Chapter Five

Dash: We've landed safely in Denver.

Booker: Good. I love you.

Dash: I love you too.

Booker: I told my dad about us. This is the first time he actually listened to me about me dating anyone.

Dash: What did he say?

Booker: Honestly, he only grunted, but he didn't tell me to keep it to myself. Progress?

Dash: My offer still stands. You don't need to work for him.

Booker: I know. I love you.

Dash: I love you too.

Dash: I'm exhausted and tired of Murphy's face.

Booker: My poor angel. How can I help?

Dash: Send me a sexy video to keep me warm.

Booker: Later.

Dash: I tried to call a few times. Is everything okay?

Booker: Yeah. Sorry. Dad made me turn off my phone. He said we text too much on his dime.

Dash: *sigh* Would you just fucking quit already?

Booker: I love you.

Dash: LOL. That's always what you say when you want me to drop it. I love you too.

Booker: It always works. lol

It had been years since Booker agreed to dinner at his dad's place. His wife, Jenny, was the fucking worst. Truthfully, his dad wasn't any prize either, but putting the two together was nearly intolerable. Still, it was still his dad. Booker couldn't avoid the step monster forever. The minute he walked through the door, Booker knew he had made a mistake.

Jenny's ice-blue stare moved down his body. "You're getting fat. I'll half your serving." That was it. No greeting.

He barely suppressed a feral smile. "It's nice to see you too, Jenny."

She pulled an innocent face. "What? God hates fatties."

At least it wasn't another F slur. The night was young. "Do you need help to set the table?" The quicker they started, the faster he could leave.

"No. Go have a seat. I'll bring you a plate."

With a nod, he headed for the dining room. His dad already sat at the head of the table. He barely spared Booker a glance as Booker walked through the door. "Son."

"Dad." It was all the greeting they ever had. Real men didn't show affection for their sons, according to his father.

Jenny bustled in, carrying plates. In blessedly short order, they were seated with their meal. He didn't touch his plate. Booker already knew where this was headed next.

"Let's say grace."

At Jenny's urging, they bowed their heads.

As always, Jenny led. "Dear Heavenly Father, thank you for this meal. We know many aren't as fortunate, since they don't know your ways." Booker rolled his eyes, but kept his head down. "Thank you for sending Booker home to us tonight so we can help guide him back to you. We haven't lost hope yet that he'll abandon his evil homosexual ways and see your guiding light. Amen."

Booker didn't even have the energy to seethe anymore. He simply picked up his fork, determined to eat and go. If he knew nothing else, he knew he couldn't change anyone's mind. He wasn't sure, even if he woke up magically straight one day, if they would care about him then either. Jenny just seemed to take perverse pleasure in hating him. He had his own theories about that.

"Speaking of Booker's evil homosexual ways, you won't believe who he's dating."

Booker lifted his head at his dad's comment. His dad almost sounded proud. Nothing good could come of that.

Jenny looked between them. "Who?"

His dad's brown gaze lit—like a man about to spread the gossip. "Dash Robertson."

Jenny blinked. "The rugby player?"

It didn't surprise Booker Jenny knew that. All his dad cared about was sports. She would keep up just to please him.

His dad made a dismissive gesture. "That's the one, except he doesn't play rugby anymore. He got drunk and crashed into a semi a few years back, getting himself paralyzed. He plays for Booker's cripple team now."

The evil light that entered Jenny's eyes wasn't enough warning. "Oh. That makes sense. You had to wait until he was half a man before he would settle for you."

Booker calmly set his napkin aside. He could live through the insults. Booker was used to being treated like this, but he wouldn't listen to anyone slander Dash.

He stood. "Disrespectfully, he's twice the person either of you will ever be and you can both go fuck yourselves."

Jenny gasped.

His father said something, but Booker was already halfway out the door. He wouldn't have heard anyway. His pulse pounded in his ears. He had tried his hardest not to burn this bridge. Booker had no clue how he would survive financially for the remainder of the off season, but he was done. For the sake of his mother's memory, he had tried to be in his dad's life. He couldn't do it anymore. Nothing was worth this.

The moment Booker climbed behind the wheel of his car, he called Dash. It went straight to voicemail.

At the beep, he just started talking. Even he didn't know how to voice what had just happened. "Hey, baby. I know you're probably busy. I just had it out with Dad and wanted to hear your voice. Don't let my bullshit distract you. I'll call you later. Love you."

Booker white-knuckled the steering wheel as he drove. His anger only grew. How dare that bitch call Dash half a man? The worst part was her words had cut him to the bone. If Dash hadn't had that wreck, they never would have ended up together. That was for a lot of reasons. Still, there was a voice in the back of his head saying Dash wouldn't have chosen him under any other circumstances. Dash was incredibly out of his league.

His phone rang. Booker glanced at the screen on his dashboard. It was his dad. Booker declined the call, but the phone immediately rang again. His dad didn't plan to let him go without a lecture. The first red light he came to, Booker turned off his phone while he was stopped. He was too upset to go home with his thoughts. Plus, he didn't put it past his dad to show up at his door to have his say. Booker couldn't deal with anything else right now.

With no real plan, Booker ended up in the parking lot of Puck Drop. It was a local bar close to the arena. Players hung out there on and off season. Booker didn't go often, but he needed a drink. Without looking right or left, Booker headed straight for the bartender the moment he stepped inside.

Before Booker had time to order, he heard someone call his name. Booker turned and spotted a face he hadn't seen in ages. "Lev? Oh, my god. What brings you to town?" They met halfway and the giant Russian-born hockey player Booker had known for more than decade pulled him into a hug.

"It is good to see you. You're always taller when we meet."

Booker laughed. While they had met at a hockey camp when they were sixteen, Booker had done little with his life. Lev had gone on to be picked up by Phoenix, getting paid millions to be the star.

"You didn't answer my question. What brings you to New Orleans?"

Lev rubbed the back of his neck and glanced around, as if afraid to answer. "May I take you to dinner? There are too many people here."

A thought hit. Booker had heard rumblings of Lev being courted by different teams now that his contract had ended with Phoenix. While Phoenix would likely pay whatever it took to keep Lev, it would be in his best interest to make it look as if he considered leaving. There weren't many people in the bar, but any one of them would know Lev's face and likely love to sell anything they overheard to the highest-paying tabloid.

"I actually just walked out of a dinner with my dad, so I'd love to grab a bite."

Lev laughed and slung his arm over Booker's shoulders. "Are you still talking to that old bastard? Tear a page from Lev's book. Russia doesn't want the gay hockey star, so Lev renounced his citizenship. You should walk away for good too. His loss."

Booker chuckled, even though nothing felt funny to him. "It's always felt more complicated than that to me."

Lev snorted. "You think too much. Life is only as complicated as you make it. People are good to you, you keep them. If not, boom." Lev kicked out one leg. "To the curb. Life is too short to be miserable." Lev led him to a black SUV and opened the passenger door for him.

Booker waited until Lev was behind the wheel before responding. "That's a bit easier for you. I'm not a millionaire. The league doesn't pay me shit during the season and nothing at all during off season. My dad might be a piece of shit, but he will let me work for him two months out of the year."

Lev tossed him an exasperated look. Even in the dark, Booker felt the way the guy's green eyes could turn mocking in an instant. "Does he still pay you the same as he did when you were a teen?"

Booker ground his back teeth. His jaw popped. He pried his teeth apart. "Yes."

Lev sighed. "It's as I thought. You'll work for Lev until the season begins. I need an assistant."

That sounded like complete bullshit to Booker. "You need an assistant?" He heard the sarcasm in his voice. It was out of his control.

Lev nodded. His gaze never left the road. "Once people catch wind of why I'm here, I won't be able to go anywhere without getting mobbed. You can be my very overpaid errand boy."

A laugh burst from Booker. "Do you really plan to stay here until the new season starts?"

With a shrug, Lev tossed him a bright smile. "Maybe. I like this town. If not, though, you come home with Lev. Phoenix is one step away from hell this time of year, but you'll have good time."

Booker didn't know if this was a legitimate job offer or even if he would accept if it was. But Booker needed something, and Lev offered, so maybe the off season wouldn't be so bad after all. He needed a fucking break.

Dash slept straight through Booker's call. He was so damn tired, physically and mentally. Their practice schedule had been grueling. Unfortunately, now Booker wasn't answering his phone and Dash didn't know what to do. He knew Booker and his dad had a contentious relationship. Dash had never been clear on why. He gathered Booker didn't like his stepmom. Dash always assumed she was the heart of their problems. Either way, he couldn't help if Booker wouldn't answer the phone.

Dash turned on the TV, hoping to stay awake in case Booker called back. He barely spared it a glance as he stared at his phone, willing it to ring.

"And in other sports news tonight, amid rumors of contract breakdowns between Lev Medvedkov and the Phoenix Ice Rays, Medvedkov was spotted earlier tonight in New Orleans. It was said he was with none other than a coach from the Chuckers' sled team, Booker Stevenson. Could this private dinner at the upscale Sauvage Steakhouse be the first signs the gossip is true? Is Medvedkov being courted by the Chuckers?"

The rapid succession of emotions Dash experienced couldn't be described. For a straight five minutes, he couldn't decide how he felt until he landed on enraged. He snatched up the device that had fallen from his hand in his shock. Before he could find Booker's number to call and rip into him, the device rang in his hand. It was Booker. He pressed the device to his ear, ready to blast him.

"Hey, baby. Guess who I ran into tonight?"

Dash couldn't see past the red in his vision. "Fucking Lev Medvedkov."

A moment of silence met his furious tone. "How did you know that?"

Dash wanted to kill someone. "It was on the goddamn news. Did you have fun going out with someone else, and to Sauvage, of all places? Was the guy trying to make you see exactly how much he could give you I can't?"

"What? The news?" Booker sounded genuinely confused.

Dash couldn't care. He was too angry. "I guess I really jumped the gun on the whole no condom thing. Exactly how long have you been fucking this guy? Do I need to get tested early?"

"What the fuck are you talking about?"

"Don't play dumb." Dash heard himself and he couldn't stop. He couldn't recall ever being so furious.

To his surprise, Booker went completely calm. "I wish you had let me know I could no longer see any of my friends. That's not something I would've agreed to for anyone. If you're looking for a hostage, look elsewhere. I"m not the one." Booker didn't wait for Dash's response before hanging up on him.

Dash immediately tried calling back, but it went straight to voicemail. "Goddamn it, Booker. Answer my call." He called again, only to be sent straight to voicemail again. This time, he didn't bother leaving a message before chucking his phone across the room.

Dash stared at the wall and fumed. He didn't know what to think. Dash's temper had snapped so fast, he couldn't think. In his frustration, he scrubbed at his forehead. No doubt Booker had met plenty of players in his days as a coach. It was possible they were friends. Dash just hated everything about the idea of Booker at a fancy dinner with another man. He rubbed his chest. Right or wrong, it seemed they were over and Dash was over a thousand miles from home. He couldn't chase Booker and force him to talk. Dash couldn't find Lev and kill him. He didn't know what to do.