by Hughes, Maya
11
Colm
Why did she have to show up here?
My dick, which had taken a months’ long siesta, decided to wake the fuck up within seconds of her walking into the room. It was like my mind jumped back to that night and wanted to pick up right where it left off. Only it wasn’t that night and I wasn’t that same guy.
So I welcomed the anger. I let it wash over me to strangle back that erection and keep me focused on the task at hand: getting her the hell out of my bedroom.
The way her nose wrinkled when she looked around the room before spotting me was embarrassing. I was an embarrassment, and she needed to stay the fuck away. I’d run her off like I’d done with everyone else in my life, but that didn’t keep me from throwing myself into the shower and taking my cock in my hand, pumping my sudsy hold up and down my length remembering how good she’d felt that night.
Her arms wrapped around my neck with her panting breaths brushing against my skin and her thighs locked around my waist working against each of my thrusts to make every slam into her more explosive than the last.
I bit back my groan and came, slamming my hand against the wet tile. Resting my forehead against the wall with my arm braced, I winced at the throb shooting down my leg. Fucking hell. I couldn’t even come without a reminder of how screwed up I was.
Drying myself off, I stared at myself in the mirror. Wasn’t I supposed to be the one with my shit together? I was the one who looked out for everyone. I was the one who’d given up my teens and twenties to take care of my sister. Resentment threatened to boil over, swiftly followed by guilt.
Of course I took care of Liv. She was my sister. My little sister, and I’d slipped into the parent role long before our parents died. Did it piss me off sometimes when I couldn’t go out and party because she’d needed me? When I’d missed out on spring break trips because I hadn’t wanted to leave her at boarding school all alone during her break? When I’d stayed sober and played designated driver because I had to serve as a chaperone on her school trip, or help her study? Yeah, but we were a team. At least I’d thought we were a team.
Just like the team I’d been a part of for almost my entire life. And my turn as an irresponsible fuck up had lasted all of three days. My turn to finally be a selfish asshole had been cut short with one botched punch and here I was with a fucked up leg, not even able to do the only thing I was apparently good at, since surrogate parenting certainly wasn’t one of them. The wallowing had turned into drowning in a vat of self-pity and it was even starting to piss me off.
Fuck, I was screwed up, but how did I fix it? Wasn’t it better for everyone to think I was just a stubborn asshole rather than a complete waste who couldn’t even get out of the car at the practice rink? I’d been through way worse, so why was this fucking with me so hard?
I’d tried a couple days ago after Bailey’s visit. I’d gotten in my car at 4am and driven to the practice rink. There were always cars in the lot. Figure skaters, high school hockey players, anyone who couldn’t afford prized rink time had to work around the early edges of the morning.
My fingers had frozen on the door handle. The cold sweat prickled across my forehead and dripped down the back of my neck. I stayed there for what felt like hours as more cars pulled into the lot, each driver stealing a glance at the weird guy sitting in his car. But I couldn’t make myself pull the handle and open the door. The sun was already on the horizon by the time I admitted defeat and drove home.
And then Imogen appeared in my house. In my bedroom like she’d never left. Bailey and the guys had to be behind this. Desperate times called for desperate measures and that’s the only way they’d subject her to me.
Everyone treated her like she was spun glass. All the voices dropped a little lower when she walked into the room, like if the volume were too high she might shatter. Anytime someone mentioned someone dying, even offhandedly, all eyes would shoot to her.
She always brushed them off like it was no big deal. But they’d never tiptoed around that stuff with me or Liv. Why treat Imo differently? She wasn’t really a part of our group, just an extension of a guy who would have been a part of our group, if he’d lived. And it pissed me off.
What happened if she came back? I’d told her to leave, but if Bailey had gotten to her that meant she wouldn’t give up so easily. And if she came back could I tell her to leave again?
12
Imo
The sugary sweet smells enveloped me a block away from Bread & Butter, carried on the last of the summer air before the blustery cold moved in.
“Hey, I didn’t expect to see you.” Avery rounded the corner and pulled me in for a big hug. She smelled like donuts and chocolate. It was one hell of a perfume; no wonder Emmett barely wanted to let her out of the house.
“Emmett told me about the PT session with Colm today, how’d it go?” She held onto my shoulders and smiled at me.
I tilted my head and stared back at her.
“That good, huh? I’ve got what you need. Grab a seat.” She didn’t stop at one of the display cases at the front of the shop, instead pushing through the swinging doors back into the kitchen.
There weren’t many customers inside, with the morning and lunch rushes well over. I grabbed a table by the big front window and stared up at the trees, where orange or yellow leaves dotted amongst the lush green.
“Try these.” She slid a plate in front of me with a cupcake and cookie combo that made my mouth water.
“These don’t look like your usual.” I took a bite of the huge cookie with salt sprinkled on top.
“They’re not,” she continued, and although I was interested in what she was saying, I wasn’t willing to take the cookie out of my mouth to respond. “You know that web series thing I talked about? I found someone who could help. She made these.”
“Not worried about the competition? Is that caramel in here?” I covered my stuffed mouth with my hand.
“Her name’s Jules. She’s in college and really talented. Who knows if she even wants to do this professionally, but she’s adorable and Max refuses to go on camera with me, so I’ve brought her on.”
“You’ll bake things together on camera?”
“Posting it on social media. It’s not exactly Martha Stewart level, but it’s something we’re going to try.”
“Sounds like it could be fun.”
“I hope so. Now you can stop dodging the conversation. How was Colm? We’re all a bit worried about him. Emmett said Colm’s doing everything he can to make sure he’s all alone.”
“I can certainly tell. So what do you have planned for this web project?”
Avery scrubbed her hands over her face. “How long do you have? Let’s say things are going to be turned upside down for a while.”
She launched into the details and I was tired just listening to her. “And I need everything finished by March.”
I wiped my mouth with a napkin. “Why March?”
“Excuse me.” A guy stood beside our table, looking down at the two of us before focusing on me. He was tall, probably at least a foot taller than me if I were standing. The sleeves of his button down were rolled up to his elbows, showing off a tattoo on his forearm. A professional with a rebellious streak.
“I’d kick myself if I didn’t come over here.” He had a warm, sweet smile only helped by the bakery boxes in his arms, tied up with pink and white string.
Avery crossed her arms over her chest and sat back in her chair.
“Kick yourself for what?” she piped up.
My foot shot out under the table, but she was too fast and moved her leg out of the way.
The stranger smiled at me. “I’ve seen you in here a few times before and I decided if I saw you again, I’d ask you if you’d like to get coffee.”
“That’s very nice of you.”
“I’m sensing a but coming my way.”
“But I’m not up for dates, even coffee dates right now. Thank you so much for as
king. I know it couldn’t have been an easy thing to do.”
He smiled. “It’s better than a lingering what if.”
“You’re right.”
Avery jumped up and grabbed a display of fudge brownies off the counter. “And for the ballsy move of the day, you get a brownie on the house.”
His smile brightened. “This definitely takes the sting out of it.” He took his bundled sweets and left the store.
When the door closed behind him, Avery turned her playful glared on me. “Stop working these guys up or I’ll have to give away half my shop to keep them from bursting into tears when you shoot them down.”
“I’m just sitting here.”
“Giving off that, I’m sweet, understanding, but will also blow your mind in bed vibe.”
“What the hell?! I do not.”
She laughed, raising an eyebrow, crossing her arms over her chest and rocking her chair back onto two legs. “That’s what you think.”
I had another bite of my cookie and a glass of cold milk.
She sent me on my way with another dozen cupcakes, donuts, and brownies.
Everyone at the center would love getting these tomorrow, but my appetite was gone. My stomach was only able to handle one of her cookies before threatening to revolt. I’d nursed my coffee for the rest of our time together. It wasn’t even winter yet and I was already coming down with something. Just what I needed…
With the sugar high wearing off, I couldn’t keep my thoughts from Colm anymore.
Did I want to go down this path again? With Preston, it had nearly shattered us both, but when we came out the other side, we were stronger than ever. He was happy. We were happy. A new start that had been ripped away when he died.
Preston had been my first love, so comfortable, and we fit together so easily. Even after his diagnosis, we were ready to head into the future with the new hand we’d been dealt. A previously undetected heart condition had been discovered after he’d passed out the summer before our senior year. It was rare and we were so lucky there hadn’t been any complications from it before.
But the health gauntlet he’d have needed to go through to get drafted would’ve meant no team would touch him. It was over for him. One second he was sitting in the doctor’s office thinking they’d tell him to lay off the salt or he was allergic to something he’d eaten and the next, his whole life had been ripped away from him.
Things with Colm were much more complicated. He was a wild card with no regard for anyone around him. The pain radiated off him in waves and sometimes it felt like no one else could see it or feel it as keenly. All they saw was him acting like an asshole, but he hadn’t always been like this, and I saw the neon glowing arrow pointed right at his pain and fear. He felt cornered and the pushing it would take to get him past it might be more than I could manage.
A grimace twisted my lips. There was no fucking reason for Colm to give up like this. Anger replaced the pity. Screw him for putting his friends and family through this unnecessarily! He wasn’t dying. He wasn’t dead. They needed him and wanted him to be whole again and he could be. Unlike Preston’s heart had been, Colm’s leg was fine. There were no damn excuses.
Maybe it was the loss we’d both dealt with, but I wasn’t going to let him shut himself up in his house and become the weird urban legend that kids on the street talked about.
He could do this. I could do this. We’d slept together, but that didn’t mean anything. We’d banged. We’d had hot, crazy intense sex, but people did that all over the city. People were probably doing that right now, and they’d tip their hat to the lady or gentleman on the way out and it wasn’t a big deal. He’d slept with tons of women. My roster of men was less sizeable, but I could keep things professional. And if he was pissed at me, there would be one more thing to keep his mind off wallowing in self–pity. That quicksand was hard to pull yourself out of on your own.
He was just like every other client. It was a lie I’d have to keep repeating or we were headed for disaster.
13
Colm
Staring at my phone on the nightstand, I picked it up. It hadn’t been off Do Not Disturb mode in months. Probably why Bailey had come to my house. My dodging technique wouldn’t work forever.
I held the cold metal in my hands. The screen was pitch black. Holding down the button on top, there was a flicker and the screen lit up.
As it fully powered up and connected, the messages and notifications rolled in, wave after wave. When I thought it was all caught up another onslaught started. My agent. Bailey. Declan. Heath. Emmett. Ford. And Liv.
Her messages were the ones that had made me turn it off right after I left the hospital.
I was a freaking wreck. I was supposed to be the strong older brother. If I couldn’t be that, why did she even need me around? I’d failed in every way imaginable. She wasn’t going to med school. I hadn’t gotten her to move out of her apartment and she’d nearly died. Ford, who was going to break her heart, had swept her off her feet, and I couldn’t stop it even though I knew he would hurt her. And now I didn’t even have hockey. The whole situation tapped into an anger and resentment I’d kept bottled up for so long I couldn’t remember not keeping it tightly bundled and shoved to the back of my mind.
My dreams had been filled with Imogen since she’d left my bedroom. My body had prickled with awareness of our night together the second she’d stepped across the threshold. On my couch. In my room. In this bed. I ran my hands over the blankets.
At least this time I’d been awake to see her go. But the gnawing was back. The hungry gnawing that had been replaced by a dull black and white existence since I’d found out my leg would recover and everyone expected me to get back on the ice and skate into the season like nothing had happened.
Only everything had happened. My sister had blown up her future and ruined my relationship with my best friend—or he’d ruined my relationship with her, I wasn’t sure which yet. I’d injured myself twice almost back to back. And the one woman my thoughts kept coming back to year after year had given me a night of fireworks that made everyone else feel like backyard sparklers, and then run like an angry mob had been chasing after her. She’d only sent me a message because I was a pathetic mess who’d nearly ruined his career again.
I wasn’t going to be the pity guy. So her showing up like we could forget about all that? No, it wasn’t happening. It had made me even more restless and I’d gone down to the gym I had installed in my basement to lift some weights when the thoughts had become too much.
She was the muse of a life I didn’t live anymore. Maybe she’d sensed my bad fortune coming. Maybe the universe had told her to cut and run before this loser blew up his life. My comeuppance. No hockey. Here, all alone in my big house with a bum knee. If only the rest of the Kings would stop coming around, I could complete my journey to neighborhood weirdo shut-in.
I scrolled to my favorites: there were only five names. Liv’s was at the top of the list. I stared at the picture beside her name. It was from her first day of boarding school in Boston. She’d been miserable and worried about making new friends. We’d started our Sunday dinner tradition and I promised I’d take her to any dance classes she wanted. That had come back to bite me in the ass. She’d been so young then, so small, and she’d needed me so much. Now what did she need me for? The broken brother who didn’t know what the hell he was doing.
My finger hovered over her name. Instead of tapping it, I turned the phone off and shoved it back into the drawer in my night stand. Flopping back in bed, I slammed a pillow over my head like the room wasn’t dark enough already.
The front door opened and closed. Didn’t the guys ever want to hang at home? Maybe sleep in?
“Colm, I’m here. Are you ready to go?” Imogen’s voice trailed up the stairs like I’d conjured her from my dreams.
My hands on her hips pulling her closer.
Her hands in my hair tugging at the roots.
My body pressed a
gainst hers, breathing in her scent.
Her moans.
My need for her.
I shifted in the bed and my knee ached. All those feelings were washed away and replaced with the reality of my current situation. There would be no scooping her up and throwing her on my bed and sinking inside her.
I groaned remembering how good she’d felt under me. No, she wasn’t here for another round of the best sex I’d ever had in my life. She was here to play nursemaid. To give me encouraging words while I walked on a treadmill or did some leg presses. To tell me that I would play hockey again.
I stayed in my bed. My t-shirt and sweats were rank. The books I’d grabbed off the shelves in my office to keep the boredom at bay sat beside the TV remote. There was only so much reading and TV watching I could handle before I wanted to go running down the street like a madman.
There was rustling and banging downstairs. Fine, she could hang out and play video games like the guys, but I wasn’t doing any of her hoop jumping today.
Her jogging footsteps up the stairs followed a few minutes later. “Good morning.” She burst into my room like rainbows shone out her ass. “Did you hear me? Let’s go. We’ve got a lot to get done today.”
Her hair was up in a ponytail that swung behind her. She was in scrubs. Just like a nurse. The black strap of her bra poked out the side of the v neckline. Was it the same bra she’d worn that night? The smooth feel of it had been seared into my memory. Stop it, Colm. This isn’t a recreational visit, and she wasn’t looking for a repeat.
“I’m sleeping. You can do whatever the hell you want.” I grabbed my blankets and wrapped them around myself. At least the sheets were clean. After she’d left, I’d given them a smell test and damn they were rank. With her so close my morning wood was turning into something else and I didn’t need to embarrass myself even more.
“You’re hilarious. Let’s go.” The bed dipped and she patted my back through the blankets like this was some game we were playing.