“Dad,” Ethan hisses.
“What? Bunch of stuck-up Alpha assholes. No offense,” he says, glancing back at me.
“None taken,” I reply. The old man isn’t too far off. Until he introduced himself and there was a reason for me to know Ethan, I basically ignored him.
I feel guilty thinking about it. Ethan isn’t someone who should ever be ignored. He’s probably one of the most genuine people I’ve ever met.
“He’s a great fucking mascot and a good man. That team is lucky to have him,” he scolds, and I hold up my hands in compliance.
“I’m with ya, man.”
“Sorry. It’s just, he’s my boy.”
Ethan looks proud and embarrassed at the same time.
“Move that piece of shit out of here. I’ll make you boys lobster rolls,” he says, waving a hand and shifting his feet to make his way to the kitchen.
“At least this couch seems smaller,” I say as Ethan and I carry the couch down the stairs. It’s basically wood and upholstery with hardly any fill left in the cushions.
We place the couch by the community dumpster, and Ethan lets out a breath.
“If you don’t want to stay for dinner, it’s cool,” he says.
“And miss lobster rolls? Free lobster rolls? Good try, mascot,” I say, shoving his shoulder, and he smiles at me. “Your dad seems like a good guy.”
“Pretty sure I would have ended up dead without him,” Ethan says, and I glance over at him.
“How old were you when you came to live with Dave?”
“Fourteen, and the shit I was doing before I came to live with him was fucking reckless. He owned the diner, and his friend Craig owned the old gymnasium. When I wasn’t in school, I was either at Craig’s gym or working at Dave’s. It kept me out of trouble. I owe him everything for it.”
I wrap my arm around his shoulder and tug him close. He doesn’t shove me off, and I find I like being near him like this.
He’s your friend, Max.
You’re not looking for anything besides friendship, remember?
I drop my arm and pat his back.
“Let’s go get some lobster rolls, huh?” I ask, and he nods his head as we take the three stories back to his foster dad’s apartment.
I’ve been nervous about this game since the start of the season. Playing against my former team isn’t ideal. Not that I harbor any ill will. To be honest, I miss a lot of guys on the Sharks. But it’s just this weird place of having a connection with your old team and your new team.
I can’t let the Foxes down. I can’t let myself down.
Lingering feelings of not being good enough plague me, and I’m trying to shove them down.
I’m mostly dressed as my attention is averted, Sloane standing in front of me. She’s wearing high-waisted, plaid pants with a black shirt and a belt. It makes her look taller than she actually is. She gives me a warm smile.
“Hey, Max.”
“Hey, Sloane,” I say, feeling a little out of it. My mental space is just clogged with all these feelings I can’t really talk to anybody about.
“It’s a big game for you. I thought maybe I could post some clips highlighting you tonight, if that’s okay.”
“Whatever you think is best,” I say, and her brows furrow, and she takes a step closer to me.
Still no scent.
