Hot on Ice: A Hockey Romance Anthology

by Avery Flynn

  He swallowed. Nothing was ever easy when it came to him and Maisie. Today would be no different.

  “If you don’t want to start over, where do we begin?” Her words were so soft, he could barely understand them.

  But he caught the meaning loud and clear.

  “When my parents died, I wanted to forget everything here. We suffered a lot of tragedies—”

  Her head snapped up at his use of the word ‘we’ and he couldn’t resist giving her a half smile. They did share the losses, but none of the good moments in their lives for a long time. Part of him wanted to change that.

  The other part realized that erasing the past was impossible.

  “You were tied to those losses, just like we were tied to one another during our childhood.” He shrugged. “Seeing you… brings it all back.”

  By all, he meant everything. Feeling. Around her, he couldn’t help but smother in the emotions he had managed to bury for so long.

  “I figure, seeing me probably brings a lot of it back for you, too,” he finished.

  Her hand snaked out, faster than a pass on the ice, and she linked their fingers. “What you never seemed to understand was that I thought that was one of the reasons why we were so damn good together.”

  She could see him, her Ollie, in his fathomless eyes. But she didn’t know if she could reach him. Not with years between them and him still determined to keep them apart. But she had to try. He was worth it.

  He’d always been worth it.

  “I can’t look at you and not remember all of it,” he said softly. There was an edge to his voice, one so sharp and brittle, she wasn’t sure if it would cut her or break into a million pieces at her slightest move. But he hadn’t released her hand, his fingers flexing against hers.

  “Maybe you’re not supposed to forget all of it.” At his disgusted expression, she tugged his hand closer, edging a bit nearer to him on the mattress in the motion. “No, hear me out. Not everything was about that day.”

  “A lot of it was,” he pointed out. “We lost a lot of people because of that day.”

  His whole family. Most of hers. She knew that. If that day hadn’t happened, his parents would’ve come home on the weekend. His grandfather might not have had the heart attack, at least not then. His grandmother might’ve resisted the siren’s call of the bottle.

  Her brother might not have died serving his country, believing he was protecting her and all they held dear with his sacrifice.

  But those were all could’ve been scenarios. They couldn’t speculate about what would never be, and needed to focus on what was.

  “Yes, we did, but when you look at me, do you only see the bad times?” she asked.

  His soft growl made the hairs on her arms raise, but not in fear. She’d never been so aware of anyone as she was of Ollie. “You know that isn’t all I see.”

  “Do I?” she whispered.

  And just like that, he ducked his head, rubbing his nose against hers. “I see you, Maisie. I’ve always seen you.”

  His mouth touched hers, a travesty of a kiss. He pulled back too soon for it to grow into anything but the barest brush of a caress.

  She swallowed, but knew she couldn’t back down. Not when she’d gained ground. “Do you? Because if I remind you of the bad times, how come I don’t remind you of the good times? We had good times, too. You can’t have forgotten all of them because of the tragedy in our lives.”

  He shook his head, rubbing his hand across his face. “Just because I remember good times, doesn’t mean it erases the bad. Or even balances out. The bad times were really bad.”

  She bumped his shoulder with her own. “Yeah, well, the good times were pretty stellar.”

  “I don’t know how to make you understand,” he said. He sounded frustrated, and she worried he’d stop talking to her altogether. “When I said you didn’t get to forgive me, I meant it. You shouldn’t forgive me. Not for what I did or for even leading you on in the first place.”

  “Leading me on?” she practically shrieked the words, breaking the cocoon of intimacy that had wrapped around them. “You never led me on.”

  “I shouldn’t have kissed you, Maisie.”

  “Oliver Atticus Tremblay, I’ll have you know that I carefully orchestrated our first kiss. Now what do you have to say for yourself?” She blinked at him, shoving down the fresh wave of insecurities that threatened to silence her. “Besides, I’ll have you know that my brother and his best friend taught me how to defend myself, so had I not wished to be kissed, you would’ve been lying in a ball, singing soprano for a solid week.”

  He snorted, but shook his head. “How can you talk about Jay like it isn’t a big deal? Like he might walk in the room at any minute, when we both know he’s gone and we’ll never see him again?”

  She couldn’t resist her impulse any longer. She hugged him. “You silly man. They’re only gone if we forget them.”

  His ragged sigh tore at her heart. But he did something he hadn’t done for far too long.

  He hugged her back.

  When she pulled back to look at him, he looked a bit sheepish. “What?” she asked.

  “You. Always finding the bright side of things. Always looking for that silver lining. Does anything ever get you down?” He looked genuinely curious, but she knew he wouldn’t like the answer.

  So she kept it to herself.

  “I’m not all that. I’m not a hockey superstar. I didn’t just win the Cup thing.” She reached for his hand again, and this time he met her in the middle.

  “Yeah, I played hockey. You, though… I’ve heard things about what you do around town.” His brows waggled. “And I don’t just mean your short and fiery engagement a few years back with the Baxter kid.”

  Heat flooded her cheeks, and she ducked her head. “God, the gossips. Did they really spread the rumors far enough to reach your ears as you traveled around the country, playing the hockey?”

  “The hockey. That’s funny.” His laugh was true, but only a tiny fragment of how boisterous it used to be. “No, seriously…you volunteer for the Red Cross. You tutor poor readers at the school. You work at the food bank and help prepare free meals at one of the churches. All that, and you still hold down a job. Seriously, I’m awed.”

  She could tell he wasn’t lying, but it wasn’t as great as he made it sound. “Yeah, I sit at a table and sign people in for blood drives. Big deal. That’s like three hours here or there. The readers? That’s an hour a week, give or take. The food bank is also easy, I just put stuff in boxes. And the meals are a pleasure, as I get to hang out with some of the old ladies from town. Have you talked to them? They’re a hoot.”

  “Not everyone would look at volunteering with such a harsh eye. You’re making a difference, helping your causes. Just like when you were a kid.” For the first time in her experience, he mentioned the past without that sad look overtaking his expression before he shut it all down. She smiled at his progress, even if it was kind of at her expense.

  “Those things need done. And my job lets me be flexible,” she said.

  “What is your job, anyway?” He turned to face her more fully, leaning back on the head of the bed in a relaxed way. She let her eyes wander over the expanse of his chest for a second before catching herself and putting her fantasizing to an abrupt halt.

  “I make do it yourself videos for the internet,” she admitted. “And how did you hear about Evan but not what I did for a living? I’m a famous person on social media, I’ll have you know.”

  “Not for the right things,” he said with authority. “You should be famous for your heart, since it is twelve sizes too big. Always trying to save something…”

  Before he could lump himself in that category, she decided to distract him. “Evan didn’t agree. He thought I should work harder on monetizing my videos and spend less time—how did he say it? Oh, that’s right. Catering to every lost cause and saving every damn puppy between here and Texas.” She snorted.

/>   “Evan… was that the first name of the Baxter kid?” he asked.

  “Yeah,” she shrugged. “Needless to say, I’m the one who broke it off.”

  He nodded slowly, tracing his thumb across the backs of her fingers as he used to when they were together. “Good girl. You deserve someone as good as you. That said, we should go get your car off the side of the road.”

  With that, he released her fingers. He was rising to his feet when she stood, too close to him.

  “I take your abrupt change of tone to mean you think you also fall in that category? In the lump of men who aren’t good enough for me?” He was so close that her chest brushed against his as her breath heaved out.

  “That’s why you couldn’t forgive me, silly girl.” He tweaked her nose, and she scowled at him. “I didn’t deserve your forgiveness, then or now.”

  He turned away from her, but she darted in front of him. Caging him in with her body and presence since she knew he would avoid touching her after those words. “Don’t I get to decide what I deserve?”

  “Not in this,” he said.

  “I disagree,” she said. She went on her toes and caught his face in her hands. “I get to decide what I want. And I still want the same thing I did so many years ago.”

  “I can’t ask you what that is,” he whispered. “It is a bad idea.”

  “You only say that because you know what I want is you,” she said. And then she kissed him.

  9

  Present

  Ollie could’ve fended her off pretty easily, but he didn’t want to. If she was crazy enough to touch him when he was raw with needing her, with being home, with everything that meant, then he was crazy enough to kiss her back. She wasn’t a kid anymore, and he wasn’t a lost and broken boy.

  He was a man, and it seemed that he’d wanted her since before he knew what it meant to want. Her mouth on his was electric, sizzling past rational thought to bring fire to his blood and punch a fist of blatant need right to his cock. He tumbled her backwards onto the bed, bracing on his elbows above her for a second to meet her eyes.

  Before, he’d taken seeing them for granted, but he’d missed them, and so he dotted them each with a chaste kiss. He missed the way her hair never seemed to be fixed correctly, flying free in odd and unexpected ways, as if it was charged with the vibrancy of her personality.

  He’d missed the way she would sigh when he took her lips, responding as if he knew exactly how to kiss her, even if he was practically going cross-eyed with lust just being this close to her. He couldn’t think, not really, when she was in his arms. The taste of the sensitive skin behind her ear was more delicate than it was, for instance, where her shoulder curved into her collarbone, yet he considered himself an expert in the minute differences.

  But he was older, now. Wiser. Knew a bit more about women than he had as a fumbling boy. He nibbled at her lip until she copied his motion. He tweaked her nipples through the cover of her shirt and bra, pleased when the buds puckered for attention so he could find them with his hungry mouth.

  The way the fabric went transparent after his kiss, just teasing a view of the flesh they hid, had him clenching his jaw and searching for patience. If he was going to sample her, drug himself on her addictive flavor, he was doing it right.

  When her nails scraped his scalp and she released a little sigh, his leash snapped. He shoved her shirt up. Her nipple in his mouth was a new experience, but not one he’d soon forget, especially with the stuttering gasp she released in surprise.

  “Lack of lust was never our problem,” he reminded her, but she was removing his shirt. Her nails grazed his chest, scraping across his nipple until he bit back a moan of his own. “And I still haven’t said you can forgive me.”

  “I don’t need your permission to forgive you, ridiculous man.” She bit down on his shoulder, and he bucked against her, shocked to find her aggression turned him on. Her shove had him on his back, looking up at her.

  Topless, Maisie Miller was even more exquisite than she was clothed. Her lips were swollen from his kisses, her eyes half lidded, and her legs straddled his so he could easily reach her core. The entire image burned itself on his brain, and he was sure it would haunt him until the grave.

  “If you don’t need to forgive me, why have we spent all this time talking?” he asked, trying hard to keep up with the conversation while she ground her lower body against his own. The pressure and friction shot darts of pleasure through him, but it wasn’t enough.

  Then again, with her, he wasn’t sure there was such a thing as enough.

  “Because you forgot the most important thing, in all of your selfish retreating and hockey playing,” she said. She moved away from him, leaving behind air that cooled without her to warm it. When she stripped, it was hard for him to track the conversation, to remember he needed to do more than just stare at the beauty she revealed with each discarded garment. But he forced himself to focus. It was too important for him to lose sight of the goal at this point.

  “Selfish? Leaving you was selfish? Because I would argue it was the most selfless thing I’ve ever done. You don’t understand, Maisie…”

  Her eyes flashed, fiery in her fury. With one hand, she shoved him onto his back again before practically diving for his zipper. “Selfless? Is that what you told yourself? Because I needed you, idiot. And you left me behind.”

  He sighed, covering his face with his hand and letting her struggle with his pants without helping. Turned on or not, he couldn’t let that comment go. “I heard what Johnny said at the event, and I never looked at it like they did. I never realized that anyone thought I ditched you. And if jerks like him don’t see your value, it really doesn’t matter. You’re better than them, my Maisie.”

  “Lift your damn hips,” she demanded, nibbling at his waist with her tempting mouth. He couldn’t refuse her, not when she was giving him everything his perverted mind ever wanted. “That’s better,” she said, gazing at his naked body.

  “If we have sex now, it is just that. Sex. It can’t be more, not with everything between us.” Even as he said it, he heard the lie. Nothing was simple between them, nothing could be simple between them. Neither of them were wired that way, not really. Not if he was being honest.

  But she looked insecure for a second. And it carved at him as easily as his skates sliced the ice. He rubbed a hand up and down her arm, as if to soothe the sting of his words, but he didn’t dare take them back. If she left him now, it was what he deserved, after all.

  Her gaze was penetrating, seeing through all the layers he’d built to protect himself. “How do you do that?” she asked softly.

  “Do what?”

  “Say things you know you don’t mean. Stop the lies, Ollie. If you ever really loved me, stop lying to me.”

  He blinked fast, surprised to find he feared he might tear up. It wasn’t a question of if he ever loved her. It was about whether or not he ever managed to stop, really. “Fair enough,” he said.

  “So, if we do it right now—” she began.

  “If we fuck. If we have sex. We’re adults, Maisie. You can say the words.”

  She shook her head, placing one hand above his heart. She had to feel how hard it thumped. How it beat for her. “If we make love, you think it won’t mean anything?”

  Her naked body was a distraction, but not enough of one for him to resist giving her what she asked for. She wanted honesty? Fine, he’d be honest. “I couldn’t make love to you that day under the treehouse. It wouldn’t have been fair to you, as I would’ve used you. It wouldn’t have been more than me trying to feel something, to forget it all, and that wasn’t fair to you.”

  He’d kept the words inside so long, it was like cutting open an infected wound. The stink of the words oozed between them, risking the destruction everything they touched.

  But she bent at the waist and peppered kisses across his chest. “That’s love.”

  She sounded sure, so he dragged her closer. Sampled her li
ps, like a man at a buffet trying to show restraint, even though he’d been starving for years. Between kisses, he managed, “How can that be love? I left you, hurt you—”

  Her palms cupped his face, and she forced him to meet her eyes. “That’s love. It was mine to give, that distraction. You needed me to share your grief, and I was willing to do it. Hell, I shouldered as much of the burden as I could, even when you shut me out. But the part you didn’t get was that it wouldn’t have been using me. Not really. It would’ve been my pleasure to help you forget it all for a little while. That is what love is. And I don’t want your love if you think you only get to share the good days with me, Ollie. Life is too fucked up for that to work. For it to work, you have to share it all. The good days, the bad days, even the most horrible ones. Do you understand?”

  “I always wanted you safe,” he whispered. It was hard to say, but it was true. If he could keep her untainted by the darkness, if he could protect her from the bad things in life, he would, gladly.

  But maybe it wasn’t his place to protect her. Not from all of it. Because life wasn’t always pretty, and who was he to keep her from experiencing any of it?

  “And I never wanted you to be alone. Neither of us got what we wanted,” she said. Her smile was so sad, that he began to trace her face with his fingertips. Wishing he could mold her expression into something happier with nothing more than his touch. “Do me a favor, Ollie?”

  “Anything,” he said.

  “Could you notice that I’m naked now? I’m beginning to get a complex.”

  He rolled on top of her, laughing as he moved. “I thought I made it clear a long time ago that I wanted you.”

  “Not bad enough to stay.” Her soft words had him dropping his forehead to touch hers. He could tell she regretted them, but he was glad she said it. Maybe if they lanced all the old wounds, they really could have a possibility of a tomorrow.