5. ASPEN

Aspen

I have lost my fucking mind.

I still can't believe I did that, and there was no turning back now.

“You still haven't told me how you managed to get that huge amount of money, Aspen.”

I groan, racking my brain for a believable lie to feed my mom. There’s no way in hell I’m telling her the truth about where the money came from.

I scratch my chin, stalling. “Umm, just forget about it, okay?” I groan again, harder this time. “All that matters is that Kim is getting her surgery and will soon be on her feet, bouncing up and down in the house like she always does.”

Despite the mess I’ve gotten myself into, I can’t stop the smile that tugs at my lips. My baby sister is going to be operated on in twenty hours, and soon, I’ll see her up and running again. That thought alone is enough to set my mood on a shaky fifty-fifty.

“I know,” Mom sighs, “But I need to make sure you didn't put yourself into trouble getting that money for her—”

“I’ve got things handled, Mom,” I cut her off quickly, my voice firm. “I found a way to borrow the money, and they assured me I could pay it back whenever I can.”

Even as the lie leaves my mouth, it sounds ridiculous, but I hold onto the hope that Mom buys it and lets the matter drop.

Luckily for me, her phone buzzes with an incoming call, and she mutters, “Aspen, I have another call coming in. Can you end this so I can take it?”

“Yeah, sure, Mom. Talk to you later.”

I hit the red button and lower the phone, staring at the dark screen for a moment.

My mind wanders to what happened last night. I had gone to one of the dating apps to see if any lady wanted a guy she could sex chat with, but I had quickly changed my mind because I didn't want anyone to fall in love with me. I was doing it for the money, and nothing else.

That was how I found myself on the gay part, and on this particular guy's inbox whose account name was Cinder.

For the life of me, I don't know what made me bold enough to message him about being able to make him come within minutes of chatting dirty with him.

He asked me to send him a picture of my dick, and I did.

And everything went into a blur after that. The shape of his dick, and those tattoos drawn on his lower abdomen. My fingers itched to view it again… Fuck! Why did I let my mind go there? Now my fucking cock is painfully hard.

Shaking my head, I try to erase those images from my mind as they appear again, but it's difficult to.

I'm not supposed to be thinking about him or the shape of his dick, or any other dick for that matter. I'm not gay! I'm not a fucking queer and eating pussies is a better choice. Until now, a tiny voice whispered in my mind.

Fuck! You need to get your shit together, I mentally scold myself.

Walking into the bathroom for a quick shower, I can't shake the thought that this was absolutely a mistake. The image of his dick lingers stubbornly in my mind, living rent-free, and the ridiculous way my body responds to the memory only makes it worse.

When I finish my shower, I had made up my mind to let it out of my mind. There wasn't supposed to be any regrets because I had to do what I had to do to make sure I still had my sister in my life.

Besides, it wasn't like I was selling off my body. I was only sex chatting and getting paid for it.

I round the corner of the practice rink in no time, to see all my teammates on the ground chatting in low voices. Once they spotted me, they stopped talking.

Suspicious.

“Why are you guys suddenly quiet?” The words come out of my mouth as I eye them.

They all avoid my eyes except for Nathan, who watches me with pity in his eyes. “What's going on, buddy?” I ask him.

He doesn't respond. Instead, he passes me his phone, which manages to heighten my suspicion. Taking it from him, I see what he's showing me. It's a headline on the news praising Kelly about how well he played last night.

It's nothing new. The press does it every time each Academy wins a game.

“Well, he won, so they obviously have something to—” I begin to say when suddenly my eyes catch on my picture, which makes me pause. Scrolling up, my blood boils at the article about me.

“Overhyped mediocrity?” I ask no one in particular, my hands curling at my sides.

“You don't have to mind them,” Nathan says, his voice hard. “You're the best captain we could have asked for. Right, guys?”

He turns to the others, and one by one, they nod in agreement, their faces filled with conviction.

I feel a lump in my throat as I listen to them tell me how fucking proud they are to have me as their captain. I don’t deserve their loyalty, not after everything I’ve messed up, but hearing them speak so highly of me makes me feel a little lighter.

“I strongly believe we will beat them next time,” Willow says, his voice steady and calm. “We all have to work harder than ever, and keep our head in the game.”

The rest of the team echoes his sentiment, and the atmosphere shifted. Determination replaces doubt, and we dive into practice with a renewed energy that feels almost electric.

For the next hour, I push them harder than I ever had before. Drill after drill, we work like our lives depend on it, sweat dripping, muscles burning. Not one of them complains. If anything, they seemed to thrive on the challenge.

As I blew the final whistle and we wrap up practice, a small part of me begins to believe that maybe, just maybe, we really can turn things around.

Things are going to be okay—that thought lingers in my mind as we get ready to hit the showers. Or at least, that’s what I had believed before everything took a turn.