Chapter 22 - Stone

“Coach wants you to sit out this game.”

Well, can’t say I didn’t see that coming.

After stowing my bag in my station, I turn to face Nate. Callum stands beside me, and I can feel his anger from here. Although, I sense it’s directed more at me than Coach.

Everyone else’s gazes are pointedly looking away as they all get ready for practice before our second game against Vermont.

“And who’s taking my place?” I ask, already knowing the answer.

“Vaughn.”

I swear one of my teeth cracks.

“Coach said the decision’s up to me,” Nate says, clearly unaware how close he’s standing to a ticking time bomb. “ He wants you to sit it out, but he also knows we stand a better chance of winning with you out there.”

“So what are you going to do?”

“I have to ask you a question, and then I’ll decide.” His eyes flick over to Callum then back to me. “Is something going on between you and Hayes?”

Fuck. I can’t answer that. I told Callum us coming out to the team was his choice.

Before I can think of an excuse without outright telling him no, Callum saves me.

“Yes.”

I snap my head to the side to see Callum standing there with his arms crossed and his chin raised, daring Nate to give us any shit.

An easy smile reaches my lips.

Nate’s eyes are wide, his jaw slack. Then he shakes his head and lets loose a laugh. “You two wanted to fucking kill each other a couple months ago. I shouldn’t even be surprised.” When he looks back at me, his eyes narrow. “Unfortunately, this clearly presents a problem.”

Callum steps forward, dropping his arms. “I told him last night he can’t pull that shit anymore. He said he won’t.”

“And you believe him?”

I fucking hate how they’re talking as though I’m not standing right here. However, I really don’t want to be benched this game—let alone watch Callum and Eric playing together on the ice for an hour and a half—so I keep my mouth shut.

“I do,” Callum says.

Nate nods slowly, considering. “Alright. I’ll tell Coach I think you should play. But this is the only time I’m sticking up for you. Got it, Wakefield?”

“Got it, Captain.” I turn to Callum as Nate stalks off to his own station. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“Eh.” He shrugs, grinning. “The thrill of sneaking around wasn’t going to last forever. Besides…” He steps closer, his bright eyes fixed on mine except for the brief flick down to my mouth. “We’ll have plenty of other thrills to look forward to.”

I’d kiss him right now if our entire team wasn’t in this room and I knew he didn’t mind public displays of affection.

When he turns away to start changing into his gear, my eyes seek out Eric. I can’t help it. I find him on the other side of the locker room, and as though he senses me, he turns his head. There’s a neutral expression on his face, but if anyone else was looking close enough, they’d see the hard set of his jaw, the way his knuckles turn white from the grip he has on his pads.

I knew he was a fucking weasel.

As we all get out on the ice to start practice, I feel more eyes on me than usual. There’s Callum’s, but I’m used to his. There’s Eric’s, whose occasional glares I catch being thrown my way. Then there’s Coach’s, who’s watching me like a hawk.

Before the game starts, he grabs my sweater in a tight fist and hauls me close so he can growl low in my ear. It’s nothing like the growls that came from Callum last night, but it’s one nonetheless.

“If you play any dirtier tonight than you know I let you get away with, I’ll have you off this team so fast your head will fucking spin.”

“Yes, sir, Coach.”

At least I got the all-clear to still play dirty.

That’s Coach Hill for you.

So, of course, when the opposing team’s number fifty-seven slashes Callum’s glove with his stick while they’re battling in the crease, I take that as my opportunity.

Even though the hit barely seems to have fazed Callum, I rush in, holding the shaft of my stick in both hands and cross-checking the motherfucker. The hit lands so hard that he’s knocked down and goes skidding across the ice until he hits the boards.

This time, before a fight even breaks out, I skate back and hold my hands in the air.

It’s not nearly enough.

Fifty-seven receives a minor penalty, while I get a major. But at least it’s only five minutes in the sin bin instead of last night’s fifteen.

As I skate past Callum, our gazes locked, I ask, “Happy?”

He rolls his eyes, but I don’t miss his reluctant grin or his begrudging, “Very.”

Those repeated words from last night have my mouth turning up in a wide smile. As I skate backwards toward the penalty box, I blow him a kiss.

The other team is awarded another power play, but our guys hold them off until I come rushing back out onto the ice.

We win the game that night.

I’m jolted out of a deep sleep by a kick to my shin.

Fuck, that hurt.

That’s my first thought. My second is that Callum’s in trouble.

We’re lying in our bed in the hotel room in Vermont. We went out with the team for dinner after the game, and by the time we made it back to the room, we were both so exhausted that we just crashed into bed in our boxers, kissed for a few minutes, and fell asleep.

I have no idea what time it is, but it feels like it’s probably the dead of night.

Callum is whimpering. I’m pretty sure he kicked me in his sleep.

That theory’s confirmed when he does it again.

His whimpers grow louder, his movements more frantic as he fights against me and the sheets like he’s at war. I know he’s dealt with nightmares, but I’ve never witnessed one this bad before.

How the hell isn’t he waking up?

I’ve noticed he’s a hard sleeper, but I clearly didn’t know the half of it. He’s struggling against some invisible attacker until his whimpers start forming words.

“No, no. Stop. Please. No.”

I can’t fucking take it anymore.

He’s on his back, and I raise myself up on my elbow, hovering beside him without touching him.

“Callum?”

He shakes his head, tears streaming down his face.

I’m not going to be able to wake him up without touching him. I’m a little worried about how he might react, but I won’t let him stay trapped in that nightmare, a prisoner in his own mind.

I grab onto his arm and gently shake him. “Callum!”

His hand shoots out, and a fist rocks my jaw. It’s certainly not the hardest punch I’ve received from him, but if I wasn’t fully awake already, I would be now.

Grasping him by the wrist, I shout his name a little louder, shake him a little harder. “Callum!”

His eyes fly open.

When I see what’s inside them, I swear I can hear the sound of my heart cracking right down the middle.

They’re wet, but beneath those pools of tears is fear . Pure, utter terror. And pain. An agony so intense and visceral that it pervades the air, suffocating us both. He’s mentioned shadows to me before, and I think I see them now. They’re swimming in his eyes, trying to snuff him out.

I won’t let them take him.

His chin trembles, and his voice comes out rough and broken. “Stone?”

“I’m here, baby.”

Callum launches himself at me, forcing me back onto the mattress on my side. Our arms come around each other at the same time, holding each other equally as tight. He sobs into my chest. They wrack his entire body as I hold him to me.

If I could, I’d bring Lewis Gibson back from the dead.

If I ever find out reincarnation is real, I’d track him down in his next life and make him suffer worse than anyone’s ever suffered.

He’d wish he came back as a cockroach before I was through with him.

“I’m right here, Cal,” I whisper against his hair, stroking his back. “I’m never going anywhere. I’m right here.”

He sniffs. “I’m sorry.”

“You have nothing to apologize for.”

He shakes his head like he doesn’t agree. “I can take a hit,” he says, the words muffled as he speaks against my chest. “I can take rough from you. But I…I can’t take these fucking nightmares.”

“Tell me what I can do. I want to help you.”

I fucking hate feeling helpless.

Callum sniffs a few more times, his body trembling at least a little less than before. When he pulls back to look into my eyes that have adjusted to the darkness, I see his are red, tear tracks staining his cheeks.

In a soft, desperate whisper, he says, “I need you inside me.”

My brow furrows. “What?”

“Please, Stone. I need you. Turn all my bad things good.”

I search his gaze for any sign that maybe he’s not in his right mind, but the determination and urgency I find there instead are enough to convince me.

He needs this.

Just like he needs death.

Leaving one arm around him, I bring my other hand up and tenderly brush a fingertip along his lips. He parts them, and I slip two fingers inside his mouth. His eyelids flutter closed. Every taut muscle in his body loosens as those shadows recede to where they came from.

I wish I could vanquish them completely.

Removing my fingers from his mouth, I reach down to tug his underwear off. I grab his thigh and hike his leg over mine, and the position has his cock touching mine through the fabric of my boxers. He’s not hard. I’m not either, but I’m having to fight the surge of blood trying to head that way.

As I thrust my fingers back into his mouth, gliding them slowly over his tongue, I know it wouldn’t take much more to get me there.

“That’s it, baby,” I tell him as he starts to suck. “Get them nice and wet, okay? I’m going to show you that you’re safe. That you’ll always be safe with me. That I’ll always give you what you need.”

His eyes open then, and I’m relieved to see them full of calm this time. It’s the kind of calm that overcomes him when I seduce him with talk of death.

Slipping my fingers back out one last time, I lower them between us, feeling my way past his balls until I get to his hole. I swirl one fingertip around his rim before gently pushing it inside.

Callum’s breath catches in his throat, his lips still parted as his peaceful gaze holds mine captive.

He holds me captive.

I’ll gladly let him lock me away if he can stop me from locking him away first.

After I’ve worked one finger inside him, I add the second.

A soft sigh slips past his lips, and his head lands back against my chest.

“Do you need more?” I ask, not expecting anything.

My cock is hard now, and his is halfway there. But this feels different than the times that have ended in a fuck.

“No. Not right now,” he says, his voice finally steady, if a bit breathless. “Can we…can we just sleep like this?”

“Anything you need, baby.”

“You. Like this. That’s what I need.” He nuzzles against my chest, kissing my collarbone. “When I have nightmares, you could…I mean…”

“You want me to wake you up like this?” I ask, thrusting my fingers in just a little deeper.

His quiet moan vibrates through me. “Yes. With your fingers or your cock, it doesn’t matter.”

My dick sure loves that idea, voicing its ecstatic approval by twitching in my boxers.

“Turn all my bad things good, Stone,” he says again, his voice growing tired. “I think you’re the only one who can.”

With my arm that’s still around him, I squeeze him a little tighter. His words start to heal that fracture in my heart that opened up when he first awoke, filling in that crack with gold.

I’m pretty sure he’s fallen asleep when I feel the smooth flow of his warm breath against my skin.

Instead of telling him he’s mine while he sleeps, I tell him something different this time.

“It’s because I’m yours, Callum. All fucking yours.”