Page 21 of He Has Trouble (Boston Brawlers Hockey)
“You don’t trust me, do you?”
“You’re right. I guess I don’t. I want to trust you… want to trust that there’s something here, that there’s an us…” she shook her head, “But deep down, I’m not sure.”
I wasn’t about to beg her, wasn’t sure what this meant. The end?
“Are you giving up on me? Already?” I accused her of what I felt, the tug to cut and run strong, my default self-preserving response. “Before we even start?”
“No.” The word was solid and I felt its impact down to my soul. “I’m not giving up on you, on us, Brady. Not now. I know where that leads,” she said throwing a hand in the air.
I also knew only too well where life without her led. To misery. Loneliness. Anger. Resentment. The merry-go-round of despair and self-pity that I was on the cusp of jumping off. I needed to take that jump. Needed to do it now. Heart thudding to stroke-like proportions, I gripped Angela’s hand.
“I’m not giving up on us either. We’ll do whatever you want. I’ll do whatever it takes. I’ll commute to Boston from dad’s house— “
“You will not. That’s just crazy. You’ll need to find a place close to the Garden.”
“If you’ll help me pick it out.” I was close to asking her to move in with me, equally afraid and thrilled at the prospect, but knowing she’d only say no and knowing my heart couldn’t take it to hear those words again from her. Not today.
“I’ll help you,” she said on a sigh.
“But what?”
She paused a beat, looking vulnerable and determined at the same time.
“But we need to take time to build a new relationship, Brady.”
Letting out a relieved breath, it was the easiest decision I’d ever had to make.
“Of course. You’re right. We need a chance to fit into each other’s lives. I want to prove myself to you, romance you— “
The instant smile on her face made my heart thunder against my ribs. She threw her arms around me and I thought my dick was going to unzip my pants, leap out and kiss her.
“But in the end, I want you with me, Angela. I’m asking you, inviting you, like I should have done three years ago.” We stood in the driveway where I had her backed up against my rental car, her family twenty feet away probably all looking out the front picture window watching us. The idea warmed me, but I didn’t look up to check, still afraid. What if I was wrong about them?
“I want it too, but not today.” she said, taking a deep breath. “There’s so much to think about. I’m not sure if my car could stand the commute back and forth to Boston and my job—that I love--is here in New Hampshire.”
This was all wrong. She wasn’t happy or excited or reluctant or showing anything at all, none of the love I’d felt the last couple of nights we’d spent together. I dragged in a deep, cold, bracing breath. She was talking and thinking about the fucking practicalities.
“We can figure that out,” I said, keeping my voice as neutral as hers even as my body quaked on the inside.
“But what?” Her smile faded as if she expected a catch.
“But I need you to promise when you do come to me, that you’ll stay. Not for a visit. For good.”
She stared at me with a light in those eyes if no smile, pensive and warm and an excited fearful chill ran through me.
“What will it take, Angela? What do I need to do?” Desperation drove through me.
“Whatever I say.”
I nodded even though I had no idea what that meant. A slow, loving smile lit her face.
She laughed and threw her arms around me.
“Of course I’ll come to stay with you. Did you think I would make love with you like we have and then let you go? Did you think it was sympathy sex?”
“No.” I didn’t tell her I hadn’t thought about it at all, just felt it, down to my soul. “You’re such a liar,” I said, grinning, still unsure.
“Not. Because it wasn’t sympathy sex. Our love-making was real, still-in-love-with-you sex.”
