Page 73 of Tainted Love

I realize I may have overstepped my bounds. “I’m sorry,” I quickly apologize. “I didn’t mean to pry.”

Michael lets out a long, weary sigh and carefully sets his chopsticks down on the plate before him. “It was Brian,” he says with a hint of resignation.

My nerves immediately start to prickle at the mention of Michael’s older brother. While I always try to give people the benefit of the doubt, every time Brian Tazman enters Michael’s life, it brings nothing but trouble. “Why am I not surprised?” I seethe through gritted teeth.

A small smirk tugs at the corner of Michael’s lips, a knowing and conspiratorial expression. “I had only been here a couple of months,” he begins, his tone heavy with frustration, “and he showed up one day before a game, higher than a kite and looking for me.”

The memory seems to replay vividly in his mind as he recounts it, causing his jaw to tighten and his eyes to narrow in annoyance. “He’d just gotten out of jail, I guess, and hadn’t talked to our father in years. Feeling desperate, he decided to find his little brother, who happens to be an NHL player.”

“Shocking!” I sneer, rolling my eyes and causing him to meet my gaze with a smug smile.

“So here’s the story,” he begins, leaning closer as if sharing some juicy gossip. “He shows up uninvited, raising hell and screaming my name. Security had to drag him out, of course.”

I scoff at the absurdity. “That’s hardly your fault. How is that a reflection on you?”

“But wait, there’s more.” He leans back, relishing in the suspense. “He waited for me in the parking lot after the game.”

My temper flares, and I curse under my breath. “That son of a bitch.”

The words spilled out of his mouth in a jumbled rush, punctuated by shaky breaths. “Yeah. He was such a mess. Coked out of his mind,” he says, his voice full of emotion. “He started talking about how I owed him for everything he’s done for me.”

My hands balled into fists at my sides as my anger boiled over. “You don’t owe him shit! They owe you! All of them owe you years of your life! Your mom, your dad, and your piece of shit brother!“ I push back out of my chair, ready to fight his entire family if they dare to hurt him again. I cannot forgive the people who abandoned him. All of them. No matter what, I will never be okay with that. I can still see that little boy standing there waiting for his parents to show up, clutching his sad little lunch box with tears in his eyes. I want to tear them apart.

But before I can do anything, he’s up too, wrapping his arms around me and pulling me into his chest. Despite the heat radiating from him, I feel chills run down my spine.

“Ssh. It’s okay, Sash,” he murmurs soothingly into my hair.

I take a deep breath, trying to calm myself down as I nestle into the warmth of his chest for a brief moment. Eventually, I push back and ask, “So what happened?”

He hangs his head, shame and regret etched on his features. “He kept pushing me. I tried to escape him, but he wouldn’t let it go. Kept telling me what a fuck up I am and how I don’t deserve everything I’ve got.” He pauses, taking in a shaky breath before continuing. “He punched me in the face, and I maintained my cool. But when he did it again, something inside me snapped, and I fought back.” His eyes meet mine with a mix of fear and defiance.

My heart breaks for him, knowing the pain and turmoil his family has forced him to experience. But I also feel an overwhelming sense of pride in him for standing up for himself.

“I’m proud of you,” I say softly.

He nods gratefully, the corners of his lips turning into a small smile. The relief in his eyes is visible as he speaks. “Jerry and the PR people really saved my reputation. It never looks good to the media when a player kicks his own brother’s ass in the parking lot at work—justified or not. They helped me out big time.” As he continues, I can sense a hint of regret and self-awareness in his voice. “But they also saw that I’m young and maybe a bit impulsive—“

“Maybe a bit,” I joke, trying to ease the tension. “It’s all so very ‘Cats in the Cradle.’”

“So they wanted to keep an eye on me,” he explains, giving me a side-eyed look at my snarky comment. His expression shifts slightly, revealing a mix of emotions—determination, vulnerability, and a touch of sadness. “Jerry knows I don’t have any family, so he and I meet up once per month and talk about how things are going.”

I cock my head to the side and study him intently. He looks like the same Michael Tazman I’ve always known—tall, athletic, and infuriatingly gorgeous. But there’s something new about him now. A bit of wisdom in his blue eyes. A sense of maturity in his demeanor. He’s grown up and matured into the person I always knew he could be. It warms my heart that he’s embracing his potential.

“Good for you,” I tell him sincerely. When he gives me a skeptical look, I reiterate my words with more conviction. “No, I’m serious. It sounds like you’re doing awesome.”

He nods confidently, a proud smile spreading across his face. “I am.”

“Just don’t let them slither into your life again,” I urge him firmly.

“Never going to happen,” he confirms with a shake of his head. The determination in his tone assures me that he is serious.

The corners of my mouth turn up into a genuine smile. “Good,” I say to him, feeling the warmth of his presence. But our moment is abruptly interrupted as Derek enters the room. We both turn to look at him, and he seems visibly embarrassed to have barged in.

“I’m sorry. I can come back,” he offers hesitantly, sensing his intrusion.

“No, no, please come in,” Michael says warmly. “We were wrapping things up.” We quickly cleared the table together, and I felt Michael’s strong arms wrap around me in a comforting hug. “Thank you for having lunch with me,” he says softly before pulling away. "I’ll see you later.”

As he exits the room with the same grace that he entered, I can’t help but be captured by his charm. Even the Clark Kent look-alike won’t be able to keep my mind from wandering back to Michael for the rest of the afternoon.