Chapter 11: Hidden Scars: Chapter 10

to the hotel, I grab a change of clothes and head straight for the bathroom. I turn the shower on and strip out of my suit, doing my best not to look in the mirror. My phone rings and even though I’m standing in the bathroom in my underwear, I answer it.

“Hey, you okay?” Concern for my sister has my tone harsher than normal. Like most teenagers, she prefers text or video calls, so her calling me is strange.

“Yeah, I’m good. I watched your game, nice goal!” Her animated voice has one side of my mouth lifting in a half smile.

“Thanks. If that hadn’t have worked, someone was going to get thrown into the boards.” I turn and lean my ass against the counter so I don’t have to look at the scars.

She laughs and I can hear noise in the background that I can’t quite identify.

“Where are you?”

Knowing she’s on the opposite side of the country from our father lets me breathe a little easier. If he’s going to go after her, I have a few hours to get her to safety. There are a few people I have in her life that know to grab her and run if I ever give them the signal. There’s a driver that is still around in case she needs to get somewhere away from the school, a bodyguard for those times. Dad pays to keep them on retainer, but he doesn’t know they call me when he calls her home.

“Alison’s room. She’s got a show playing on her laptop,” she tells me easily. My little sister is a shit liar, even if I can’t see her face, so I don’t question her any further. “What are you doing to celebrate your win?”

“I’m having dinner with the team then going to bed.”

“Ugh!” I can see her rolling her eyes at me in my head, probably dropping her head back on her shoulders. “You are so boring! You’re twenty-one! Go get drunk or something.”

“Why does everyone tell me to go get drunk?” I huff. Even before college, guys I played with tried to convince me to drink with them. I’ve never been interested. Most of the guys kept it to one beer or one shot after a game until the season was over, then they would get hammered.

“Uh, maybe it’s a sign that you need to lighten up and live a little?” The attitude coming through this phone is palpable. “You’re kind of a pretentious workaholic. So, get drunk and get laid. I’m betting it’ll make you a lot nicer.”

“What the actual fuck, Lil? My sister does not need to think about my sex life.” I bark out. It’s one thing for the guys in the locker room to tell me I’m being a dick and to go get laid, it’s an entirely different one for my sister to say it.

She sighs. “There’s that pretentious asshat I know. Seriously, lighten up and have a drink.”

“Was there a point to you calling me or are you just going to call me names?” I make sure my voice doesn’t give away the amusement threatening to make me smile. I enjoy her banter, her backbone. It makes me happy that she’s not afraid of me, that she’s still carefree. Despite losing our mother when she was very young, the ugliness of our father hasn’t tainted her. I’ve taken all of it on my shoulders to protect her.

“I just called to tell you to go easy on yourself for once, but I gotta go now. A few of us are having a movie night. Later!” She hangs up before I can respond. I slide my phone back onto the counter, finish getting undressed, and step into the shower.

The steam is billowing out of the stall when I pull back the curtain and step in. The hot water burns my skin, turning it pink as I let it run over me. I close my eyes again and I let myself relax and think back to the game. To Jeremy in my clothes, how well my pants fit him.

My dick perks up, wanting a piece of my damn roommate.

With images of him getting fucked in the team showers playing in my head like a movie, I stroke myself. His eyes meeting mine, helpless but too afraid to say anything, so he took it and couldn’t stop himself from coming. For me.

When I walked in, he was half hard at best. Brendon doesn’t know how to handle him. It’s so painfully obvious he wants to be manhandled, forced, dominated. It calls to a part of me I rarely let out. I like control. I don’t mind inflicting some pain if it’s wanted, pushing limits gets me off. Taking what I want and knowing that when he fights, he wants me to force him. He came so fast once he saw me watching him the first time, jacking off to the sight of him getting off by being watched. The boy was uncomfortable and that got me hot too.

My breathing increases as the images change to him staring up at me while I jerked him off. Angry, unsure, turned on. It was sexy as fuck to watch him struggle to accept it then give in and let it happen. That moment of surrender, it’s intoxicating. I want so much more of it.

I’m achingly hard, my balls full and heavy with the need to cum as I stroke faster and harder, chasing the orgasm building up in my body. The whimper Jeremy made when he came for me plays in my head like I’ve never heard it before and my own orgasm crashes over me, spilling cum onto the wall and floor of the shower. My stomach muscles tighten as I thrust my hips against my hand.

Fuck, I needed that.

I let myself stand in the water a few more minutes before I wash off the sweat of the game and shut the water off. By the time I’m dressed in jeans and a t-shirt and step out of the bathroom, my roommate is nowhere to be found. A pang of disappointment hits me square in the chest, but I refuse to think about it. He’s probably down in the restaurant getting dinner. I grab my wallet, phone, and room key then head downstairs to eat as well.

Turns out there’s some convention going on this weekend so with the team all down here trying to eat, there are no open tables.

“Good evening, just you tonight?” The flirty blonde hostess in all black with a high ponytail smiles at me.

“Yes.”

“We’re busy tonight so there’s a waitlist. Can I get a name?”

I clench my jaw and let out a breath. “Preston.”

I wait to be seated by the host, standing off to one side.

“Carmichael!” I turn toward the dining room, looking for whoever called my name. Brendon is motioning me over to a table with Paul and Jeremy. My dick twitches at the mere idea of being close to him after what I just did upstairs. I hate that I want him as much as I do.

I take a deep breath and let it out slowly. Maybe I should take my sister’s advice and try to relax, have some fun even.

Against my better judgment, I approach the table. It appears they haven’t been here long since they only have drinks.

“Hey man, have a seat.” Brendon motions to the empty chair with the glass of beer in his hand.

Paul looks at Jeremy sitting next to the empty seat and I decide to sit down based solely on the awkward expression they share.

“We haven’t ordered yet, you want a drink?” Brendon looks around for the waitress and when he makes eye contact with her, he lifts his glass.

“Beer is full of empty calories.” I tell him.

“Wow. Thanks for joining the party, Buzz Killer.” Paul scoffs, lifting his own beer to his lips.

“Perhaps if you want to increase your performance on the ice, you should be drinking a White Claw.” My eyes drill into his until he’s uncomfortable and looks away.

The waitress appears by my side and smiles at me. “What can I get you to drink?”

“Water is fine.”

My phone buzzes so I pull it out of my pocket to check it in case Lily needs something.

My jaw aches and my abdomen tightens as the fear of hits me. He isn’t here and he won’t come fetch me, but the adrenaline doesn’t know that. During the last major correction, he had to hook me up to an IV line for fluids and a caffeine drip because I was falling asleep and getting dehydrated.

“Okay, I can grab that for you. Are you guys ready to order?” The waitress’s chipper voice breaks the hold my memory has on me.

They all order bacon cheese burgers with fries while I order grilled salmon, wild rice, and steamed broccoli. I don’t hold back my look of disgust at their order.

“Slow down there, party animal.” Brendon laughs.

“If you were smart, you’d have a strict diet now. They expect nothing less in the NHL.”

“Shots. We need shots and they’re low in calories, so you’ll be fine,” Jeremy says, heading to the bar to order the drinks, shaking his head as he leaves the table.

Truth be told, I haven’t had much experience with alcohol. My father hasn’t allowed it and I didn’t want it bad enough to risk him finding out. I’ve never really been free of him, his presence looming over me at every turn. I get a few nights away from his grasp for away games but that’s it. Every home game he’s there, making sure I don’t fuck up and need He even lives close to campus in case he needs to intervene during the week.

Brendon and Paul discuss something on their side of the table that I don’t pay attention to. I’m scanning the room, looking for my father despite knowing he’s not here. I don’t like being in the middle of the room with my back to the door. It leaves me open to him sliding up behind me with no warning.

My phone vibrates in my pocket so I pull it out and check the screen. Dearest Daddy.

“Excuse me,” I stand from the table and accept the call while leaving the restaurant. My spine is straight as if going to war. I fighting a battle, but it’s a psychological one.

“Charles, you’ve been away from town for only a day and already you think you can ignore me?” My father using my first name makes me tense. I hate being called Charles. He and his high society friends are the only people to use that name.

“I’m at dinner with the team, I can’t exactly strip off my clothes and send you a picture right this second.” I know I fucked up the instant the words have left my mouth. I suck in a deep breath to calm my temper.

“You will watch your tone when you speak to me, you disrespectful little shit. I own you. I can pull you out of that school, and off that team, so fast your head will spin.” The cold rage fills my ears and my heart starts to pound. If I was in front of him right now, at the penthouse, I would be taught a lesson in respecting my elders.

I pace the lobby for something to do with the energy coursing through me. I scan the faces of everyone who walks through my line of sight, just in case the face that looks like mine appears. It wouldn’t be the first time he popped up somewhere I didn’t expect him.

The saliva in my mouth dries, a reaction to the lack of hydration he forces me to endure regularly during “You have nothing to say for yourself, Charles? Do you need to come home so soon? I had hoped that by now, you would have a better hold on that damn temper,” he snaps. “Or perhaps, Lillian would like to come see one of your home games.”

Fear races through my body, freezing the blood in my veins. A block of ice fills my stomach at the implication of him getting his hands on my sister. I’ve spent most of her entire life protecting her from him, I will fail now.

“No!” I damn near yell the word before forcing myself to press my back against a wall, close my eyes, and take a deep breath. The sensation of being watched sends a shiver down my spine. “I’m tired and hungry. I didn’t mean to take it out on you. I apologize.” The words I’ve spoken so many times fall from my lips. I could recite them in my fucking sleep at this point.

“Do better. Stop being an embarrassment to this family.”

“Yes, sir.” My head hits the wall as I mumble the words. She’s safe from him, that’s all that matters.

“Send a picture tonight or there will be hell to pay tomorrow.” The phone goes dead and the relief has my knees buckling.

A shudder zips up my spine at the memory of the music blasting in my ears and the electricity shooting through my body when he would shock me awake.

My heartbeat pounds in my ears and my body itches to flee but I’m not in danger right now. I’m okay.

Breathe.

In. Hold. Out. Release.

Over and over, I repeat the pattern of breathing until the tightness in my chest loosens and my body is no longer ready to fight for my life. When I’m calm, I head to the bathroom and luck out when there’s an open stall under a light. Quickly, I pull my arm out of my shirt, take a picture of the newest incision, and send it to my father. I’ve got my arm shoved through the sleeve and I’m leaving the room before it’s sent.

I can’t handle being in public anymore. My fucking father ruined another night for me. I’m too on edge but I know going for a run right now will not help. All I need is to sleep. I don’t even need food anymore.

Heading back into the restaurant, I see the waitress serving our table walking toward me and I stop her by holding up a finger.

“Is everything okay, sir?” she asks, pleasantly. Over her shoulder I can see the table and in my spot are two full shot glasses. Perfect.

“Can you have my meal boxed up and sent up with the guy I was sitting next to?”

“Of course.”

I nod to her and walk to the table.

Grabbing both of the shots, I shoot one back, swallow it, then slam back the second one.

“Fuck yeah!” Brendon shouts.

I cough at the harsh burn, reaching for my water and taking a long drink then slamming it down on the table. A warmth I wasn’t expecting spreads through my stomach until my entire abdomen is loose with it. I’ve never felt anything like it but it’s comforting, like a hug but no one’s touching me.

“I’m going back to my room. Night.” For just a second, my eyes meet Jeremy’s, surprise and confusion warring on his face. I know the closed off mask I usually wear is gone, exposing how raw and frustrated I am. There’s no way I can cover it right now, I have to protect myself.

I don’t stop to contemplate any of it. I don’t owe him or anyone else an explanation.