Page 44 of He Has It All (Boston Brawlers Hockey)
“If you insist.” She’s uptight and all I can think about is the picture of her in the euphoric throes of her multiple orgasms, the way she made me feel. Fuck.
I need to touch her so I put a hand on the small of her back. Not like it’s a habit, more like it’s her gravitational pull, forcing me to maintain contact. I need it, crave it like a wild man wanting something he has no idea what to do with. Like finding a fork next to his plate and a big dish of delicious food and having no idea how to get it to his mouth. That’s how I feel as I follow Chelsea past my family and out the door into the hallway. We find a private spot in an alcove that looks like it used to house pay phones.
She turns to me. “I’m sorry I left without waking you. I thought it would be better that way.”
“How is that better? What the hell—?”
“We need to keep our night together quiet don’t we?”
“Now Allie knows.” I accuse her of poor logic.
“Allie’s mouth is like a vault. She’ll never say a word. Besides, I haven’t told her a thing except not to ask and not to talk about it.”
“Looks like she’s assuming the worst—she talked like I’m the asshole leaving you high and dry.”
Chelsea smiles then and whatever weight, guilt or sweat I’ve been feeling all morning evaporates as if she’s spread fairy dust over me. I reach for her, to take her in my arms, automatically, reacting on pure gut instinct and need, my emotions running rampant with no involvement whatsoever from my dick. But she pulls back, looking over my shoulder, looking cool, and escapes my hold.
“What the fuck are you doing?” It’s my brother Glen. At the same time I turn to him, he claps a hand on my shoulder to yank me away.
Wrenching free, I say, “Get the fuck off me and mind your business.”
“It’s all right,” Chelsea says, her voice quiet but squeaky.
“The hell it is,” Glen says. He grabs my arm to pull me away from Chelsea and I spin, ready to raise my fist. The last thing I’m going to take is shit from my dickhead brother. I may love him but he’s an asshole sometimes. Like right now.
“Stop it. Both of you.” Desperation tightens her voice, though she manages to keep it low.
We’re staring at each other, neither of us paying attention to Chelsea, though she’s the reason for the sibling rivalry of the moment, the reason anger colors my brother’s face red and the reason I’m not going to let him interfere.
As Glen is about to give me another shove and my fist is ready to slam into his gut, Gary appears, out of breath. He slides to a halt between us, a neat trick on the carpet, but I see he’s wearing his slippery dress shoes.
“Quit it.” His arms are spread between us, separating us. Reason asserts itself, imposing its will on all of us.
Chelsea comes back to my side, touches my arm, draws me away. Gary pulls Glen away, telling him Mom was asking what was going on and to keep cool. My youngest brother looks at me once over his shoulder before he disappears back inside the brunch buffet and I give him a nod. I’m impressed. And I owe him.
“We should talk about this another time, Ryan. But bottom line is I had a truly wonderful night. Unforgettable.” She gives me an unconvincing wobbly curve of her mouth.
“What the hell, Chelsea? That’s it?”
“Of course that’s it, Ryan. That’s all your capable of, isn’t it? I know that. I knew that going in.”
“Wait—”
She waves her hand and walks away. When I would have grabbed her arm and stopped her, Levi and Maggs appear and she hurries to greet them. The last thing I’m going to do is cause a scene in front of them. Maggs shoots me a glare as it is. Swiping my hand through my hair, I try to wrap my head around what’s going on.
Turmoil and confusion is all I come up with. Discomfort with this new level of estrangement from Chelsea. She’s convinced what we had is a one-night stand. Maybe it should be, but fuck, I don’t like it. This is exactly what I promised her brother to protect her from, exactly what I promised Maggs I wouldn’t do. But fuck if I know how to move past a fuck’-em-and-forget’-em night without risking too much. It’s the last thing I want between me and Chelsea. The exact reason we never should have spent that night.
But damn if I can convince myself to take it all back, to forget it. And fuck if I can take the risk—to my career or her heart. My soul.
Fuck if I even know what choice I have but to forget.
* * *
I don’t bother going backinto the brunch since I’m not exactly hungry. Instead I limp back to my room, my ankle throbbing again after the minor tangle with Glen. Stopping for ice, I end up lying on my bed with my leg raised and a towel full of ice across my ankle.
That’s how I stay for a while, keeping my mind a blank, breathing deep, getting myself under control, when there’s a knock on my door and Levi calls out my name. Hopping out of bed, I limp to the door, my ankle numb and the bottom of my pants sopping.
Levi steps inside and sits down, making himself at home. I do my best not to limp as I go back to the bed and lie down. He spies the soaking towel and melted ice on the floor and gives me a squinty-eye questioning look.
