by Penny Dee
Casanova leaned closer to me. “You know, nothing good ever starts with Cowboy saying ‘I met a guy the other day’.”
Cowboy flicked him the bird. “You’re so fucking funny, Cas. Seriously. But do you want to hear my story or not, motherfucker?”
“Please, by all means, keep going.”
“So I met this guy the other day. He owns a mobile massage therapy company. Sends massage girls to you. How good is that? I can’t believe I haven’t heard of this before now.”
Casanova and I looked at each other, barely holding back our laughter.
“Cowboy, they’re called hookers and somebody did think about it, way before your friend did.”
“They’re not hookers!” Cowboy looked surprised that we would even think it. “They’re totally legit.”
“Sure. And this friend of yours, he’s totally legit, too?” Casanova asked.
Cowboy grinned. “A total stand-up guy.”
Casanova and I shared a very dubious look, while Cowboy stretched his arms above his head and yawned.
“Well, do you guys want me to organize this massage or not?” he asked, dropping his arms to rub his chest.
As I shifted on the stool my shoulder twinged and a bolt of pain shot through me. Yeah. It needed some TLC, and a massage might just be the answer.
I looked at Casanova. “What do you think?”
“Can’t hurt.” He shrugged.
I shot Cowboy a look. “Fine. Make your call. But if they turn out to be six-foot-two, hairy, lady boys I’m throat punching you.”
Cowboy threw his hands up. “Like I said, dude, it’s a totally legit business.”
I was a little nervous about who was going to turn up. But when the doorbell rang and three very professional and normal looking women turned up, I had to admit I relaxed a little. Dressed in conservative uniforms and looking every inch like the professional sports massage therapists they were, they conducted themselves less like hookers and exactly how I imagined mobile massage therapists would conduct themselves. I even felt bad for doubting Cowboy in the first place.
Cowboy, Casanova and I helped them carry in their massage tables and set them up in our bedrooms.
That should have been my first red flag.
The bedroom. Who comes to your house and massages you in your bedroom?
My therapist was called Imogen and she had a killer Ukranian accent that made every word sound sexy. She was very cute and young, and I guessed she was either a student or freshly graduated from college. She told me to strip down to nothing and then lay on the massage table. Face up.
That should have been my second red flag.
A little suspicious, I did as she told me to do and reclined back on the massage table making sure my towel covered the region of my body I didn’t want her massaging.
Because I was still a little apprehensive.
But whatever reservations I had quickly disappeared as soon she began massaging my arms, shoulders and hands. For a tiny girl she had amazing fingers. They kneaded and loosened my muscles until I was in complete submission.
Somehow I sank even lower into the massage table and drifted further and further into a relaxed, blissed-out state.
Right up until her hand brushed over my cock.
And if there was any doubt that she did it deliberately, it was pretty much confirmed when her fingers slid beneath the towel that covered my groin and grabbed onto my junk. My eyes flew open and I launched off the massage table so damn fast she yelped.
And that nice, conservative uniform she’d had on earlier? Yeah, it was gone. She was completely and utterly naked.
“What the hell? Where are your clothes?”
Imogen looked confused. “I can’t give you the type of massage you want in my uniform.”
Oh, Christ. I should’ve known.
“Honey, you should be able to wear a Hazmat suit while giving me the massage I’m looking for.”
“You don’t like it?” she asked, looking crestfallen. “Am I not pretty enough for you?”
Well, wasn’t I the biggest prick in the world? She was gorgeous. In-your-face gorgeous.
I tightened the towel around my hips.
“Doll face, you’re beautiful. Stunning. But this wasn’t what I was looking for.”
“You ordered a massage.”
“Yes.” I nodded slowly. “Just. A. Massage.”
By the look on her face I had a feeling she wasn’t used to being turned down.
“But this is what we do. This is what men want.”
I grabbed my wallet from my jeans, which were slung over the chair in the corner of the room.
“Not all men, honey,” I said. “Here, take this.” I gave her fifty dollars. I don’t know why. I guess I felt bad and that somehow fifty bucks might alleviate the inconvenience.
Inconvenience for what, I wasn’t quite sure.
I just wanted to throw money at the situation and make it go away. Then pretend like this never, ever happened.
Like, ever.
“Please, put your clothes back on and let’s call this even,” I pleaded.
Piercing blue eyes threw a thousand knives at my face before she snatched the fifty bucks from me.
“Fine,” she huffed.
I turned my back on her to let her redress with some privacy.
“You can turn around now,” she said flatly. Then muttered, “pussy.”
To say it was awkward as I loaded her massage table into the back of the car she and her friends arrived in, was an understatement.
“Ah, I suppose this is goodbye then,” I said, opening the car door for her.
Imogen climbed into the car and then closed the door behind her without a word. When I looked back she was lighting a cigarette and doing the best version of resting bitch face I’d ever seen. And, let’s face it, I’d seen a lot over the years.
As I climbed the steps to the front porch, Casanova’s therapist came stomping down the stairs with Casanova and a massage table in tow. He threw me a ‘I’m in so much trouble’ look as he rushed past me and I couldn’t help but chuckle.
Once in the safety of the kitchen I made myself a coffee and sat down at the kitchen counter. Within a few minutes Casanova came in and grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge.
“What the hell?” He took three deep gulps of water. “I should’ve known.”
I shook my head. “I’m going to kill Cowboy.”
“For a minute there I thought I was getting a really good massage. Then bam, she’s naked and climbing on the table.”
I couldn’t help but laugh. “What did you do?”
“Are you kidding me? I stopped her. Chloe would put my dick in a vise and tighten it closed if I didn’t.”
A little while later, Cowboy walked in grinning like a goddamn Cheshire cat. “Well, that was surprising.”
“I swear to God, Cowboy . . .” Casanova threw his bottle cap at him.
“Hey, I was just as surprised as you,” he said, raising his arms at his side.
I looked at Cowboy who, now that I thought about, had taken a while to emerge from his room. “Tell me you didn’t.”
He looked sheepish. And when he grinned he basically confirmed what I had already suspected—that he’d ridden the whole way into happy town.
“Well, hey!” He grinned. “I figured, why the hell not?”
“Dude, if Hookers R Us appears anywhere on my bank statement I am going to kick your ass from here to New York City,” Casanova warned him.
Cowboy winked, looking pleased with himself.
I stood up. I needed a shower and a good night’s sleep.
And to never think of this incident ever again.
* * *
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Jake
We flew back to New York for game six. The day before we were set to play at Madison Square Garden, I visited Tyler.
It was a perfect summer day. Warm. Sunny. Not a cloud in the bright blue sky. The sunlight fel
t good on my face and for some reason I felt really calm, like things might actually work out. It was the first time in a long time I’d felt that way. Good things were coming.
It was only a short walk along the cement path winding through the cemetery before I reached Tyler’s grave. I crouched down in front of the tombstone and read the words etched into the white marble.
In Loving Memory of
TYLER AMBROSE
Beloved son, husband, father & friend
Died 30 years old
Forever number 18
That was when the lump began to tighten in my throat.
I reached out and traced my finger through the one and the eight. Tyler had worn the number 18 since I could remember.
“So I know it’s been a while,” I said awkwardly to the tombstone. “I don’t know what to say to you really. Other than I’m sorry. I’ve been such an ass.” I scoffed at my words. “Jesus, buddy, I’ve been such an ass in more ways than one.”
I sighed.
“Truth is, I have no fucking idea what I’m doing. I’m supposed to lead this team into game six of the series against the Ice Cats tomorrow, and I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t fucking terrified.”
I tried to swallow the lump in my throat. Christ, I missed him.
“Jesus, I wish you were here, buddy,” I sighed, and my shoulders sagged as I ran my hand through my hair. “I’m supposed to captain this team to victory and I’m not sure I know what to do.”
“If he was alive, he’d say you’d better wipe the floor with Ayton Salazar’s face,” came a voice from behind me.
I knew the voice before I saw her. It was a voice I hadn’t heard since Tyler’s death.
I stood up and slowly turned around, and there she was . . . Kit.
Seeing her ripped the breath from my lungs and emptied my brain of every word I knew. She was the last person I expected to see, which was crazy in retrospect, because I was standing at her husband’s grave.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to sneak up on you,” she apologized.
I shifted awkwardly on my feet. Literally stunned because she was standing across from me.
“No. It’s fine, really,” I assured her.
Awkwardness stretched out between us.
“How are you?” she asked finally.
I nodded. “I’m doing okay. You?”
It was her turn to nod. “Better.” She smiled softly. “You’re looking well.”
“Thanks. You too.”
More silence and awkwardness followed. But I was so shocked to see Kit I really didn’t know what to say.
Thankfully, Kit broke the silence. “Listen, do you want to grab a cup of coffee or something? There’s a little diner just down the road.” She smiled softly. “It would be nice to talk.”
Happiness warmed me for the first time in weeks. “I’d really like that. Do you want me to drive?”
“Do you mind if we walk? It’s not far.”
“Of course.”
I watched her kneel and place the small bunch of flowers at the base of Tyler’s gravestone. She paused, staring at it for a moment, then pressed two fingers to her lips and gently touched them to her husband’s name. My heart ached and I felt an all-too-familiar twist of guilt.
Standing she smiled wistfully at me. “Shall we go?”
We walked in the warm afternoon sun, passing the fields of gravestones until we reached the wrought iron gates leading out of the grounds, and a few moments later were walking in the door of the old diner across the road. It was one of those old-style diners with checkered linoleum floors, red leather booths and a row of stools beside the counter.
As we took a seat at a booth by the window the waitress greeted her by name. “Hey, Kit. No Ruby today?”
“Hey, Viv. No, not today. She’s with her grandparents.”
“You want the usual, hon?” The waitress called Viv asked, removing a pencil and pad from her apron. When Kit nodded, Viv turned her attention to me. “What about you, handsome?”
I couldn’t help but smile. “Just coffee, thanks.”
Viv disappeared to get our orders and Kit explained, “Ruby and I come here each week after visiting Tyler’s grave. They kind of know us now.”
“How is Ruby?” It felt awkward sitting across from her but at the same time it felt like a blessing. “I bet she’s walking by now.”
“Skating.” She grinned, seemingly oblivious to the strange atmosphere between us.
“No kidding! That’s great. Tyler would be so proud.”
“I think so.”
My smile faded. “I did come to visit you when she was born.”
“I know. I saw the flowers.” Her eyes dropped to her fingers on the table in front of her. “And the letter.”
While Kit had been in surgery having her emergency C-section, I’d penned a letter to her in the waiting room. I had left it with the flowers before she woke up, knowing she hated me. Knowing she blamed me. Knowing she wouldn’t want to see me. And because I had no intention of upsetting her any more than I already had, I had left the hospital before she woke up and then left town soon after.
“It took me a long time to be able to read that letter” She raised her eyes to mine and I was shocked to see they were full of regret. “Listen, Jake, I owe you a big apology. I am so sorry. I reacted badly and said some terrible things to you.”
“Please don’t apologize to me—”
“No, let me say this. Please…” Her big eyes blinked up at me. “Everything I said about Tyler dying because of you—it wasn’t true. I was hurting. I was angry and confused. Every inch of me was consumed with grief and heartache, and wanted to know why this was happening to my family. I was looking for someone to blame because I needed to get it straight in my head. I needed for it to make sense before I could accept it. And blaming you, Jake . . . blaming you was my way of trying to make sense of it all. At least then I could say, ‘well, Jake did this. This is why Tyler died.’ But at the end of the day it was an accident. No one is to blame. It was just the way it was meant to be.”
I swallowed slowly, an odd tingle in my stomach. “Do you really believe that’s true?”
She nodded. “I know it’s true.” She reached across the table and covered my hands with hers. They were warm and gentle and my heart ached to be close to her again. To have her like me. To have her forgive me. “What happened was an accident. And that’s the plain and simple truth. Just a stupid, unfair accident.”
Relief soared through me and my face felt stiff with emotion. I exhaled deeply to fight off the unshed tears. I needed to hear that. Not from everyone else. But from her.
She squeezed my hands and when I looked at her I saw that she was crying. It was all I needed for my own tears to break loose and fall down my cheeks. I swallowed back all the emotion that had formed a giant, cold ache in my throat.
“I miss him . . .” my voice trailed off as the emotion shook my chin.
“I know you do. We all do. But he would be so proud, Jake.” She smiled through her tears. “He would be so proud of you. Look at how far you’ve come. Look at how hard you’ve worked to get through this.”
I swallowed hard and my eyes dropped to the table. I couldn’t help but frown and Kit shook my hands to get my attention.
“Hey, why do I get the feeling there is something else going on?” she asked.
When I looked at her, the softness in her face made me want to confide in her about the clusterfuck situation with Mackenzie. But I wouldn’t. Because Mackenzie was no longer an option in my life. And right now this moment wasn’t about her or the bullshit bet that broke my heart. It was about Tyler, and Kit, and me.
“We have the playoffs on Saturday. I’d forgotten how nervous I could get,” I lied. Well, half-lied. I was nervous. Actually, I was anxious as fuck.
A small smile tugged at Kit’s mouth. “I remember how nervous you and Tyler were at the last playoffs. Remember those damn playoff beards you insisted you both grow?�
�
Pain swelled in my chest at the memory. But I couldn’t help but smile through my grief. While I had no trouble growing a beard, Tyler couldn’t grow one for shit. But damn he’d been proud of that thin patchy growth of hair on his chin.
Oh, God. Was the pain ever going to subside?
“I miss him. Every damn day of my life,” I said. And I meant it more than anything. “He should be playing. He should be on the ice along side me. He should be alive.”
Fuck. More tears.
Kit nodded and then sighed. She reached into her handbag on the table and pulled out a small wad of tissue paper.
“Here.” She handed it to me. “I was hoping I would see you before the playoffs so I’ve kept this with me. I know it’s something Tyler would want you to have.”
When I unfolded the tissue paper, diamonds and gold sparkled up at me.
It was Tyler’s college hockey championship ring.
I looked at Kit. “This was his favorite.”
She laughed through a fresh wave of tears. “I know, right. I almost had to cut the damn thing off his finger to get him to wear his wedding ring instead. Crazy, stupid man.”
We had won these during our last season in college.
“I can’t—”
“Please, Jake. He would want you to wear it.” She smiled and sniffed back her tears. “Put it on a chain. Stick it in your boot. Hell, shove it down your jock strap, it doesn’t matter. Just wear it on you during the playoff, okay?”
I nodded. “Okay. Of course, I will.”
She smiled and blinked back her tears.
“Now that that soppy shit is out of the way, how about we get another cup of coffee and you can tell me all about her?” she said with a smile.
“Who?”
She gave me her don’t bullshit me, Jake Pennington look.
Christ, I had missed that.
* * *
Chapter Forty
Jake
“You’re being a pussy,” Kit said. “A whiny-ass, pasty-faced little pussy.”
Apparently, the love-fest from earlier was over.