by Mignon Mykel
I heard her muffled ‘Yeah’ over the sound of running water. Carefully, I opened the door and peeked inside. She was standing at the sink, brushing her teeth.
She offered me a foamy smile before leaning forward, her free hand braced on the sink, and spitting.
“Myke’s here. She brought her man-friend.”
Asher wiped at her face with a paper towel. “Here? Are they not going to be at the house?”
“Allegedly he has a conference call he has to be on. Myke’s excuse was overseas business.”
With a smile, Asher grabbed the IV pole and started for me. “Look at you, all ready to cast stones at the guy. Maybe he really does! Or maybe he’s just scared of your family.”
“Our family.”
Asher shook her head, but was still grinning. God, I could live off her smiles. “Okay, yes. Our family. Maybe he’s scared of our family.”
“We’re not that scary.”
“To you, maybe. But from the outside…?”
“You found your place quick enough,” I said, helping her back to the bed.
“Avery didn’t give me much of a choice.”
“Well I, for one, will be forever thankful for her meddling.” I took her hand as she sat, helping her lower slowly.
She groaned good-naturedly up at me. “I can move on my own just fine, Porter.”
“I’m sure you can.”
“But you won’t let me?”
“Nope.”
“You’re a bit of a caveman.”
“When it comes to you? Yeah. Probably.” I bent down to swing her legs up and sat beside her. “Hopefully your docs will sign the release paperwork soon. I want to get you home.”
“To do what? Eat? Are you sick of hospital food already?” she teased.
“I’m sick of the hospital,” I corrected.
Asher opened her mouth to say something, probably just to get the last word, when Myke knocked on the door again. “Hey, Asher,” she said, leaning in.
Asher smiled at her. “Hi, Myke. I heard you brought your man-friend.”
With a laugh, my sister stepped in. “I did. Guys, this is Ryan.”
Before I could get a look at the guy, Asher’s hand was on mine and squeezing tightly. I looked over at her, concerned.
Her face was sheet-white.
I frowned. “Ash?”
She shook her head and took a deep breath before plastering on one of those fake smiles I hadn’t seen in years. Her color was still off, but she was putting on a show, that was for damn sure.
“Hi, Ryan.”
Mykaela’s Ryan wasn’t just any Ryan.
No, he was Ryan Johnson.
I tried to keep my features schooled while he was in the room, but I knew damn well he knew who he was. He didn’t mention how we knew each other but I certainly wondered if Myke knew…
“Merry Christmas,” Ryan said with a wave, as he and Myke left the room, not even ten minutes after coming in.
My heartrate was elevated. If I was still connected to my monitors, Porter would be concerned.
I should have known better though, to think he just needed flashing numbers to tell him there was something wrong.
He turned toward me in the bed after they left and put a hand on my face. “What’s wrong?”
I shook my head. I couldn’t tell him.
How did he find me?
And if Ryan was here, that meant…
That meant it had been my former foster father in the car.
How were they here? How did they find me?
Porter let go of my hand so he could fully frame my face. “Asher. What’s wrong?” he repeated.
I took a deep breath and shook my head again. “Nothing. Nothing, I’m fine. He just…he reminded me of someone,” I finally managed.
I could tell by the look on his face that he didn’t believe me, but he let it drop.
For now.
I knew Porter well enough to know that he’d bring it up again later. I’d have to figure out what to tell him.
How to tell him.
How much to tell him.
Why now?
Why was this all coming at me now? Now that I was happy, and life was on the high road? What the hell did I do to deserve these things?
Life had been too good for the last four years.
I should have been expecting the shoe to drop.
I knew better than to let down my guard.
I’d like to say that the rest of the day wasn’t strained where Asher was concerned, but there was a small part of the day that was.
I thought we had moved past the secrets.
But still, there was something.
I didn’t get a chance to ask her about it on the drive back to the house.
I mean, I could have, but the moment I eased the car onto the freeway…
Fuck.
I couldn’t ask her. Not when she was ghostly white again.
Not when she grabbed my hand in a death grip, when we neared where the accident happened.
So, I let it go again. For a little bit longer.
I knew it couldn’t hold for long though, not when Ryan surprisingly showed up just after dinner and Asher turned that damn shade of white again. The thing was, I didn’t think she realized it was happening.
I think Asher thought she had everything under control.
Sure, she was cool and calm on the outside, other than the color change, but she wasn’t fooling anybody. Least of all, me.
I left the family to head into the kitchen, needing water or something. I grabbed a bottle and started to head back to the den when I heard Asher’s voice.
She must have left right after me.
I changed direction, following the husky tones, curious as to who she was talking to.
“They don’t know,” I caught her saying.
“I won’t say anything.” I frowned at Ryan’s voice. “Genna—“
My frown deepened. He knew her birth name.
How?
“Don’t call me that!” Asher’s voice was still hushed, but panicked. “Don’t.”
“Sorry. Sorry. Asher. I…” I strained to hear what he had to say. How did he know her? How did he know her from before?
“I tried to tell someone.”
I frowned again. Tell someone what? What did Ryan know?
“Don’t!” This time, Asher’s voice wasn’t so much panicked, as it was upset. “Do not lie to me.”
“Gen—“
“Stop! It’s Asher!”
I wasn’t about to let this go on. She was upset and while I was confused as all fucking get out, I wasn’t going to let her send herself back into an asthma attack.
Assuming panic and anxiety could do that.
“I did, though. I—“
“You didn’t!”
I couldn’t listen any longer. I stepped into the room and saw as Ryan stood in front of Asher, a respectable distance away, but the anger on Asher’s face was more than visible. “You didn’t! You didn’t say a damn thing!”
“I did! Who do you think called your case worker?” Ryan answered back.
This was too much. I couldn’t…
I had to say something. “You two know each other.”
Both heads turned toward me. This time, instead of going white, Asher’s face went gray.
“Porter…”
How much had he heard? What conclusions was he drawing?
I swallowed hard.
Porter stood in the doorway of the guest room Ryan followed me into shortly after Porter left for water. I couldn’t stand not knowing if Ryan had told Mykaela about my past. I didn’t know what Ryan knew, but what he could possible know could damn me in the eyes of this family.
“I’ll leave,” Ryan said now. He stepped past me and toward Porter, who watched him leerily. Before leaving, he turned back toward me. “It wasn’t your fault. But we do need to talk.”
>
Did he have some plan to bring me down? I tore his family apart, so he was going to ruin my happiness to shreds now too?
How did he find me?
Was he using Myke?
The thought made me sick to my stomach. Mykaela didn’t deserve that.
I heard the door click shut and I brought my wide eyes to Porter.
“Ash.” His voice was eerily calm, but I could see in the set of his shoulders that he was upset. “I love you. But I can’t…I’m not doing this not knowing shit with you again.”
Oh, God.
He would leave.
He would leave me over this.
It was happening. My past finally caught up to me, and it was going to rip everything away from me.
If Porter left…
I’d lose his family.
I would lose my family.
It was too much.
I sank to my knees and my heart broke. “I’m sorry,” I whispered, bringing my hands to my face as tears came to my eyes. I had nothing else to tell him. He was leaving me.
Calloused-rough hands pulled at my wrists. I refused to raise my eyes, but I could see that Porter was kneeling in front of me now.
“How do you know Ryan?” His voice was still calm. Curious.
I had to tell him.
I had to.
But still, I couldn’t bring myself to tell him the most disgusting parts. If there was a chance I could salvage this…
I lifted my eyes to his. “He was…” I took a deep breath. “He was my last foster home’s bio kid. Biological son,” I corrected. “I just…” I swallowed hard.
I couldn’t bring myself to tell Porter. I couldn’t bring myself to tell him that Ryan’s father raped me. That it was Ryan’s family that made me run. Made me change my name. Made me change who I was.
I couldn’t do it.
Apparently, I wouldn’t have to though. Porter’s face softened. “And you’ve fought hard to stay away from your past.” He nodded to himself. “I get it.” His facial expression turned concerned again. “Why don’t you want us to know that, though? That he was part of your last home?”
I shook my head and gave him as much of an answer as I was willing to share. “My last home was...” I sighed and shrugged. “I was ready to emancipate after being placed in that home.”
Porter frowned. “Did they hurt you?”
I shook my head, knowing that it was a lie, but unwilling to give Porter the truth. “Fifteen years in the system, Porter, and I needed to be out.”
“Are you going to be okay with Ryan around?” Porter’s brows were up and the concern was written all over his face.
I was going to have to be okay with it. I wasn’t about to take Mykaela’s happiness from her.
God, I hoped he wasn’t using her to get to me.
To find me, and to tell his father…
“I’ll be okay.”
That night, long after Porter fell asleep, I finally opened the text from Mykaela I received earlier. I knew when I received it, that it was from Ryan, as the preview clearly stated, “It’s Ryan.” I didn’t know what he had to say, and quite frankly, I was afraid of what he had to say.
I looked over, double-checking that Porter was asleep. Per his usual, he was on his stomach and his face was in my direction. His eyes were closed, his face relaxed, and his mouth open just slightly.
He was out.
I opened the text.
My mom left him shortly after you left. We do not blame you, mom or me. But he has a trial coming up and your testimony is important. I know you want to pretend nothing happened but I know it did. It happened. Tell your story.
My heart was thumping hard against the cage of my chest.
I deleted the message and turned off my phone.
Tell your story.
That would mean having to own up to everything.
My testimony wasn’t important. It would damn me before it would damn Ryan’s father.
I couldn’t say anything.
I shouldn’t say anything…
I wouldn’t say anything.
These last few months had been good. The first of the year brought some strain between Asher and me, but I refused to let her push me away.
I understood her needing to keep her past in the past. It just took some time convincing her of it.
By Valentine’s Day, everything was back to normal between us. We were ‘us’ again.
By the end of hockey season, I was counting down the days until she was taking my name.
I wasn’t even all that upset about the Rockets not making it out of conference during post-season. I wanted to spend as much time as possible with my soon-to-be-wife.
Everything was set. This coming weekend, Asher and I would get married up at the lake house. Logan was my best man, and Carter was going to be Ash’s maid of honor.
I hated leaving Asher up in Wisconsin, but I had three days of camp I had to get through before an extended weekend. We were planning on taking a honeymoon later in the year because timing just didn’t allow it right now.
As it was, I would fly back to Wisconsin in three days’ time. Marry Asher on day four. Spend the weekend making love to her. And she and I would fly back down to South Carolina, where I was going to present to her a wedding gift—
The signed deed to the house.
I talked to our landlord about buying the property from her a few months back and she, surprisingly, agreed. I couldn’t fucking wait to share the news with Asher.
My current contract was going to be up after this season, but Avery, as my agent, assured me that there was talks about re-signing me to another five-year lucrative deal. Ash and I could continue to make Charleston home.
Until then, I just needed to get through camp.
“Again.” Coach’s voice echoed through the public rink. We started training camp every season at an ice rink in one of the local malls. The stands were littered with fans, hoping to catch sight of the next-big thing.
The sounds of sticks and skates against the new ice was a balm to my soul.
I loved offseason. But I loved hockey season more.
Everything about it brought peace to me.
All fifty guys on ice raced from the goalie line to blue line, to goalie line, to central line and back.
Nico and I always made a game out of it, competitive bastards that we were. There was a new kid on ice who kept up with the two of us.
I wouldn’t be surprised if he made roster out of camp.
The first day at camp was about speed and agility. We’d be broken off into three groups before today’s session was through—black, gray, and yellow. This would be our group throughout the rest of camp, and our team when scrimmaging.
Coach whistled and everyone moved from the goalie line to where he stood, the far blue line. Some guys took a knee on the ice. I stayed in the back, standing and leaning on my stick.
He held up a white board and explained our next drill. For the veterans of the team, it was a drill we knew well.
It was a drill that we utilized in play often.
“Okay, forwards, split off in three groups. I don’t care if you normally play center, that does not mean you need to put yourself in the middle group. We need wingers. D-men, separate in two groups.” Coach put his board down. “Let’s go!”
Everyone hustled to move but before I could push off, Coach called my name. “Prescott.”
I moved toward him, sliding to a stop on one skate. “Yeah, Coach?”
“You’re in the running for Captain this season. Prove you want it.”
I couldn’t give him words fast enough; he pushed off on his own skates before I could.
With a grin to myself, I followed behind.
This year was going to be so fucking great.
Day one at camp always felt long.
Exciting, but long.
It was the getting back on your skates, gett
ing back with the team. Sometimes Coach would bring in new drills, and it was learning them.
But camp was always exciting.
Nico and I were in the weight room attached to the rink doing light cardio afterward. He was running on a treadmill—it was ‘light’ to him—and I was slowly peddling away on a bike.
Another kid was lifting, but he’d be sorry about that in the morning. He was some eighteen-year old kid, who didn’t have a clue what he was in for.
Things weren’t the same as they were in high school. After the pushing in camp, further pushing your muscles right after wasn’t the way to go on day one.
“Prescott.”
I turned my head at my name. The new assistant coach, Gonzalez—or Gonzo, as he introduced himself—walked in and waved me over.
I turned off the bike and grabbed my towel and water bottle, chugging as I walked over.
“What’s up?”
“You have a phone call. Family.”
I wiped the towel over my face. “All right.” I sighed and followed him to the makeshift office. It was probably Avery making sure my suit was ready.
Not only did she take charge in my professional career, but she pretty much planned this wedding. To hear Asher talk about it, Avery nearly had it planned before Asher could get a word in edgewise.
Gonzo left me in the room and I picked up the receiver that was lying face down on the desk. “What’s up?”
“Porter, you have to come home.” It was my dad.
I frowned. “I’ll be home in three days.” Dad knew the ins and outs of camp. He knew—
“It’s your sister and Asher. They’re gone.”
“Gone?” I frowned, moving to rest a hip against the desk. “What do you mean, gone?” Asher was fucking excited about this wedding. Where would they have left to? Surely, he didn’t mean Asher was leaving me. The thought was fucking absurd.
“Porter,” Dad said. He was using his voice of reason with me. “This isn’t something to be said over the phone. You need to come home.”
Suddenly the gravity of it all hit me in the chest. “Dad, what’s wrong? What happened?”
“Porter.”
“Where are they?” My voice raised with the growing panic in my body.
Dad was silent. He didn’t want to tell me over the phone. What the hell happened that he couldn’t say over the phone? What was going on?