“I tried to pay his mortgage too, but he leases it. Makes sense considering the strain he’s under. Glad I couldn’t, because I was afraid that might be a step too far.”
I’m laugh-crying now, holding up a hand like it might stop the funny. “Y-you paid tens, if not hundreds of thousands of dollars of my father’s debt off, but paying off his mortgage would have been the step too far?”
He nods, his face solemn. “We weren’t going to say anything. I probably shouldn’t have. We did it anonymously.”
“What changed?” I swipe at the tears on my cheeks with the tissue, and Ares passes me another one.
“Seeing how worried you were for him. I know how heavy that weight can be, too. And I needed you to know that he’s going to be okay. I’m going to go see him at the hospital to talk to him about my charity for athletes in his position, recovering from drug and alcohol abuse. We’ve cleared his debt, and we’ll keep an ear to the ground for any positions that might come up that he’d be suited to.”
He gestures at Tate still sleeping in my arms, his breath falling in even waves. “Regardless of whether things work out between you or not, you’re part of our hockey family. You, your brother, your father. And we’ve got you. I’m only sorry you had to travel so long down the road alone, Penelope.”
The emotion in the room is so thick and heavy you could slice it with a meat cleaver. I don’t know what to say. I can’t ever repay the de la Peña brothers for their kindness. They’ve completely changed my family’s life as easily as if they’d waved a magic wand.
“I-I don’t know what to say Ares. I can’t ever thank you enough.”
He shakes his head. “It’s not about the credit, amiga. We were just born into a wealthy family and used that wealth to our advantage. The least we can do is give some back to those who need it.” He turns to leave again, but casts back a glance. “If you want to repay us, though, we wouldn’t say no to a lifetime supply of those protein smoothies of yours. They’re fucking amazing.”
I’d throw something at him but there’s nothing in reach. “Those are for Tate.”
“We’ll see.” He pauses like he’s not sure whether to stay or go, but eventually leaves me alone with my thoughts, closing the door to Tate’s room behind him. Then it’s my turn to cry. I’m not sure the de la Peña brothers know what they have done for my family, for Dad, or how much stress they’ve taken off all our shoulders in one fell swoop.
Tate stirs then sits up. His eyes are glassy as he blinks at me slowly. “Why are you crying, pretty girl?” His words are slurred and hard to make out between the meds and the hardware. He rubs the tears from my cheeks.
“Did Ares make you cry? I heard he was in here, but didn’t catch what he said.” He stares at my lips for a long moment as though he’s aching to kiss me, and my heart squeezes. “Do I need to kill Ares? I can totally kill Ares.”
He nestles back down onto my cleavage, mumbling to himself about Ares, and falls asleep. Within minutes there’s a puddle of drool on my boob, but Tate’s snoring again. Eventually he shifts down in the bed, giving me the space I need to stand up so I can get changed.
I find a notebook on his table, leave him a note that I’m going to find something to eat since I hadn’t planned on being here overnight, and leave it on the pillow next to him.
Not sure it’s safe to venture out into the belly of the hockey beast to find food. I’ve lived with an athlete in his prime, I knowhow much food they consume, and how territorial they can be of it. If there’s nothing in the kitchen, I can always order in.
In the dining room, the de la Peña brothers sit at the table with Scott. Two of the rookies, Rico and Mikko I think their first names are—downside of only ever seeing last names across player’s shoulders is that you never know what their first names are—are standing next to the sink cradling mugs. It’s as though they want to sit with the brothers, but they’re intimidated.
Don’t blame them. The big dick energy radiating from the table is fucking strong.
“Penelope.” Apollo spots me and stands. “Do you need something?”
I wave him off. “I haven’t had dinner yet.”
One of the rookies snorts, and behind his hand I can swear he says something like, “like you need it.”
My face burns. Yes, I’m fat. Yes, I have body issues, and sometimes get in my head about my size, but more often than not it’sotherpeople who have an issue with my size as opposed to me.
I don’t know where to look or what to do, so I keep talking. “I was going to DoorDash something here since I hadn’t planned on staying over, and I didn’t want to impose.”
Ares has both hands clenched on the table in front of him, his knuckles are white, his jaw clenched, and there’s a muscle feathering in his cheek like he’s fighting back the urge to do... something. It tracks.
His reputation for having a bad temper precedes him. Which also tracks, considering he’s named after one of the twelve Olympians. Is there any other way for the son of Zeus and Hera to be other than confrontational and aggressive?
It’s Artemis who moves, he stands up, turns to the rookies, tips his head toward the door, and without a word they follow him out of the room.
Ares is vibrating with rage, I feel it coming off him in erratic, uncontrollable waves.
Apollo opens his mouth to speak but I hold up a hand. “Please don’t. It’s okay.”
“It’s not fucking okay.” Ares snarls so loud I jump.
“He’s right, Penelope. We don’t shame in this family. About anything. No kink shaming, no fat shaming, no shaming of any kind. It won’t be tolerated in this house, in this team, or even on this campus. I’m not going to apologize for them, but we aren’t going to let it go without acknowledging it and confronting it.”
