Niko didn’t look offended in the slightest. “I’m not giving you the chance to push me away, asshole.”
August grunted and turned the water on. He made a mental note to text Jett later and ask him if Niko had been this clingy while he was on the Sunbursts. He had no idea that the silent, stoic kid he faced several times during the last season had this level of domesticated cat vibes.
A grumpy black cat, that’s what Niko was; following him to every room and meowing constantly to get his attention.
“Your nose is bleeding again,” said Niko.
August cursed and wiped his arm across his face, smearing bright red blood over his tattoos. “I thought I grew out of this shit.”
Niko was watching him again—studying him.
“It’s not a big deal, Cote.” August scrubbed his face and blew his nose, unsurprised when more blood hit the white tile of the shower floor. “It happens when I’m stressed.”
And when his head was pounding. And when he didn’t feel like a solid person. And when he thought about bright green eyes and a cunning smirk.
“What, can’t handle the thought of being a tool at my disposal?”
August growled and finished washing as quickly as he could, determined to get away from Niko’s knowing gaze and the voices echoing in his head.
After the massage, physio, and a third check by the medical team to confirm the nosebleeds were nothing to worry about, August hit the locker room to dress and get the fuck out of there.
Many of the guys were wrapping up their treatments and post-practice routines, drifting lazily through the locker room while they chatted and goofed around. They were in New York for a game against the Barbarians, and the team was already buzzing about exploring the city before puck drop.
August couldn’t have cared less about pizza joints or Broadway shows, but the lively chatter helped steady his frayed nerves. Ever since he’d decided to mentally rejoin the team, the mood in the room had lifted, and the locker room no longer felt like hostile territory.
He was getting better at putting faces to names, too. It was sad to think that, despite being a Bigfoot player for his entire career, he couldn’t seem toremember anyone.
Logan Bradshaw, a forward on the second line, sat beside him on the bench and knocked their knees together. “Can I ask a very personal and nosy question without you punching me in the face?”
August took a second to pull his pants up because there was no way he was doingpersonalwith his dick out.
“I can’t promise I won’t punch you,” said August, plopping back down and angling his body toward his teammate. “But ask away if you really need to.”
Bradshaw swallowed, determination wavering for a heartbeat, before he asked, “Are you and Niko dating?”
Were they…
What?
“Fuck no,” said Niko, joining August on his other side, thus saving him from having to answer the question. “He’s not even close to my type. I would kill him if we were dating. He’s too much of a diva.”
That was accurate, but also hurtful. They were perfectly matched for a brotherly relationship, but boyfriends?Fuck nowas a pretty good way to say it.
“I’m not—” August began, but then snapped his mouth shut.
Was he really straight? Could he say that with enough confidence to believe it?
“We’re not together,” he finished lamely.
“Okay, sorry.” Logan knocked their knees for a second time. “You guys bonded super fast, and you’re living together, and you’re always hanging out. I figured I would ask, so if anyone started a rumour mill, I could have your backs.”
That was…actually very kind of him.
“Th-Thanks,” said August. “I think it’s safe to say we appreciate support.”
Logan was attractive for a guy. Cute dimples and perfect teeth—and the muscles…
“I think the guys were scared to confirm anything because they didn’t want to throw you two off,” Logan began, bending to slip his shoes on. “I know personal lives are personal, but I heard someone on the staff whispering about how friendly you’ve been toward each other, and I wanted to approach the situation knowing the truth. I hate when people theorize about shit like this, knowing how dangerous it can be.”
