Squeak.
My eyes fly open, and my spine turns to rigid steel. The air in my lungs is sucked out in an instant, leaving me gasping for air. Canyon yanks me to him, hugging me tightly.
“Wonderland, hey, it’s okay. Breathe. Breathe for me. That’s it.” He kisses my neck. “I’m here. Chill out.”
He’s sweaty but still smells delicious. I anchor myself to his scent, trying my damnedest to block out my fears.
“It’s…It’s not Coach,” I croak out when I finally find my voice. “It’s…”
I pull back and hand him my phone. His face transforms from worried to pissed in the blink of an eye.
“Who the fuck sent you this?” he demands, fury radiating from him like heat from the sun.
“I don’t know. I think the wrong number wasn’t wrong after all.”
He fiddles with the phone, blocking the number. “These texts make it seem like…” His words die off, and his jaw clenches. “So help me, if I find out someone did this shit on purpose.”
“It could be a coincidence,” I choke out, though I don’t believe it.
“Come on. We’re going home.”
“Are you going to shower?” Confusion trickles through me, tugging my brows together and making me frown.
“I’m not leaving you alone.” He stands up, his tennis shoes making those squeaking sounds as he walks over to his locker. “Get dressed. We’re going to tell our dads about this.”
I want to argue with him because involving our dads seems like a terrible idea, but I’m also scared shitless. With Canyon and our dads at our side, I feel like I could handle anything.
“Your birthday is ruined.”
He yanks his bag out of the locker, shooting me a soft smile. “You didn’t get hit by that car. I don’t give a fuck about my birthday as long as you’re okay.”
Being with Canyon may be my worst idea to date, but right now, it feels like the best one.
It doesn’t feel wrong or twisted or sick.
It feels reckless…but right.
Canyon
Our dads are on us the second we walk in the door. Word spread like wildfire about the accident. If they hadn’t seen us on the news in the background of a broadcast covering it, they would be a lot more worried. Though we’re okay, it still doesn’t stop them from drilling us with questions.
“Who was it?” Dad asks at the same time Quinn says, “Do they know who died?”
I cut my eyes to Alis. Just as he was at practice, he’s withdrawn and lost inside his head. If we were alone, I’d kiss him and bring him back to the now. But we’re not. Kissing him, or showing any sort of affection toward him, would be blatantly obvious. And as much as I’ve wanted to hurt Dad, I can’t do it through Alis. Not exploit the very thing I promised him I wouldn’t.
Why?
Because things have changed.
I’ve changed.
I fill them in on everything I know, which isn’t much. The police didn’t release the person’s name, but liquor bottles were found in the front seat of the car. It was pretty evident the person was shitfaced.
Dad and Quinn are too busy discussing how awful the situation is to notice Alis is sinking further into himself with every passing second. I’m desperate to get him alone because he’s unraveling fast.
“Can we take a raincheck on my birthday dinner?” I ask, interrupting their conversation. “We’re both a little shaken up over the accident.”
Dad nods, pride shining in his eyes that makes me want to simultaneously shy away from and run toward. “Understandable. I’ll order in barbeque from Stoney’s.”
My heart twists painfully inside my chest. I’m reminded of any time Mom didn’t feel like cooking and Dad would save the day by ordering Stoney’s. It’s such a small, stupid memory, but it punches hard enough to knock the breath out of me.
While Dad orders over the phone and Quinn grabs his wallet so they can pick it up, I motion for Alis to head upstairs. He goes straight to his room, but rather than dropping his bag and violin case in the doorway like a normal human would, he stows them both neatly away in his closet. Because I’m not OCD as fuck, I do drop my bag in the doorway and walk over to him, more eager to hold him than anything else.
“You’re sweaty,” he complains as he clings to my shirt, inhaling me. “You smell like ass.”
I smile, kissing the top of his head. “And you’re into that shit, which is why you’re sniffing me like I’m a snack.”
Our playfulness fades as Alis sighs heavily, sinking into my arms as though I can hold him up forever. I’m in no hurry to let him go, that’s for damn sure.
“Come on. Let’s shower,” I murmur, giving his ass a smack.
“I already showered.”
“And I dirtied you up.” Stepping back, I take his face in my hands, tilting his head up so I can peer into his captivating mahogany eyes. “Let me take care of you.”
His Adam’s apple bobs hard as he swallows, and his nostrils flare. He’s barely holding his shit together. It makes me want to do it for him. Just gather him up and keep him close, whispering assurances until we both believe everything will be okay.
Because it will be.
It has to be.
I pull away from Alis to grab more clothes from my room and check to make sure our dads left to pick up the food. Once it’s clear, I follow the sound of the shower running. Alis stands under the steamy spray, shoulders hunched and staring at the ground. Even though I give him shit about being smaller than me, he’s always seemed larger than life. Bigger and better. Right now, he’s so fragile. It hurts seeing him so wrecked. All I want to do is fix it.
Stripping out of my sweaty clothes, I join him in the shower. Since he’s seemingly lost, I grab a bar of soap to lather him up. It pulls him out of his trance, once again bringing his magnetic eyes to mine. With the water plastering his white hair to his forehead and droplets running down his face, he’s downright lickable. I pause in my efforts to clean him to press my lips to his wet ones. Our kiss is soft. I try to convey to him with my lips and tongue that I’ll make it better. Somehow. I don’t know how to undo his mood, but I want to try. I’m determined to do so.
A small moan escapes him, tossing a match on my desire for him. Fire licks a path down my spine, into my balls, and down the length of my dick as it thickens. One of his hands wraps around my cock, squeezing and stroking. I nip at his bottom lip, unable to keep from thrusting into his hand.
“I’m supposed to be taking care of you,” I murmur against his mouth. “Not the other way around.”
“You are.” He pulls back, dark eyes intense and probing, no longer filled with agonizing loneliness. “Just by being Canyon fucking Voss.”
My breath catches as he sinks to his knees in the shower. This is a sight I’ll store in the spank bank for years to come—Alis naked and soaking wet on his knees staring at my dick like he wants to choke on it. A groan rumbles through me as I toss the bar of soap on a ledge to free up my hands. I want to run my fingers through his wet hair and guide him every step of the way.
“What are you doing?” I croak out, unable to keep from flexing my hips so my dick taps at his chin.