Hope you had fun last night. Take these and drink lots of water. Hope you're not too hungover. : )
I was indeed hungover, but the Excedrin she left me and two bottles of water set me straight. I even kicked some ass in the team practice that was held midmorning, then I took Oliver golfing in the afternoon. It seemed a given we'd all go out tonight to continue the celebration of Oliver and Avery's visit, and thus the reason we're at The Fox and Hound in North Hills pounding more beers. Well, Oliver and I are pounding beers. Vale and Avery are again sipping at some wine.
While Avery was just as much a party girl as Vale, she seems to have either calmed down or isn't drinking much in deference to Vale's current lightweight status. They're now sitting at the small round table that we had taken when we first arrived. We ate dinner with a few drinks, had dessert with another drink, and then decided to have more drinks on top of that. Well, Oliver sort of decided by proclaiming our waitress was too slow and pulling me from the table up to the bar to order some more beers. Turns out, Oliver is really in a drinking mood because he ordered shots too.
I wondered briefly if Vale would be bothered by this. While I'm not the party animal I was in my early twenties, I can drink with the best of them still, and Oliver visiting was the only reason I needed to jump full in to the celebration. And while Vale has made it clear on more than one occasion that she doesn't party anymore, she seems content to sit there and have "girl time" with Avery. At least the few times I was staring at her and she looked over to me, she gave me a cheerful yet knowing smile that seemed to indicate she was okay with me blowing it out with Oliver tonight.
This is good, because no matter how drunk I get, I won't ever forget it was a night of partying that led me to make the choice I did seven years ago not to leave with Vale when she wasn't feeling well. It was a bad choice that led to a series of events that broke us apart. I don't want to make that mistake again.
While I'm still not quite sure what exactly this is with Vale, I know enough to know I'm not ready to give it up. I know enough to know I care about her greatly and that I'm beyond happy that we've reconnected. I know enough to know that what we have is enough right now and I don't want to fuck it up.
"Another shot?" Oliver asks, his voice now slightly slurred.
"Sure," I say, risking another punch by glancing over at Vale. "I need to take a leak, though. Be right back."
I really don't need to piss, but it just so happens that if I head to the bathroom, I'll pass right by Vale sitting at our table. She looks to be in need of something.
I swear I hear Oliver mutter, "Pussy whipped," as I get up and walk toward Vale. She's leaning forward, elbows resting on the table and hands clasped as she listens thoughtfully to whatever Avery is yammering about. When I'm no more than a few feet away, her gaze catches the motion and swivels my way. Her lips curl up in a welcoming smile, and yeah...that right there. That's what she needs.
Leaning down, I give her a kiss. No tongue, but not a quick brush either. Her lips part slightly and she accepts what I give her with a soft sigh. Pulling back, I give her a charming smile and ask, "You need anything?"
Vale shakes her head, eyes staring at me with amusement. She then cuts a glance over to Avery. "You want another glass of wine?"
Avery declines so I lean back over Vale and press my lips to her head. I get another soft sigh from her before winking at Avery and heading to the bathroom, leaving behind I'm sure something snarky that Avery will say about me. Not worried though. Avery didn't like me seven years ago and never came between me and Vale, so I'm pretty confident she won't now. Except...well, maybe she could. I mean, Vale and I don't have the same closeness we did back then. The same level of trust and commitment.
Shaking my head, I put that out of my mind and head into the bathroom, where I decide to go ahead and piss, because "when in Rome." After washing and drying my hands, I give a quick swipe of my fingers through my long hair and swivel my head back and forth, eyeballing my beard. I wonder if I should shave it off? It's kind of a pain in the ass to keep trimmed, but Vale seems to like it despite the fact it leaves red marks on her thighs.
Chuckling over the thought and high on life and alcohol, I exit the bathroom, only to come up short with Avery standing there. Her arms are crossed over her chest and she pins a baleful stare at me.
"What's up?" I ask as my eyes cut over to our table. Vale is gone and Oliver is now sitting there. For a brief moment, my head spins as I consider that Vale has left the bar and a tiny flash of panic seizes me.
"Vale's in the bathroom," Avery says blandly.
Immediately, my heart rate settles and I chastise myself for even letting something like that bother me. "Well, okay then," I say as I start to move past Avery.
"I'm glad you two broke up," she says quietly, but it's loud enough I hear it over the din of chattering voices in the pub area.
I halt midstep, turn to look at her with astonishment. "Excuse me?"
"I'm glad Vale cut you loose before," she says simply.
My hackles immediately stand to attention. While I know Avery wasn't fond of me then, nor apparently now, I always thought she had Vale's best interest at heart. I feel like I was in Vale's best interest, despite a bad mistake I made. I thought Avery knew that too, but apparently I'm wrong.
"That's kind of a bitchy thing to say, Av," I say with anger tinged in my voice. "Especially since that's old history."
"Exactly," she says, inclining her head to the side as if to emphasize her point. "So don't fuck this up again. Now is your time."
I blink...once, twice...stupidly a third time. "Now is my time?"
"Yeah," she says with a minor eye roll as she unfurls her arms and steps into me. She pokes a bony finger into the middle of my chest. "You and Vale weren't right back then. It's easy in hindsight to see it. Too immature...impetuous. Too focused on each other to the detriment of all else. It wasn't your time then."
"But it is now?" I ask skeptically, because she almost seems to be...rooting for us?
"Yes, it is now."
We stare at each other a moment and I shake my head, not sure I really understand what she's trying to say. Clearly, my confusion reigns supreme across my face, because she elucidates.
"It's like this, Hawke. You had your career set. You were a great hockey player and you were going places. The only place Vale was going was for a ride in your hip pocket. She had no direction, motivation, or ambition. Look at what she's become now and tell me that would have happened if you two had stayed together."
My mind spins. Surely she would have gone to school, even if she followed me through the NHL, right?
"Vale's heart was broken when you two split, but she grew up. She grew up fast and she was focused. She became a new woman, and I'm thinking you like those changes, if the way you look at her is any indication. You may not see it, and she may never admit it, but the way in which your relationship failed was the best thing to ever happen to the two of you."
That simply can't be true. What we had was good and solid, right?
Or do the facts speak for themselves and whisper a truth I haven't considered before? That perhaps neither one of us had the maturity to appreciate the other. What we had wasn't really the one, great true love we thought it to be.
That's another thought I quickly push out of my head. I don't let it take up residence because if I lend any validity to this claim, it means I need to let her betrayal go completely. I need to chalk it up to the wisdom of the Fates and be happy with the ways in which we've grown.
And this is something I don't know that I can do.
While I love being around Vale, and I appreciate more than anything having her back in my life, there's still a small part of me that remains firmly protected, with the assumption that she'll bail on me again. Hell, she's talking about going back to Sydney with her dad. It's like I'm just waiting for the other shoe to drop.
For her to abandon what we have again.
Chapter 24
We're cruising down I-540, listening to Smashing Pumpkins. It's a cool November evening, the stars are hanging low with a bright, full moon, and endorphins composed of pleasure, happiness, and excitement race through me.
Balling my hands into tiny fists, I lean forward and hammer them on the dashboard, my voice squeaking with near-jubilant hysteria. "The tumor shrank!"
"The tumor shrank," Hawke confirms with a laugh and a fist punch to the air in victory.
My dad's MRI was this morning, and while normally it would take a few days to get the results, Dave Campbell does enjoy rock star status at Duke. Dr. Furhman sat in the control room with the two radiologists and three other oncologists who waited breathlessly while sections of my dad's brain were photographed. By the time the table was sliding out of the big, round drum that made up the amazing science of magnetic resonance imaging, Dr. Furhman was waiting there with a grin a mile wide.
Ten percent shrinkage.
Beyond miraculous.
The virus had done its job and now my dad's body was fighting--and apparently winning--against the glioblastoma.
I had taken the day off to go with my dad, and after we hugged and jumped around the room with his hospital gown flapping, I immediately texted Hawke. He was at the arena, getting in a light workout as the Cold Fury was playing an evening game against the Dallas Mustangs. He had made me promise to let him know as soon as I heard something.
We have shrinkage, I had quickly sent to him.
His response was immediate, indicating he had been hovering, just waiting for my message. Never a good word to use with a man except in these circumstances. YES!!!!
I laughed, my hands still shaking with the disbelief of this good news, and started to text him back when my phone rang. A picture of Hawke and me came up on my screen. It was taken just last week at The Fox and Hound by Avery. I had been sitting on Hawke's lap while we all sat around, had drinks, and reconnected with one another. His bearded cheek pressed to mine, our arms wrapped around each other. Happy, happy smiles on our faces.
I answered with barely contained glee. "Shrinkage!"
"Amazing," he said.
He asked for details.
I told him what I knew.
He asked to talk to my dad, so I shoved the phone into the curtain of the tiny room where dad was getting dressed and listened to the one-sided conversation he had with Hawke. It made my heart about burst.
When I got back on the phone with him, his message was simple. "Be waiting for me in the players' parking lot tonight after the game. And dress warm."
So I did. After my dad and I went out for a celebratory early meal, we went back to our apartment and watched the game on TV. I even let my dad have a beer--he deserved it--and we cheered and yelled for the Cold Fury. I cheered especially hard for Hawke, especially when he got into a fight with a Mustang defenseman who thought he could try to trip the great and powerful Hawke Therrien. The minute the gloves dropped, I was screaming at Hawke through the TV to kick his ass. He did and it was well worth the five-minute major he got.
Watching that man is glorious. I have such pride in what he does, how far he's come. He looked amazing on the ice, and looked even better when he walked across the lot toward me as I waited outside my car. He merely crooked a finger when he was halfway and I went to meet him. His hand went behind my head, his mouth to mine, and he kissed me hello.
"Great game," I whispered as he pulled back.
"Fuck that," he said with a smile. "Today we celebrate the shrinkage."
So we got in his car after he threw his gear bag in the trunk. I saw a small cooler in there and raised an eyebrow in question, but he merely said, "It's a surprise."
So I waited.
Hawke intrigues me by taking the Aviation Parkway exit toward the airport. It's late and there's little traffic. His right hand comes off the steering wheel and he places it over mine resting in my lap. Giving it a squeeze, he asks, "Dying of curiosity?"
"A little," I say primly, but I'm truly puzzled.
"You hate surprises," he says.
"No I don't," I tell him quickly. "I used to hate surprises, but now I find they appeal to me."
"Liar," he says in a low rumbling voice that makes my blood hum.
As the airport looms up ahead in the distance, the terminals glowing and the traffic control tower blinking its steady red lights, Hawke turns on his turn signal. To the left and right of the parkway sit large man-made ponds surrounded by green hills and tall, willowy pine trees. He slows and turns onto a dirt road that I had never noticed before, not that I've been this way much. Just the handful of times I've traveled with the team by plane.
He never says a word and neither do I as we bounce along for about two hundred yards, around a bend that shields us from the road, and come out into a small clearing by the water. Low-growing azaleas, holly, and camellia bushes surround a small grassy area by the water's edge, the glow from the airport reflected therein.
"This is beautiful," I whisper as Hawke brings his car to a halt, puts it in park, and kills the engine. With the headlights extinguished, the darkness engulfs us and I feel truly secluded.
Hawke gets out of the car and I follow. I watch as he pulls the cooler from the trunk along with two blankets. It's crisp outside, maybe hovering in the midfifties, but not something that would require a coat. A Nova Scotian wouldn't dare think of wearing a coat in this mild weather, so I'm good with my jeans and sweater.
"A picnic?" I ask curiously as Hawke spreads one blanket on the grass and kneels on it. He tosses the other down and opens the cooler.
"Sort of," he says with a grin as he pulls out a bottle of champagne. "Well, just the alcohol, but I figured toasting Dave's success was in order tonight. Don't you think?"
"Totally agree," I say as I drop to my knees on the blanket beside him.
He removes the foil and wire and pops the cork flawlessly. Very suave and something he wouldn't have done seven years ago. Back then it was popping the top of a beer can.
I giggle as I think of the difference in this man and I appreciate it even more.
We toast my dad with plastic cups, sip at the champagne, and sit back on the blanket as we watch planes fly low overhead and then land with a roar. When I finish my bubbly, I set the empty cup on the blanket and lay back, tucking my hands behind my head. As I gaze up at the clear moon, I say, "Remember what we used to say about the moon?"
Hawke drains his cup and tosses it aside. He lays down on his side, propping up on his elbow and resting his head in the palm of his hand. He smiles down at me and says, "Our lunar connection."
I nod with a grin. "When you were traveling with the Oilers and I was missing you, you'd call me at night and tell me, 'Vale...look at the moon right now. It's the same one I'm looking at. We are together.' "
I'm surprised the words actually come out a little choked up over the sweet memory, and perhaps it's just the emotion of this spectacular day, but I'm a little embarrassed when I slide my eyes from the moon to him. The shadows obscure most of his face, but I can see some of that emotion sparkling back at me.
He leans down and kisses me gently. When he pulls back, he says, "I was quite the romantic back then, huh?"
"Oh, yeah," I say with a giggle. "You totally got all my girly parts tingly with your words."
Hawke gives a husky laugh and bends over to kiss me again. It's deep and possessive, full of passion and desire. He moves straight past romantic and right into erotic territory with just a few skillful swipes of his tongue against mine. I can't help the moan that pops out, but then again, I never could.
This fuels him on and makes him bolder. He presses a kiss to the corner of my mouth, then my jaw. "I seem to remember you and I having a certain fondness for fucking in the great outdoors."
"Yes we did," I whisper as his lips go to my neck, my one great weakness to his powers of persuasion.
"Feeling adventurous?" he asks before scraping his teeth along my ski
n.
"Always with you," I tell him with naked honesty. "Always."
"That's my girl," he murmurs, and then his hands are everywhere.
First a firm grip to my jaw to hold me steady, followed by another deep kiss.
His body moves over me, nudging my legs apart. He settles on top, presses his hardness to me, and grinds while never taking his mouth from mine. The next few moments are defined by one very long kiss that has no breath in between but fractures into jolts of lust as his hands start to roam. Up my shirt, under my bra, squeezing and pinching.
My hands have no choice but to reciprocate. I stroke the long, hard lines of his back. Slip my fingers into the waistband of his jeans and dig them down into his ass. His breath fans out harshly as I rotate my hips under him, both of us wordlessly egging the other on.
Our touches become aggressive, almost frantic. Shoes get kicked off, buttons get popped, and clothes start to be shed. The crisp air is a welcome relief to my heated and sensitive skin, and when Hawke's hand goes in between my legs, I arch up into him hard. With his fingers inside of me and his teeth to one of my nipples, my first orgasm crashes into me hard. My hands tear at his long hair, then press down on his head to hold him to my breast while my body shudders.
"So sexy," he murmurs as he pushes up, both his hands coming to rest near my hips. He looks down at me and says, "Raise your legs, baby. Spread them wide for me."
I obey and reach my hand down to circle around his long, thick erection. I rub my thumb over the tip, feel the wet, and guide him to me. With a loud huff of breath, Hawke pushes inside and I melt around him so we become one.
Slowly he moves in and out of me. One hand grips on to mine with fingers interlaced. His lips rest against mine, lightly brushing back and forth while his cock moves deeper and deeper.
"Feel good?" he asks, and it's a stupid question. As if my moans and grunts aren't enough of an answer, but he wants to hear it. He wants the validation.
"Feels better than anything I've ever felt before." That's the God's honest truth. Right now, in this moment, something is different between us. Maybe it's the tension of my dad's illness being released, or that we've finally been able to move past the bitterness, but all of a sudden this feels new and monumental to me.
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