“This is a safe space, Penelope.” Ares is still struggling to maintain control. He’s gripping the edge of the table, and his voice shakes with effort. “Always.”
I’ve never had people in my life who weren’t my parents or my brother stick up for me like this. It’s overwhelming.
Usually my friends almost apologize for my size, or they give me sympathetic looks but say nothing. Having these two guys I barely know—three, since Artemis has taken the rookies out of the room—on my side makes something click inside me.
I get it now.
I get why Dad didn’t want to stop playing, I get why Tate—albeit reluctantly—moved into the hockey house, and why the de la Peñas paid off Dad’s debt. There’s something special about the bond in this team, in this sport, something that runs deeper than a bunch of guys thrown together to play on the same side.
These guys are ride-or-die, chosen family.
Scott hasn’t said a word, but from his furrowed brow and the scowl on his face, he’s not happy either.
The temptation is to run away, to not eat, to let the voice of the rookie bed into my body as though he’s a knowledgeable voice on fat people. But before I even say a thing, I can tell from the faces around this table that I’m not getting out of here without eating something.
The lump is back in my throat, clogging me up with years’ worth of emotion, of bullying, of self-loathing, of having to explain and defend myself and my weight.
I don’t have to explain myself here. And there’s something so freeing about that it makes me want to cry. Again.
But if I do, I’m afraid they’ll think the rookie upset me, and they’ll take him out back and beat him to death with their hockey sticks.
“I could eat.” Scott eventually breaks the silence, pulling out his phone and pulling up a food delivery app.
“Me too.” Apollo nods.
I’m about to agree, when the yelling starts.
CHAPTER 21
Tate
Something wakes me, and I bolt upright in the bed, forgetting for a moment who I am, where I am, and the fact I’ve had my face ripped apart and put back together again.
I blink a couple times to try to ground myself, or at least wake up my brain when I hear it again. Screaming.
Not quite screaming... bellowing... roaring?
Someone downstairs is pissed, and I don’t know why.
When I leap out of bed, my dangling junk reminds me I laid down in a towel, so I pull on some boxers and stumble out of the room. Wasn’t Penelope here? Where’d she go? How long has it been?
My head’s foggy from my meds, but I manage to get down the stairs without falling on my face, breaking a leg, or tripping over Bacon who’s shuffling away from the noise like he’s trying to get the fuck out of dodge.
Penelope’s sitting at the table with Scott and two of the three de la Peña brothers. Where’s Artemis?
Another roar. Is that... Artemis? What the fuck? He’s the quietest of the three brothers. I’ve always suspected that under that stoic, strong exterior ran a river of lava but I’ve never seen it blow.
Until now.
Penelope’s face is red as fuck, and she drops her head in her hands on a groan.
“What happened?” The sound of my own voice makes me cringe. These fucking screws make me slur and mumble, and my speech is shit. People seem to know what I’m saying, so that’s good, but it’s frustrating as fuck to have my communication strangled like this.
Penelope holds up her palm. “Don’t ask,” she mumbles into her other hand.
“There was an incident.” Scott’s a peacekeeper among the brothers. If anyone needs reason or logic, he’s the cool, calm, and collected one in the group.
Ares looks like he’s about to rip someone’s head off, so I turn to Apollo.
