“Like a brother who loves a brother who’s hurting.”
I pulled her into my arms and held her. “How’d you get so smart?”
“It’s not smart, it’s the truth.”
I kissed her and let her lips wash away all my doubts.
29
The Undressing Room
Naomi
After dinner with the Sockeyes, Paxton and I entered the hotel and stood together in the lobby.
“So much for going to my room.” Pax jerked his chin in the direction of the bank of elevators where Patrick waited.
I checked the time on my cell. “Kaitlyn warned me not to come to our room until midnight.”
“I guess we could sit in the cafe.” Paxton grinned knowingly but his smile didn’t reach his troubled eyes. He’d been quiet and thoughtful. He had a lot to absorb, and the future of our relationship had to be part of what bothered him.
“Unless you want to find a semi-private place to make out.”
“I sure as fuck do, but where would that be? We’re not exactly on a college campus where anything goes.”
I moved behind him and rubbed his shoulders as I considered where we could go. “You’re really tight and tense. You have a lot to think about.”
“Yeah, I do. Least of which is my brother.”
He didn’t mention us, which concerned me, but I wouldn’t reveal my fears. “And your dad.”
“Yeah, my dad, but that’s old news. This thing with Patrick is breaking news.”
“You two need to settle your differences before things blow up in your faces.”
“I’ve been waiting for him to come to his senses and adjust to our new normal.”
“Maybe you’ve given him enough time. He’s stubborn and might need smacked up the side of the head.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of.” Paxton shook his head. “I know my brother. He’s not good with change. I think he’ll get there if I’m patient with him.”
I understood Pax’s reluctance to confront his brother and cause more friction, but I really felt the direct approach was best. Regardless, I’d leave that decision to him. We had more immediate problems, such as where to go for some privacy.
“I have an idea,” I said after consulting the directory on one wall. I led him to the elevators, and we exited on the spa floor. I used my room key to get inside the pool/spa area. The place was deserted. A sign on one wall indicated dressing rooms and showers this way.
Paxton’s eyes lit up. “I know what you have in mind.”
We hurried to the dressing area. “We’re in luck.” There were separate dressing rooms with showers, and we had the place to ourselves. We picked the closest one, and Pax locked the door behind us. We quickly stripped and left our clothes on the wooden bench.
“Do you have a condom?”
“I never go anywhere without one anymore.” He fished a plastic packet out of his wallet.
I took it from him and opened the packet. Then I knelt in front of him and rolled the condom onto his hard dick. I took my time, doing a little sucking and stroking as I did my due diligence. Pax dug his fingers into my hair and groaned. I finished my job and stood before him, allowing myself the luxury of perusing his hard, muscular body. He was so magnificent. Hard in all the places I was soft.
I rose to my feet and spun around to turn on the shower, waiting for it to reach the right temp. Pax crowded behind me, his cock rubbing against my ass. He wrapped his big hands around my breasts and pulled me close to his nakedness.
I closed my eyes and leaned against him, reveling in the feel of his calloused palms on my delicate skin. The hot water was steaming up the small room, and I turned in his arms, backing into the shower and dragging him with me. He pinned me against the slick wall as water from the showerhead ran down our bodies.
“I—I need you,” I gasped as he kissed the hell out of me. I kissed him right back, allowing my kisses to say things I didn’t dare speak out loud for fear I’d jinx myself and him in the process. Whatever was happening to us was best not analyzed but experienced.
He knelt down, and I put one leg over his shoulder, giving him better access. I gripped his shoulders to balance myself while his tongue worked its magic on my lady parts.
“Pax, oh, Pax. Pax! Pax!” He was relentless, and I was shouting as I came.
I’d barely recovered when Paxton stood and hoisted me up his body, pressing my back against the wet tile wall. He aligned his dick and thrust into me. I wrapped my legs around his waist and my arms around his neck, marveling at the power behind his thrusts while holding me against the wall.
I rode him for all I was worth, enthusiastically pumping my hips to match his. His strokes built with my encouragement until he was pounding into me with such force my body slid several inches up the wall with each stroke.
His cock jerked inside me as he started to come, and my body responded by following him into the ultimate bliss. The pleasure was so intense I was certain I’d die, because no one would be able to survive the violent, erotic waves of ecstasy assaulting my body.
I was vaguely aware of Paxton calling my name and biting my shoulder as he buried his cock inside me one last time and held it there.
His labored breathing rasped in my ears, and our sweat mingled with the water. I don’t know how Pax managed to still have the strength to hold me against that wall when I was boneless and incapable of any kind of lucid thoughts or movements.
Eventually, I slid down his body and stood on my own. He stared down at me with eyes still full of hunger.
“I can’t get enough of you,” he said, gulping in oxygen.
“I can’t get enough of you either. You are the best I’ve ever had. No one has made me feel like this.”
“Me neither.”
“You get inside me like no one ever has.”
“Literally.” We both chuckled over the joke.
We clung to each other and were quiet, listening to the sounds of each other’s breathing. Finally, I drew back. “We need to get back to our rooms. You have a game tomorrow night, and you’ll need your sleep.”
Guilt clouded his expression for a moment, reminding me of what the Sockeyes had told him. All hockey, all the time.
As if he was reading my mind, Paxton withdrew from me and began drying off with the towels we’d had the foresight to grab from the bin outside. He handed me one, and just like that, our magical moment was over.
Something shifted. Something so subtle I might’ve missed it had I not been hyperaware of a change in the atmosphere around us.
With growing unease, I dried off and dressed. We didn’t say another word to each other as we walked to the elevators. Once on our floor in front of my door, Paxton gave me a deep kiss, yet I couldn’t shake off the feeling he was holding something back.
“Good night, Omi.”
“Good night, Pax.”
I watched him walk down the long hallway to the room he shared with Patrick and wondered if we’d survive the next few months.
30
The Spiral
Paxton
Sometimes I swore I was taking one step forward and two steps back, always waiting for the other shoe to drop. That kind of negative thinking would get me nowhere.
The Sockeyes’ advice swirled around in my head, leaving me confused and conflicted.
Everything I’d ever wanted was right at my fingertips, yet I could feel it slipping away, out of reach. I wouldn’t let that happen.
The next week was Thanksgiving, but we had away games on Friday and Saturday at Dartmouth. Naomi flew to Vegas on Wednesday to be with her family and would miss the weekend’s games. I was at a loss without her, which was frightening in itself. She’d become a huge part of my life in a very short time, and that was a dangerous place to be, especially for someone who was on the verge of major life changes that didn’t necessarily include her.
Patrick and I continued our strained relationship, neither one of us taking the initiative to finally have it out. I thi
nk deep down we both feared we were losing each other, and there was nothing we could do about it. We were mere months from going our separate ways for the first time in our lives. I was scared shitless and exhilarated at the same time. No longer would Patrick’s shadow dominate my life. I’d make my own way. Yet we’d been each other’s rock for so long, I didn’t know how I’d find my way through a future without him playing a crucial part in it.
I got up early and worked out on Thanksgiving. Patrick stayed in bed with a redhead he’d picked up last night at the Biscuit.
I dreaded dinner with my dad. Once our mother had died, Thanksgiving with him had been an ordeal to be suffered and not a pleasant family time to be savored. Mom had been the glue who’d held us together. She’d managed Dad in a way no one else ever could, keeping him focused and positive. That’d all fallen apart once she’d died. He’d become someone else. He’d probably always been the selfish, obnoxious person he was now, but she’d hidden his true self from us.
I called Naomi as I walked home from the gym. Clouds rolled in and threatened either rain or snow. If it stayed this cold, we’d most likely get snow. I shuddered at the thought I might be snowed in tonight with Dad and Patrick. Naomi answered on the first ring.
“Hey, babe.” I forced my tone to be upbeat. “Were you sitting right by the phone?”
“I was starting a text to you. I’m bored.”
I laughed. The sound of her voice cheered me up. “What’s going on?”
“The housekeeper is making dinner. My dad’s twentysomething girlfriend is here, and she’s a bitch, to be blunt. She’s been picking at my hair, my wardrobe, my makeup. You name it. And Dad’s backing her up, telling me I should dress like the daughter of an NHL legend even if I can’t skate worth shit.”
“Ouch. That’s harsh.”
“Yeah, is your dad there yet?”
“I don’t know. I’ve been avoiding the apartment since this a.m. I’m heading back there now.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I’m sorry for you, too.” I stopped in front of my apartment. “I’m here now. I should go in and face the fun. I’ll call you later tonight.”
“Let’s video chat.”
I perked up at the thought. “As in a little phone sex?”
“Oh, yeah.”
I was grinning now. “Thank you for giving me something to look forward to.”
“Thank you. And Pax?”
“Yeah?”
“I miss you.” The longing in her voice dispelled all my anxieties of the past few days. We would make this work. We had to.
“I miss you, too.”
We said our goodbyes and I ended the call. Steeling myself, I walked upstairs to our apartment and entered.
Patrick was making out with the redhead on the couch, one hand between her legs and the other on her breasts.
“Seriously? Go in your fucking room.” All my good feelings dissolved with irritation, even though I had no room to talk. It wasn’t like Naomi and I hadn’t had our moments in public.
“Fuck you,” Patrick barked back.
The redhead looked me up and down and licked her lips, making no move to button her blouse. “Twins? I’ve never done twins before. Are you up for a threesome?”
“No, he’s not, and neither am I.” Patrick glared at me as if I’d made the suggestion. “I don’t do threesomes.”
“You didn’t object to one last week.”
“I don’t do threesomes with another man, especially my brother.”
Insulted, she stood, straightened her clothes, and stalked out the door without even a goodbye.
“Thanks for ruining my good time.”
“I wouldn’t have ruined it if you’d stayed in your room. You know, Patrick, sex is so much better with someone you actually care about. You should try it sometime.” I shouldn’t have said it, but I did.
“You’ve turned into a self-righteous prick this year, and I’ve had enough of your bullshit.”
“Really? At least you’ve only had to deal with my being a prick for a few months. I’ve had to deal with an entire lifetime.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You figure it out. You’re not as stupid as your grades indicate.”
A low blow, and I knew it, but I couldn’t take the words back now that I’d released them into the wild.
“You fucking asshole. That hat trick you scored has gone to your head.” Patrick closed the space between us in long, deliberate strides until we were toe-to-toe. His hands were fisted at his sides. I held my breath. In all our twenty-one years, we’d never come to serious blows. We’d had our scuffles, but mostly we’d been horsing around and one of us might get a little rough and draw blood.
“Every score you make inflates your overinflated ego. You’re jealous. Of me.” I angrily spit out my thoughts without meaning to. But he was jealous of me, and I never thought I’d see that day. I took no pleasure from it. Jealousy was a destructive emotion that could eat someone up from the inside out. I didn’t want that for us.
“Why would I be jealous of you?” he shot back.
“Because for the first time in our lives, I have the things you want.”
Patrick ground his jaw together, a sure sign he was about to lose his temper. Usually, he ended up in the penalty box when he did that. Only we didn’t have a penalty box nor did we have referees, and I didn’t know how this would end if we truly came to blows.
Our doorbell rang, and we both froze. Deciding to end this here and now, I backed away and turned to the door. I opened it and let Dad in. He looked at me, then at Patrick and frowned.
“What the fuck is going on here?”
“Nothing,” we said in unison, something we used to do often but hadn’t for a long while.
Dad strolled into our apartment carrying a couple bags. One contained two bottles of whiskey and the other had takeout from a nearby diner.
“Paxton, throw the food in the oven and heat it up. I need a drink.” He moved to the kitchen to get a glass.
He needed a drink? I did, too. “Pour me a strong one.”
Dad’s brows shot up, but he didn’t remark on my sudden desire for whiskey. Instead, he looked to Patrick, who nodded.
Drinking whiskey with my dad and brother was a bad idea, but I did anyway to dull the pain of my dysfunctional family. For the first hour, we talked college hockey and what teams had a chance at the championship besides our team. I started to relax, and Patrick did, too. Maybe we’d make it through this holiday unscathed.
But Dad was drinking two shots to our one and tossing them back like they were water. He wasn’t a lot of fun when he was drunk, and I glanced at Patrick, who’d tensed again. He was thinking what I was thinking. This wasn’t going to end well. Usually we ran interference for each other, but I wasn’t sure we were on the same page anymore when it came to having each other’s backs.
We ate our dinner, which consisted of overcooked turkey, soggy dressing, runny mashed potatoes, lumpy gravy, and canned green beans. I was hungry so I wolfed it down anyway. I’d never been a picky eater. Put food in front of me, and I’d devour it, not matter how bad it was. My mom used to joke that whoever married Patrick and me wouldn’t have to be a good cook because we wouldn’t know the difference. The pumpkin pie was good, and I had seconds.
My dad opened the second bottle of whiskey. He was drinking it on the rocks now, better than shots, I figured.
His gaze settled on me, and I held my breath. I usually flew under the radar with him, while Patrick drew his constant criticism.
“Have you given any thought to what the Sockeyes told you?”
I blinked, trying to decipher what he meant by that question. “Uh, yeah, quite a bit.”
“You’re playing above your abilities. It won’t last, but milk it while you can. They’re right. You have to focus on hockey and nothing but hockey.”
“I am, Dad. I’m serious about this.”
He snorted his disbelief.
“Then get rid of her.”
“What?”
“You’re an idiot. You can’t see the truth?”
“What truth?” I asked warily. Patrick watched us both and wisely kept his mouth shut.
“You always were a dreamer like your mother. Naomi is using you.”
“No, she’s not.” Out of habit, I looked to Patrick for backup. He shrugged and didn’t respond, leaving me to believe he agreed with Dad for once.
“For being so book smart, you’re dumb when it comes to common sense. Let me spell it out for you. You’re playing well while Patrick is having an off couple of weeks. Of course she switched to you. But, boy, you’re a fool if you don’t think she’ll go running back to Patrick when he regains his stride and you go back to playing like normal.”
I gaped at my father, deeply hurt and offended. Even worse, a tendril of doubt wrapped a painful tentacle around my heart.
“Dad, Mr. Smith offered to spend some time with me after the season working on my slapshot.” Despite us being at odds, Patrick deflected Dad’s attention to him. He gave me one of those you can thank me later looks.
Patrick’s slapshot was the weakest part of his game, while it was my best. Even so, he had a good slapshot, but my brother had to be number one at everything.
Our father forgot all about me, and I was able to fade into the background while he gave Patrick his opinions on how to improve.
Thankfully, Dad got a text a few minutes later and abruptly stood.
“Sorry, boys, a lady I’ve been seeing here in town on occasion needs me. I need to go, but one last thing. I’ve been laid off, so I won’t be able to attend your games until I’m back at work.”
I didn’t dare look at Patrick because I was pretty sure we were both inwardly cheering our father’s bad news and feeling like shit for it.
He was gone before we had time to comment or say goodbye, and he took the remainder of the whiskey with him.
“I owe you one, bro.” I grabbed the last of our beer from the fridge and handed one to Patrick.
Gametime: A Moo U Hockey Romance Page 16