Page 21 of Skating the Pucking Line

I was sweaty and pumped after a workout, and I managed to get the perfect selfie angle to show off both my front and back in the mirror behind me. In the full picture, I’m giving my best fuck-me eyes to the camera, but I cropped that out.

HotScore: So you’re an artist. What do you draw?

Okay, so not the sexiest of conversations, but color me intrigued. He’s already told me he’s in bed instead of asking me to join him in it, so I’m assuming this isn’t just a booty call.

RoughingTheModel: Anything really, but my preference is people. I love studying the human form.

HotScore: Is that right

RoughingTheModel: You can tell a lot about a person when you spend a few hours drawing them.

HotScore: Like what?

RoughingTheModel: Like how much patience they have.

HotScore: Ah, so you’re a delayed gratification kind of guy.

RoughingTheModel: There’s no point in rushing something you’ve spent a long time thinking about.

HotScore: Sounds serious.

As I type those two words, I can’t help but think back to the other night in that storage closet.

I’d already spent weeks obsessing over what happened on New Year’s Eve, and getting another taste of him has only made it worse.

I need something to do other than go to the gym and fiddle with hockey stats before things really get out of control.

RoughingTheModel: Representing a person in the right way should always be taken seriously.

HotScore: Is this your way of asking to draw me?

7

COOPER

“That was a great game last night,” Huxley says the next afternoon after I’ve crashed on my couch.

Last night might have been a road game, but since it was local, Coach didn’t deem it worth a day off. I’m fucking wiped.

“It was late; why were you up watching it?” I demand, my concern for my little brother growing.

“I couldn’t sleep,” he confesses. “I put my AirPods in and hid under the sheets to watch. That hit you took from Harvey was brutal. I was half expecting you not to get back up.”

“Pfft, of course I was gonna get back up. Harvey hits like a girl.”

Huxley chuckles down the line. He’s nine going on sixteen. And Ryker, my other brother, is just over a year younger than him. Both of them live in Michigan with our dad, which is too fucking far away for my liking.

The first thing I did when I signed my contract with the Vipers was to look at their game schedule and find out when we’re headed East so I can see them.

The two of them are the best things in my life; I just wish I could be there for them more than I am.

With their mom gone, they’re left with only Dad to support them, and I know all too well the kind of support he gives.

Bitterness and guilt twist my stomach.

If I had any other job, I could probably do something about it. But I travel too much to even attempt to get them away from him. Not that the controlling asshole would allow such a thing.

We’re all his little proteges. To him, the only reason we’re on this earth is to uphold his name and legacy.