Chapter 4

Mo

The fork creeps closer to my plate and I smack it away.

The blonde sitting across the table grins, retracting the utensil that almost stole my last fry.

"One of these days I'm going to get you."

Scooping up the fry, I throw it into my mouth with a smirk, "You've been saying that for years."

My sister leans back against her seat with a huff, "One day soon it's going to be true."

"We'll see."

We grin at each other, and for the first time since I drove into Taber, it finally feels like home.

"What are you doing back in Taber so early, anyways?"

"Figured I'd come down and visit my big brother." Stella grins, "And I wanted an excuse to have Cody all to myself before school starts again."

I grimace, "You don't need to go into detail."

She laughs, "I don't remember you being a prude the last time I had a boyfriend."

"That's because I was too wrapped up in my own world to think about what was going on in your bedroom. Not to mention, I actually know the guy this time around."

"That should make it better, not worse." Stella wiggles her eyebrows, "You've seen Cody in the change room. You should be applauding me for tapping that ass."

I shake my head, "You're hopeless. How was your trip to Banff this summer?"

She beams, her smile almost as bright as the sparkly makeup lining her dark blue eyes. We both got my father's recessive genes in that department, but whereas mine are cold and impersonal, Stella's are always bursting with emotion.

"It was amazing. We stayed at this chateau and hit the hot springs." She laughs, "Cody almost got into a fight with some B-list celebrity who tried to hit on me."

"Couldn't imagine that going over well even if the guy wasn't a celebrity." If there's one thing my friend and old teammate does well, it's looking out for my sister.

Stella grins, "It's kind of hot when he gets jealous."

I watch her take a sip of water, the all-too familiar tug of concern rising to the surface. Reaching across the table, I grab her hand, "It's okay to let yourself drink occasionally. It won't change what happened to mom."

She sighs, squeezing my hand gently, "I know. My therapist is helping me work through it. Cody has been my rock through this whole thing."

Our mother got run off the road by a drunk driver back in my freshman year. My sister was in the car at the time, and while our mother died of internal bleeding, Stella survived with a few broken ribs and eighteen stitches up her right side. She underwent physiotherapy for months after the accident, but it wasn't until she started dating Cody that she realized she needed help dealing with the emotional stuff as well.

"I'm glad to hear it." Giving her hand one last squeeze, I release it with a wink, "If you and Ellsworth ever need a DD, you know where to find me."

Stella laughs, "I'll keep that in mind. How are you doing being back in Taber?"

"Better now that you're here." She rolls her eyes and I smile, "It's been good. MacNeil Incorporated was getting a little suffocating, so it's been nice to branch out."

"By suffocating you mean…"

"Jonathan."

She winces, "Jonathan. Have you talked to him about changing departments?"

I shake my head, reaching for my whiskey, "Not yet. Things have been busy lately, so I haven't broached the subject."

An eyebrow raises, "Sounds like you're making excuses."

"O'Briens don't make excuses." Taking a long sip, I savour the burn the whiskey leaves in its wake. If there's one man who can lead me to drink, it"s my father.

Stella watches me closely, "You don't have to live up to his expectations, Mo."

I shrug, "I'm used to them by now. You can't be the man of the house without bearing the weight that comes with it."

My sister frowns, toying with the ends of her long braid, "Maybe you should join one of my sessions with Karen. It's not healthy trying to be perfect all the time."

I smirk, "Guess it's a good thing I don't have to try."

"You're unbearable."

Stella sticks her tongue out and I smile, pushing down the pressure in my chest that has been there since I was twelve-years-old.

"Do you see this?"

My father wipes the tear from my cheek, holding his finger up to the light, "This a sign of weakness and that is something I never want to see."

I sniff, rubbing my eyes, "But what about when I'm sad? Mom says everyone is allowed to be weak when they're sad."

"Your mother is wrong." He kneels in front of me, his cold gaze locking on mine, "To be weak is to be average, and you my boy, are not average."

I frown, "But why is Stella allowed to cry when she's sad?"

"Your sister won't be the man of the house when she grows older, that responsibility will fall to you." My father wipes my cheek again, disappointment shining in his eyes, "But only if you're strong enough to take my place. Are you strong enough, Maurice?"

I nod, hastily wiping away the rest of my tears, "I am strong, Father."

"Good. I don't ever want to see your cheeks damp again. Do you understand me?" He stands up, blocking the light behind him and casting me in shadow.

"I understand."

Cheer explodes from the bar, and I turn my head to see the TV playing the hockey highlights of tonight's game.

"See anyone you like?" Stella grins, tilting her head towards the excited crowd.

I shrug and grab my coat from the back of the chair, "No one worth fighting for. Come on, let's get out of here."

Nico

"That's going to hurt in the morning."

Trip winces as her boyfriend drops to the floor and tries to do the worm in the middle of the dance circle. This is the third time tonight he's tried this move and it looks just as terrible as the last two tries. I could blame the lack of coordination on the four shots of tequila he's had, but I know for a fact that Wes has been practicing this move since we were teenagers.

Spoiler alert: It's never gotten better.

"Dude! You need to find a new move." I crack up as Wes rejoins us, his white t-shirt stained with God knows what substances were on the floor.

"And a new shirt." Trip steps away from him and earns herself drunk puppy dog eyes.

"But wasn't that better than the last try?"

Trip shoots me a panicked look, so I step in, "It was worse. So much worse."

"Awe man." Wes looks genuinely disappointed, so Trip accepts the risk of an infectious disease and wraps him in a hug.

I laugh, "Cheer up, man. Now you've got room for improvement."

Wes grins, his dimples making an appearance, "That's true."

Lights flash around us as the opening notes to a Pitbull song comes on. A new wave of energy hits the crowd as the well-known lyrics are screamed from every corner of the nightclub.

I laugh, throwing up my arms and letting myself be swept away with the music. Sweat drips down my back as I jump and dance with the strangers around me. Vertical strands of lights hang down from the arched ceiling, the bulbs changing colour with each new song. A red haze hits the room when the song fades into the next, triggering another bout of energy to wash over the room.

A winding staircase occupies the back corner of the nightclub, a section catered only to the super rich or the super famous. The railing has strands of leaves woven throughout, blending in with the nature theme that Lifestyle is known for. Even the drinks come with some sort of leaf or flower addition, each one stamped with the club's logo.

Trip was so excited when her Dark Stormy cocktail came with a daisy, she snapped a picture and immediately put it on her social media.

Ah, heterosexuals.

I'm in the middle of a terrible Mr. Brightside rendition with an incredibly handsome black man when someone calls for my attention.

"NICO!"

The shout drags my attention from the glistening dark skin begging for a taste. I turn to see Wes gesturing towards the exit.

"Trip and I are going to head out. Do you want us to call you a ride?"

I wave him off, "I had two shots in the last four hours. Even if I wasn't a river of sweat, it would have worn off by now."

He nods, throwing an arm around Trip. She gives me a knowing look, "Be careful, Nico. Text us when you get home."

I shimmy over and plant a big kiss on her forehead, "You"re the sweetest. I'll jam out to a couple more songs then head home. Go take care of our boy."

She nods and leads Wes through the crowd. I turn back and find my dance partner lip locked with an equally attractive blonde. I watch them go at it, getting hornier by the second before turning away with a sigh.

I really should be getting home.

Groaning at my sudden ability to be responsible, I head for the exit. I spy Raphael pushing someone out the door and quickly swerve for the side door to avoid unnecessary contact.

Cold air hits my sweat-soaked body when I push through the door, raising goosebumps on every inch of exposed skin. I sigh happily as I make my way towards the car, the cool breeze blowing through my damp hair.

Nothing beats the rush of Lifestyle.

I turn off the music as I make my way home, the ringing in my ears and leftover adrenalin giving me more than enough fuel to stay awake. My stomach lets out a growl about halfway through the drive, and a quick glance at my fuel tells me I'm running low.

Gas up, grab a snack, and then crash in bed. Sounds like the tamest Friday night I've had in a while.

I pull into the next gas station I see, parking at the fuel station next to a massive, souped-up Cadillac. Groaning, I quickly register the BC plates and the warrior-sized shadow moving past the convenience store windows.

Out of all the gas stations I could have stopped at, I ended up at the same one as Maurice O'Brien. Typical.

What's he doing out this late, anyways?

I frown, glancing at the clock above the gas station. Almost 2AM. Seems a little late for an assistant coach to be grabbing a snack.

Humming to myself, I make the mature decision to bypass the snack and get the hell out of here before the grumpy O'Brien comes back outside.

A huge Ford truck pulls up behind my car, its headlights momentarily blinding me. Rowdy laughter explodes from the back as a group of guys stumble out of the truck, the loose jeans and flannel shirts leaving no question as to what group they belong to.

My neck pricks with unease as I watch the numbers on my fuel station slowly tick by. A beer can gets thrown my way and I flinch, making one of the guys laugh.

"Fellas, would ya look at that. We found ourselves a queer all dressed up on the outskirts of town."

Ignoring them, I reach for my phone in my pant pocket. The fabric presses against my leg, empty.

Shit. I left my phone in the car.

"Hey pretty boy! Were you out getting some dick tonight?"

I make a show of looking around before turning to the idiot stumbling towards me.

"Looks like the only dick here is you, Johnny boy."

The pump in my hand clicks and I yank it out and screw on my gas cap.

"What the fuck? He knew your name, man."

Someone hops out of the driver seat, and I quickly make my way to the safety of my own door.

"Wasn't hard to guess given that most men from incestuous families are named Johnny. Tell your daddy I say hi."

I hop in my car and turn the ignition just as something smashes through my windshield.

I throw my hands up and jerk back, trying to shield my eyes from the glass shards falling around me. My palms burn as glass slices through my skin, the exposed column of my neck and upper chest just barely missing the impact. My door gets ripped open and I lunge for the phone lying on the passenger seat. I let out a curse as the device slips through my bloody fingers and suddenly I"m being dragged from the car by rough hands.

My body hits the concrete with a loud thud, the jarring impact vacuuming the air from my lungs. I twist and turn on the ground, feeling my shirt start to tear as I frantically scramble back onto my feet.

"Look guys, I think we may have gotten off on the wrong foot-

A punch to the stomach has me hunching over with a groan. The four guys have surrounded me now, the sneers on their faces not putting the odds in my favour.

Let"s face it: I"m a lover not a fighter.

The one with the hideous mullet steps forward, the greasy strands of hair putting a bad taste in my mouth before he shoves me backwards.

"Shut your fucking mouth. We don"t like queers around here."

I stumble back and another guy shoves me forward. The momentum throws me off balance and I go crashing down, skin burning as gravel scrapes the cuts in my hands. I make an attempt to crawl to my knees but a well-placed kick has me sprawling face down on the blood stained concrete.

Fuck this shit.

Spitting the blood and grit out of my mouth, I flop onto my back and make blurry eye contact with the leader.

"I'm flattered babe, but you really aren't my type."

He looks down at me with a sneer, "You"re fucking disgusting."

A boot comes down and then everything goes black.