Thirty-One

THIRTY-ONE

REN

At the end of the second period against Colorado, we're down 6-1. I know Felton isn't doing well right now. I can see it in his face. His attention keeps moving to the audience as if he's waiting to see his parents there. Scowling at him. Spreading their negativity and hate.

He drops onto the bench when we file into the locker room for intermission and while I've made sure we exercise a bit of space between us around the team, I don't think I can maintain that right now. Felton needs me.

I look at Coach Shively as he steps into the locker room. He meets my eyes and for a minute, we stare at each other.

While Felton was in the shower last night, I had a conversation with our coach. I knew Felton was going to be a wreck today. I explained more of the situation than I probably should have without Felton's permission, but I needed Coach most of all to understand Felton's mental state induced by his parents because I knew it was going to affect his game tonight. Something he's fought against his entire life, and he's finally reached a full breaking point.

Thankfully, Coach is understanding. He gives me a slight nod and I turn toward Felton.

The locker room is quiet. I can feel the frustration, but I have a feeling everyone can see that Felton isn't well right now. A three-year-old could see it.

Crossing the space between us, I climb onto his lap. His eyes open and he stares at me in surprise. I know we have the audience of the entire room, but I can't let that deter me tonight. Felton deserves a certain level of privacy, but we don't have that luxury right now. And more than anything, he needs to know that he's safe. He's not alone.

Leaning into him, I press my forehead to his. "They're not here," I murmur. "I can ask for security to assure you if that'll help."

He swallows. Then takes a deep breath and shakes his head.

"They aren't here," I repeat. "They will not hurt you anymore."

His breath is shaky as he nods. His hands land on my legs and he pulls me closer.

"What do you need right now?"

Felton shakes his head. "Maybe Marion should take goal," he says.

"We have plenty of time to come back," Willits argues from my right. "You got this."

"You've saved a lot of shots," Denny insists. "They've made something like fifty-six shots, and they've only managed six goals."

"That's more than ten percent," Felton says with a frown. "I'm not sure that's something to be proud of."

"I think it is," I retort, pressing my lips to his sweaty neck. "You're fighting a lot internally and have still managed to block more than eighty percent of their shots, Fel."

"I don't know," he says. "I don't want to let you down."

"You're not," Zenia promises before I can answer. He drops onto the bench next to Felton. "We all need to get our shit together. This is a team sport and we're not doing very well keeping the puck in their zone or making shots. If we stepped up our game, it wouldn't be so heavily on you to carry us."

I smile because while some of that's true, it's not all true. Meeting Zenia's eyes, he gives me a smile. I appreciate what he's trying to do, and further appreciate no one arguing with him.

We're not in the business of being soft so we don't hurt each other's feelings. But I think everyone knows, especially with the bit that I've just volunteered, that Felton isn't just having an off night. His struggle is deep right now.

"Thanks," Felton says after a minute.

I sit up and look at him. He gazes over my shoulder and I know he's looking at Coach. It's confirmed when Coach asks, "Do you feel like you're up to finishing the game or would you like to sit out?"

It's kind of him to give Felton a choice. But Felton doesn't like choices. I feel him tense under me right away.

"Stay in the game," I tell him. "You don't have to prove to anyone other than yourself that you belong there. Remember—it's me, you, our team, and hockey. That's it. Everything else is just noise."

Felton takes a deep breath and nods. "Yeah. Just us, our team, hockey. Okay."

I remain on his lap, holding him against me while Coach talks to the rest of the team. Zenia wasn't wrong. We need to get our shit together and play like a fucking team who's done this once or twice. Ten days off was far too fucking long.

We still lose in the end, which none of us are surprised about. Colorado made thirty-one more shots, while we made eleven. Yep, that's how off a night we were having. Of those thirty-one shots, Felton let in one. Though if you ask anyone on the team, it should have been taken back for goalie interference since one of their players was literally in Felton's fucking net while the puck was half a dozen feet away.

Refs, man. You'd think four on the ice would be enough. In case anyone's wondering, most of the time, it's not. They only see what they want to see.

While Felton's quiet after the game, I'm really loving our team when they all show him support after. I know they're bummed and frustrated with the way the game went, but they put in a lot of effort not to let Felton feel it to the fullest effect.

We get back to the hotel and head upstairs immediately. I'm glad he hadn't made plans with anyone after. I'm not sure what friends he has on other teams, but apparently none in Colorado.

It's only as I'm stripping out of my suit while I think about the teams he has friends on that he meets while we travel or when they're in town, do I realize it's not random. Vegas, L.A., Buffalo, New York, Philadelphia, Washington—they're all teams that have out players. I guess I hadn't realized they were all friends.

I'm glad he has them, but I'm more relieved that he doesn't have any in Colorado right now. I'm not sure if he'd benefit more from a friend tonight or being here with me.

He's moving slowly, so I help him along and pull his clothes off for him. He sighs, letting me. I hand him a pair of skimpy underwear that he slips into and then nudge him into the bathroom to go through his nighttime routine while I straighten up our mess.

Then we switch spots as he gets comfortable in bed and I wash up for the night. Crawling into bed, I turn the lights off right away and pull him into my chest. He wraps around me. There's still the faintest tremor in his hold, as if he's physically trying to hold himself together.

I can't imagine what it must feel like to have had to scale that mountain for more than three decades. All alone. Facing his father, his entire family, every day as a child with no one there to support him. No one defending him. No one on his side.

He doesn't see it, but he's remarkably strong to have lived for so long under that kind of pressure without buckling. Just because he reached his breaking point now doesn't mean he's weak. It means he needs help and can't deny it anymore.

"Tomorrow I'm going to call Imry," I murmur. "We're going to have him work on a restraining order for your parents. I want you to tell Imry that I can speak on your behalf, if that's something you're comfortable with."

"Yes, please," he whispers.

"I promise, Felton, I will only ever do what's in your best interest. Even if you want me to make all your decisions, we're going to talk about some things, so I know how you feel. That way, when I make a decision for you, I know it'll be what you want and what's best for you."

He sighs heavily. "Okay."

"Is it okay? You can tell me if it's not."

The room is dark with the shades pulled and the night deep outside the curtains. Only the light from under the door and the dim nightlight built into the bathroom sink offer any illumination. I can see his eyes and the rough shape of his face when he looks at me.

"Yes," he says. "Honestly, I don't care if you bury me alive right now, Ren. I don't want to do anything when it's always wrong."

"It's not always wrong. It's never been always wrong."

I don't need to see his face to know he doesn't believe me. His lips land on mine and for several minutes, we kiss. I swear, it feels like he's handing me his autonomy right now, saying—here, do with me what you want.

What I want is to make him forget about his shithead father. Rolling him over, I kiss him a little harder. Maybe telling him I accept what he's offering and I'll do everything I'm able to make sure he's taken care of. To make him happy.

Already I miss his smile.

"What do you need right now?" I ask against his lips.

One day, I'll know exactly what he needs without asking. I know I will. Because Felton Badcock is going to be my entire life. I'll know everything about him—his wants, his dislikes, his fears, his dreams, his needs, his desires. And I'll make sure that no matter what, he has the world handed to him. He deserves all of it.

But right now, I'm still learning him.

Felton shakes his head, but his hands slide down to my ass. I grin into his mouth. "You're such an ass man, aren't you?"

I'm relieved when I feel his smile in return. "Yes," he admits. "And yours is just so sexy."

"Is it?"

He nods. "It's so firm and round." His hand flexes. "I love to grip it. It fits perfectly in my hands."

"Are you always a bottom, Fel?" I ask in an echo of a previous conversation.

Felton shrugs. "Most of the time. As it turns out, most men I've encountered who claim that they like big dicks have a limit to how big is too big, though they swear that's not the case."

"Hmm," I answer, pressing kisses to his jaw. "Maybe we can work up to switching."

This time, his smile is wide. "Oh yeah? Think you can do that?"

"Don't know," I admit. "But if it's something you enjoy, I'd be happy to try at least once."

Felton sighs. "I'm happy as a bottom, you know. I really like dick."

I chuckle. "I think I knew that."

"I guess… I'd maybe really like to top sometimes. But not if you don't like it. It's not at all enjoyable if you don't like it. I'm not that kind of guy."

"Believe it or not, I know that about you."

He presses a kiss to my cheek. "Thank you for being here. Not just tonight when I needed you, but… these last several months."

"I was always meant to be here, Felton."

"You think so? Like fate or something?"

Grinning, I shrug. "Don't know about that, but it wasn't long before I started spending time with you when my feelings for you began changing entirely."

"That seems weird. You like broken men," he says.

I laugh. "You're not broken. You've been hurt and need some help to see yourself clearly. But you're not broken. Even if you were, you were beaten down to that point, having lived with the kind of nasty voices always in your head that you have."

Felton sighs.

"No more," I assure him. "Until your parents can get their shit together, until I'm satisfied with their behavior and how they treat and talk to you, you will not be speaking to them or seeing them. I will be the only one to deal with them."

It's really sad that he completely relaxes under me. The amount of stress that he carries because of them is sick.

"Thank you," he says.

"I need one thing from you, Felton."

"What?"

"When you need help with something—anything at all—tell me. It can just be ‘help' and I'll be there without question. If it's a situation you're in and you don't know what to do, do exactly as you did yesterday and call me so I can hear it and I'll come to you. You're not fighting alone anymore, Fel. Give me all of you and I'll keep you safe."

His arms are vise grips around me. Holding me as if I'm in a straight jacket. "Why are you so good to me?" he whispers. "Why do you want all my broken bits?"

"Give me all your broken pieces," I murmur, pressing kisses all over his face and letting him pretend he's not crying as I taste his tears. "I will help you put them all back together until you never remember they existed. You're mine to protect now. Mine to help make happy. Believe me, Felton, there's nothing I want more in this world than you."

When did I turn into such a sap?

In all reality, I think he needs to hear the sappy things. I'm not sure he's heard anything nice outside of his short-lived sex business. So I'm going to keep telling him until there's no question from him. I will remind him often until he understands without a doubt that I'm all about him.

He doesn't need strangers who don't know him to tell him how hot he is. How much they want to be the one fucking him. He doesn't need them to tell him all the things he's always wished to hear.

I will make sure he never lacks hearing them. And he's going to know that it's different coming from me because I actually personally know the man who I'm saying them to. And I mean every single word.