Michelle is a sales rep for a large winery based out of the Hudson Valley. She flies pretty much all over the United States, but she's originally from Pittsburgh and keeps a permanent apartment there. I met her at a party just under a year ago. Fucked her at that same party, as a matter of fact, and thus started a sort of friends-with-benefits type of relationship. We don't get to see each other often; maybe every few months between both of our travel schedules. But when we do get together, we tear it up nicely between the sheets. Plus, she's a really cool chick. Someone I could hang out with and have a beer--or a glass of wine, in her case. Our no-strings relationship was clearly defined early on and we operate on a "don't ask, don't tell" policy. Still, when Michelle's in town, she's my preferred hookup just because she's great in the sack and has no aspirations of anything more.
Before I can text her back, she sends another. Up for some company soon?
Ordinarily, I'd respond immediately with my schedule over the next few days so we could iron something out, but my thumbs hesitate before hitting the screen. I hold my position and stare at her words. My mind blanks and a feeling of foreboding wells up within me.
What the fuck? I've got the next three days cleared before I fly out. I like to fuck. I really like to fuck Michelle. What's with the doubt?
And before I can even fathom an answer, a picture of Vale bursts through my head. It's of the younger Vale...the one I loved. Wild dark hair, facial piercings shining, a look of utter deviousness in her eyes that never failed to get me hard.
I shake my head hard to dislodge the image.
It's an illusion. A memory that should be faded and not Technicolor. It's of a woman who doesn't exist anymore and shouldn't ever be taking up residence in my conscience like that.
I force myself to text back to Michelle. Can you fly in tomorrow? Having a team party but I'll clear everyone out early.
I wait with a feeling of anxiety for her response, praying she accepts. Hoping she will show up on my doorstep tomorrow and do whatever fucking sexy mojo she can do to make sure Vale doesn't cross my mind again like that. My heartbeat is racing in anticipation, and when her reply comes, I'm stunned at how I feel.
Can't this weekend. But maybe next if I can clear some things.
Relief. Fucking relief that she's not coming.
What the ever-loving fuck is going on with me? Vale Campbell cannot be impinging on my sex life. She has no right. No business. She should be nothing to me other than a friendly acquaintance.
And yet, I still find myself hoping I get to see her tonight when I get to Dave's.
--
I glance at my watch...again.
It's 10:45 p.m. and Vale still hasn't shown up. I've resolutely refused to ask Dave about her whereabouts, and besides, he fell asleep in his recliner going on two hours ago. That happened not long after we ate some chicken tortilla soup that Vale had made and he had a nonalcoholic beer I brought him, while I sucked back three Molsons.
The football game is almost over and I'll have no reason to stay when it's done. This sucks, because I'm a little worried about Vale and the fact she's working so late. Does she even get to eat dinner?
My heart about lurches out of my chest when I hear a key in the door and I sit up straighter on the couch, prepared to see a probably exhausted Vale walk through the door.
Instead, a radiant woman walks in. A different Vale than I've seen in her tidy Cold Fury AT uniform since training camp started. Her hair is long, loose, and curled into soft waves. She's wearing makeup and her lips are glossed slick. She's casual in a gray striped cotton skirt that flutters around her knees and a white T-shirt, but she looks utterly feminine and sexy. Her head twists over her shoulder to look at something behind her and she laughs. "That's so not true. I'll make you pay for that."
And then I see a man behind her, and he's laughing back at her with utter devotion in his eyes. She twists back to face us and her eyes immediately slam into mine. She comes to a dead halt and the guy runs into her back. His hands come to her waist to keep from knocking her over, and I have a sudden rush of hatred toward this guy. I want to rip his hands away and break every finger...at least twice.
Vale's gaze slides to her dad and her mouth goes soft when she sees he's sleeping. She looks back to me with a gentle gaze as she whispers, "How long's he been out?"
"Since the end of the first quarter," I whisper back, and stand up from the couch.
"I made it to almost halftime," I hear Dave grumble, and I look down at him. His eyes are open but a little bleary. He leans forward and puts his recliner back in the normal sitting position.
Dave then stands up, gives a cough to clear his throat, and leans past Vale with his arm extended. The dude steps forward and accepts Dave's handshake.
"Hey, Todd. Good to see you," Dave says, and I try to analyze his voice. Does he like this guy? Clearly this is someone Vale's been seeing awhile, and I know without a doubt it's the guy that called her the other night when I was here. I don't hear any overt affection for the dude, but he seems happy to see him.
I take a moment to really look at the guy. He's good looking enough, I suppose. Nothing spectacular, in my opinion. He's wearing a pink button-down, khaki shorts, and a pair of deck shoes.
"So, hey," Dave says as he realizes introductions need to be made. My eyes cut to Vale and she's staring back at me. "Hawke...this is Todd Walters. And Todd...this is--"
"Hawke Therrien," Todd says with a beaming smile. He pushes past Vale, rounds Dave's recliner, and advances on me with his hand out. "I'm a big fan. Huge, as a matter of fact."
His hand grabs mine and he pumps enthusiastically. With a nod over his shoulder at Vale, he says, "Knew you'd been traded here and Vale told me tonight that Dave used to train you in the minor leagues."
"Junior majors," I correct him, the moron clearly not knowing a damn thing about me or my career.
"My bad," he says sheepishly as he pulls his hand away. "Yeah, Vale said you used to be friends way back when."
"She said that, did she?" I look back to Vale and her eyes are now lowered as she fastidiously studies the carpet. Refusing to look at me and acknowledge the fact that she's withholding information from her boyfriend.
Interesting.
"Yeah, Vale and I go way back," I say as I continue to look at her, watching her shoulders tense. A quick glance at Dave and I see him with his face lowered, biting back a smirk. It's in this moment that I realize Dave isn't all that fond of Todd and is relishing this interplay.
"Well, as much as I'd like to reminisce about old times, it's getting late," Vale says as she steps past her father to stand beside Todd. His arm slips around her waist and he pulls her in close, still beaming that smile at me. Vale looks at me imploringly, her message clear. She doesn't want her boyfriend to know about me and what we had together. I bet she's afraid it will scare him off, knowing how quickly she can cut a guy off at the knees.
"Yeah, I need to get going," I say as fish my keys out of my pocket. I turn to Dave. "See you tomorrow around eight?"
Even as Dave is nodding, Vale butts in. "What's tomorrow at eight?"
"A party I'm having at my house for the team and their spouses or girlfriends. Figured Dave would enjoy being around some hockey-minded folks again."
"Oh," Vale says quietly, and Dave adds, "Can't wait."
I watch as Vale gives me a tight smile and her boyfriend pulls her in tighter. It's a move I don't like, and I know I shouldn't have feelings about it one way or the other, but I'm slightly mollified when Vale pulls away from him to grab my beer bottles off the table. Her brow is lined with confusion, and I can see she never expected Dave to get sucked back in with me.
Or maybe she's just worried about him being out on his own so soon after having a virus injected into his brain.
"Would you like to come?" I ask Vale, and her head snaps up. "I mean, I didn't invite any of the staff but you and I...we're old friends, right?"
She just stares at me. Eyes all w
ide and unblinking.
"Both of you," I clarify, giving Todd a quick nod. "It will be fun."
"We'd love it," Todd exclaims.
But I don't look back at him. I continue to look at Vale and wait for her answer.
Finally, she gives a little sigh of affirmation and says in a quiet voice, "Sure. We'll be there."
Chapter 8
Vale
Everyone's having a good time.
My dad is in his element, talking hockey war stories with some of the players. He holds them captivated, a natural-born storyteller and an icon within his field. The smile on his face says it all, and I realize that my dad has been way too secluded since we moved here. With me working all the time and the only friend he now has being Hawke, he has to be utterly miserable and alone. I vow to myself to find some way to spend more time with him.
Hawke is sure as hell having a good time. I only talked to him briefly when we first walked in. He greeted Dad with a hand to his shoulder, which he squeezed affectionately. He smiled at me and then turned to Todd.
"Good to see you again, Tad."
"It's Todd," I said automatically, and Hawke gave me an impish grin.
"Right...sorry...Todd," he says, without an ounce of apology in his voice.
Then he led my dad off to introduce him around to the rest of the team. I kept my eye on Dad, which meant I kept it also on Hawke, who stayed by his side pretty much most of the time. While Hawke sucked back beer after beer, he always kept a fresh nonalcoholic one in my dad's hand, and I thought that was sweet of him to accommodate him that way.
Most of the partygoers congregated on Hawke's back deck, so I found myself out there as well. Todd is one of those people that can hold a conversation with any stranger, so he would often leave me alone to make rounds, where he happily introduced himself to anyone and everyone that he could.
It feels a bit awkward standing here by myself while I nurse my one and only beer. A few of the players make small talk with me, introduce me to their girlfriends and wives. There are plenty of puck bunnies roaming around, and I suspect that's par for the course at any Cold Fury party. But for the most part, I'm left to my own devices, and that's fine by me. My days of being the center of attention--the life of the party--are well and truly over. I learned in the hardest of ways the terrible things that can happen when you party to extremes and don't consider consequences.
"Want another beer?" I hear from my left and turn to find Todd walking toward me with a fresh bottle. My inclination is to say no, but I only have one warm swallow left in my bottle, so I down it with a grimace and accept the offer from Todd. He comes to stand beside me, our shoulders brushing against each other.
Ordinarily, if we were out together, Todd would have his arm around my waist, and I would lean into him for warmth and security, but there's a definite void between us tonight, which is completely my fault. This "romantic" weekend that Todd envisioned hasn't happened so far and he's not been happy about it.
The weekend started off good when I picked Todd up at the airport. It was refreshing seeing him, face all glowing with adoration as he opened his arms to me. For a brief moment, I allowed myself to be held, and I actually felt a slight measure of peace.
Then the weekend quickly started going to hell when we got to the apartment and Hawke was there. I really need to keep track of my father's social agenda a little better so I can quit being surprised by his presence at our home. It was like a proverbial power punch to my gut when I saw him on our couch, looking like he belonged there. When he unfolded that massive frame from the couch, looking unbearably sexy in faded jeans and a ratty T-shirt, I felt something shift inside of me that I think has tarnished my feelings for Todd.
It was a realization, maybe a recognition, of something that Hawke does to me that I believe no other man will ever do. I can't name it. I can't place it other than it resides deep within me. The feeling came along much like an epiphany that Hawke owns a piece of me that will never be touched by another man. I'm not sure I recognized it before with Todd, but in that singular moment when I saw Hawke standing up from the couch in my apartment, I realized that something has been lacking in my feelings for Todd and in every other relationship--long or short--that I'd been in for the past seven years.
Todd's weekend continued to get worse because I insisted we stay at the apartment rather than get a hotel as Todd suggested. I told him I was worried about leaving my dad alone, and while that is in fact true, it's also misleading, because my dad can certainly stay alone by himself for a weekend. Frustrations grew that evening when we finally crawled into my bed. Todd, ever formal and wearing a T-shirt and pajama bottoms, tried to make a move on me.
Don't get me wrong. Todd and I have a nice and healthy sexual relationship. Or we did when I lived back in Columbus. It was natural, safe, and, well...um, comfortable, I guess. I was attracted to him, body and mind. I'm absolutely certain of it.
But when he kissed me that night, slipping his tongue in my mouth, my instinct was to push away rather than to receive and reciprocate. So I forced myself to let him kiss me for a moment, but it wasn't working. I couldn't make the connection, so I gently disengaged and told him the mother of all blatant lies to get out of sex.
"I'm sorry, honey, but I started my period this morning," I whispered in the dark.
And Todd did exactly as I suspected. He was frustrated, no doubt, and that was evidenced by the deep sigh he let out, but he still pulled me into his arms and whispered with his lips against my hair, "It's okay."
With a dash of bitterness and a whole lot of sadness, I realized Hawke would have never capitulated that easily. He never cared if I was on my period and if he didn't care, I didn't care. We had no walls between us, and if Hawke were lying in bed with me, nothing would have stopped him from fucking me. He would have fucked me like a champion and then he would have carted me into the shower straight after to get us both cleaned up. He was wild, raw, and uninhibited. Nothing would keep him away from what he wanted, and at that time in our lives, Hawke wanted me more than anything.
So last night I lay there, in another man's arms, and I thought about Hawke.
I tried to remember every detail of our four years of happiness. I squirmed a little as I remembered our times in bed together. I thought about him all damn night and didn't get a wink of sleep. I tossed and turned, listened to Todd's soft snores, and I felt miserable for letting him down. I felt guilty for allowing a memory to twist my feelings for him, and it made me angry at myself.
Angry at Hawke too.
"You know, this weekend is kind of sucking for me," Todd says quietly.
While it's loud out here between the music and the chatter of dozens of partiers, I hear him clearly. No, I more than hear him...I feel the condemnation in his words.
"I'm sorry," I say as I turn toward him, my fingers picking at the soggy bottle label in my hands. I'm just so damn sorry that my insides are all twisted over a man I thought I had moved past. And yet I can't utter one other word of reassurance to Todd.
I want to hug him, give him a kiss. Press in close to him and let him know that it will all be okay, but I can't know that. Because I'm filled with terror over my dad, nervousness over my new job, exhaustion from the hours I'm keeping, and let's not even get into the slew of emotions that have been rocking my very core since Hawke Therrien became involved in my life again.
Todd's eyes study my face shrewdly. "I get it, Vale. I know you have a lot on your plate right now, and clearly, there's no room for me--"
"That's not true," I blurt out, but I know it's a lie.
He knows it too, because he rolls his eyes at me. "Vale, you're distant. Closed off. This isn't like you. You used to talk to me about everything, and now it's like pulling teeth to have even a five-minute conversation. You won't accept my help, you won't commit to anything for the long term, and I can't help but think that what's really going on is that you don't want a relationship with me anymore."
"I do want a
relationship with you," I say hurriedly as I set my bottle down on the deck railing. I walk straight into Todd, wrap my arms around his waist and press my cheek to his chest. And because he's gallant, despite his hurt, he returns the gesture by hugging me back. "Things are just so screwed up right now in my life. But this won't last forever. Once dad makes it through the clinical trial, it will be better. You'll see."
He doesn't say anything, but gives me a squeeze before letting go. He pulls back, stares down at me, and again searches my eyes for the truth of what I'm saying.
"You'll see," I repeat, and I see a flicker of hope in his gaze, so I press on. "I need you to have some patience. I just need some time to work through all of this craziness."
I need some time to figure out how to purge my thoughts of Hawke.
I need some time to make sure my dad isn't going to die.
I need some time to figure out what in the hell I really want in my life.
Because Todd has always been rock solid. Because he's always given me the benefit of the doubt. Because his romanticism has always been tempered with good common sense, I expect him to see things my way.
I expect him to tell me that it's all good.
Instead, he gives a pained sigh and steps back from me. "I wish you'd work through this a little sooner rather than later. You've been handing me that line for a few months now."
I blink at him in surprise. Surely it's not been that long? I mean, yeah...my life has been topsy-turvy since Dad's cancer recurred, but this tension between us now. This void that I'm feeling...I'm sure it's just come to a head this weekend.
Because of that damned Hawke. I just know it.
I open my mouth to argue, to disagree with his assessment because I've been all in on this relationship until just recently, but Todd stops me by leaning in and placing his hand at the back of my head. He pulls me forward and places a kiss on my temple. When he releases me, he says, "I'm going to get another beer. Mingle around."
I do nothing but nod at him in acknowledgment, my mind already racing to try to figure out what the hell is wrong with me. My eyes scan the crowd on the deck, immediately resting on my dad as he regales a group of guys with some story that has them laughing. Hawke stands there, beer in hand as he listens, a gorgeous smile on his face, those blue eyes shining brightly. He's not sharing that happiness with me, yet I feel it all the way down to my toes. Just a simple smile, a crinkling around those eyes, and I'm entranced.
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