Victor: A Chicago Blaze Hockey Romance

by Brenda Rothert

  We make out in the center of the rink for a while and I never want it to end. Eventually, though, my toes get numb and my nose starts running.

  “When can we go out again?” he asks as we leave the rink, his arm around my waist to support me.

  “Anytime. I mean, as long as I don’t have to work.”

  “I’ve got a game tomorrow night and the next.”

  “I have to work the next three nights.”

  “Damn. I’m on the road the night after that.”

  “So then…Sunday night?”

  “Sunday night.”

  We change out of our skates, turn the lights off and leave the rink. On the drive back to my house, we talk about Victor’s upcoming games. He’s been playing solid, but he still worries he could start to slip again. I tell him that’s pretty much the way everyone feels about the things and people that mean the most to us.

  Once we get home, he parks in front of my house and walks me to the front porch.

  “I had the best time,” he says. “I hope you did, too.”

  “I did.” I smile up at him. “Thanks again for the coat. And for dinner. For everything.”

  “You’re welcome. I can’t wait to see you again.”

  His kiss this time is soft and sweet, without the urgency I felt back at the rink. But I can feel from the press of his body against mine that he’s plenty turned on by it.

  I’m on Cloud Ten Thousand as I walk into the house, resisting the urge to wave at him through the curtains. God, am I happy.

  A lamp is switched on in the living room corner and Don says, “How was your date?”

  I look around the living room to see that Dad is nearly asleep on the couch and Chuck is snoring in the recliner. There are empty beer cans all over the place. Don is looking at me like a detective in an interrogation room.

  “Unbelievable,” I mutter. “I’m twenty-three years old. You guys don’t need to check up on me.”

  “How was it, though?” Dad asks, his voice groggy.

  “It was good. Really good.”

  “Did he get handsy?” Don asks.

  I shake my head. “I’m going to bed. Goodnight.”

  It’s aggravating, having my dad and his buddies waiting for me after a date. But also, kind of nice. They’re like three overprotective bears, ready and willing to claw off the face of anyone who wrongs me.

  I text Ari quickly, then turn off my phone and fall onto my bed on my back, grinning as I look over at the spot Victor’s poster used to hang.

  The fantasy was nice, but the reality? It’s so crazy good I can’t even believe it.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Victor

  The night I’ve been waiting for is here, and now I’m not sure I’m ready.

  I’ve just been going through the motions for the past few days, eating, sleeping, playing hockey—biding my time until my second date with Lindy.

  I asked her to hang out at my place tonight, because I have to tell her about Bryan. It’s been hanging over my head since I first realized how into her I am.

  For once, I’m going to do this right. I’m gonna man up and tell her about the ugliness inside me. That’s what you’re supposed to do in a good relationship. But fuck, I’m terrified.

  Just facing the memories as I try to figure out how to tell her has made me physically ill today. I’d give anything to cut this part of me out like the cancer it is, to be rid of it forever, but I can’t.

  When I hear a soft knock on my door, my stomach churns, the food I ate to settle it threatening to come back up again. I take a deep breath and walk over to answer the door.

  “Hey,” Lindy says, looking cute as hell in the new coat I bought her.

  She reaches forward to hug me and I pull her into my arms, seeking the familiar comfort of her scent, which I think is a coconut shampoo.

  “Are you okay?” she asks.

  “Yeah. I mean, pretty much.”

  She pulls away and looks at me, her expression worried. “What’s wrong, Victor?”

  I lead her into the apartment and close the door behind us. “I just…need to talk to you about something.”

  “You’re scaring me,” she says, her brow furrowed. “You’re pale and you look like you’re about to be sick.”

  “So much for playing it cool,” I say lightly.

  My joke falls flat. I take a reassuring breath.

  “Can we sit down and just get this over with?” I ask.

  “Of course.” Lindy walks over to the leather sofa, taking her coat off on the way, and sits down, looking at me expectantly. “Listen, if you’ve changed your mind about us--”

  Shaking my head, I say, “I haven’t. That’s not it at all.”

  Her shoulders slump with relief. “Okay. Then I’ll just be quiet and listen.”

  I swallow hard, remembering the night we first met. Her eyes were so bright. I felt the shine of Lindy’s sweetness and affection. She made me feel like the only other person in the world. When I was at my worst, she looked at me like I was at my best.

  I still feel that way every time she looks at me. Like I’m enough. No matter where we are or what we’re doing, together, we’re content. I’ve never had that before, and I’m terrified I’m about to lose it.

  “This is hard for me,” I start. “As you can see.”

  “Do you want to sit down?”

  I shake my head, but at least walk over to a tall leather chair by the couch so I’m closer to her, putting my hands on the back of it. I look down at the chair, trying to figure out how to start. But no words will come.

  “Victor,” Lindy says softly. “It’s okay. Whatever it is, it’ll be okay.”

  There’s a sick rolling in my gut that just won’t go away. This is the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do.

  “There’s a guy blackmailing me,” I finally manage. “It’s been going on since I signed my first contract.”

  Silence falls as Lindy waits for me to say more and I try to come up with a way to do it.

  “Okay,” she says after a long half-minute of quiet. “I’m glad you told me.”

  The corners of my mouth unconsciously tilt up in a smile. Lindy’s trying so damn hard to support me right now, which is just like her. I’m not making it very easy.

  “I’m sorry,” I say, leaning my elbows on the top of the chair back and pressing my fists to my forehead. “I’m trying.”

  “It’s okay. Take your time.”

  I take a couple more deep breaths, close my eyes and continue.

  “I told you about my mom. How I didn’t have the best childhood. But I didn’t go into detail.”

  My muscles tense and my heart pounds, my self-preservation instinct telling me to stop. Fucking stop now, before you can’t go back. She’s gonna know forever now. She’s never gonna look at you the same.

  I stand up and walk across the room, needing to move. “My mom was a drug addict. It’s not a cheap habit. There were men in and out of our apartment all the time.”

  The fire I started in my gas fireplace is burning, and I watch the dance of the orange flames as I speak. Though I’m talking to Lindy, I can’t look at her right now. I just can’t.

  “There were men who did things to me,” I say softly, ignoring the gasp behind me. “My mom told me it was okay, and that I was helping her by letting them. I knew it wasn’t right.” My voice catches, and I close my eyes, trying to steady myself. “But I didn’t think I had any choice. I didn’t know…I was just a little kid.”

  The shame wraps itself around me hard and fast, like a giant blanket that reaches every part of me. I haven’t spoken these words to anyone. Ever. I told myself that as long as no one knew, the shame was only in my head. If only that were true.

  “This one guy, Bryan…my mom was with him for like a year off and on. And he…” I clear my throat, shaking inside and out. “He did the worst stuff of all, and he took photos of me. Horrible…” I can’t hold on anymore. The lump in my throat bursts and tears sp
ill from my eyes.

  “You don’t have to say anymore.” Lindy talks through tears from her place on the couch. “I’m so sorry, Victor. So very, very sorry.”

  I take a deep breath, focusing my gaze on my fireplace mantle. I still can’t look at Lindy. How will I ever look at her again, now that she knows?

  “Please don’t pity me,” I say, my voice close to its usual tone now. “I didn’t want you to know. I’ve never wanted anyone to know. But Bryan is texting me more and more now, and the amounts of money keep going up. I’m sure I’m funding his drug habit. And I don’t know, I just worry…what happens if he asks for everything I’ve got? What if his phone falls into the wrong hands and the photos get out even though I’m paying to keep them from getting out?”

  I hear Lindy’s soft inhale and exhale. Other than the crackle of the flames, it’s the only sound in the room.

  “I think…we should slow down,” she says.

  I whip my head around, facing her. “Us? You don’t want to be with me anymore?” My tone is as anguished as I feel inside; I can’t hide it.

  “No,” she says, loudly and firmly. “That’s not what I mean. I want to be with you more than ever. I mean slow down right now, in this moment. Instead of getting overwhelmed by what ifs, let’s just take a breath, okay? You told me, and that was very difficult for you. I’m really--” She chokes up and clears her throat. “I’m really proud of you for that.”

  “No one’s ever looked at me the way you do. I don’t want to see pity in your eyes when you look at me. It would kill me.”

  “Can I…come over there?” she asks tentatively. “Can I hug you?”

  An immediate, powerful answer to her question rises inside me, catching me off guard. “No. I’m sorry, it’s not you. I just need a minute. I feel…dirty right now. All those feelings…they’re getting stirred up, it’s fucking awful.”

  “It’s okay,” she says softly. “I’m gonna stay right here. But please listen, okay? I don’t pity you. When I look at you, I see a badass survivor. A fighter. Everything you are…you did that. All by yourself. You made yourself into a kind, sweet, hardworking gentleman and a professional athlete.”

  I let out a ragged exhale, my game focused on the ground. “I’ve never had a good relationship because I don’t know how. Before you, I never sought out the right kind of women. I don’t want to blow this relationship because of how fucked up I am.”

  “You are not fucked up.” Lindy’s tone is fierce and certain.

  “How can I not be?”

  “You took the first step—the most important one. You told me. And it’s safe with me. Now we can start to work through what comes next together. I’m not going anywhere.”

  I finally work up the courage to look over at her. Really look at her. And I see my same sweet, devoted Lindy looking back at me. Her eyes still have their shine.

  “You’re sure?” I ask, choking up again.

  “You’re not getting rid of me, Victor Lane. I adore you. More so now than ever.”

  I swallow hard, trying to hold back the tears. Suddenly I’m exhausted, the strain and stress drained from my body.

  “I’m not fucked up sexually,” I say. “I want you to know that. What happened to me…that wasn’t sex. I know it was abuse.”

  “Whatever way it does or doesn’t affect you, I’m not going to get scared away. I’m here.”

  After a long, hard exhale, I say, “Thank you.”

  It’s over now. She knows the worst. And she’s still here. Even though I know consciously that what happened to me is not my fault and I’m not the one who should be ashamed, I’ve always known it’s a lot for a partner to take in. If those photos get out, things could get messy.

  I walk over and sit next to Lindy, leaving space between us but taking her hand in mine.

  “Please don’t tell anyone,” I say.

  “I’d never, ever tell anyone. I swear it.”

  I run the pad of my thumb over her knuckles as we sit in silence for a few seconds.

  “I know that was a shitty way to start the night,” I say. “I just had to get it out. I want you to know what you’re in for with me.”

  “I’m glad you trusted me with it. And like I said, I’m not going anywhere.”

  It takes a few minutes for me to want to move closer and put my arms around her. But once she’s in my arms, I like the comfort of her scent and her soft warmth.

  When I kiss her, there’s something new there. I kiss her hard, gratitude and arousal winding themselves around each other until I don’t know which is which anymore. I need to get back a shred of the control I just gave up, and ravaging her right now feels like the only way.

  I’ve never really felt like any woman was truly mine in every way. I want Lindy to be, though. I want it so fucking bad.

  We lie down on the sofa and I take her shirt off, her little white bra exactly like my fantasy. My breath catches in my throat as I press my lips to the soft swell of her breasts. Her ragged little moan only fuels my desire.

  Lindy’s hands are in my hair; my mouth is on her skin. My blood is pumping hot and hard, just begging me to fuck her. What we just shared together was intimate; I want to seal that connection by physically connecting with her. She seems to read my mind.

  “Not tonight,” she whispers in my ear. “I’m sorry. I do want to, but tonight…just this, okay?”

  She’s right. I don’t want her first time to be like this, driven by something so ugly. I let out a ragged breath, getting ahold of myself.

  “Of course, babe,” I say against her neck. “However much time you need.”

  Our first time will only be about us, though the conversation we just had changed our relationship forever.

  Now that she knows my darkest truth, I want to take that last step and make her mine in every way. I’ll wait, but when the time comes, I plan to devour her. I don’t want her to think of another man ever again. I’m a gentleman—a patient wolf waiting to show her all the ways I can make her body sing for me alone.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Lindy

  I breathe in the buttery scent of freshly made popcorn. I’m definitely eating a bag of it when I go on break. But we’ve been so busy tonight, I’m not sure that’s happening anytime soon.

  “Two dogs and two beers,” my customer says, his gaze on the TV mounted in the corner of the concession area.

  The Blaze just tied the score up at three, and I don’t know how people can get out of their seats for food and drinks when a game is this exciting. I’m positive my dad has his emergency glass bottle next to the couch right now. I’m not saying he pees in it during exciting moments of games when he doesn’t want to go to the bathroom, but I’m not saying he doesn’t, either.

  It’s all I can do to focus on my job and not the game. It was Victor who scored the goal that tied the game. My Victor! I know when I hear the crowd roaring that I need to sneak a glance at the TV screen and see what just happened.

  Since our conversation the other night, we’ve been inseparable. If he’s home and I’m not working, I’m at his place. We’ve been ordering in, watching Netflix and talking. We also make out a lot. I’m making up for lost time, I guess, since I was so inexperienced when we got together.

  And damn, was I missing out. Victor can make me forget everyone and everything for hours at a time with his hands and mouth. I was embarrassed when I had an orgasm during a makeout session the other day, but he told me it’s a good thing, and then he got me off again.

  So yeah…I’d much rather be watching the game from inside the area right now, and then going home with Victor after to spend a few hours getting frisky in bed, but instead I’m pumping cheese sauce onto nachos.

  “Boring,” Bruce says from a few feet over. “I need to go change out a pop tank. You’re in charge.”

  I nod my agreement. Being in charge basically means listening to customers complain when they ask for a manager. It’s not my favorite part of the job.

/>   But honestly, since Victor and I have gotten together, there’s pretty much nothing I like about my job anymore. I like being around Ari, of course, but working here means I have to miss out on watching half of Victor’s games. And worse, I have to listen to thousands of people cheering because they are watching them.

  I have no other skills, though. My dad told me about an opening with a local heating and cooling contractor, answering their phones and scheduling their appointments, but I don’t know if I want to make the leap to a new job just yet.

  “Heard you’re in charge,” Ari says as she makes an Icee from nearby. “Can I have a raise?”

  “Ha! I wish.”

  “Raises all around, then you should fire Bruce,” she says.

  “Hey, Lindy,” a new employee, Craig, calls out. “Someone’s asking for you.”

  I walk over to his register, noticing on my way that the customer already has their cell phone out recording. It’s crazy how many people record themselves complaining about our service, sure they’re going to become Twitter famous.

  “Hi, can I help you?” I offer.

  “Are you Lindy Boring?” a woman next to the guy with the cell phone asks.

  “Yes.”

  “Multiple sources tell us you’re dating Victor Lane, is it true?”

  Craig gives me an incredulous look. I flush from head to toe.

  “Um…I’m working right now,” I say.

  “Oh, I know, I don’t need long. I’ve got footage of you working and just want some comment about how a woman working in Concessions became the girlfriend of a Blaze player. Did he order food from you?”

  “No.”

  “She gave him advice on hockey,” Ari says from behind me.

  I give her a wide-eyed look of horror and she cringes.

  “Sorry, was I not supposed to say anything?”

  “Come on,” the female reporter urges. “I really want to tell this Cinderella story for our readers.”

  “I’m working.” I give her a pleading look, just wanting her to go away. “I can’t talk now.”