by Tara Brown
“I gave you the rules, you agreed.” My heart is stopped in my chest, crushed with fear as I realize how fragile this thing is.
“I am done with games. I told you I love you and you told me you loved me. No more games.” He crosses the floor, scooping me up into his arms, and carrying me to the bed.
“No, I didn't.” I squirm but he grips tightly until he gets to the bed and dumps me on it, climbing on and wrapping himself around me.
“I have proof.” He grabs his phone off the bedside table and brings it over.
“Matt, let me go. This is bordering on forced, the wrong kind.” I wiggle and almost gag from the dizziness I am still suffering from.
“I don’t want to hear it. Your fucking pride is going to be the death of us. I get it, I embarrassed you. I made you feel cheap and like this wasn't important to me, but it is. And it’s important to you too.” He wraps me in a blanket, pinning me to the bed like a mummy, and then goes back to the phone. “Watch.” He taps a video to start.
It’s blurry for a moment before I hear myself talking like a drunken sorority girl, “Matt, I don’t want to play this anymore. I gave you those stupid rules so you’d be mine but I wouldn’t be yours, and I could torture you for humiliating me, but I’m done. I just want to be with you. I believe you that the whole thing wasn't your fault and I’m more to you than a puck fuck or a fling.”
I cringe and he gives me a knowing glare.
“I love you too, Matt. A lot.” I sound trashed. “And if you want this to be over and for this to just be normal dating, I’m cool with it.”
“You promise, Sami?” he asks with a bit of a chuckle on his lips, like he’s also drunk, hence the blurry video of the worst quality.
“I promise to love you forever.” I stagger forward and the phone drops and the sound of us sloppily kissing fills the audio. “We should get marri—”
“Turn it off,” I shout. “You drugged me and made me say this.”
“You don’t want to hear the rest?” He laughs shutting it off. He puts the phone away and lies next to me again, smiling softly. “You said you love me and then you said ‘married.’”
“So what! You said you loved me first. And you can’t believe anything I say when I’m drunk! One time I tried to kiss Nat’s dad.”
“Sami, I don’t care that we were drunk or that you tried to—no, that’s a lie. I do care that you tried to kiss Nat’s dad, that’s creepy. But it doesn’t matter. What matters is what I told you last year at my cabin fever party and what I said last week when I told you I love you. I just want this bullshit punishment to end. Please?” He begs well for a burly hockey player.
“What do you want?” It’s the one question I know the answer to, but I want to hear him say it.
“Just a normal relationship. You call me boyfriend and I call you girlfriend and we go out in public without making it a big deal. And I sleep at your house and you sleep at mine, and we text each other stupid messages when we’re apart. And you stop holding back because you’re scared I’m going to break your heart or have a sidepiece. And I stop holding back because you act like you’re going to run any second. And we just relax, both of us. And we trust that the other person is taking care of our hearts.”
Maybe it’s the way he says it or the hangover or my want for some sex that doesn’t involve me, myself, and I, or maybe it’s genuinely that I believe him. Whatever it is, I say it, “I forgive you and I will never bring the PFs up again. I trust you.” It’s time.
“Finally.” His smile widens and he leans in for a kiss.
“No!” I pull back as best I can. “Untuck me.” I struggle in the sheets. “This is creepy and I feel like I’m gonna barf.”
“No!” He laughs, turning me and tucking me in more.
“Fine, whatever. I’ll puke on you.” I’m so exhausted and nauseated that when he tries to kiss me I fight off a puke shiver and gag a little. “I seriously need to go back to sleep. Can we celebrate this later? With dinner maybe? Tomorrow.”
He lifts his eyebrows briefly like he’s disappointed but then gets up from the bed, closing the bathroom door and making it dark in the room for me. “Fine. But if you even talk about going back on this and we have to go back to your stupid rules, I’ll be putting you in the cellar where you will learn your lesson like a good girl.” He chuckles as I struggle from the sheet cocoon.
“I don’t care. Just text Nadia and tell her I need an IV.” I curl into a ball, waiting for the instant I feel his warm skin against my cold back. Or death, whichever comes first.
It takes a minute for Matt to get to me, but when he does, it’s amazing. I curl into him, letting him cocoon me with him.
“I missed you, Beast,” I whisper into the hair on his arm.
“I missed you too, baby.” He kisses the side of my face, pressing his naked body against mine.
My stomach hurts. My head is pounding. And I can’t actually believe I told him I love him, drunk as fuck. I’m a moron. A blissfully happy moron.
Chapter 17
Mr. Brimley
April 10, 2016
Natalie
Playing Panda Pop, waiting for Brady to finish in the shower, a call interrupts my game.
“Hello?” I didn't see who was calling.
“Hey.” It’s Liz. She sounds weird.
“Hey, how’s it going?”
“Oh my God, I have the craziest thing to ask you,” she gushes.
“Okay?” She just started working for us, so I can’t even imagine what it is. She never gets this excited, ever. It’s one of the things I like about her, even keel.
“Will you be one of my bridesmaids?” She starts crying.
“What?” My heart stops. “Oh my God.” I have to be hearing her wrong.
“Mike asked me to marry him! The little bits of time we’ve been spending apart have been killing him. He asked and I said yes. It was so romantic. We were walking down on the pier and it was sunset, and he got down on his knee and said he couldn't stand to be apart from me, ever again.”
“Oh my God!” They’re insane.
“So will you be a bridesmaid?”
“Yes! Of course I will.” I can’t believe this is happening. So soon? “Congratulations!”
“Thank you! He asked my dad and my parents are so excited.” She’s sobbing, like actually sobbing. “I can’t believe I’m getting married. I never thought I would, ever.”
I can’t lie, I never imagined she would get married either. “This is amazing.” I don't have anything else to say. It feels crazy, but they are the least insane people I know.
“I know. I sent a picture of the ring in our chat. It should be arriving.” My phone vibrates as she says it. I put her on speakerphone and look at the pic. “It’s stunning.” It’s a beautiful white gold ring with a large diamond in the center of two smaller ones. It’s got a twist to the metal, sort of making the smaller diamonds resemble flowers. It suits her completely. “I’m so happy for you.”
And stunned, but I won’t say that.
“Me too. This is the best day ever. I can’t believe it. I have to phone my sister and ask if she’ll be my maid of honor. I’ll text you later. I just had to call.”
“It’s just amazing. Congrats again.”
“Thanks, Nat. I've never been this happy in my life.” She sighs and it’s true. I know it is. She hangs up and I am stunned, completely.
I stare at the picture, noticing the twinge of jealousy, something I don't normally feel. She’s so certain and even if she’s not, she trusts this. She trusts him enough to say yes and he trusts their love enough to ask.
It’s remarkable and terrifying, and in some strange way, I wish I felt that certain too.
“Dude, can you believe Game One of the playoffs is here already.” Brady sighs, stretching his neck and arms as he comes out of the bathroom. “My first one.”
He calls me dude and Mike asks Liz to marry him.
We’re just not in the same place.
I have to remind myself it’s love, not a race.
“Yeah, are you excited?” I smile, fighting off the weird feeling that phone call has invoked.
“Yes and no. End of season’s scary.”
“Liz just phoned. She and Mike are engaged.” I can’t keep this in.
Brady’s jaw drops. “What? Holy shit. They've been dating for like a hot minute.”
“Right.”
“Wow.” He folds his arms, obviously as perplexed by it as I am. “So fast?”
“I guess he just knows.”
“Did she say yes?” He looks baffled. I feel better about the whole thing.
“Yeah. She wants to get married. She’s pumped. I’m stunned.”
“Me too.” He cocks his head. “Did you tell her it’s too soon?”
“God no! I’m not Sami. She’s excited, so I am too.”
“Okay. Good. Mike’s a good guy. He never makes impetuous decisions, and he’s always the voice of reason, so if he’s ready, he’s ready. I just hope this doesn't affect his abilities during playoffs. Not that I think it will. I just don't like the idea of making decisions during playoffs of any kind.” He flops onto the bed next to me in his boxers and climbs under the covers, looking kinda haggard. His scruffy face and bloodshot eyes are only part of the problems he has going on, thanks to the playoffs. His right shoulder is bruised and sore, his left calf has been cramping, and his neck is so tight he winces when he turns his head or glances down. He acts like it’s amazing that he’s doing this but seeing the effects on his body, I don't know what he’s going to look like in a few years or a decade. He’s already a hot mess.
But he doesn't want to talk about it. He says it’s normal and the end of the season is hard on everyone.
I’ve never seen people fight for anything the way hockey players fight.
“Mike’s going to Tampa at the end of the season, did he tell you?” I say as I lean across him, rubbing his chest. “So I guess the wedding will be in Tampa?”
“Yeah. Coach wants to have an end-of-season party after the playoffs, and I guess part of it is a going away for the guys leaving.” I have no idea about the wedding, honestly Mike never told me.” He groans into the pillow, “Man, I am going to sleep the entire month of July. I hope they don't get married then.”
“Or May if you don't—”
“Whoa!” He turns his head, glaring and cringing from the neck pain. “Dude. No. We don't discuss playoffs.”
My cheeks flush and a grin creeps across my lips. “You’re like a bunch of old witches with voodoo dolls with your lucky socks and weird no-shaving rules.”
“And we don't talk about it.” He shuts me down. “But you know what we can talk about?”
“No.” I narrow my gaze at the steamy look on his face. “Your whole body is a hot mess. Everything’s bruised and beaten and sore and twisted. We’re not having sex. I’m scared I’ll hurt you. You need to be in top shape.”
“My dick’s good. Not a scratch on it.”
“Your lip’s cut a little and your hands feel like they’re made of leather.”
“Your mouth’s fine.” He laughs.
“Fuck you, Brady.” I laugh and lay my head back on his chest. “Speaking of things that turn you off, the baby is three months old today. Your brother and Lacey are coming to town soon to watch a game, and I was thinking maybe we should let them have our room and we sleep in the games room. So they have space for the baby.” I draw designs in the hair at the bottom of his stomach leading to his cock. Almost making him think I might go lower, but don't.
“Yeah, okay, but you can’t go Zombie Nat on them, gaming the whole time.” He reaches down, pushing my hands lower.
“Stop!” I fight him off, continuing to rub his abs. I can’t miss the erection growing beneath the blankets, but I avoid it, touching everywhere else.
“Come on, Nat, just touch it.”
“No.” I glance up, challenging him with my stare.
“Fine.” He shakes his head and reaches down, slipping his hand beneath the blankets and grabbing a huge handful of his own cock. The rubbing motion lifts and lowers the blankets.
“You’re disgusting.” I say it but I don't mean it. It’s kinda hot to watch him touching himself, like I shouldn't see this.
“I’m going to show you disgusting in about six minutes.” He grins.
I roll on my side, lifting my shirt and point at my bare cleavage. “Right here, Mr. Clinton,” I say, calling his bluff.
His hands leave his body and attack mine, pulling me on top of him. I straddle him, sitting atop his rigid cock, rotating my hips slightly as his hands cup my breasts.
“You’re so soft.”
“You’re not.” I run my hands over his hard chest. “There is literally nothing soft about you.”
“Not right now.” He thrusts a bit, rubbing against me.
As I’m lowering to kiss him his phone rings. He turns his head, wincing at the pain. Brimstone’s name flashes across the screen.
“He never calls.” He grabs the phone, wincing again as he swipes to answer, “Hey.”
Matt shouts into the phone, but I can’t understand what he’s saying. My heart stops as I scan the furniture for my phone. It’s buzzing with texts off the dresser Brady’s mom brought us.
Before I can even move, Brady rolls us, climbing from the bed in a fluid motion and leaving me on my back. “On my way.” He walks to the closet, his dick going limp as he turns the phone off.
“What?” I jump up too. “What’s going on?”
“Matt’s brother just died in a fucking plane crash and his dad’s in the ICU in Boston. He wants me to fly there with him now.”
“Oh my God.” My hand covers my mouth. “Oh God.”
Brady turns, giving me a dark stare. “If his old man dies, Matt won’t play another game of hockey in his life, unless it’s at a rec league on the weekend.”
“What do you mean?”
“He’ll have to run that company.” He says it like I should have known that.
“Oh shit.” My heart is breaking for Matt. I hurry to my phone. My eyes widen as I grasp the desperation in Sami’s texts. “I’m going to Sami’s,” I mutter, sending a text that I’m on my way.
Brady grabs me, kissing hard. It’s the kind of kiss that says everything. It’s not romantic, it’s more than that. “I’ll message when I get there. Charles is downstairs now.” He kisses once more and he’s gone.
I feel sick for poor Matt as I pull on clothes and hurry out the door, texting Sami that Vincenzo isn’t necessary, but she’s already dispatched him.
I wait in the lobby of our building for a few minutes before he pulls up. I don't wait for him to get the door. I run for the limo and jump in. Sami is there, sitting across from me. Her eyes are puffy and her nose is red.
“Is Matt okay?” It’s a dumb question but more of a knee-jerk reaction.
“I don't know,” she whispers. “I spoke to the hospital. They said his dad’s slipping away. They’re going to attempt surgery, but he said he has to wait for Matt. His dad demanded no surgery until the family lawyer and Matt made it to Boston. They’re going in the helicopter now, from his building.” She sniffles and blinks a tear from her eye.
“Did you know him, his brother?” I can’t even remember the brother’s name; I don't understand Sami’s devastation over this. She never gets this worked up.
“No. I knew who he was of course and I know his wife a little. But no.” I climb into the seat next to her, pulling her into my arms and letting her cry. She doesn't explain why she’s so upset. She just cries until she doesn't have any more tears as Vincenzo drives us to Boston.
When we get to the hospital, Vincenzo parks out front. He opens the door, offering a solemn smile. Sami throws on sunglasses, a hat, and a bulky wrap, hurrying inside. One of the hospital staff rushes to us.
“Ms. Ford, I’m Eliza Simmons. The family is this way.” She leads us to an elevator at the back
of the main floor and takes us up. Her eyes constantly dart to Sami. When the doors open, she escorts us to a silent wing with a waiting room. “If you don't mind waiting, I’ll tell Mr. Brimley you’re here.” She closes the door, sealing us in.
“What is this room?”
“I think it’s where they tell you your family is dead.” Sami pulls off her glasses, revealing exactly how puffy she is.
“Were you with him when he found out?”
“No.” She sits, crossing her legs and flicking her foot like she’s annoyed. “I was home with Nadia.” A bitter smile crosses her lips but I have no idea why. “My mom told me and I called Benson and had it confirmed.” She laughs like it’s something insane or this is ironic somehow. “I texted Matt but he hasn't messaged back.” Her lip trembles.
“Why?” Sometimes I hate Matt.
“I don't know.” She lifts her gaze to meet mine, her eyes are hollow like she’s dead behind them. “I think it’s likely his mom wouldn't want me here and Matt knows that so he didn't bother to call me.”
“She doesn't even know you. And he never listens to what his parents say.” My back gets up.
“Yeah, but his dad’s in there dying, bringing me would only be more drama. I get it. I just wish—” She pauses. “I wish things were different. For the first time ever, I wish I had your life. All of it. Just simple, plain, easy. The worst thing in your world is your mother, and she’s nothing. If I were you I would be living in an apartment with Matt and we would be allowed to choose everything in our lives.”
“You can.” I say it like she’s being stupid because she is.
“You know that’s not true.” She scoffs. “Everything is a dance and a balance. It’s us hiding in this room because I want to see him, but I don't want to make things worse for his family. It’s him pretending to give half a shit about his dad’s business to impress my dad.”