by Cindi Madsen
I trusted so few people, and the thought of fully trusting anyone, even Whitney… A clashing mixture of longing and fear churned in my gut.
As nice as it was to imagine being able to divulge everything to Whitney and have her magically make it all okay, it was far from realistic. I couldn’t even handle my crazy life myself, and I’d had twenty-one years of trying to figure out how to deal.
Besides, those things you shared while you were vulnerable were the weapons the other person used against you later, when things turned sour.
Another mark against ever going down that path.
“…rehab, and he’s changed,” Mom was saying.
“I don’t know why you keep calling to tell me that. Raymond could go to rehab a hundred times, and it wouldn’t change that he’s a piece of shit. He’ll hit you again, and then you’ll turn back to old habits, and I’m glad I’ll be far away this time, because I can’t watch it anymore.”
I heard her take a stuttered breath, and then I felt like the piece of shit. “Don’t cry, Mom. Please. This is why I keep avoiding your calls. I need to be focused on school—I need to move on, even if you won’t.”
“But what about holidays? Even if you don’t come home for the wedding, you’ll at least come and stay for holidays, right?”
“Sure. Every holiday he’s not at home, I’ll be there.”
“It’ll be his home, too, once we’re married.”
Rage coiled in my gut, ready to spring at any given moment. I thought I could deal with this, but every damn time, it made me see red. “I’ve got to go, Mom.”
“Bye. I love you.”
I blew out my breath, trying to keep the rage down. “You, too.”
I started toward the library, then froze in place, not sure if it was fate or bad luck that’d put Whitney in my path today. For days I’d waited for the moment I’d see her again, but reality had set in—I didn’t do relationships, and the L-word now left a bitter taste in my mouth.
But then our gazes met. She smiled this secretive, sexy smile, and my anger dissipated. My jumbled thoughts cleared; I could breathe again. I closed the distance between us with a couple of long strides. I wanted to reach for her, but then I remembered how seriously she took her journalist image.
Although, she had relaxed her buttoned-up dress code a bit—snug jeans tucked into brown boots and a reddish-purple fuzzy sweater without a button in sight. Her bun was messier than usual, too, with lots of loose strands framing her face. The sun lit up her hair, giving her a golden halo, and I thought she might just be an angel.
“Hey,” she said.
“Hey.” I looked around. “The coast is clear. If I touch you, are you going to scream?”
“Guess it depends where you touch and what kind of a scream you’re asking about.” She accentuated her statement with a far-from-angelic smile.
I hooked my finger through one of her belt loops, yanked her to me, and crushed my mouth to hers. I inhaled her gasp and wrapped an arm around her to mold her further into me. The way she sagged against me spurred me on, as did the expert way her lips teased mine.
She pressed her hand to my chest and broke contact. “Okay, I deserved that. But if there’s going to be kissing…” She let out a shaky breath and glanced around. “Well, there probably shouldn’t be kissing on campus. My credibility is already on shaky ground. As a certain someone pointed out, I’m not very good at faking hockey information.”
In the name of covertness, I backed us up behind a tree and spun her so she was against the trunk. “Maybe we should go somewhere so I could give you private lessons. A few sessions with me and you’ll know everything you need to know.”
“Wow. You’re quite secure in your…knowledge.”
I grinned and fought the urge to kiss her again—as soon as we were alone, all bets and attempts at secrecy were off.
“Honestly, I’m really, really tempted,” she said. “But I have to do a write up about the game that happened over the weekend, and you might remember that I was kind of busy during that time, so I didn’t exactly follow it like I should have.”
“All innuendo aside, I can help. With the game highlights and hockey terms. Knowing the game will make the guys take you more seriously than any pantsuit you put on.”
She gave me a look, but I threw it back at her. Her secret was out now. I genuinely wanted to help her, too. I understood wanting something as badly as she wanted her job, and I was determined to help however I could.
“Come on,” I said. “Together it’ll go faster, and then maybe we can find a few spare minutes before I have to go to practice—it’s so rare I get a chance to relax in the afternoon.”
She twisted one of those loose strands of hair around her finger, then her gaze ran up and down me. “Meet me at my place?”
…
It was all I could do to wait until the door to Whitney’s apartment closed to wrap my arms around her and kiss her. “Lesson one,” I said against her mouth. “You don’t want your opponent to know your next move. Keep ’em guessing. Fake a little.” I tilted my head one way, then moved it the other and lowered my lips to her neck.
I backed her up a few steps and pressed her flat to the door. “Get them against the wall.”
“Then what do you do with them?” she asked, her chest rising and falling with rapid breaths.
I kissed her again, tracing her lips with my tongue before sweeping it inside.
She ran her hands up my arms and linked them behind my neck. “Mmm. I like playing hockey more than I thought I would. Do I get to check you now?”
Before I could think of a snappy comeback, she dropped her shoulder and bumped into me, shoving me a foot or so before going for some imaginary puck. I grabbed her arm and spun her back to me—while she gave a halfhearted attempt at resistance, we both knew it was futile.
Her tiny squeal filled the air as I lifted her, my hands on the ass I couldn’t stop thinking about, and her legs wrapped around my waist.
“That was a pretty good check, but I’m afraid you’re going to need more extensive lessons.” I gave her a good once-over, my blood rushing faster through my veins as I did so. “I’m thinking full-body checks all around.”
She ran her palm down my whiskers, her touch calming even as it stirred up a lust-filled storm. “If we start this, we’ll never get to the article or filling in my hockey education, and I was serious about that.”
“You’re saying if I’m a really good tutor at hockey, you’ll give me a chance to tutor you in other things.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Who says I need tutoring?”
“Not me, baby. How about we tutor each other?”
“You never stop, do you?”
“I can go all night.”
She tried to pull off a reprimanding look, but she only held it a couple of seconds before a grin broke free. She gave me a quick kiss, then she unwrapped her legs and slid down my body—one long, heavenly drag that made it hard to remember we were about to stop the kissing. Her gaze dropped to the obvious bulge in my pants, and she exhaled a shaky breath. “Water. I think we should start with water.”
While she went to get the drinks, I sat on the couch and started going through hockey plays to try to get to a place where I could explain them. When Whitney re-entered the room, a gray and white cat trailed after her. As soon as he noticed me, he froze.
“He’s got a bit of an inflated ego,” Whitney said, “but he’s okay.”
I thought she meant the cat, but then she winked at me—right. I was the one with the inflated ego. There was a lot of inflating going on with me right now.
I downed half the glass of water she handed me in one gulp. This girl had been tying me in knots since she’d put me and my ego in check. I thought she’d be a challenge, but I’d had no idea.
That thought set off a chain that led to the one I was doing my damnedest to forget, and a leaden lump set up camp in my gut. The bet was supposed to show everyone how okay I was and get
me out of my funk—I’d thought it would be just what I needed. But now I was thinking this girl might be just what I needed.
She’d be pissed as hell if she found out about the bet, no doubt about it.
Whitney shot me a smile, and my heart turned over in my chest.
Everything had changed. If I slept with her now, obviously it’d be more than sex.
She’d turned from a fun distraction to my escape, and I wanted to be her escape, too.
I wanted to make her smile and laugh, and find out everything I could about her. I wanted to spend hours kissing her, and take my time exploring every inch of her skin.
I wanted her. All of her.
My lungs tightened, not expanding with my breaths like they were supposed to. The thought of how much I cared for her scared me as much as confessing did. And I knew if I came clean, I’d lose her. It was selfish, I knew, but I wasn’t willing to risk it. I’d screw it up eventually, but for now, I was going to hold on for as long as I could.
“All right,” Whitney said, bending to retrieve her notebook. I caught a flash of cleavage and my thoughts got totally sidetracked. “Lyla’s helped me a lot with hockey terms, but there are a few things I still struggle with.” She batted her eyes at me. “Help me, Obi Wan Ken-hockey-boy. You’re my only hope.”
Chapter Thirty-Five
Whitney
While Lyla had done her best to explain hockey to me—and I totally loved her for helping me—there was something about the way Hudson described it that made all the terms and rules actually sink in. It was the passion, the way he’d stand up and demonstrate a certain play. He’d rolled his eyes when I told him to be careful on his ankle—I felt guilty I’d forgotten about it earlier while we’d been fooling around.
He flopped back on the couch next to me, making the cushions dip, and I couldn’t help but go with it, which pretty much left me plastered against his side.
“Let’s see…” He reached up and ran his fingers across his jaw, and I wanted to take over for him, feel the scratch of his whiskers under my palm again. “What else do you need to know for you to pull off the hockey reporting gig?”
“Out of all the games you’ve ever played, which one is your favorite?”
“I doubt the guys will expect you to know that,” he said with a smile, but a contemplative crinkle showed up on his forehead. “There’s just no topping the championship game last year—winning the Frozen Four tournament was one of the best moments of my life. Hockey’s opened up so many paths for me, so I’ve always enjoyed it, but that was when I really got being part of something bigger. I’ve never felt that…sense of family before. It was there with the guys, but when the entire school came out to support us, it took it to a new level. It was amazing.”
Every time I forgot about the article I was supposed to be working on, something happened to remind me about it. The way he talked about the support, too… He didn’t seem like he was taking advantage. More like he was truly grateful.
“It was also one of the few times Dane and I pulled off a play from the old days that we didn’t get in trouble for,” Hudson said.
Cold spread through my gut as I thought about the note on the fridge. I could tell the two of them were close, and I’d archived one of their notes as evidence. “Dane would do just about anything for you, I take it—and you for him.”
The reverie in his features morphed, an expression that hinted at admiration taking its place. “The guy has a total big brother complex—he’s got four younger siblings, so you’d think he’d have enough to worry about. But the day I met him, even though we were the same age, he became my big brother, too. Sometimes it’s a pain in my ass, but I don’t know what I’d do without him. He’s really my only family.”
I opened my mouth and Hudson sighed before I could even get the question out. “I should’ve known better than to say that out loud,” he said. “Now you’ve got your investigative journalist face on.”
I clamped my lips, trying to hold back the urge to ask.
“Go ahead,” he said, then he shook his head, as if he couldn’t believe he’d given me permission. Honestly, I could hardly believe it, either, and I felt drunk with power.
“Why did you need an escape?”
“You’ve been holding that in since the other night, haven’t you?”
I shrugged one shoulder and then nodded.
“Me and my big mouth.” He sighed again and leaned farther into the couch cushions. “My home life was…less than ideal.”
I had a feeling that “less than ideal” was the greatest understatement ever.
“My mom lost custody of me a few times over the course of my childhood, and when she had it, social services was always coming in. Some of the workers were nice, for some we were just numbers on a long list, and for some we were a paycheck. Things got better, though. She got sober; she had a job. Then Raymond entered the picture.” Hudson’s features hardened and his voice flatlined. “There’d been guys here and there, but he was the worst. Of course that’s who she picked to stay around. Who she’s picking over me again.”
He pinched the bridge of his nose. “You know that day we played pool?”
I nodded.
“She called to ask me if I’d walk her down the aisle and give her away. Ever since she told me she’s marrying the asshole, she’s been begging for me to give her my blessing. I can’t give it—I won’t. Not after everything he’s done to us.”
“What did he do?” Maybe I shouldn’t have asked, but how could I resist after a statement like that?
“You name it. The guy’s an enabler with connections to drug dealers, which is the last thing a barely recovering alcoholic needs. My mom had been clean for almost two years—we didn’t even have check ins from the state very often anymore. Then she met Raymond. She started drinking again, along with doing who knows what else, and there’d be nights the two of them didn’t even come home. At least by that time I was thirteen, so I could fend for myself.”
My heart sunk. Thirteen? I would’ve been in a corner gripping a stuffed animal, scared that bad guys would break in and get me. Just when I thought I knew the guy in front of me, it turned out I was so clueless it wasn’t even funny.
“Of course then she lost her job and the state eventually found out,” Hudson continued and his hand drifted up and curled protectively around his right side. “She refused to go back to rehab because she was too worried about losing Raymond, so I had to go live with a foster family for most of my sophomore year.”
Every sentence just got worse and worse. “Was it awful?”
“No, actually. They were a nice enough family, and it meant I didn’t have to be around Raymond anymore—he was the meanest drunk I’d ever met, and by that time, I’d met my fair share. But I was so worried that without me there he’d hit my mom even more, and every time we talked, I begged her to go to rehab.”
He didn’t say it, but I got the feeling that she wasn’t the only one who’d been hit.
I put my hand on Hudson’s arm. “That’s awful… I’m so sorry.”
“It’s fine. I survived.” He shook his head. “The worst part about that period in my life was that I’d been ripped away from Dane and my hockey team, too. The Welches put me in hockey, but it wasn’t the same playing with a bunch of preppy guys. I fought a lot and got into even more trouble than I did when I was roaming the streets of New York with Dane. I didn’t exactly fit in with their crowd—I worried some that playing for the BC would be like that, but I couldn’t turn away the only opportunity I’d ever get to go to college.”
I covered his hand with mine, tracing the veins across the top, like I’d done the other night. “So you finished high school there? With that family?”
“No. Finally my mom broke away from Raymond and cleaned herself up. She promised she’d never choose anyone over me again. I wanted to get back to Dane and my old school, but honestly, I wasn’t even sure I wanted to live with her again.” He shrugged. “But she
’s my mom.
“I moved back in and finished off my junior and senior years at my old school. Raymond came around once, but by that time, I was bigger than him, and I’d done nothing but lift and train for hockey. So I gave him a taste of his own medicine.” Hudson cracked his knuckles, his vision drifting off to the memory, no doubt. “He left us alone after that.”
In all the time I’d known him, I’d never heard him sound so…deadly. I could only imagine what would happen if he got angry and unleashed his rage on someone with his full strength behind it. Thinking of it didn’t scare me, though. It made me want to wrap my arms around him and tell him that everything was going to be okay, even though I didn’t know if it would.
“Until,” he said, and the muscles around his jaw went rigid. He curled his hands into fists and the veins in his forearms popped out.
“Until you weren’t there anymore to keep him away,” I guessed, running my hand over the clenched muscles of his arm and then uncurling his fingers to hold his hand.
He looked down at me and my heart nearly broke right there, because I could see he felt the weight of it. On top of everything else, he’d been carrying around his mom’s bad decisions.
“Anyway. Whatever, right?”
I slipped my fingers between his. “No, not whatever. Her decisions affect you, too—my mama didn’t seem to get that, either. Not that I’m comparing, because I know my mama leaving my daddy and me doesn’t compare to what you went through. But I get that frustration.”
“You don’t have to downplay it,” Hudson said. “That was a shitty thing for her to do. Not that I’m glad that you had to go through that, but knowing it made it easier to tell you about my mom.”
“Same here. Usually I just say, oh, my parents are divorced, like that’s all there is to it. At least I had my daddy, though. He was really, really sad for a while, so I couldn’t show him how sad I was.” Old hurt rose up as I thought about those dark days, how hard it was to hold not only myself, but also my daddy, together.