Page 95 of Dangle

I crossed my arms over my chest. “Mama, Slone is my boyfriend. He will stay with me.”

She swallowed, closing her eyes and nodding. “If you feel that’s best, then I guess…”

I knew where she was going, so I said, “I’ll deal with Dad. Just don’t say anything.”

She smiled and nodded, looking between Slone, whose hand still lay on the small of my back, and me, before she kissed my cheeks, always the left first, then the right, and then the left again. “??? ????????, ??? ???????.”

“????????? ????.”

She nodded to Slone and said, “Sleep well, Slone.”

“You as well, ma’am.”

She smiled and slipped out of the kitchen, leaving Slone and me alone. “That was rude of us. I apologize. She saidSleep well, my darlingand I responded withGood night.”

“I wondered if you spoke Russian at home.”

“I do, just not great. Something that irks my mother greatly. I’ve lost some of the muscle memory being away at school, but there’s plenty of Russians in the league, so if I get drafted it will come in handy, I’m sure.”

“I’m sure it will. And you shouldn’t need to translate for me. I was the unit’s Russian expert. It’s been a while, but I should be okay.”

“You’re just full of surprises,” I said before grabbing his luggage and motioning toward the back stairs that lead up to my room from the open family living space and kitchen. “We’re this way.”

He followed me up the stairs the same way he had into the house, a hand on my lower back, not pushing or guiding, just a steady weight letting me know he was here, as if saying, ‘I’m here. I have your back.’ Who knew something so small could be so comforting and reassuring.

Mama walked along the gallery landing away from us toward her bedroom, a hand trailing gracefully on the banister. At her door, she paused, looking back at us with a soft smile before disappearing into her room.

The moment her door latch clicked, I opened the double doors into my suite of rooms, dropping Slone’s bags and pulling him to me as soon as the door closed behind us. “I’m so, so,sohappy you’re here.”

“Me too, baby boy,” he said, knocking our foreheads together.

Close to an hour later, we lay naked in the middle of my king-sized bed with only the sheet draped over us. Me sprawled across his chest, his fingers toying with my hair as I played with the smattering of chest hair under my cheek, our bellies and libidos well sated, at least for the time being.

“Please tell me what happened. I’ve been so worried since you called, but I didn’t want to push for more until I was here with you.”

“I don’t know that I can talk about it. Not yet.”

He sighed. “Okay. But you’re certain you’re okay? That fucking bruise looks bad. You’re lucky it didn’t fracture your cheekbone.”

My body stiffened, only relaxing when he pressed a kiss to the top of my head and wrapped both arms around me, squeezing me to him. “The doctor said I was fine. I’m sure he would’ve mentioned it if something were wrong, considering he works for the Wardens.”

“Okay,” he murmured, kissing my forehead as he tilted my face up to his, “I won’t mention it again, but if it gets worse, I’m taking you to an independent doctor. I spent too long in the Marines to trust institutionalized care with someone being fit for duty.”

I smiled, laying my head back on his chest. I should be enjoying the feel of his body under mine, supporting me. I should be losing myself in the way his heart beat beneath my ear or the way the weight of his arms felt around me. Instead, now that he brought it up, all I could think about, all I could see, was what happened this morning. It played like a reel in my head that looped and repeated. Again and again and again and again. Over and over with no way to stop it. I needed it to stop. It had to. Otherwise, I would fall apart in his arms, covering us both in tears and snot, and not the way I usually did—the way I enjoyed.

Closing my eyes, my father’s voice rang through my psyche as real as if he were standing in the room with us.

“A fucking embarrassment. You were the number one draft pick. And you’re riding the fucking bench.”

Everyone thought being a hockey player was fun.

That being a legacy made getting to The Show easy.

Everyone was fucking wrong.

Delusional came to mind.

Yes, I had the best coaches and mentors from the start, but it didn’t make being their son and grandson easy.