Ares

Kidding. I got words.

Not as many as she does.

But I got enough.

Also not a dumb enough puck to miss the signs I’m making her nervous, so I’m out of the kitchen, looking for another place to park without having to go up the stairs.

Don’t want to make her nervous.

I test the old lady couch. Broke enough chairs in my life—happens when you’re a big-ass mother pucker—so I try not to sit without checking what I’m sitting on. Seems solid enough, doesn’t groan, so I settle in and prop up my foot on the flowery armrest like a good boy.

Loki scoots out from behind the thin lace curtains with a grin and a jar. Small monkey. Furry white face, big brown eyes, weighs about as much as my knee.

I crook a finger, and he dashes over a matching chair to climb up and sit on my shoulder. I pull a bag of dried mango out of my pants and trade him for the jar.

Cinnamon sugar.

Huh.

He points at my foot and chirps before digging into breakfast.

Yeah.

Fucking foot.

It’s hockey season. I’m supposed to be on the ice. That’s how it works. Hockey season, I play hockey. Playoff season, I hope I’m still playing hockey. Off season, I hang with Zeus, and we hook up with chicks he finds for us. Just like old times.

Except Coach put me on the IR because the doc said I can’t skate on my foot.

Bullshit.

I can skate just fine.

Just need enough tape.

The shelves of bobble heads watch me while I chug the hot black juice and the scent of oat slop mixes with the flowery perfume smell in the room. Murphy’s sister is chattering away to herself and Loki’s chirping and eating on my shoulder while I check my phone. Missed call from Ma. Gif texts from Zeus and his girl. Voicemail from Chase, my bro from another mo. Text, email, missed call, and voicemail from my sister. More texts from my teammates.

All ask the same thing.

You okay?

I text Z back with a gif of a cartoon penguin slapping its own ass and ignore the rest. My twin’s older than me by four minutes. Knows better than the rest how much being benched sucks. Until we were both drafted, the two of us were never apart more than a day.

Usually with Chase.

Whole town back home called us the triple terrors.

Fucking miss being a kid sometimes.

Miss hockey more though, and I’ve only been benched a few days.

Next week, I’ll be off the IR and back on the ice. Until then, I’ll watch Murphy’s sister like he asked me to, and Manning’s monkey like he asked me to. Can’t go to California—team’s not paying for my travel if I’m not getting on the ice, and they want me to see the doc every day—so I’ll do the only other thing I’m good at.

Feed a monkey and grunt around like a thug to scare away the bad news ex.

I know the only difference between dumb and stupid—for me anyway—is a hockey puck, but I don’t get why chicks hook up with dicks.

Don’t have half a brain, but even I know that’s a no-brainer.

Felicity’s still talking to herself. The high-pitched voice. Something about turkeys in space. And now a deeper grumpy voice answers.

Funny woman.

Talks too much, and she’s so off-limits I can’t even think of her as a girl, but she’s funny.

She comes into the room with a plate of food. “Toast and fruit,” she says without moving her lips. Sounds not perky, but not grumpy either. “To hold you over.”

She puts the plate, fork, and napkin on the coffee table without looking at me. Loki leaps at the apple slices, and Felicity tenses.

“Nick says you don’t have to be at the arena today, so I was thinking you might want to go to work with me. I’m in clinicals at a sports rehab clinic for my PTA—physical therapy assistant degree. We see a lot of teenagers. They’d flip out if I brought a real NHL hockey player in, and I know how much the team loves you guys to get out in the community, so…”

She trails off and glances at me.

Pretty face. Round cheeks, bright eyes, full mouth.

Hair like gold, kissed by the sun, with some Irish in it too. Reddish.

Magic.

There are two kinds of women in the world.

Women I can sleep with, and women I can’t.

She’s in the can’t column. Like my friend Gracie—she’s Manning’s, having his baby—my sister, my brother’s girl—also like a sister, though she’s scary too—and anyone on staff for the team.

But when Felicity tugs on her simple earring with slender fingers, my junk gets hot and heavy.

Pretty doesn’t mean attractive. Known lots of pretty girls who weren’t attractive. But Felicity?

Pretty, funny, smart, kind.

She’s the four-leaf clover.

Know she doesn’t want me here, but she’s feeding me and giving me coffee anyway. Giving me a show too, talking with her mouth shut.

“If that’s not enough food, I have tofu, a bunch of nuts, some dates, and more bread. Nick didn’t give me much warning. Or say anything about what you like to eat. Though I really will go through a drive-thru if you want. But you should eat good food to get better.”

I nod to her and pull the plate closer. Loki steals the last apple, then hands me the toast.

I nod to him too.

Yeah, I know.

Say something to the shamrock girl.

But one, she’s way too smart for me. And C, silence tells you a lot about a person.

Like if she’s feeding us and asking me to go to her job because she wants to, or if she’s asking because Murphy told her to babysit me.

Just because I’m dumb doesn’t mean I’m stupid.

I squish my toast into a ball because she’s watching, then toss it all into my mouth at once. Loki chirp-laughs and nibbles on his apple.

She winces while she shifts her weight from foot to foot for a minute. “I need to leave in twenty. You don’t have to change or shower or anything, but we should probably leave Loki home. He’s okay at home, right?”

He might be. Don’t think he’s ever been alone.

“Guess we’ll find out then. So. Twenty minutes. You want me to set a timer on your phone?”

I can set a timer on my phone. Can do a lot of things people assume I can’t. But if she wants to do it for me, I’ll let her do it for me.

I hand her my phone, and she takes it without touching me. Even accidentally.

Her long fingers tap over the screen quickly. She’s giving it back when it buzzes.

We both look down.

Z’s replied.

It’s a gif of some monkeys on a stage doing an Irish jig.

Funny shit.

Loki claps, chirps, and throws his apple.

Felicity’s face pinches up. “Look, about your monkey—” she starts.

Blood surges south of my belt the same time a shiver slinks down my spine. I cut her off by lifting a finger, and I swivel to look outside.

Car’s been sitting out there running as long as I’ve been on the couch. Engine running. Don’t even warm cars up that long back home in Minnesota in the dead of winter, and it’s not that cold out today. Only November. Not cold at all.

She moves toward the window. I swing my foot down, the fucking boot crashes against the coffee table and shoots pain up to my knee and out my toes, but I crunch my teeth together and force myself to stand.

Black sports car at the curb. Can see it through the light curtains. Can’t see the dude inside.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” she mutters.

“Who?” I ask.

“Nobody.”

Loki screeches.

Like I said, I’m dumb, but I’m not stupid. I limp across the carpet to the door in four steps, lightning shooting up to my knee every time I step down on my bad foot.

“No, don’t—” Felicity grabs my wrist when I reach for the door handle, and there’s more lightning.

Different lightning.

The painful she’s off-limits kind of lightning.

Fuck, she’s pretty.

She jerks her hand away like she took the shock too. “You’re going to hurt yourself worse. Sit. The boot’s no good if your ankle’s so swollen you cut off blood flow to your toes.”

Ankle’s fine. Tape and a brace is all I need. Played through worse. Just wearing the damn boot because she’ll tell on me if I don’t and Coach will keep me out for another week. I point at Loki. Stay.

He pouts, but he hunkers down on the half-done knit blanket on the couch.

I step outside. Chilly today.

I like chilly.

Like chili too.

Might be second breakfast.

No more rain today, but the wet cookies are still there, melted and crumbled. Waste of good cookies.

“Ares, seriously. Please come back inside before you hurt yourself.”

I ignore her, only partly so I don’t get ideas about her caring about me, take the steps one at a time, and walk around the mounds with her on my heels.

“Ignore him.” She grabs my wrist again, her hand hot in the cold morning, and more sparks dance over my skin.

I keep walking. Even if she wasn’t my teammate’s sister, she’s too smart for me. Four degrees, Murphy told us once. Graduated high school at thirteen. First college at sixteen. Had her second degree before he was drafted, and she’s his little sister.

Smart girls don’t go for puckheads like me.

Learned that lesson a long time ago.

Fuck, girls don’t go for me in general.

Not for me. For my size or my game, yeah. For me?

They don’t look that close.

Always knew that was my lot in life. I’m the quiet one. The weird one. The one nobody wants to make eye contact with.

Found something else to live for. Might not come with a wife and kids and the traditional American family dream, but I have hockey.

That’s my life.

Easier to accept what I can have and move on than wish for things that will never be.

Like Murphy’s sister.

I don’t want her, I tell myself. She likes to talk too much.

Reminds me of Z.

He talks a lot too.

Different kind of talking, but he talks a lot.

Miss my brother.

I’m almost to the car when it shoots away from the curb with squealing tires. Catch sight of a dude flipping us the bird.

Yeah. That’s the other thing.

She apparently likes dicks.

I fucking hate dicks.

Snap a picture of his car. Just in case.

“Please let’s go back inside,” Felicity says. But it’s not her voice. It’s the high-pitched happy voice.

I peer down at her. “He’s bad.”

She rolls her eyes. “If Nick wouldn’t taunt him, this would be fine.”

There’s nothing fine about a guy sitting outside his ex’s house. Ever.

But I don’t like to waste my breath—rest of the world does enough of that—and she wouldn’t listen anyway—no one ever listens enough—so I keep my mouth shut.

I do give her a long, hard stare until she looks away though.

Need to find out where he lives.

So I can solve this my way. And get back on the ice as soon as my week on the IR is up.

Don’t want to be here.

But since I’m here I’ll watch her.

Like she’s my sister.