I smirk as she t
akes the empty seat beside me in the booth. “Still excellent with the comebacks, I see.”
“Stop it, you two,” my mom scolds.
“Hey, Jo, you know what I want, right?” Sabrina calls over.
Jolene nods. “I’ve got your orders memorized.” She winks and comes over with a tray of drinks. Like a little boy, I grin when I see the root beer float. She sets the glasses down and leaves us alone.
I take a sip of my drink. Ah, that’s good.
Sabrina turns back into the booth and glances at me. “So, some magazine is saying they have a picture of your dick.”
I spit out my drink all over the table and my mom and dad.
I glance over at them sheepishly. “Sorry.”
My dad wipes the droplets from his face, his expression stoic. He doesn’t say much anymore. He had a stroke a few years ago and hasn’t been able to talk right since.
My mom dabs at her purple shirt with a napkin, wiping away the moisture. “Oh, Bennett,” she groans.
I turn to my sister. “Where the fuck did you hear that?”
She shrugs. “One of my friends texted me about it last night. I think she thought I had them, which is so wrong on so many levels.” She gags. “Please tell me you weren’t dumb enough to take a dick pic and send it to someone?” I look away. “Bennett!” she cries and slaps the back of my head.
“Ow!” I grab my head and glare at her. “I could’ve done without that, thankyouverymuch,” I slur.
My mom pinches the bridge of her nose. “The last thing you need is another scandal.”
I roll my eyes. I love how no one will refer to the first scandal.
“I’m sure nothing will come of it,” I reason. “Plus, I’m not the first athlete to send a dick pic.” I glare at my sister. “And I’m certainly not the only guy to do it.”
She rolls her eyes and plays with the paper of her straw. “I don’t know why you guys think we want to see your dick so bad anyway. Trust me, we don’t.” She lifts her gaze to me. “Do you not care about anything other than sex?”
I bristle. “Hockey is the most important thing to me. Period.”
“Then prove it,” she challenges. “Because so far, all you’ve done is prove to me and everyone else that it’s not. You’re going to end up kicked off the team.” Her voice softens at the end and she bites her lip. There are tears in her eyes. Bina is truly worried about me.
“Don’t worry about me,” I tell her.
She glares at me. “Shut the fuck up. You’re my little brother, of course I’m going to worry about you.”
“Guys,” my mom intervenes, “I wanted us to have a nice family breakfast, can we please let this go?”
“Already dropped.” Sabrina raises her hand in surrender.
“Ditto,” I agree.
“How’s Coach Harrison?” my mom asks, changing the subject.
I shrug. “Same old Coach, riding my ass.”
“It’s what you need,” Sabrina and my mom say simultaneously and then laugh.
I sigh. “I know. He’s good. Without him, I probably wouldn’t have made it to the pro level.”
My dad grunts, and I know it’s his way of disagreeing with my statement.