2. Mal

2

MAL

T he alarm blared at five a.m. sharp. I reached my hand out to shut it off and on a muffled groan into my pillow, I pulled myself out of bed. For as long as I could remember, I had been an early riser. My days off weren't any different, either, as I forced myself to stick to the same routine.

Get up.

Go for a run in the park.

Shower.

It was a simple, yet effective schedule I embedded into my life for the last few years now. It kept me sane.

It kept me grounded.

Then throwing on a pair of black running shorts and a plain tee, I headed for the kitchen where I grabbed my headphones and shoes. In a matter of five or so minutes, I was out jogging along the sidewalk with music blaring and the cool morning air awaking all my senses. Legs pumping and calves burning, I made my way up a small incline until I was finally at the entrance of Keystone Trail, a five-mile stretch that took you through the trees and along the lake.

I pushed myself down the windy path, bypassing only a few other runners who shared the same schedule as me.

After a good two hours of running, I took the path back to my house where I immediately climbed the stairs for a shower.

Stripping off my boxers, I padded across the chilled hardwood floors and into my bathroom where I cranked on the water and stepped under the warm spray.

My eyes closed on a groan. Any aches and pains that were bothering me before, completely vanished. From the top of my throbbing shoulder, down to my battered toes, I felt a sense of tranquility fall over me.

I was tired.

So goddamn tired.

Not just physically, but mentally.

I was getting too old for this shit. Everything I put my body through over the years was finally catching up to me. Every square inch hurt, and to think one day that the pain and adrenaline I endured would just end fucking terrified me.

What would I have left?

Without hockey, what's my purpose in life?

Leaning my palm against the shower tiles, I peered down at my feet where water slid past my heels and into the drain. My cock throbbed in between my legs, an ache that only seemed to worsen over time.

I hadn't touched a woman in years.

I haven't wanted to, but the desire to indulge always fuckin' plagued me. A woman's mouth, her cunt, I was tired of using my hand, but something had always stopped me from taking a woman.

I didn't know what it was, but I was fuckin' tired of going with my instincts.

Needing a quick release to get me through the day, I sluggishly wrapped a palm around the base of my dick and began to stroke myself to life. It didn't take long before my firm, steady jerks had turned rugged and soon, I was dropping my head back on a groan as spurts of my cum covered the tiled wall in front of me.

A non-satisfying release, but a release none-the-fucking-less.

Once I was finished cleaning myself, I quickly dried off and wrapped the towel around my waist.

I wasn't hungry this morning, but coffee was a necessity. Without bothering to put clothes on, I went into the kitchen where I poured myself a hefty glass of coffee. No creamer, no sugar, I lifted the cup to my mouth and took a much-needed sip.

Fuck.

I'd take coffee over alcohol any day of the week.

Within ten minutes or so, my cup was empty and I found myself standing in front of my floor-to-ceiling window. Nothing was better than this view.

Endless trees, morning sunsets, and gloomy rainy days that matched my moods.

What could be any better than that?

Just then, I had heard my phone go off in the kitchen, so I made my way over to grab it.

James: Rise and shine, sunshine! Don't think I've forgotten that you agreed to go out with us tonight.

Dammit.

I didn't want to go, but after being cornered in the locker room by him and few other teammates, there was no way I could have said no.

Not this time anyway.

Me: Don't you have better things to do than to bug me?

James was like a stray dog that would never leave you alone. Constantly up your ass and wanting attention, but you continuously refused to acknowledge it.

That was our relationship.

At Sutton, he was the annoying teammate who fucked anyone with a heartbeat and now, he was the domesticated golden retriever of the team.

I didn't know which one was worse…

James: Not really. The wife is still sleeping and you're my only option.

Rolling my eyes, I grunted to myself before tossing my phone back down onto the counter and making my way back up to my bedroom. As I was walking, I heard my phone vibrate with another incoming text from James, but I ignored it.

Once I was in the safety of my room, I opened my dresser drawer and pulled out my journal that was resting on top of my socks.

Hoping to distract myself from the thought of going out tonight, I thew myself back into bed, and with my journal and pen in hand I began to write.