Hawke

by Sawyer Bennett

  He's fucking mocking me.

  I buck up, trying to dislodge his body and push at his legs with my hands. He doesn't budge an inch. "I don't get why you're so mad."

  "Because there's a woman down in your living room that wants to have sex with you," I snarl at him.

  "I don't want to have sex with her, though," he says simply.

  I wasn't expecting this and it actually takes a little bit of the wind out of my sails. But it doesn't remove the anger I'm feeling. The fall from joyous elation as I came down those stairs just a few moments ago to utter disappointment stings badly.

  "And I didn't invite her here tonight," Hawke adds.

  "She said you talked about it last week," I point out triumphantly.

  "That's right," he admits without reservation. "Before you and I ever got intimate with each other."

  My anger suddenly deflates out of me. I suspect this is not only because with just a few simple explanations from Hawke I'm feeling a little off base in my assumptions, but probably more due to the fact that tonight has just been exhausting all around. Fighting with Hawke. Revealing truths to Hawke. Watching Hawke get angry in one breath and grieving in another. Having him fuck me...twice, and then finding another woman in his house. It's really probably more than one person should have to endure in one night.

  "You know, Vale," Hawke says, and his tone is censuring as he looks down at me. "You sort of did the same thing just now that you did all those years ago."

  I gasp in shock. "Pardon me?"

  "You just thought you had it all figured out. Let your emotions rule your actions. You were on your way up here without a real clue as to what was going on, going to get your clothes and cut me out again."

  "No," I deny that adamantly. "I was not going to cut you out again."

  "Looked that way to me," he counters.

  "Looked to me like you manhandled me on your bed and sat on me so I couldn't cut you out again," I tell him petulantly.

  "You should have just asked what was going on down there. I introduced you to her for God's sake; shouldn't that have been a clue that I felt comfortable enough with the two of you in the same room?"

  "That was totally awkward," I argue.

  "Well, fuck yeah it was," he says in exasperation. "But had you given me a few minutes, I could have explained it all without you childishly stomping away."

  And, he almost had me. Had me feeling small and on the verge of levying the world's biggest and most shamefaced apology, when he had to go and call me childish.

  So as not to deny him what he truly thinks about me, my hand shoots out, pinches his inner thigh where I take a hunk of skin and hair, and twist it viciously. Hawke yelps and flies off of me, his hand going to down to rub at the injury I just inflicted.

  This gives me the room I need to fly up off the bed, but if he thinks I'm running again, he has another thing coming. Instead, towel forgotten and laying on the mattress, I crawl back onto the bed, right up to him, and raise up on my knees. I poke him hard in the chest and annunciate clearly, "I was not acting childishly. How about giving me a little empathy for what I just walked in on. You and I had just mended fences not half an hour before. You and I had just shared the greatest of intimacies not five minutes before. And I walk in to find her hand in the waistband of your towel? Did you honestly expect me--or any sane woman for that matter--to act with anything less than outrage?"

  Hawke is now the one who is taken aback. He blinks at me in surprise while red creeps into his face as he realizes the truth of my words. We stare at each other, my gaze now harsh and condemning, his on the defensive with embarrassment.

  I wait for him to mutter an apology, but instead he shakes his head. His lips curve upward slightly and his eyes twinkle. "Goddamn, but we make quite a couple, don't you think?"

  Now I blink at him for just one second of disbelief, and before I can help myself, I start laughing. Hawke joins me, our mirth coming from deep in our bellies as our arms go around each other. He pulls me in tight, still chuckling, and kisses me on my shoulder. When he pulls back, we look at each other with sparkling eyes and wonder over what we've found here with each other again. It's old, for sure, but most of it's new and like walking on a craggy precipice waiting for the land to just slide out from under you. So much still to learn about each other.

  Hawke picks me up, rolls from the bed, and stands me on my feet. "Come on...get dressed and let me go down and officially introduce you to Michelle. You'll like her."

  I snort and he laughs again.

  "Seriously, you'll like her. She's cool and she's got absolutely no designs on me in a committed way. We need to figure a way to get her to a hotel for the night and back to the airport tomorrow."

  This mollifies me greatly, and I think to ask, "How did she know about me?"

  "The tattoo of your name...on my hip. She knew you were important to my history."

  "You told her about us?" I ask incredulously.

  Hawke shakes his head. "When she asked about who Vale was, I told her it wasn't any of her business. That's how she knew you were important to me."

  Chapter 21

  Hawke

  There never was a time in my life that I considered a reconciliation with Vale was possible. She so thoroughly crushed my young, naive heart when she told me she didn't love me anymore I had no choice but to believe her.

  Without love, there was no hope.

  Without love, came anger.

  Without love--Vale's in particular--I decided to concentrate on my career first and foremost. Some would call me callous, and that may be true, but I put her out of my mind. Not once did I consider trying to reason with her. It never crossed my mind to try to change her mind. I accepted what she told me, and I'm thinking that all has to do with stubborn pride, and I left her behind.

  It wasn't intentional on my part, at least I don't think, to stay away from committed relationships. It was sort of a natural progression. At first, I was caught up in the excitement and fame of playing with the Titans. Women threw themselves at me and I was swimming in so much diverse pussy it almost seemed sacrilege for me to commit to just one. With the obligations of playing professional hockey, it's not easy to form relationships, so I didn't try. I'll go one further. It's not easy to keep relationships either. Case in point--Oliver. I let that friendship go because I didn't have the time to make it work. It actually makes me wonder if I would have done the same to Vale.

  Regardless of the way things worked out over time, it wasn't until last week when she told me the truth about why she did what she did that I considered that Vale could be a mainstay in my life again. I have no clue where this is going, and I'm too hesitant and skittish to believe that it could ever go back to what we used to have. I wasn't lying to Vale when I told her that I get why she did what she did. If I was in her shoes, feeling abandoned by me, having experienced a tremendous physical and emotional loss, and then was told my lifestyle is what caused it, I could see making a drastic decision to cut me out.

  I totally get it. I totally forgive it.

  But it's definitely not something to forget. Vale has always been ruled by emotion; it's one of the reasons I think her star shines so provocatively bright. It's what attracted me to her, because she was full of no-holds-barred passion. But that is also dangerous. It causes impulsive decisions at times, and those decisions can cause unforgettable pain.

  But now is not the time to brood on such inequities of life. I've got more important things to worry about at this very moment.

  "I'll see your fifteen cents, and raise you a quarter," I say with a challenging stare leveled at Vale over the top of my cards. She raises her lovely eyebrows at me, purses her lips as if she's shocked by my confident stance, and hums low in her throat as if in grave consideration. She's so goddamn sexy right now I want swipe the small piles of nickels, dimes, and quarters off the table along with the cards, two cans of beer, and a bottled water, lay her up there with legs spread wide, and devour her.

>   Nice thought and all, except I think it would be awkward with Max and Garrett in the room.

  We're on a road trip, having won the first regular season away game against the Toronto Blazers. Bruce Duvall has had Goose and Vale alternate away games with him, and I have to say I'm looking forward to when this poker game is over and I can have some alone time with her. While we get to see each other almost every day between either her duties with the Cold Fury, or the fact I've been fucking her almost every night for the past week since our "reconciliation," she's usually jetting out of my bed and heading home, not wanting to spend too much time away from Dave. It's not that he can't stay alone, but she just doesn't want him to be alone. I suggested letting me stay at her apartment, in her bed, but that wigged her out. I didn't quite get that either, because Dave's no idiot. He knows I'm back in his daughter's life, and he's wise enough to know we're having sex. It makes me wonder what hesitations Vale has about our new relationship.

  Still, I don't push it, because the bonds we've reestablished are tentative and neither one of us wants to go charging into what could still be turbulent waters between us.

  A lot of the single guys went out after the game, and I was on my way out too for some celebratory beers, but Vale didn't want to go. As she had told me before, it just wasn't her scene anymore, and more than that, she was exhausted. She's still valiantly working two jobs and wanted to get to sleep early. She encouraged me to go out with the guys, assuring me she didn't mind.

  And she didn't. I could tell.

  But when I weighed the joy of partying with my teammates over a win, and spending some quiet time with Vale, the choice was sort of easy for me. I told my mates to have a great time and that was that.

  Except Garrett and Max didn't feel like going out, and Max suggested playing some poker and ordering in pizza and beer. And thus here we sit in Max's hotel room. The round table that normally seats two is pulled up to the end of the king-size bed. Garrett and Max have the two chairs opposite of where Vale and I sit beside each other, our knees barely touching.

  "All right," Vale says after considering her cards and raising those sparkling eyes to me. She throws a quarter into the pile and says, "Call."

  Garrett and Max had already folded during the last round of betting, having realized what a deceptively good player Vale is. Dave is a good poker player and he taught his daughter when she was very young. They used to play for Monopoly money, but she's since graduated to the real stuff. Although with her poor bank account these days, we put a quarter cap on the betting.

  Max leans to the left and takes a peek at Vale's cards in her hand. His eyebrows shoot high, and that leads me to believe she's got something really good.

  Or Max could be playing on Team Vale and trying to bluff me as well.

  "You might as well fold," Max says with a devious grin as he settles back in his chair and picks up his beer. Garrett shakes his head and chuckles.

  Max and Garrett know about me and Vale. Hell, the whole team knows now.

  Not that I got up and made an announcement or anything, but I had told Max pretty much our entire history over beers that day we went out. I didn't spill my guts right away, and I half expected he had a crush on her, but by the end of the first beer, I realized we had a lot of stuff in common with each other, one of which wasn't an attraction to the new athletic trainer.

  Both of us are the oldest siblings in our families and thus know the burden of the toughest kind of love. We're both extremely close to our parents and siblings, and Max is Canadian as well, although he's from Quebec. He's bilingual but has only a faint trace of the French-Canadian accent that denotes his heritage. After talking about family and hockey for a while, he mentioned Vale, and next thing I knew, I was spilling the gist of the story to him. I didn't paint details of the breakup nor what it did to me, but it was enough to know we had a history that had ended on the ugly side of things.

  By the time Max and I had finished three beers, I came away with some new clarity to things.

  First, I needed the truth from Vale as to what happened that night. Max pointed out that we'd never move forward or have a peaceful friendship without me knowing. That's what prompted me to go to her apartment a week ago and pull her out with the guise of taking her to a movie.

  Thanks, Max.

  The second thing I learned from Max was that my struggle to balance career and relationships is not atypical. Max had a high school sweetheart he lost to the distance and rigors of becoming a professional athlete. He as much as admitted that he didn't put her first, and didn't really even realize her feelings for him had died because of it. It made me feel slightly better about losing touch with Oliver and gave me the final push I needed to reach out to him.

  While the call was awkward for all of about thirty seconds, it was clear that Oliver couldn't have been happier for me and my accomplishments, or any more understanding about losing touch. I apologized. He accepted. Since then we've talked one more time and have made "loose" plans to get together.

  So with my life seemingly back on track, and old relationships reopened and currently being explored, as well as a mutual decision by Vale and myself to move forward--whatever that means--there was no sense in hiding any of this from the team. Besides, the first time I walked naked through the locker room with Vale's name on my hip sort of told the story. I admitted to one of my teammates it was indeed Vale the AT who had residence on my pelvis, and by day's end, the story had spread like wildfire. I even got an email from Gray telling me she was glad I had reconnected with her.

  Something I'd like to do again, very literally, very soon.

  "How about an additional bet?" I ask Vale, waggling my eyebrows at her.

  "Oh, yeah?" she asks impishly as she turns her cards facedown on the table. "Like what?"

  "If I win, we say good night to these two boneheads, you come back to my room with me, and I get to tie you up." I say all of this in a low voice with a direct stare of challenge to Vale. Max and Garrett are all but forgotten, until I hear Garrett cough and mutter, "Awkward."

  Vale neither blushes nor looks offended by my suggestion. While she may not be a party girl like the old days, she isn't afraid of her sexuality either. In fact, her eyebrows raise in interest as she stares back at me.

  I can tell Max and Garrett are forgotten to her as well.

  "What if I win?" she asks while rubbing her index finger seductively along the edge of her cards fanned out on the wooden table.

  "You get to take me back to my room and tie me up, have your way with me," I tell her simply.

  And I hope she fucking wins.

  Please, please, please let her have the winning hand, because the thought of Vale having unrestricted access to do whatever comes into that dirty little brain of hers is completely fine by me.

  "Deal," she says, and with a flourishing flick of her wrist, she turns the cards over one by one. Three kings, two eights. A full house.

  Standing up from the table, I throw my cards facedown and grab Vale's hand, urging her to stand up too.

  "Got me," I tell her with a wink. "You win. Now let's go so you can tie me up."

  Garrett barks out a laugh and grabs my cards to see what I had. I glare at him, silently explaining I will rain retribution down on him if he exposes me.

  Max clearly doesn't see my quiet command as he grabs the cards from Garrett's hand before I can even pull Vale free of the table and places them face up. "Four of a kind," Max says with a low whistle. "Look at them ladies."

  "Asshole," I mutter as I look down at the four queens staring up at me, which clearly beat Vale's hand.

  When I look back at her, she's staring at me in sympathetic amusement. She squeezes my hand and then makes my night. "I'll give that one to you, so let's get going. I hope you brought more than one dress tie for this road trip."

  I suppress a groan and try not to laugh over Max and Garrett standing there agog over Vale's words. That was just a tiny peek at the woman I used to know, comp
letely unafraid to say how it is. She may have tamed her partying ways, but not her penchant for honest and open talk.

  "We're out of here," I tell Max and Garrett as I move past the table, tighten my hold on Vale's hand, and pull her toward the door. Luckily my room is just three down from Max's, and within just a few minutes I'm expecting Vale's hands and mouth to be all over me.

  Today has been a perfect day.

  Chapter 22

  Vale

  This is nice.

  Lying on my couch with Hawke, his long body stretched down the length of it with my backside snuggled into his front. We're watching Nightmare on Elm Street with all the lights off, and while I'm normally a weenie about scary movies, I don't feel an ounce of anxiety as I look warily at Freddy's long arms and knifelike fingers. I suppose having a big, bad hockey player behind me eases the fear. Dad went to bed about an hour ago and we're content to just lie here like this, his hand resting on my hip in a loose embrace.

  Hawke leans forward, which pushes me slightly to the edge of the couch, reaches an arm over me, and dives his hand into the bowl of candy on the coffee table. "Want another?"

  "No," I groan. "I'm on sugar overload."

  "Well you shouldn't have bought thirty pounds of mini Snickers."

  "I didn't know how many trick-or-treaters we'd get in this apartment complex," I point out about my tactical decision. "I didn't want to be caught short and have to hand out protein bars. Plus, bonus, we get the leftovers."

  Hawke chuckles and awkwardly unwraps the Snickers. Awkward because my head is resting on his left bicep, which is tucked under me. He brings the Snickers to just in front of my face, where he manages to unwrap it. He holds the naked little candy bar in front of my mouth and teases, "Want a bite?"

  I shake my head.

  He waves it under my nose and the chocolate aroma changes my mind. "Okay, a little bite."

  He feeds it to me, letting me take half of the tiny bar, and puts the rest in his mouth. We chew silently, watching the movie.

  I was kind of surprised that Hawke wanted to come hang here for Halloween. I mean, he lives in a gorgeous neighborhood and would probably have a ton of visitors. I didn't think he'd be into it, but it was his suggestion we hand out treats from my apartment. I wasn't quite sure why he suggested this, but in hindsight, I think it's because he knew his presence would mean more to the socioeconomic level of people that live in my complex versus his neighborhood. While not every person to ring the doorbell was a hockey fan, more were than not. It was hilarious to see some of the kids freak out when they saw him, and more than one parent did the same. Hawke got really into it, although he didn't have a costume. He did, however, have a huge sombrero he wore on his head and where he put some of the candy. He'd bend down and let the little kids take the candy from his hat. Dad and I just sat back and watched, highly entertained over how much he was enjoying this.