Chapter 5
1096 Words
Damien's POV
I awake to my alarm ‘Stranglehold’ and roll onto my back, letting the intro play out.
Game day.
My body hums with an excitement that has never dulled, even after all these years. I get to play my favorite sport for a living and I f*****g love it. It’s not easy, and knowing one day my body will give out, I give it my everything. Hating to even have to think like that, I rub my hand over my six-pack, just to make sure it’s still there.
It’s then that I feel movement. Turning onto my left side, a set of wide, excited, blue eyes stares back at me.
“Haven’t you got your own bed?” I sleepily ask the intruder.
“I like your music.”
His little body shakes with suppressed giggles, and I can’t help but ruffle his cute bedhead.
“It’s awful early. Where’s your mom?”
“She’s in the kitchen. I’m too excited and don’t wVivienne sleep any more. Are you going to be able to see me easily when you’re playing? Will you score a goal for me? Is it even louder? Should I make a sign?”
Finally, he stops, taking in a big breath.
“Yes to everything except the poster. I know who you are, kid,” I reply with a matching smile.
Tonight is the first time he is going to be watching the game from the stands. We think he’s finally old enough to experience the arena from outside the confines of the family suite.
We’ve had a great preseason, we’re meshing well as a team, and the newer teammates have settled in. With only one retirement and a couple of trades this summer, we’re coming into this season stronger than last.
God knows we don’t need any more change. Last year was a total clusterfuck of a season. Changes with coaches, injuries, media-fueled gossip and lies, and a rift within the team. But we got through it, and in the end, we came out stronger.
I grab a pair of shorts off the floor, put them on, and then scoop Jack up, flinging him over my shoulder.
“Come on, you, let’s go get our pre-game on.”
“Yeeees,” Jack squeals as I carry him down to the kitchen.
We pass photo after photo of my family as we scale the stairs. There’s pictures of all of us, my dad and uncle, high school, games, vacations, holidays, some candid and some posed.
It was the only thing I told my designer I wanted. That, and a big as f**k flatscreen. The rest she handled. It’s a man’s house, but the women in my life tell me it’s still got a homey feel.
There are little accents of teal and silver everywhere my team colors. Jerseys from all the teams I’ve been a part of throughout my life are also hung up in frames.
As we round the corner, Charlotte jumps out of nowhere, making me stumble and Jack squeals as I nearly drop him. This stupid, dumb f*****g game we can never seem to quit. I’ve spilt cereal, beer, hot wings, dropped my phone, scalded myself with coffee, cut myself with my goddamn razor, the list is endless.
Every time leaves me spiked with adrenaline, my heart clattering against my chest, my breath ragged. I feel f*****g winded.
“You need to stop with this on the day I have a game. Don’t mess with my mojo, Charlotte,” I grit out.
She rolls her eyes and then sAdrianers.
“Ha-ha, you big baby.”
She swipes me with the dish cloth and then nuzzles into Jack’s neck.
“I’m sorry I scared you, buddy.”
“That’s okay, Mom, but I’ll get my payback.”
“I’m sure you will,” she says as she saunters over to the burners on the stove.
My twin sister twirls around from turning the heat up on the pan, spatula in hand, and smiles at us. She’s the double of me but with brown hair instead of blond.
“All right, boys. Protein pancakes coming right up, with a side of grilled turkey bacon, eggs, and a veggie smoothie,” she tells us, making Jack balk.
“Oh, no, Mom, not a vegetable smoothie. Come. On,” he whines.
I spin him on his stool to look at me.
“Dude. Do you wVivienne stay at three-foot-nothin’ forever, or be big, strong, fast and tall like me?”
He thinks on it for a moment, then closes his eyes and on a gulp, says, “Please pass the glass.”
And so I pass him a smaller version of my veggie concoction in a plastic beaker. He eyes it, takes a breath, and goes for it, pulling a face the whole time. Charlotte and I laugh at his dramatics as she sets down our plates and we watch as he makes up for it with far too much syrup on his pancakes.
I dig into mine, savoring the taste. I don’t know how she makes something this healthy taste so good. Jack takes a little longer to eat his, so while he’s finishing, I go about scraping the plates and then loading them, the bowls, and the cups into the dishwasher, adding Jack’s into the last free spot before turning it on.
I go back upstairs, his little legs running to keep up with me, and then he hovers while I wash my face and brush my teeth.
“So, you’ll go for practice, but it’s not a normal one, right?”
“That’s right.”
“Then you’ll get down to business.”
I pause, the towel and my wet face forgotten.
“Business?”
“Yeah, you and the team will get together and then work out how to crush the Devils tonight.”
His face is so serious, I have to suppress a smile.
“Oh yes, we’ll have one last meeting. We’ve been watching game tape for a while, so we think we’ve found some spots in their game where we can really hurt them.”
Suddenly, he gets a faraway look in his eyes.
“I’m so lucky to have you as my uncle.”
Chuckling, I hug him.
“Not as lucky as I am to have you as a nephew. And what about those other knuckleheads you call uncles? A couple of them are alright, aren’t they?”
He nods, agreeing, and then proceeds to list everything he loves about them all.
- Writer
