Sin Bin (D.C. Stars, #5) — Chapter no 5

FIVE

BRODY

I’VE DIED and gone to heaven.

Maybe it’s hell, because I’m sure there will be consequences to all of this, but I really don’t give a shit.

I can’t bring myself to care when Hannah is blinking up at me with pretty eyes and asking me to fuck her.

I put a hand on the back of her head, tracing her jaw with my knuckles.

“Glad to know having my cock in your mouth is the way to keep you from insulting my age.”

Her grin is coy when she tilts her head to the side and swirls her tongue over the head. I groan, my restraint splitting in half when she scratches her nails down the front of my thighs.

I’d love to finish in her mouth. I’d love to see my cum on her lips and watch her swallow it down. Or maybe on her chest, decorating her tits. I blow out a breath knowing there’s no way in hell I’m going to be satisfied with having her just one time.

“There are other ways to keep me quiet.” Hannah touches my balls again, and my groan turns wild. I grip her hair so tightly I’m sure I’m hurting her, but she doesn’t complain. “I want you inside me, Brody.”

“Last time you were tested?” I ask, trying to be responsible. We need to have this conversation before we do anything else. Before she obliterates all of my brain cells.

“Recently, and everything came back negative. I haven’t been with anyone since. I’m also on birth control.”

“Me too. Negative. No one since.” I pull out of her mouth and reach for the bedside table. I almost knock over a glass of water when I tug on the drawer, grabbing the box of condoms she mentioned and ripping it open.

Foil packets go everywhere. I hold one up, my eyes meeting hers. “I need to hear you say you want me to fuck you, Hannah.”

“Brody.” She sits up, legs open wider, and I can’t miss the wet spot on her sheets she left behind after her orgasm. I swear I’m going to think about the sounds she makes when she comes for the rest of my life. “I want you so badly. Don’t you want me?”

“Yeah.” My voice cracks. “What—how—” I swallow. “Tell me your favorite position.”

“I like being on top,” Hannah says. She pats the pillows, switching places with me. “For round two, maybe you can fuck me from behind.”

“A second round is optimistic. I have a feeling you’re going to be the death of me.” I adjust my position, stretching out on her bed and reaching for her. “Come here.”

She moves, straddling me. Her thighs press against mine, and I sigh.

Her body is warm and soft and perfect. I put a hand on her waist, my thumb running over her hip bone. Hannah hovers above me, then lowers herself slightly, the ultimate tease.

“It’s, ah, been a while for me.” My grip on her tightens when she leans forward to kiss my cheek. One lift of my hips and I’d be buried in her. How fucking reckless. “No judging.”

“I’d never judge my elders. That’s disrespectful,” she whispers, gasping when I give her clit a light tap. “Brody.”

“I might need to take you over my knee.” My hands move to her ass, cupping both round cheeks. Her muscles are solid from years of being an athlete, and she has the most beautiful body I’ve ever seen. “Would you like that?”

“Maybe I would, Daddy,” she teases, whining when I give her ass a

hard smack.

“You can’t say that to me.”

“Why? Because you like it too much?”

I grind my teeth when she lowers herself another inch. There’s almost no space between us. “Hannah.”

“I want to feel you.”

“You can’t feel me?” I give in to temptation and lift my hips, close to losing myself entirely when the head of my cock pushes past her pussy lips.

“Do you feel me now?”

“You’re so big, Brody. I want you to fuck me and—” Hannah pulls her mouth away from my neck. I rub a hand up her back, grabbing some of her hair. “Is that your phone?”

I blink, yanked out of the trance she’s put me in by the sound of my ringtone echoing down the hall. “Shit. Yeah. I think it is. I’m sorry. I hate to be the dickbag who pays more attention to his phone than to you, but I need to check it. It could be Olivia or her mom letting me know—”

“Don’t apologize. Family first.” She smiles and climbs off me. My eyes rake down her body, and I have to stroke myself when she holds up a foil square. “I’ll be here when you’re ready.”

“Two seconds.”

I kiss her forehead and almost sprint down the hall, ignoring the twinge in my knee. My daughter left the arena with Kali, my ex, after the game, but they both know my phone is always on. I never consider the days I don’t have custody a childfree time, and if Olivia needs me, she has my full attention.

I grab the phone off the table where I left it in the living room and roll my eyes at the name on the screen. I silence the noise and walk back to Hannah’s room, tossing it on the pile with my clothes.

“Not important. Just my drunk captain calling me.”

“You’re not going to answer it?”

“Why? So I can hear him sing some terrible karaoke song?” I climb back on the bed. Run a hand up her leg, squeezing when I get to her hip.

“He called five other times, which tells me he’s plastered. I’m not dealing with that.”

“What would be your karaoke song?” Hannah hisses when I push a finger inside her. “Something dark and gloomy, I bet.”

“You’d never catch me doing karaoke.” My phone rings again. I look over my shoulder and Maverick’s name flashes across the screen a second time. “You know what? I’m not going to wait to kick Miller’s ass. I’m going by his house first thing in the morning with a marching band.”

“Just answer it, Brody. You can tell them to fuck off, then you can fuck me.”

I can’t help but smile when she sticks out her bottom lip in a pout.

Another call comes through. This time, it’s Hudson.

“That’s a tempting argument,” I say.

“Here. I’ll do it for you. They’re probably so drunk they won’t

recognize my voice.”

“Be my guest.”

I hand over my phone and Hannah answers it, just as I push another finger inside her.

“Brody’s phone.” She gasps, a hand on my wrist. “Can I help you?”

I don’t hear what’s being said on the other end of the line, but I can tell something is wrong. Hannah freezes. She moves her hand to my shoulder, tapping me. I look at her, watching her palm shake as she shoves the phone

in my direction.

“What?” I ask.

“This sounds important.”

The thing they don’t tell you about being a coach is how you assume the role of big brother or father figure to the guys on your team. There is glitz and glamour and all the good stuff that comes with winning, but you’re also the one they turn to when something goes wrong.

I’ve been there for the death of parents. Divorce announcements and guy’s wives miscarrying.

There’s no manual or guide for empathy, and you figure out how to navigate the heavy shit as you go. Balancing being a human while also being a professional athlete is hard, and I know firsthand it never ends up how you want.

I sit on the edge of the bed and take the phone, pressing it to my ear.

“This better be really fucking good,” I bark out.

“Coach?” Hudson croaks, and my spine straightens. “Is that you?”

“Hayes. What’s wrong?”

There’s a long pause, and I’m fearing the worst.

He’s the most responsible one on the team. I count on him to keep the guys in line when I’m not around, but I remember the day I found him in the locker room when his mom passed away. The blank stare he gave me when I helped him to his feet and the way he crumbled in my arms.

I hope to god nothing happened to his dad.

“Riley,” he says.

“Riley? Riley Mitchell?” I ask, mentioning my star defenseman.

“He was in an accident.”

“What do you mean an accident?”

“A car accident,” Hudson says, and my knees buckle.

“What?” I collapse to the ground, a hand over my mouth. My heart stops beating. “When? How?”

“In his Uber on the way home from the club. The driver called Maverick and—” There’s a wail from his end of the line, and my body moves without me directing it. I stand and fumble with my clothes, grabbing anything I can find. “They aren’t sure he’s going to make it.”

“Where are you?” I put on my shirt and yank my jeans up my legs. I’m trying not to panic, but bile creeps its way up my throat. My head pounds, excruciating pain radiating across my temples. “I need a hospital name, Hudson.”

“MedStar. Georgetown. We just got here and—”

“Be there in twenty.”

I hang up. Silence hangs in the room, and I press the heels of my palms into my eyes.

“Brody?” Hannah touches my shoulder. “What’s going on?”

“Riley was in an accident.” My voice is flat, monotone. I lift my chin to look at her, the hazy outline of her shape blurred by my tears. “They aren’t sure if he’s going to make it.”

“Oh my god.” She scrambles to grab a blanket, wrapping it around her body. “Is he—of course he’s not okay. I’m so sorry.”

Guilt grips me so tight, I struggle to breathe.

I want to ask how the fuck I missed their earlier calls. I want to figure out why I didn’t hear the phone ring the other five times, but the answer is obvious. I was too distracted. Too caught up in Hannah and ignoring my responsibilities when I should’ve stayed at the club. I should’ve been the one to make sure all my guys got home safe, but I left the second a beautiful woman gave me her attention.

I gave in too quickly. I acted too stupidly, and now one of my players is in a hospital fighting for his life.

I should’ve been there to answer the fucking phone.

I could’ve stopped it. I could’ve told Riley to wait and take a different

car. I could’ve fucking driven him.

“I need to get to the hospital.”

“Do you want me to go with you?”

“It’s better if you don’t.” I’m numb. The room is spinning. “There would be questions about why we’re there together. Questions I don’t want to answer.”

“Can I do anything to help?” she whispers.

“No.” I force myself to put one foot in front of the other, only stopping to look back at her when I reach her bedroom door. The pain magnifies when I notice the hurt on her face, the twist of her lips from my rejection.

I’m not a believer in divine intervention or fate or any of that other cosmic bullshit, but this seems like a big fucking sign from the universe that I need to stay the hell away from her. My guilt turns to regret, to disappointment in myself when I shake my head. When I roll my shoulders back and say, “I got caught up in the moment tonight, and we need to forget it ever happened. I was never here. We never spent any time together. We left the club separately, and I didn’t —”

“Get me off and have your first night of fun in months?”

“Yes.” I blow out a breath. I hate how easily she can read me. “That.”

“Is that really what you want?” she asks, her tone softening.

No.

It’s not what I fucking want at all, but it’s what has to happen. She’s too good. Too perfect, and I don’t want her brought into the hell I know is going to greet me the second I leave her apartment and head for the hospital.

Nothing in my life—and her brother’s life—is ever going to be the same again. I can’t give her the attention she deserves. Not when every time my phone rings, I’m going to wonder if it’s another one of my players calling because they’re hurt and they need me and I’m letting them down.

“It has to be.” My throat is on fire, and I hate myself. “There’s no world where this could ever be anything more than sex.”

“Okay.” Hannah lifts her chin and brushes her hair away from her face.

“It’s already forgotten.”

It stings.

It shouldn’t, since I’m the one with my head up my ass and ruining this,

but it fucking hurts.

“I’m sorry,” I mumble.

“So am I.”

There’s probably something else I should say, but it’s not about me right now. I turn down the hall, taking off in a sprint. My lungs protest. My knee aches, but I need to get to Riley. I need to get away from the hurt in her

eyes so I don’t solidify myself as the meanest motherfucker to walk this planet.

There are footsteps behind me, but I don’t stop until I’m outside on the street, both hands on my thighs and holding back vomit. I should turn around. I need to look back and see if I can find her window so I can apologize, but I physically can’t. I can’t bring myself to do it, and I know I’ll hate myself from now until the end of time.

THE HOSPITAL WAITING room is crowded when I get there. Not a single one of my players is talking, and it’s the quietest I’ve ever heard them. I heave a deep breath and walk up to Liam Sullivan, my goalie, who is pacing the hardwood floor.

“Hey.” I put a hand on his shoulder. “I’m here.”

He deflates when he sees me and points to a woman sitting behind a large desk. She has a phone pressed to her ear, unintimidated by the six- foot-three goalie towering over her with a scowl. “She won’t tell us what’s going on. And my patience is about to run out,” Liam says.

I elbow him out of the way, and he doesn’t put up a fight. “Excuse me.”

I lean over and press the button on the phone, ending the call the receptionist is on. “I’m Riley Mitchell’s coach. Have his parents been notified? They live out of state.”

“I was in the middle of doing that before someone decided to hang up on them,” she draws out with a pointed glare. “If you don’t get back on that side of the desk, I’m going to have security escort you out. I don’t give a hoot who you are.”

“I tried that already.” Liam glares at the woman again. She doesn’t relent. “It’s bullshit.”

“Come here.” I lead him to a quiet corner, not arguing when Maverick joins us. I glance between them and push away the fear that’s threatening to choke me. They’re looking to me for guidance, and I need to get my shit together. I need to be strong when this is the weakest I’ve ever felt. “Tell me everything that happened.”

“Riley left the club early.” Maverick gulps down a breath. “Most of us were still celebrating, and the next thing I know, my phone’s ringing. The

guy calling told me there was an accident, and Riley was being taken to the hospital.”

“Have they given any indication of what happened to him? Where he was hurt?”

“No.” Liam grunts. “Just that he lost a lot of blood, and they—”

The doors to the emergency room open. A doctor walks out, and everyone rushes over to him.

“I’m guessing you all are here for Riley Mitchell?” he asks.

“We’re his teammates.” Maverick pushes his way to the front of the group. “Is he —”

“He’s breathing,” the doctor tells us. “That’s the good news.”

My blood turns ice cold. No one is moving, and everyone’s attention rests on me.

I’m the one in charge. I’m the one who has to ask this next question, and my stomach drops to my feet.

“And the bad news?” I manage to get out. “Please?”

“He suffered very serious injuries to his right leg which resulted in major blood loss. Surgery to repair the leg… well, it’s impossible. We’re going to have to do a transfemoral amputation, and after, he’ll—”

“What the fuck does that mean?” Maverick snaps. “You’re going to have to dumb it down for us.”

“He’s going to lose his leg above the knee,” Lexi Armstrong, the team’s athletic trainer, tells us, and hell breaks loose.

“Jesus fuck,” Ethan yells, kicking a wall. Grant is quick to wrap his arms around his best friend’s stomach before he does something stupid. He tosses a look my way, apologizing on Ethan’s behalf, but all I can see is Hannah. The same eyes, the same mouth, and my hands curl into fists at my sides. “This is the best fucking hospital in the city and you can’t fix his fucking leg? What the fuck do they pay you for?”

There’s a conversation about Riley’s surgery and recovery time. I screw my eyes shut, transported back to my days as a player when I suffered a career-ending injury: a blade slicing above my knee. The stitches, the pain, and the discussions that happened after, trying to figure out how quickly I could get back on the ice.

The team rushed me. I wasn’t completely healed when they put me back in the lineup, and I was never the same after. My days of playing professional hockey were over.

If there’s any chance of salvaging Riley’s career, I’m going to make sure we take his recovery slow.

I want to give him the chance I never had.

“Will he be able to skate again?” Maverick asks.

The doctor gives us a smile that tells me everything I need to know.

No.

He won’t.

Everything he’s ever known about himself is gone, and none of us will

be able to help him get it back.

I should’ve answered the fucking phone.

The guys disperse after hearing that news to grieve in their own ways. I drift to the corner, taking a seat in a hard plastic chair. I stare at the floor, wondering what the fuck I do now when a phone rings.

“Hello?” Grant’s voice. Shaky. Broken. “Hey, Han.”

Of course she’s calling to check on him because she’s good and wonderful and the bright light in pitch-black dark.

I want to scream. I want to move far away from him, but I find myself leaning back. Trying to catch parts of their conversations while still feeling like a piece of shit.

“You heard? I’m not surprised. The internet is already picking up the story and publishing photos. I’m doing okay. Riley is breathing, but he’s going to lose his leg.” Grant pauses, a sob rushing out of him. “This is the worst night of my life.”

Mine too, I want to say. Tell your sister I’m sorry.

“I’ll call when I leave the hospital. Yeah. Sure. Love you too.”

There’s a long stretch of silence. I put my elbows on my knees, burying my face in my hands. I’m not equipped to handle this. A situation like this one was never talked about in any of the personal development books I read, and I don’t know how the hell we go forward from here.

A tap on my shoulder stops me from spiraling. I lift my chin, wiping my

eyes.

“Coach?”

Grant’s voice wobbles again. I look over my shoulder and find him sitting in the chair behind me. Curled shoulders. Tear-stained cheeks and red-rimmed eyes, and he doesn’t look like the kid we drafted five years ago.

He looks like a man that’s been through hell.

“Hey, Everett,” I say. “Want me to grab you a water?”

“No. Not thirsty.” He points to my chest. “Your shirt is on inside out.”

“Oh.” I glance down. There’s a smudge of Hannah’s lipstick on the collar, and I want to burn the thing to ash. “Thanks.”

“I’m worried about Riley.” His bottom lip quivers. A new wave of tears hit him, and I’m out of my seat in an instant. Making my way over to his side and sitting next to him. “I want him to be okay.”

“I worried about him too.” I put a hand on his shoulder. “The doctors are going to do a good job taking care of him.”

“He’s one of my best friends. All the guys are, but Riley is special.

Yeah, he’s good on the ice, but he listens when I need to vent. He gives me advice. He’s a nice guy.” A quiet laugh followed by a sniff. “Even when I flirted with Lexi. He has such a crush on her.” His chuckle fades away.

“Guess this is a reminder we should tell people how we feel about them.

Things can change in the blink of an eye.”

“That’s true.” I roll my lips together. I can’t believe I walked away from Hannah like that. I’ll never forgive myself. “We’re going to get through this.”

“Are we?” Grant stands. He paces, hands in his pockets. “What’s the point in playing when he’s not part of the team? I’m never going to be able to look at this championship without thinking about tonight. About Riley.”

“I don’t have the answer to that.” I avoid looking at him. All I see is her.

“Hockey has been there for me in my darkest moments, and sometimes, we’re not playing for ourselves. We’re playing for those who can’t. But I’ll tell you the thing I do know: you’re not in this alone.”

“I’m not?”

I finally let myself look at him, but I wish I hadn’t. He’s as distraught as I feel.

“No,” I say. “I’m here. Your brothers are here. We’re going to figure out

the next steps together.”

“Do you promise?” he asks.

“Yeah.” I nod. Maybe I’ll start to believe it. “I promise.”