by Grey, S. R.
We look at each other, and then we both lose it.
On our way out of the movie complex, we see the outraged couple standing by the exit doors. It’s the only way out, so we have to head that way.
“Should we tell them the truth?” Lainey whispers as we near the exit.
“Nah, let’s leave them fully immersed in their freak-out.”
“Ooh, are you sure? ’Cause if you are, I have an even better idea.”
Lainey shoots me a mischievous grin, and I say, “Uh-oh, what are you planning?”
She takes my hand. “Just roll with it, okay?”
“I can do that.”
And I can, as I’m liking that her hand’s in mine.
We start to pass the couple, and in a loud and crystal clear voice, Lainey says, “You are such a sweet brother. And so deliciously hot too. I hope Mom and Dad never figure out what we’re up to because I don’t think I could ever stop.”
The couple gasps, and Lainey winks at them.
And then she says to the twosome, “Isn’t it great that what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas?”
She drops my hand and grabs my ass, and the couple scurries off like the place is on fire.
Fuck me. Even though this is all for show, I swear in that moment I fall a little harder for my pretend “sister” and real-life “friend.”
The Truth, At Last
Nolan and I leave the poor couple, probably damaged for life, scurrying across the cineplex parking lot to get as far away from us as they can. We can’t help but laugh all the way to his SUV.
“You are twisted, but I love it,” Nolan tells me.
“I’m sure they’ll figure it out,” I reply.
He nods. “Yeah, all they have to do is look up my bio. They’ll see all my sisters are way older. And none of them look like you.”
“It was fun though, right?”
“It sure was.”
I look over at him as we approach his vehicle. I can tell he’d like to put his arm around me again, or even maybe hold my hand. But now that we’re out of sight of the couple, all touching has stopped. We’re back to being reserved around each other. With no scary movie as an excuse to get close, and no more gawking couples to shock, we have no choice but to behave.
I shouldn’t have grabbed his ass, it makes behaving now a challenge. His glutes felt so solid, reminding me of how they feel sans pants—or, better still, when I reach down and feel his firm ass as he pounds into me.
We start home, and I watch him surreptitiously as he drives us to our separate houses. At one point I let out a little sigh, thinking, why must he exude sex all the time? Like now, as the muscles in his powerful legs bunch up under his dark pants when he shifts gears. God, I love how strong hockey players’ lower bodies are. Come to think of it, their upper bodies are pretty amazing too.
“Are you all right?” Nolan asks when I let out another long sigh.
“Yes,” I reply.
But I’m not, not really.
He glances over at me when he comes to a stop sign. We share a look that says, this is how it has to be.
Nolan resumes focusing on the road as he starts moving again, but now it’s his turn to sigh.
Okay, enough awkwardness!
“So,” I begin, clearing my throat, “that movie was pretty good, especially that ending.”
Hey, I’m proud I watched it. I need to reiterate my views.
“Yeah, it was pretty decent,” he agrees. “Way better than I expected.”
We reach our gated community, and Nolan turns in. As he drives through the myriad of palm tree-lined roads, the glow from the streetlamps bathes his strong, chiseled profile in a sultry amber shade.
I sigh again, and out of the blue, I guess to make conversation, he says, “Just how much of the whole movie did you actually see, Miss Hide Your Face on my Shoulder?”
“I saw most of it, especially after—” I search for words not laden with relationship innuendo, but can’t find any, so I go with the truth. “—you made me feel safe enough to open my eyes. I watched every second after that.”
Smiling over at me, he says softly, “I’m glad I make you feel safe.”
“You know why that is, right?”
He shakes his head.
“It’s because I trust you, Nolan.”
I do. Not always in affairs of the heart, but when it comes to trust in general I know he has my back.
We reach Brent and Aubrey’s house just then, and he pulls up to the curb, looking a little tense. We both know there’s more we need to say, but not if Brent or Aubrey are around.
When Nolan sees we’re good, his shoulders relax. Running a hand down his face, he says, “I’m glad you trust me, Lainey. But I know it’s not in every way.”
I know where he’s going with this, and I’m quick to maintain, “Nolan, we need to do this friendship thing.”
“I know, I know.” He releases a pent-up breath. “I just hope someday I can earn your trust in everything.”
“What about me? Do you trust me?”
“Yes, I do.”
“Then finish telling me what you started to say that night in my bedroom. Tell me why you are the way you are, why you’re so against committing to someone.” I don’t add, like me.
“Lainey.” His voice hints at irritation, like a warning to back off. But I can’t do that, not anymore. I’m taking a stand, taking charge, like I’ve done with the friendship thing.
“We’re friends now, Nolan,” I state firmly. “And friends tell each other things.”
“I don’t,” he snaps.
“Yes, you do,” I counter. “You shared your big secret with Brent, right? Don’t even try to deny it. Aubrey told me you did.”
He rolls his eyes upon hearing that disclosure. “I swear, your sister…”
“I’m not anywhere close to being done,” I warn, “so don’t change the subject. I’m not here to talk about Aubrey.”
“Oh, come on, Lainey.”
“Seriously, what could be so damn awful that you can’t just tell me? What happened to you? Was it a woman? Did she do you wrong?”
I look over at him, and his lips are pressed together so firmly that I know I’m on the right track. I have to say, Nolan frazzled is quite a sight.
“I want to know,” I whisper, since I’m sensing he’s close to breaking and opening up. “There’s never going to be a perfect time. Just tell me this freaking secret so we can quit going around in circles.”
“You really don’t want to know,” he murmurs.
“Yes. Yes, I do.”
Leaning his head back against the rest, he coughs out a humorless laugh. When it’s clear he’s actually not going to say anything more on the subject unless I push it, I let my frustration be known.
“What the hell?” I throw up my hands. “Are you hiding some secret love child or something?”
That makes him laugh. “No, it’s nothing like that.”
“Were you once in prison?”
“Hardly,” he scoffs.
“Okay, you had a drug problem then?”
“Nope, that was never my scene.”
“Well,” I continue, almost out of ideas, “what could it be? It’s not like you were married once or something.”
Silence.
Oh, shit. “Nolan?”
He stares out the side window, his face averted so I can’t see his expression. But still, I know right then and there that I just hit the freaking nail on the head.
“You were, weren’t you?” I say softly. “You were married once.”
“Yes,” he replies, the s trailing off, making him sound sad. Not sad as in wanting his marriage back, but sad as in he failed. “It was a long, long time ago, Lainey.”
Wow, I never expected this. “You’re only twenty-six. How long ago could it have been?”
“Many years ago,” he replies. “I was barely eighteen at the time, and so was she. It didn’t last long, only a couple of months.”
&
nbsp; Quietly, so as not to spook this very private man who’s finally opening up to me, I say, “Can I ask what happened?”
He tells me everything then, how he was young and naïve and thought he was madly in love.
“I was a much more trusting person back then,” he says.
I scoff, and he lets out a chuckle. “Hard to believe, I know.”
“It is a little tough to imagine,” I admit.
“I was very different from how I am now.”
We look at each other, and I know he’s thinking the same as me—that it’s sad when part of your heart dies.
“Anyway,” he goes on, looking away, “she took advantage of all that misplaced trust. She cheated on me with so many fucking men it was almost laughable. My teammates at the time were fair game for her, strangers too. Pretty much anyone with a cock, she set her sights on him.”
“How has any of this never come out?” I marvel, amazed that it hasn’t.
He explains. “At the time I’d been picked up by an NHL team, but was sent down to their minors system. This woman who became my wife was with me through all that. She kept telling me she was sure I was good enough that I’d get called back up soon, and every time she’d say that she’d push for us to get married.”
“She wanted a hockey player husband?”
“Very much.”
“So what happened?”
“I wanted to wait, but then…she told me she was pregnant.”
I feel sick. “Oh, God. What happened to the baby, Nolan?”
“There never was any baby. I found out later that she said that just to get me to commit. It worked too. We went the next day to the courthouse and got married. She didn’t care there was no fanfare. She’d landed herself a professional hockey player, and that was all that mattered. Only problem was she didn’t really love me.”
“Oh, Nolan…” I want to reach out to him, but I’m afraid, so I simply say, “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be,” he says on a sigh. “I was just so stupid back then. I believed she really loved me, even after she tricked me into marrying her. We didn’t socialize much, so no one knew we’d gotten married. She wanted it that way, claiming it was because maybe someday we’d want a big, fancy wedding, where we could invite everyone we knew. She’d say ‘why ruin it for everyone by telling them we’re already married.’”
He pauses to scrub his hands down his face, and though it was long ago, it’s clear this still hurts him.
“I later realized her wanting to keep the marriage quiet was only so she could pretend she was just some casual girlfriend of mine and thereby fuck my teammates.”
“I don’t even know what to say. That’s just horrible and disgusting.”
“It is,” he agrees. “The code is wives are usually off-limits. But girlfriends, especially casual ones, are fair game. She knew that.”
I’ve wanted to reach for him, and now I finally do. He lets me, and I lace my hand with his.
“Do you want to know how I found out what she was up to?” he asks, after a long pause.
I’m not sure I do, but it seems he wants to tell me. It’s like now that his story is out he has to share it to completion, so I whisper, “Okay.”
He squeezes my hand. “Fuck, Lainey, I couldn’t have been more naïve. So this one night, we go out drinking with some real goon that was down in the minors with me. I’m drunk as hell and the three of us end up back at our crappy little apartment. The room’s spinning so I lie down on the sofa. But before I pass out, my wife tells me she’ll see my teammate out and that she’s then going up to bed. I think nothing of it, trusting her completely. A little while later, I wake up because there’s fucking water dripping on my head.”
I give him a confused look, but I don’t think he sees. But he does continue his story…
“It was just a drop every minute or so, but by the time it woke me up my hair and that whole side of the sofa was soaking wet. I figured there must be a leak, seeing as the bathroom was right above me. I thought, ‘hey, I better go check it out.’ So I dragged my still-drunk ass up the stairs and down the hallway to the bathroom. And that’s when I heard giggling coming from the other side of the closed door.”
I squeeze his hand to let him know I’m here, and he gives me a sad smile.
“The door wasn’t even locked. I walked right in on that goon fucking my wife. He had her bent over the sink and was nailing her so hard that they’d dislodged the pipe going into the wall. That’s why water was dripping down on my head. It was leaking right through the bathroom floor and down through the living room ceiling.”
This is so, so bad. “Did you beat the hell out of the guy?” I ask.
He shakes his head slowly. “Why bother? Their backs were turned and they hadn’t even noticed me. I left the apartment that night and never went back. I started divorce proceedings the next day. And that’s when I vowed I’d never again allow myself to be put in that position.”
“So you said ‘fuck love,’” I murmur, understanding him a little better.
“I did,” he whispers.
His story is awful and humiliating, and I understand why he’s strived to keep it a secret. I’d want to hide something like that too.
“Where’s your wife now?” I ask.
“Ex-wife,” he corrects. And then he says, “Why do you want to know?”
I let out a snort. “I was thinking if she’s not too far away, maybe I can go kick her ass for you.”
That gets him to smile. “You’d have to take a couple of flights, I’m afraid. That goon she was messing around with…”
“Yeah?”
“He’s from Austria. He never made it out of the minors, and I heard he moved back there a few years ago. Guess who went with him?”
My eyes widen. “Your ex?”
“Yep, and they’re supposedly married now.”
“Nolan, I—I just don’t know what to say.”
“You don’t have to say anything, Lainey. Like I said, it was a long time ago.”
But it’s still affecting you, I want to say.
Instead, I go with “I’m sorry you were hurt. You were a young man with a trusting heart. And you’re still that same man in a lot of ways.”
“Not in the slightest.” He laughs bitterly. “I don’t trust anyone now.”
“That’s sad, Nolan.”
“Sad, but true.”
After a long pause, I say, “For the record, I’d never do anything like that to you.”
“I’d never give you a chance.”
“Wow, that’s harsh.”
“It is what it is, Lainey.”
“And therein lies our problem,” I snap.
I’m hurt by his absolute conviction to never again open himself up to the possibility of getting hurt, and I tell him as much.
When he rolls his eyes at me, I say, “That’s exactly why we’re in the friend-zone, Nolan.”
I’m more determined than ever now not to give in and sleep with him. If I do, nothing will ever change. He clearly has a long way to go to get past this level of hurt.
When he doesn’t rebut what I’ve just said, I add resignedly, “We made the right decision to just be friends.”
He gives me a curt nod. “You’re probably right.”
Reaching for the door handle, I murmur, “I should go.”
“Yeah, okay. We can talk tomorrow or something.”
I nod and step out of the SUV, feeling more dismayed than ever.
Sometimes we want the truth so badly. But often, once we get it, instead of making things more clear things are left more muddled than ever.
Coach T Will Have My Ass If That Happens
The regular season begins.
My schedule is full, but I make time to hang with Lainey. Now that she knows the truth, she’s more careful than ever to keep me at arm’s length—physically, that is. Emotionally, it’s a different story. We become closer than ever. With no relationship pressure in the way, we start to be
come actual friends. And I really love it.
I find I can talk to her about a lot of stuff—shit that goes down with the team, worries I have when I go into a scoring slump the first couple of games, and a lot of other random crap.
After going a third game without a single point, it’s Lainey who assures me that everything will be all right.
And it is. The next game I score a goal and rack up two assists.
I feel so relaxed around her these days. She never pushes anything. And apart from the incident at the cinema, she’s controlled around me. There’s no more crawling into my lap, no more lips almost brushing. It’s like now that she knows my secret, she’s backed way the fuck off.
I guess I have too, which is good in some ways, and bad in others.
It’s good that I’m behaving, since I know I could hurt her if we stepped over that line. But it’s bad in the sense that it makes her so much more of a challenge for me. And hell, I fucking thrive on challenges. I want so badly to chase her, as doing so calls to my competitive nature. That’s why I must keep things in check.
Or at least try.
But it’s really hard when she comes over to my house wearing short-shorts like she’s prone to do. She looks hot pretty much all the time, adding to the challenge. And I swear to every hockey god up there that if she wears that damn sex-me-up cocktail waitress outfit in my presence one more time, I will not be held responsible for my actions.
I better get my shit together, though, and fast. I hear her coming in downstairs. Yeah, I gave her a key to my house. Just so she can water my houseplants when the team’s on the road. Or that’s what I told her. Too bad the only houseplants I have are cacti, which don’t require all that much water.
“They still need love,” I remind myself, chuckling as I step out of the upstairs shower. Shit, I realize then maybe it’s me I’m talking about.
Dismissing that possibility as fast as I can, I grab a towel off the bar and gingerly wrap it around my waist. Stepping out into the hall, I yell down over the balcony rail, “Hey, Lainey, give me about five minutes to get dressed. Practice ran a little later than usual this morning. Coach T had us doing drills for an extra half hour, that fucker!”