Page 104 of Dangle

“Always wrap your stick so you don’t get sick.”

Some guys blushed at that one. Every freaking time. It wasn’t always the rooks.

“Last rule!” I yelled.

“Stay outta jail. If you end up behind bars, call Coach Grigor.”

“Why’s that team?” Rand O’Callahan asked, his voice echoing. He’d been the one to screw this one up last season.

“Because if we’re not smart enough to stay out, we’re not smart enough to get out,” we yelled.

“That’s all, boys! Hit the showers! Y’all stink!” Grigor yelled.

I opened the gate, touching knucks with the guys as they filed past. If it were a game, I’d be giving them all praise or words of encouragement, and for some of the younger guys, I did, and for some others, I reminded them of the rules they broke most often. One rookie, Allen Dorsey, who was last off the ice, got a kiss on his helmet and my arm slung around his shoulders.

“How’s classes?” I asked.

The semester looked long as fuck to a freshman, but the days and weeks passed in a blur, and before you knew it, midterms were on your ass like a D-man out for blood. Plus, the kid struggled, according to Grigor, who’d asked me to look out for the kid.

He shrugged in that way we all did when we messed up or were on the verge of doing just that. “Which one?” I asked.

A muttered, “All of them,” filled the space between us.

“Text me your class list. You, me, and Coach will come up with a plan. College is supposed to be fun, not stressful. Hockey is stressful enough.”

“Thanks. But shouldn’t hockey be fun, too?”

The kid had the most adorable fucking blush. If it weren’t for Slone, I’d totally have been trying to figure out how queer the boy was. “Hockey, the game, is fun as fuck. It’s all the othershit—where the game turns into a sport—that turns it from fun to stress. And Dorsey, I’m your captain. It’s my job to help you succeed. So, it’s never a problem. We’ll figure out what the issue is and get it sorted.”

“Thanks, Cap.”

With a laugh at the look of awe and adoration on his face, I pushed him through the locker room door ahead of me. Locker rooms were loud, smelly, and almost always had a plethora of dick and ass on display. The one at MU was no different, and today it seemed we walked in and everyone had their cocks out. The kid shrank back before righting himself.

So, probably queer. Another thing he and I would need to discuss. I refused to have the kid petrified. I refused to allow the kid to be petrified of the locker room, and I would handle anyone who gave him shit, along with the twins. I wouldn’t have that shit in my locker room. On the trip across the room to my cubby, I noticed Lany watching Dorsey and sighed. The twins’ gazes locked with mine when I sought them out.

A ping from my locker drew my attention.

Slone

Dinner here or with your boys?

Me

With you. Always.

Slone

You just want my dick.

Me

I’m offended.

Typing bubbles danced on the bottom of the screen as he punched at the phone screen.

Me

For you. Obviously.