All Chapters of HEATED OFFSIDES : Chapter 71 - Chapter 80

NateLogan had called yesterday. And he asked me weird questions. Of course, after mumbling and stumbling on his words for a few minutes, he asked me if I had ever spent time alone and away from my family.And by family, I knew that he meant my dad. Why he was asking, I don't know?But I wasn't about to make things weird by ignoring him or refusing to answer. I mean, it wasn't that big of a deal, was it?I told him of the time when I was 7 years old in England and stayed with a family friend for a while. I still skated at the time in the children's league.It was so long ago that it's a distant memory. But they were good times.And that was all he asked. He ended the call abruptly and left me wondering what happened.At the time, I didn't think much of it.But now, staring at the small framed picture, my throat is so fucking dry. A myriad of emotions rattle my bones. I want to smile, but I also want to cry. And I want to hide. Or shake Logan and ask him why he decided to hurt me like

Nate I hold on to the memory. To the feel of his lips against mine for as long as I can. I nearly didn't brush my teeth this morning, but alas, don't wanna walk around with bad breath. We all leave at the same time, ordering different rides. But my gaze lies where Eli and Logan enter the same car. I wish we would spend the rest of Christmas here at the apartment. And not go home. But of course, that's selfish of me. The rest of them have wonderful families to go back to. My fingers still linger on my lips, caressing the point where his lips met mine. The way his tongue flickered, licking and sucking. The way his teeth grazed my lip in the small moment. I think I'm addicted. I must be, to the feel of him. I mean, it was different this time in a way I'm not sure words can explain. ********* After Thanksgiving, mere weeks ago, the last thing I want to do is see my parents. I mean, it could have been worse. This year's Thanksgiving would be amongst the top ten best. Seein

Nate "Thump, thump, thump," he continues kicking, with his back turned to me. The sleeve of his shirt is folded up to his upper arms, and his shoulders and lower back flex with the movement. Such precision and force, it's almost entrancing, watching him. But then my eyes move down and snag on the frail and weak woman he's hitting. "Please," I make out the small whimpers from Mom's lips. Even now, she isn't screaming in pain. She isn't crying for help either. She's just.... taking it. Like she always does. Like she always did. She's the reason we're still here. She could have left him. She should have, yet she stayed and kept me in torture. Kept us in torture. Why did she keep fucking quiet? Just like now. "It's all your fault," is what I want to yell at her limp form. I want to grab her arms and shake her and blame it all on her. It's all your fucking fault. But I don't think I have a voice to speak with at this moment. Heat burns in my chest, pouring from me in waves

LoganI skid on the ice and crouch as I reach Nate. Eli also reaches him in time, and I don't even bother to see the look of horror I'm sure Eli has on his face.Nate is shaking like a leaf in the wind, his eyelashes and hair covered in snow.My heart tightens as I take in his form. Nate is far from weak; the man is built like a tank. But right now, he's looking nothing like that. He looks frail and very breakable.I tug away the emotions screaming into my head in a tight mental box and seal the lid tight."Why the fuck are you outside like this?" I tug off my jacket and cover his shoulder with it. It barely makes a difference. I'm about two sizes smaller, so the jacket does little to help him."Come on." Eli helps him up, but as soon as he miraculously gets on his feet, staggering, he lifts his eyes to Eli."She's there. She doesn't want to see me. She's scared of me?" His voice breaks, and my heart is shattered into a million pieces. Because worst of all, I don't even know what has

Nate "At least that's what I always thought. I still think that, though. My elder brother and I were born in London, England, and I spent most of my earlier years there." Logan listens patiently, and a part of me tells me that I may have to say it at once. Stopping may not be plausible. "As soon as I could even walk, my dad put skates on me. The legend continues in his son, right?" My head rests on the headboard of the bed as I speak. I'm facing the wall, but Logan is completely turned towards me, his attention on nothing else but me. "And people would think that's cute, you know. But as I grew up, it was anything but cute. I had to be the best in whatever little league I was put in. I loved to skate, but he made me hate it. The worst part was the comparison. I loved my brother, I still do. But he always compared me to him. Nicholas didn't much like skating, and as the firstborn, I think he was my father's disappointment. Instead, he was a free spirit. He loved art and literature