27: Dropping the Gloves

by Mignon Mykel

  Jordan

  The last two minutes of a game were always my favorite.

  If the team was down, it was the final opportunity you had to prove yourself.

  If you were up, it was your final opportunity to play hard and show that the way you’d played during the last fifty-eight minutes wasn’t for naught.

  I was playing third-line today. Coach was still trying to keep Winski and me separated but it didn’t matter what line I was playing.

  I played the same.

  Hard.

  Fast.

  I scored when the time presented itself, or I threw my weight around when needed. Second line or third line, hell, even fourth line, I played the same.

  Right now, it was time to throw my weight around.

  Two minutes, and we were up by one.

  Two minutes was a long time in the game of hockey. Anything could happen.

  We could score.

  They could score.

  We could end up in overtime, still.

  The second line started filtering in and when Leeds drew near, I got ready to jump the boards.

  Ready to start.

  The moment my skates hit ice, I was off. My eyes scanned the area. San Jose had the puck.

  It was passed to Donaldson, who was near me. I picked up speed, and dropped my shoulder just as I was within inches.

  The solid hit sent the Plexiglas rattling, and the puck free. I reached for it with the blade of my stick, dragging it away from the boards before smacking it, sending it toward neutral zone.

  It was mass chaos, as ten men raced to the other side.

  Three players—one of ours, two of theirs—fought for the puck but I stayed back, near the line in case their two men gained possession.

  Which they did.

  I slid over, stopping the puck from crossing over. With a slapshot, I sent it right back in.

  We weren’t a scoring line.

  We were a stopping line.

  And apparently right now, we were set to stop San Jose from winning this game, because my slapshot ricocheted off Brown’s stick and slipped right through their goalie’s five-hole—right smack between the legs.

  The light went off. An insurance goal. Three-to-one, with forty seconds remaining.

  The arena erupted in cheers.

  I skated up to Brown and slapped him on the back.

  “Good shot!” he yelled and I couldn’t help but chuckle.

  “Good placement.” I slapped him on the back again and we all headed toward the bench as the announcer came over the speakers.

  “Enforcerrrr’s GOAL! Goal by Tristan Brown. Assisted by Jordan Byrd."

  Before stepping into the bench, I looked over my shoulder to where Marlo and Rori sat. Rori was in Marlo’s lap, sleeping, and it appeared that Marlo was rocking her, side-to-side, in a gentle sway. I didn’t think she would notice my glance at her, but Marlo gave me a small smile.

  One that told me there was something going on in her head.

  “Let’s go, Byrd,” our assistant coach summoned, and I snapped to it, stepping in and slamming the door shut.

  A few minutes, and I could figure out what the look was.

  And I was going to figure it out.

  The game ended not much later and, after a post-game interview, the moment I was through with a rushed shower and to my locker, I pulled out my phone, texting Marlo. Please don’t leave right away. I’d like to see you guys. I hoped she hadn’t left yet.

  I started to pull myself from my gear, all while Coach spoke from the other side of the room, mostly commendations but also a few things that we’d need to improve upon for the next game.

  Quickly, I changed into my game-day attire, forgoing my tie.

  After the whole Winski thing, I was a bit of an outsider in the locker room. For being a bunch of men, it could be pretty cliquey when the time called for it, but it made it easier to get out of there quickly.

  With my jacket over my arm and my tie in hand, I headed out of the dressing room and past the player’s lounge.

  “Good game tonight, Byrd,” Caleb said, meeting up with me near the doors. “Nice goal. Nice set up on that last one, too.”

  “They set themselves up,” I answered, by no means being modest, but stating the truth.

  “Regardless,” Caleb chuckled, “you’re playing the way you used to. It’s good to see.”

  I just nodded, not sure how to answer.

  I felt like there should be some sort of strain in our friendship. We’d been friends—hell, I’d gone to the man’s wedding—but Marlo and his wife were better friends.

  The last two weeks came and went fast, and things were starting to feel like they did before. Before the divorce. Before the trade.

  After two weeks of growing pains, things were starting to feel normal.

  There was just one thing completely missing, and I was going to work on that one.

  I was going to prove to Marlo that I was worth taking a chance on again.

  Chapter Eleven

  Marlo

  I didn’t purposely ignore Jordan’s text; I’d already been driving.

  The moment the final buzzer went off, I carried a sleeping Rori out. The arena merchant halls were packed but I remembered the best doorways to exit from, when the masses generally went for the open six-door sections on either side of the arena.

  I heard the message come through, but I tried to not look at my phone while Rori was in the car. I couldn’t say I was great about that when it was just me, but with Rori, I was much more aware. I did, however, pick it up the moment the car was stopped safely in the drive.

  Sorry, we left already. Rori was out.

  His reply was nearly immediate. Can I come over?

  I took a deep breath, held it, then let it out slowly.

  Could he come over?

  You decided that nothing could happen, I reminded myself.

  Taking a moment to think about it, I tossed my phone into my purse and got out, moving to lift a still-sleeping Rori. Carefully, I made my way over the lawn and up the porch steps without jostling her too much, and after a good lean and body-weight exchange, got the door unlocked.

  I mindlessly dropped my purse to the floor after closing the front door, and went to put Rori to bed.

  Not a peep. Not a stir.

  The girl slept like a rock, even through a pajama change.

  With a parting kiss to her forehead, I quietly left Rori’s room and immediately, my thoughts went to Jordan’s text.

  I walked toward my purse, all while gnawing on my bottom lip. He shouldn’t.

  But you want him to.

  I did.

  God, I did.

  I missed him.

  I missed us.

  I missed who I was with him, although who I was now was pretty freaking awesome. I found myself over the last five years, and I wasn’t too sure I would have without the divorce.

  Sometimes you had to hit rock bottom to stand taller than you ever have before.

  That was my truth.

  Rori, sleeping in her room, was my truth.

  The business I started for myself, was my truth.

  I, Marlo Grace Byrd, was my own person.

  …Even though I still wore his name, but that was for Rori.

  Everything is for Rori, I reminded myself, yet another reason why, NO! He shouldn’t come over.

  I knew what would happen if he did.

  I was weak to him. I’d bend.

  And eventually, I would break.

  Because he broke me once before.

  Kneeling by the door, I picked up my purse and pulled my phone out. Standing, I opened my text messages, just as another from Jordan came through. Please?

  God, I was a sucker for ‘please.’

  I could hear him saying it.

  My big mountain of a man, whose green eyes had the ability to pull me in and down.

  Not yours.

  God, I was so confused.

  Instead of replying to
Jordan, I opened my text conversation with Trevor.

  Talk me out of letting Jordan come over.

  I stared at my phone, waiting for his reply. Hoping for his reply. But at the same time, hoping that he wouldn’t reply.

  I wasn’t prepared for him to call.

  With a grimace, I slid the answering bar over, at once hearing the noise of his car.

  “Please tell me you haven’t been hanging out with him.”

  I moved to the couch, collapsing and closing my eyes. “Yes and no,” I admitted. “After he dropped off Rori on Saturday, he stayed for dinner.”

  “Marlo.”

  “Trevor.” I opened my eyes, staring ahead of me, remembering Saturday night. “It was a good night, Trev,” I said softly. “I’m so confused.”

  “Yeah, because he divorced you, Marlo.” His voice was frustrated but also concerned. “It’s one thing to be friends because of Rori, but Marlo…”

  I waited for him to finish his thought, while chewing on my bottom lip.

  “It’s been two weeks, Lo.”

  “I know.”

  “You’re a grown woman. I can’t tell you what to do, but I don’t think it’s smart to jump into something with him. Not now. Not after everything.”

  “I’m being stupid,” I said on a wince.

  “No, I didn’t say that. I know that he was your family then. I know Jordan was a lot more than just your husband, but you guys divorced for a reason.”

  “It wasn’t my choice,” I argued, even though I knew it was stupid to. It may not have been my choice, but it wouldn’t be smart to jump headfirst into something with Jordan.

  “No, but look at his track record, Marlo. You’ll make the best decision for you; I can’t make it for you.”

  I sighed heavily, rolling my head against the back of the couch with my eyes on the ceiling. “Yeah.”

  “Not the answer you were looking for.”

  “No, actually, it was. I needed your voice of reason.”

  “Like I said, you’ll do what’s best for you and Rori. Whatever it ends up being.”

  “Thank you.”

  “No problem. That’s what I’m here for.” There was a small chuckle on the end of his words, and I smiled in response.

  “So, what’s the deal with you and Jenna’s sister?” I asked, needing to keep him on the line a little longer.

  A little more time to ignore Jordan’s text.

  “You never told me her name,” I added.

  “Her name’s Callie.”

  I waited for him to say more, but all that filled the line was the road noise.

  “You know, you’re not very good about giving information,” I teased.

  A single deep chuckle escaped. “We did dinner. It was good. Then we did a movie. It was good.”

  “And…?”

  “And…” I could imagine the man shrugging. “I might be seeing her again tonight.”

  “Exciting.” Leave it to Trevor to get me smiling again. “I’m guessing maybe you’re heading there now, so I’ll let you go.”

  “I’ll talk to you later, Lo. And about Jordan?”

  I swallowed, but said nothing.

  “You’re not stupid for questioning things. Just be smart and cautious.”

  “I will.”

  After goodbyes, I pulled up Jordan’s message but before I could respond, there was a knock at the door.

  My heart began to race.

  I knew who it was without looking.

  I looked up and took a deep breath.

  Before I could let it out, he knocked again. “Coming.” I stood and walked to the door.

  Be strong. Be strong, Marlo. Hold your ground.

  I opened it, biting on my lip, and looked up…

  He still does it for you, my subconscious pleaded.

  He was in his dress slacks and dress shirt, the sleeves rolled up and showing off the corded beauty that were his forearms. The top buttons of his shirt were unbuttoned, just enough to show the top sprinkle of chest hair. Further up, his jaw was squared, tight.

  His lips, a straight line.

  His nostrils flared in the way they used to when he was aroused.

  His eyes were focused on me, waiting for mine to meet his.

  “Hi.” My word came out soft.

  Breathy.

  Needy.

  “You didn’t answer.”

  “I had to put Rori to bed.”

  We stared a moment longer and I watched as his jaw worked.

  “Can I—”

  No. “Yes.”

  So much for strength.

  I stepped away from the door to allow Jordan room, reaching around him to shut it after he cleared the way.

  Before I could move, before I could try and offer him something, his arm was hooking around my waist, pulling me to him, and his mouth was on mine.

  I didn’t stop him. I didn’t want to stop him.

  I flattened my palms to his chest, reveling in the strength under them.

  His mouth took complete possession of mine.

  We stood in the makeshift foyer of my little beach cottage, and made out like the rowdy teenagers we once were.

  Everything I knew about kissing, I learned from him. I experienced with him.

  Because even in my attempt to date, nothing more than a chaste kiss on the cheek ever happened.

  My lips were for Jordan alone.

  My tongue, his to battle, to possess.

  …And even though I hadn’t been holding out for him to come back, it hurt knowing that it wasn’t the same for him.

  It hurt enough for me to pull my mouth from his. He gazed down at me, his eyes heavily lidded; his mouth, like mine, parted.

  Both of us breathing heavily.

  “I didn’t come here for this. I swear,” Jordan finally broke the silence.

  “I’m being a broken record,” I whispered, swallowing hard, “but we really shouldn’t do this.”

  “We’re different, Mar. I’m different. I miss you.” He squeezed me to him. “I fucking miss us.”

  The truth was, I did too.

  Don’t be stupid, Marlo.

  Don’t do it.

  Don’t be that girl.

  Don’t give in.

  Don’t…

  I pulled his face back down to mine, and silenced the angel on my shoulder, giving in to the devil.

  Jordan

  With her mouth on mine, Marlo took absolute control of the kiss. Her lips moved over mine with purpose. Then, she was breaking it off again but before I could convince myself to stop this, she took my hand and was leading me across the small house and toward her room.

  Like I told her, knowing she was at the game earlier did things to me. It made me proud. Proud to play. Proud to have my own little cheering section, even if the smallest had fallen fast asleep.

  The excitement I felt during the game today rivaled no other.

  At least, not since ‘before.’

  I played some pretty damn good games over the last five years, but none hit the full emotional cusp that tonight’s did.

  After, I just needed to see her.

  When she didn’t answer my text, I had a moment of panic—were we going back to the way things were? I didn’t want to believe it.

  So I didn’t give myself the chance to.

  I just drove here, with the end goal to see Marlo.

  I just needed to see her.

  But then she opened the door, looked up at me biting that lip of hers, and I was a goner.

  I had to have her.

  I didn’t expect the kiss. I didn’t come here expecting to take her to bed. And if I was a better man, I’d walk away.

  But I wasn’t.

  I missed Marlo in every way possible and if she was giving me the ‘go’ sign, I was taking it.

  Bastard, I may be.

  In her room, I shut the door behind me quietly, fumbling blindly with the lock while Marlo brought our mouths back together.

  She had comple
te control right now. I hadn’t decided yet if I’d take it back or not.

  With the door safely locked, I walked us toward her bed. Before any words could be exchanged, Marlo started peeling herself from her clothes.

  Needing to keep up, I did the same.

  It was only when I was down to skin that I realized she’d kept on her bra and panties.

  “You taking those off?”

  She watched me, not saying a word.

  “Am I taking them off?” I asked instead.

  “My boobs aren’t the same. And my butt is dimply.”

  I lifted a brow. “So?”

  Her throat worked as she swallowed hard. “I’m not… I don’t look like I did, and I certainly don’t look like the women you’ve taken to bed last,” she finally said, chin held high, with a challenge in her eyes.

  “Marlo,” I said, drawing her name out. “It’s you that I want.”

  If I had one truth to give, it would be that.

  She licked her lips and I felt as my cock jerked up, hitting my stomach. Marlo dropped her eyes and when she clenched her jaw, I had to wonder what she was thinking.

  “Lay down,” she demanded.

  With my brows raised, I did as she asked. I lay back on her bed with my legs slightly spread, my cock pointing toward the ceiling.

  I could grab my cock, hold it tight, and start to rub one out, but I was more excited for the feel of Marlo than I was for the idea of getting off.

  I watched as she moved to her dresser, opening the top drawer. I could hear as she ripped something and soon she was walking back to the bed.

  She tossed a condom packed at me, and it landed on my stomach.

  “Put it on.”

  “Yes, ma’am." I ripped the packed open and sheathed myself, trying not to think about the fact that Marlo had a stash of condoms.

  Did you think you were the only one having sex? That she would be celibate after divorce?

  My thoughts were cut off when she lowered her panties and moved to kneel on the bed. My hands were now on the comforter at my sides and I ached to reach out for her.

  So I did.

  But she held a hand out. “Don’t.”

  Her eyes were locked on mine and we stared at one another for a long moment before she finished moving.

  She positioned herself over me…but facing away.

  I had her back.

  “I want—”

  My words were cut off when she angled my cock down and positioned the head at her opening.