They’re delighted I’ve given them such great chirping fodder.
ROBBIE pulls his phone from his pocket and waves it around.
They think my ego needs checking and send their own reviews.
Cut to second picture—the same Beaversplayers in the same room, but this time each player holds up a piece of paper with a handwritten number. The scores range from five to ten.
Ketts is especially worried about me, I guess. He’s never given me higher than a seven. He says I’ve got negative rizz and I’m bringing Finn down.
Cut to another picture of Beavers players displaying their handmade scores in a different room. Dylan Kettering holds up a six.
For the firsttime since he was fifteen, Robbie wondered if he would die from blue balls.
Okay, he didn’t actually think that, but it had been that long since he was so horny and so unable to solve the problem.
Ever since he left puberty and his billet family’s home, Robbie’s sex drive had never outpaced his ability to get laid. In fact, once he reached the NHL, opportunities to get laid far outstripped his desire to get off.
He’d had fewer opportunities after retirement, especially after a minor sorta accidentally on purpose moved mostly permanently into his house, but he’d only been retired a few weeks. He hadn’t had time to be bothered yet.
But now that he and Finn had promised each other exclusivity and discretion, now that Robbie actuallywantedmore than he ever had before, now they couldn’t seem to find a time to steal a kiss, let alone fuck.
And boy did Robbie want to fuck. Finn was gagging for it, and Robbie wanted to lay him out and give him everything he could stand.
But first they had to find a mutual space in their schedules that would allow them to sneak away for a few hours.
And no such space was to be had.
A fact which was mostly Robbie’s fault, he’d admit. Finn was busy, but at least he was off the clock when he left work. Robbie was not because, as he now knew firsthand, the job of parent was 24/7.
When the police knocked on his door, he could practically see his last remaining free time evaporating. He’d never been more grateful to know Sawyer had gone to his room just minutes prior to lock himself in for too many hours on the internet. Still, Robbie’s heart skipped a beat as his mind ran rampant suggesting various Sawyer-related calamities the cops could show up for.
“Robert Zeiger?” asked the woman who stood closer to him. Her partner stood at the bottom of the steps, waiting.
“Yes?”
“Do you have a minor here? By the name of….” She glanced down at her pad and read Sawyer’s still-legal name.
Robbie winced. “Uh, sorta. He goes by Sawyer now.” Surely Sawyer hadn’t impersonated someone else online. Please, God.
The cop winced in return. “My apologies, I wasn’t informed. Could you fetch him?” The other cop took a step closer, as if anticipating an invitation into the house.
They could anticipate all they liked; it wasn’t going to happen. “Can I ask what this is about?”
They shared a look, and then she nodded. “Your brother Vince was arrested last night.”
Of course. Now was the time that his brother decided to be a bag of dicks and prove conclusively to not just Robbie but also several legal bodies that he couldn’t be trusted with a child.
Well, shit.
After confirming that Sawyer was indeed with Robbie, as Vince had told them when his home was found empty of the child for whom he was responsible, the cops called in a social worker and Robbie called Eugene Wallace, his former billet brother, now a family lawyer.
Robbie had barely said “I need you at my place” before Eugene promised to be there asap and hung up.
He beat the social worker to the front door, by which time Robbie had the cops cooling their heels in the backyard, because he was too fucking smart to let them in his house. They agreed to wait for the social worker before breaking any news to Sawyer.
“Woah, Robs, brah, you look shook.”
“Thanks.” He rubbed his face and sighed.
