Easy Puck

by Belle, Melissa

  “I want to support you,” she says. “However that works for you. What I don’t want is to get in the way.”

  Liam’s holding the door open for us. “Come on, you two.” He looks at Winter. “You were there for Hunt on that shitty night. And for every day after for months. In ways I couldn’t be. So don’t you think for one second that we don’t want you here.”

  Winter’s eyes soften. “Okay. Thank you, Liam.”

  Chapter 19

  Winter

  We follow the cop through the station hallway single file. Hunter and I sit on metal chairs across from Liam and Max while Jared paces between the four of us.

  “Will you sit the fuck down?” Hunter growls at Jared.

  “You know I don’t deal that way.” Jared scowls. “I need to keep moving.”

  After about ten minutes, the same cop returns. “We’re ready for you,” he says.

  Hunter leans over and kisses me briefly on the lips. “Be right back.”

  “Take care,” I tell him.

  God, that sounded stupid.

  “Good luck,” I try again.

  Still shitty as hell.

  Oh, well. He’s gone with his brothers—all four of them follow the cop down the hall and into a room.

  While I wait, I cross and then uncross my legs. I stare at the screen of my phone and realize I’m reading things and not absorbing any of it. The knots in my stomach are so intense I worry I’m going to be sick.

  This is personal for me. Mr. Storm may not have been my dad, but his death hit our entire community hard. To watch the four Storm boys become orphans was brutal. Thank God Liam had just turned eighteen and could file for custody of his brothers. The idea of them being separated gives me chills. I don’t think any of the four would have survived if they been taken from each other.

  As I continue to sit on the cold metal chair and wait, flashbacks of the night Hunter’s dad died flood my brain. And my heart.

  I was sitting cross-legged on my bed, wearing my favorite slouchy sweatshirt and worn blue jeans. I’d been staying up late all week, trying to learn my lines for our school’s rendition of Rent. The pebble—honestly, it was a rock and Hunter’s lucky the glass didn’t shatter—hitting my bedroom window startled me so much I dropped my laptop on my barefoot. While I was hobbling off my bed, another stone hit the pane. I glanced out, and thanks to my dad’s always-on security lights, I saw Hunter standing on our lawn. He was looking up at my window, and we caught eyes.

  Even through glass and from a story up, I knew something was very wrong.

  Hunter and I weren’t that couple. We didn’t go knocking on each other’s windows in the middle of the night for a romantic rendezvous. We didn’t sleep over at each other’s houses or make out for hours after dark. We hooked up when the moment presented itself, and then we walked away like it was nothing. Even though that was a lie.

  I threw my feet into my sneakers, grabbed my backpack with my keys in it, and left my room. Closing my door quietly behind me so my parents would assume I was still in my bedroom, I crept down the stairs and out the back door.

  Hunter was waiting. Leaning against the brick wall next to the door, he had his head down so that the hood of his sweatshirt blocked his profile.

  “Hey.” I reached for his arm. “What’s going on?”

  He turned toward me. His face was pale and his expression tortured.

  For the rest of my life, I knew I’d never forget the stark whiteness of his skin against his green eyes, which were filled with the kind of pain that doesn’t go away in a day. Or a year. Or a lifetime.

  Hunter’s eyes changed after his mama died when he was young. This time, though, they looked so gut-stricken I didn’t know what to do.

  “What’s wrong?” I shook his arm. “What happened?”

  “My dad.” He held up his hands.

  And that’s when I saw the blood.

  “Oh my God! Hunter!” I reached for his blood-stained hands, but he pulled them back. “Are you hurt? Should I take you to the hospital?”

  “Already been there.” His tone is a flatline when he says, “My dad was murdered.”

  I threw my arms around him, but he inched out of my hug. “Come with me to my house?” he asked me. “We had to talk to the police and give our statements, and my brothers are still at the hospital dealing with shit. I just needed…”

  Our eyes caught and held.

  I nodded. “Of course. Let’s go.”

  He’d taken a cab to my house, and he had it waiting out on the street where it couldn’t be seen. We walked across my lawn together and hopped into the cab.

  When we got to his house, the first thing I thought was how eerily quiet it was as we stepped inside the foyer.

  “Deadly silent,” Hunter said immediately.

  I jerked my head over to him. He shrugged like he was trying the words out to see how horrible they felt.

  Then, he leaned over and gagged, barely making it down the hall to the lone bathroom before he threw up in the toilet.

  I grabbed a washcloth, wet it with cool water, and put it on the back of Hunter’s neck. His hands gripped the toilet seat so hard his knuckles were white.

  “Hunt.” I ran my hand down his back. “Let’s get you into bed.”

  But he insisted on cleaning up first.

  I followed him into the bathroom and started handing him soap and a clean washcloth from the linen closet.

  “What if I can never wash off the blood?” His face was still so pale that all I could see were his green eyes glittering with grief.

  I stepped closer and took the soap from him. “We’ll get it all off. I’ll help you.”

  It took several scrubbings to fully clean his daddy’s blood off of him, and even then, we found more on his jeans.

  “Jump into the shower,” I finally said. “I’ll put a pair of your sweatpants outside the door for when you’re done.”

  I left the bathroom and rummaged through his drawer to grab his track pants. I left them outside the bathroom for him, and then I grabbed one of Hunter’s t-shirts and a pair of his shorts for myself to change into.

  When he came out, without him inviting me to stay and without me asking if I should, we climbed into his twin-sized bed together.

  I kept my back to him and as much distance between us as I could at first, not sure what he wanted from me. But when I felt the bed shake, I rolled over toward him.

  “Hunt.”

  He shifted to face me. The tears coming down his face were visible in the moonlight coming through his window.

  I didn’t know then that would be the last time I’d ever see Hunter cry about his father.

  I scooted closer so I could take him in my arms.

  His tears soaked through my t-shirt, and when he lifted his head and said so, my response was immediate.

  “You think I care about that? I care about you, Hunt. Just you.”

  Nothing had ever felt more true or more right.

  In that moment, I would have gladly given up Broadway for a shot at something real with Hunter Storm.

  His hungry lips sought mine, and we came together in a clash of pain, confusion, and grief.

  Within seconds, he’d pulled the t-shirt up and over my head. His hands cupped my bare breasts, his thumbs running over my nipples.

  “Hunter.” I bit back on a moan.

  His eyes locked with mine. “You’re so beautiful.”

  His mouth went to my neck, and he peppered me with kisses all the way to my breasts. His hands went to the top of the shorts I was wearing. He slid his fingers just inside the waistband and paused before glancing up at me.

  His dark lashes framed his emerald eyes as he silently asked me for permission.

  My breath was coming in short little gasps. I had never been naked with a boy before.

  But I wanted this. Because it was Hunter.

  I shimmied to help Hunter ease the shorts down my legs and off. And then, I was bare to him.

&nb
sp; He sucked in a breath. The rough pads of his fingers grazed the inside of my thigh…and then dragged up to my core. He brushed his index finger across me once, twice.

  I bit my lip to keep from crying out. It felt good, so good, and I closed my eyes at the intensity of the sensation.

  When I felt Hunter’s thick finger slide deeper into my wet folds, I clenched in resistance.

  I didn’t want to resist him, but I tensed as my thighs shook. God, I wanted him inside me so badly. I could hardly breathe as I bucked up into his hand between my legs.

  “Relax,” he whispered. “I’ve got you.”

  He held my legs with his other hand so I wouldn’t thrash, and I took a long, slow breath as he gently moved his finger to my opening. I let out a low moan of approval, and Hunter’s finger penetrated me.

  Oh, Jesus. “Oh my God,” I murmured as I felt him go deeper.

  The orgasm hit me hard, and waves of pleasure pulsed through me.

  I clutched at Hunter’s arm and cried out. The sensations flooding my core were brand-new to me. I touched myself sometimes. But not like this. And I had never brought myself to orgasm before.

  As I came back down to earth, Hunter kissed me. “Was that okay?” he asked.

  “More than okay. That was…like I was flying.” I rested my chin on his chest. “Can I touch you?”

  When he nodded, I reached inside his sweatpants. I widened my eyes when my hand closed around his erection.

  I ran my fist up and down the thick length, and Hunter’s eyes slammed shut.

  “Fuck, Winter. Feels so good.”

  All I wanted was to make him feel good. On a night when his entire life was blown apart with grief and pain, if I could just help him for a few minutes, maybe he’d have one good memory to help balance out the horrible ones that I knew he’d have to deal with for a long time hereafter.

  He began thrusting into my grip. I kept up my firm movement until my hand was covered in his release and my name came out a whisper on his lips.

  Before I’d even removed my hand, I felt him start to get hard again. I raised my eyes to his. Hunter’s gaze caught mine, and I knew what he wanted.

  I certainly knew what I wanted.

  God, I wanted him so much that night. I would have given him all of me if he’d asked.

  But he didn’t.

  After another hot as hell kiss and his hands cupping my breasts again, he broke away and mumbled, “Sorry,” before turning away from me.

  I understood where he was coming from. It felt like a rejection, but I didn’t even need to ask to know why he did it. He would say he pushed me away because he didn’t ever want me to feel used.

  I also knew the truth of why he wouldn’t allow himself to make love to me that night—he was terrified to open his heart again to anyone because he feared he’d lose them, too. I felt his fear when his hands shook as he ran them down my body. I felt his angst when he kissed me like I was everything and then abruptly shut down our connection.

  And I didn’t push him. How could I? I could only love him from the other side of the tiny twin bed we were sharing. I beamed as much love as I could over to him that night while he slept fitfully.

  The funeral was quick and heartbreaking. My parents went, and they did their best to be caring. But when Hunter showed up at our house that same night, they didn’t exactly roll out the red carpet for him. Not that their behavior stopped us from sleeping together.

  And when I say sleeping together, I mean that literally.

  Hunter couldn’t sleep alone for a month. So, I slept with him. Sometimes we kissed. Sometimes we did a little more. Every time, he pulled back.

  He threw himself even harder into hockey. All the Storm brothers did. And they started doing everything together. They were always tight, but now they were inseparable. And after a month of sharing the same bed, one night Hunter texted me that he was okay to sleep alone.

  You sure? I texted back.

  I’ve got my brothers here. That should be enough.

  Okay. It was the right thing to do. I knew it was. I was preparing for my future, too. I had Broadway in my sights, and getting attached to sharing a bed with Hunter wasn’t a smart idea.

  Long pause before—

  Thanks, Princess. I’ll never forget what you did for me.

  The text I sent back to him was one word that I hoped conveyed everything he meant to me.

  Anytime.

  * * *

  Hunter

  Liam goes into the room first, followed by Jared, then Max, and then me.

  The detective shuts the door and turns toward us before flicking the button to reveal the suspects.

  “You men ready?”

  The last time we did this, it was a different detective. He asked us the same thing with one distinction: “You boys ready?”

  Because we were kids then. Innocent kids who didn’t know what the fuck we were going to do without parents.

  But this time, we’re grown-ups. We’ve got houses and money and jobs. All those life things that terrified us so much ten years ago are no longer concerns. And yet, as I stand in the same room I stood in with my three brothers all those years ago, the same emotions flood me.

  Rage.

  Fear.

  Grief.

  Just proving that all the money and success and notoriety in the world can’t give us back our father.

  But possibly, the man who did take him from us is behind that window. And, maybe this time, we’ll have the chance to get justice and to close the book once and for all on what happened.

  The detective raises the partition so that we can see in but the men in the line-up can’t see out.

  They stare right at us, though, and it gives me the creeps.

  “They can’t see us,” Liam says quietly to the three of us.

  “I know,” we all say in the same quick way we answered him last time we were all here.

  I scan the line-up. I’d know the killer in my sleep. And yet, despite looking for him relentlessly, I never saw him. And the cops never found him. It was like he disappeared into the woods after shooting Dad and was never seen again.

  Until—

  “That’s him.” I point at the fourth guy from the left. “Right fucking there.”

  Liam’s next to me. His arm’s touching mine, and I feel him flinch. “Fuck, you’re right. That’s definitely him.”

  The detective whips his gaze over to us. “You’re both sure?”

  Max and Jared, in unison, bark out, “That’s the killer.”

  “See that birthmark?” I say to the detective. “It’s an exact match to what I remember seeing. The shape, the color, everything.”

  “He’s the one we had our eyes on. We’ll start by holding him for questioning,” the detective says. “He’s been on the run for years, and he’s wanted in connection with several shootings. He’s changed his ID, gone underground. He had some help hiding.”

  “From who?” Liam asks.

  “He’s a gang member.” The detective shrugs. “Their network is large and goes beyond New Orleans. He’d come into the city and then disappear again. His father’s the head of the gang, so he’s connected.”

  I stare at the guy through the glass, at the man who took my father’s life without thinking twice. A careless, cruel act that killed one man and changed the lives of his four children.

  I want to kill him myself. Because no matter how long he goes to jail for, it won’t change what he did.

  I’m done with this. With all of it.

  “I’ll meet you outside,” I tell my brothers.

  And then, I go find Winter.

  Chapter 20

  I find her waiting for me on that same uncomfortable metal chair she was sitting on when I left.

  “Hey.” I sit down next to her and take her hand.

  All I want to do right now is touch Winter. Just like that horrendous night when my father died, Winter is the only person who can calm me when I feel like I’m going to exp
lode.

  “What happened?” she asks me.

  “I ID’d him,” I tell her. “We all did.”

  Her blue eyes widen. “Seriously?”

  “Yep. They’re holding him for questioning. So I’m going to pray they can pull a confession out of him.”

  She throws her arms around my neck. “Thank God.”

  I relax into her embrace. I pretend like I’m comforting her as she cries a little into my neck and then kisses me twice on the lips. Of course, we both know that’s a lie.

  Winter’s taking care of me. She always has.

  She raises her eyebrows. “You know what your brothers are going to want to do now, right?”

  Shit. She’s right.

  * * *

  “You can still see a lot of the city,” Jared says. “They haven’t built a tall building to block the view yet.”

  Liam, Max, Jared, and Winter all crane their necks in the direction he’s pointing. I don’t bother because I’m too busy looking up at the sky. The big, orange sun is sinking below the skyline, and the view is prettier than any building.

  The five of us are sitting on the roof of my childhood home. Our legs dangle off the ledge. The roof is flat over the outdoor patio, and it’s a one-story house, so we’re only about six feet off the ground.

  Max passes me the bottle of whiskey that all of us except for Winter are sharing. I got her to take one shot, but after that, she said she’d leave the drinking to the four of us.

  “It’s so wonderful you were able to keep this house,” Winter says.

  “It is,” Max agrees. “It feels a little weird with none of us living in it.”

  Liam bought the house back from the bank as soon as he got his first paycheck after turning pro. It was his first big purchase.

  His second was to pay for his three brothers to go to college. None of us made it through four years—we all got drafted young, and we were anxious to take care of ourselves financially so Liam didn’t have to anymore.

  Liam was the only one of us who truly enjoyed studying, and I know he would have loved college. But life’s not always fair, and Liam was the oldest and the one who sacrificed so we could all get what Dad wanted for us—to play professional hockey and to excel at it.