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That’s all I got in before both of his hands were gripping my jersey, grappling to get leverage against me. I tried to jerk loose to land some more blows but both of our skates shot out from under us and we were on the ice.
It was all over then as the officials swarmed in and pulled us apart. We both landed five-minute majors, but I went off the ice and headed back to the locker room so our team doctor could stitch me up. We still had another period and a half of play left and a small cut wasn’t about to stop me.
I should have just stayed my ass back in the locker room. Once back out on the ice, I played some of the crappiest hockey I’ve played since I was about ten years old. I couldn’t make a clean pass, my shots were wide and my skating was hesitant. Some viewers would blame it on my injury but that didn’t have a damn thing to do with it. I had just lost my focus, plain and simple, and I’m sure it had everything to do with my meeting with Cameron this morning.
Walking over to one of the large armchairs that grace the room, I sit down with a heavy sigh. Sutton watches me cautiously. I must be giving off some bad vibes, because she isn’t moving any closer.
“What’s wrong, Alex? Is it the game?”
I can’t help the snort that comes out or the wry smile that I give her. “Sure, we’ll say it’s the game. ”
I take another deep pull on the beer and watch her. She’s so f**king beautiful, and I know she’s na**d under the robe. But the thing that I focus on—right this very moment—is the look in her eyes. They are filled with such worry and care for me, that it physically hurts to receive it. It’s alien to me, a concept I don’t understand. It makes me feel weak and small, and I don’t want any part of it.
“Drop your robe,” I order her, my voice low and gruff. I take another sip of beer.
“Alex?” she says, uncertainty ringing clear, but her hands go to the belt to undo the knot. My pulse quickens when she pulls the belt away and I get just a peek of her skin underneath.
“Come here,” I tell her, and I know she’s not hearing the normal sexual rumble of passion that fuels me. I know I sound cold and controlling. It’s the same tone I’ve used on Cassie time and again, and that thought makes my stomach curdle.
It doesn’t deter me, though. When she reaches me, her feet stopping just short of mine, she just stares down at me, not understanding what I want or need. Hell, I don’t know what I need. But I do know I want her.
I want her to make me forget for just a little bit.
“Get on your knees for me, baby,” I taunt her. “Show me what you’ve got. ”
Fuck, I’m being a dick and I can’t stop myself. My own dick lengthens and goes rock hard at the prospect of her mouth on me.
I smirk at her, waiting to see what she does but I’m wholly unprepared for the glistening of tears that form in her eyes. I feel like someone took a sledgehammer to my gut.
“What’s wrong with you?” she asks in a small voice, her bottom lip quivering slightly.
Fuck, oh f**k. What the hell am I doing?
Jumping up from the chair and dropping my bottle to the floor, I pull her into my arms and hug her tight to me.
“I’m sorry,” I tell her quickly, placing a kiss on her temple.
I squeeze her again. “I’m so sorry. I’m just having a shitty day and I took it out on you. ”
Pulling back slightly, I look down at her and she blinks hard at the tears so they slide down her cheeks. I’m relieved that no others take their place. Reaching up, I wipe the wetness from her face and wait for her to say something.
“Alex, please tell me what’s wrong?” she pleads, her hands cupping my jawline. “Talk to me. ”
I feel the soft graze of her fingers on my skin and I breathe in deeply the smell of her hair. She is everything I could possibly want in life and yet I have never been more unsure of the path I should take.
It was a f**king self-fulfilling prophecy. I told her she’d see the ass**le side of me again, and she just got a good dose. I told her I’d hurt her, and I did. I’m really not worthy of her when it boils down to it.
“I need to take a walk,” I tell her as I step away, watching her hands drop down to her sides, so she can re-belt her robe.
She covers her skin, removing the tempting vision, and helps to push my final wall in place when she tries one more time to get me to open up. “Please just tell me what’s wrong. Let me try to help you. ”
I viscerally pull back from her offer of talk and comfort. I can’t accept it and don’t want it. It’s not within me to let her in any further.
“I’m sorry,” I tell her as I lean in and kiss her on top of her head. “I’m going to go out for a walk. I’ll be back, but don’t wait up for me. ”
Sutton drops her head so I can’t see her eyes, and I leave her there, staring at the floor as I leave the hotel room.
Chapter 24
Sutton
I find a parking spot and pull my car in, leaving the engine running because I’m a bit early and have some time. As tends to happen with me when my brain gets a break, I think of Alex.
It’s been two days since our trip to New York and I haven’t spoken to him. He’s supposed to meet me here for our first talk as part of the outreach program and I assume he’ll show. Actually, I’m going to be doing the talking and Alex is going to be there for star support, relegated at this point to just a small, prepared paragraph he’s going to read. We haven’t quite decided the details of how our tag team is going to work out when we start traveling this summer to launch the program, but I figured this would be a good way for us both to test the waters.
I can’t shake the heavy feeling that has surrounded me since New York. There was a moment in that hotel room when I was utterly afraid.
Oh, not afraid of Alex in any physical sense.
I was afraid that he was gone…lost…erased. I saw something in his eyes that was cold and beyond reach, and while I have no idea what caused it, I do know that he was on the brink of reverting back to the Alex Crossman that he has always warned me about.
Ordinarily, it would thrill me for Alex to ask me to give him a bl*w j*b, but the way he commanded me to do it? He was emotionally detached and looking for a release with no feelings involved. I sure as hell wasn’t about to give that to him.
I needed more and he needed more.
But then he snapped out of it, sort of, apologized and left to go take a walk. I lay in bed, unable to sleep and unable to turn my mind off because I was so worried about him. His walk lasted four hours, and when he came in around 3 A. M. , he didn’t even say a word.
By the glow of New York City through the windows, I held my breath as he shed his clothes and crawled into bed with me. His first touch was to skim his fingers across my face and kiss me ever so softly. I opened my mouth to ask where he had been, and he made the kiss deeper.
Then he pulled back and looked down at me. “Just don’t say anything. ”
I nodded and then he kissed me again.
And then Alex Crossman made love to me.
I mean the type that is slow, luxurious and tender. He never said a word…not one dirty or filthy thing. His hands were gently probing, his touch everywhere felt like a warm caress. This soft nature he showed me was almost unbearable and I was writhing on the bed seeking more, almost begging him to take me more forcefully.
But I didn’t. I held my tongue and let him do whatever he wanted. And for some reason, Alex wanted to take his time with me, and he wanted to do it quietly. I have no concept of time, but it seemed to stretch on forever, and yet in my mind it would never be long enough. He filled me with torturously slow strokes that went deep but never came off a leisurely pace. The only quickening was our breathing, but even that had a more subdued quality. When we came, we did it together with our hands clasped and our lips pressed together as our breath ran warm across each other’s skin.
It was a hauntingly beautif
ul experience, the most touching sexual experience of my life. I have no clue if he was showing me that his feelings were running deep, or he was giving me something I could remember before he cut things off. Alex never told me what was wrong, he never discussed where he went for his walk, and when I woke up the next morning, he was gone and all I had was a note on the pillow beside me.
His note apologized again for his behavior after the game and told me that he had to make a quick trip back home to Canada to take care of some family business, but that he would see me back in Raleigh for our scheduled talk at Pope High School in two days.
I didn’t call him and he didn’t call me. I worried myself sick over this, but I felt that he needed some time. Besides, any contact almost guaranteed that I would press him for details as to what in the hell had been going on with him. I figure he didn’t call me because he knew that and wasn’t in a mood to share.
So, as I sit here in this parking lot, all I can do is hope Alex shows up, not just physically, but emotionally as well.
***
Glancing over at Alex, I give him a small smile and then turn back to the podium in front of me. I have some notes jotted down, but I know I probably won’t even look at them.
He showed up—true to his word, and just as the program was about to start. I didn’t get a chance to even say hello but pressed into his hands the sheet of paper that held three paragraphs I’d need him to read when I was done, announcing the Cold Fury’s support for this outreach program.
Looking out over the audience, I try to focus in on a few of the students who stare back at me. Some are interested, some are texting on their cell phones. Regardless, I know there’s at least one person in this room who will find what I’m about to say interesting.
“Hi. As Principal Snyder just introduced me, you know I’m Sutton Price and that I’m a counselor at the Wake County Drug Crisis Center. What she didn’t tell you, though, is that I was raised, at least for a portion of my life, by a parent who was addicted to drugs. ”
Stepping out from the podium, I check to make sure the portable mic is on, and move out onto center stage. I always feel more comfortable talking this way, as it feels less formal. I’m not nervous about talking to these kids, but knowing that Alex’s gaze is pinned on my back gives me some tingles for sure.
“My dad was and still is addicted to heroin. My mom and I stayed with him until I was nine years old, and she was able to break away. My dad has his good moments. He’s gone months at a time staying clean, but unfortunately he’s always relapsed. ”
The auditorium is silent and I see more faces watching me than not. “What I want to talk to you about today is how you can get help…if you have a parent that is using. You see, my dad as an addict was pretty terrifying, and I spent a lot of time alone with him because he was unemployed and would watch me in the afternoons when I got home from school. When he was high on heroin, he would mostly just sleep, which meant he left me alone. When he was waiting on his next fix, and couldn’t get his drugs, he got mean. Really mean. ”
I pause for effect and take a few steps across the stage. “He would hit me…sometimes with his hands, sometimes with his belt…it’s how I got this scar,” I say, pointing to my left eyebrow. “Sometimes he’d kick me. Once he dragged me across the floor by my hair and I only got away after a chunk of my scalp tore loose. ”
Someone in the front row gasps, but I don’t look. I turn and walk back across the stage. “I had a wonderful mother. She worked to try to support us, but unfortunately she didn’t make enough to support us and his drug habit. That made my dad even meaner. She’s the most wonderful woman in the world. She loves me more than life itself. ”
I turn and risk a glance back at Alex. His eyes are glittering intensely as he watches me. Turning back to the kids, I continue. “But even though she loved me, and I knew she would do anything to protect me, I didn’t tell her about what my dad was doing. I told her lies about my cuts and bruises. I was afraid because I didn’t want my family to break up. Even though my dad abused me, he didn’t do it all the time. I mean…he loved me, and he was always so sorry after he hurt me. So I kept silent. ”
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