?
My God . . . did he have his dick sucked last night?
Trying to stay calm, I say, “I can talk to Blakely and Penny and see what they can come up with and report back to you.”
He slowly nods. “Yes, do that. And make sure it’s something that makes her use the skills she’s acquired in school, but make it fun for her as well, something that applies to you and the work you’re doing.” Well, that’s certainly a one-eighty. He wants his daughter to have fun.
“Yeah, we can work on that,” I say.
“Good.” He leans forward now and looks me in the eyes. “Good idea, Posey.”
My right nipple just went erect.
“Thank you, Coach,” I say as I casually cross one leg over the other. “You know, I was thinking about it the other night, and then bam, it came to me—”
“Get the fuck out,” he says, pointing at his door.
“Sure. Yup, see you out on the ice.”