by RJ Scott
“Yeah, but I keep giving in because I think if I give them money, they’ll love me as parents should.”
He teetered to the side, him and Voodoo, and lay on my chest. I got them settled perfectly, his back to my chest and the cat lying across his throat like a black mink stole with a twitchy tail.
“You and I both know that we have no control over other people.” I stroked his face, the back of my knuckles passing along his strong jaw.
“Yeah, I know.”
His weight was enjoyable. I smiled at those long legs of his dangling over the arm of the couch.
“And we can’t make our parents love us any more than we can make other people love us. It just hurts worse when it’s our family that doesn’t care because…well, they’re family.”
“Truth. I really don't need them to worry over my soul. My soul is in excellent hands. The same hands that hold my heart. Your hands.”
“I just adore you.”
He let himself melt into me. The record ended, and silence now filled our space. Even the cat had fallen still, his purrs drifting off as he slipped into a deep sleep. “You should think about talking to Mitch. He’s good. He’s really helping me.”
“I know he is.” Wow, that was curt. “I’m just not sure I’m ready to talk this all out with some stranger. I’m old and set in my ways and—”
“And making excuses.”
Smartass kids. Jess had said the same thing to me not two days ago. Actually, she’d lambasted her father and me for bottling things up or suppressing things or whatever it was that we did that she felt was detrimental to our mental health.
“Yes, I’m making excuses.” He tipped his head up and puckered his lips. I pressed my mouth to his for a moment. Voodoo reached up with an ebony paw to touch my chin.
I could imagine what the cat was thinking.
Ahem, hoomans, please do not make smooches upon each other when a perfectly good feline is willing to allow you to pay homage to his greatness with pets and kisses and a few crunchy cat treats.
Bryan chuckled softly at the cat. “I think we should get him a treat.”
“I refuse to get up and get him treats,” I said with as much false umbrage as I could muster. “I will pet his belly though.”
“Cats aren’t fond of belly rubs.”
I slipped my hand under his shirt and moved my palm in a slow way over his firm stomach.
“You are though, yeah?” I asked, my voice getting all kinds of Sam Elliott gruff and sexy. Bryan nodded as his eyes drifted shut. A rather naughty vision of my hand slithering into his pants popped to life right before the cat leaped on that hand moving under Bryan’s shirt.
Five minutes later as we were dumping peroxide on the back of my hand, I chanced a peek at Bryan fussing over the four deep holes in my skin.
“He’s sorry,” Bryan said, then placed a small, round Band-Aid to cat claw hole number one.
“He didn’t look sorry.”
“Maybe he needs another cat to play with?” Those sensual eyes of his lifted from his first aid work. I stared at him, knowing that this man could suggest we get an elephant for Voodoo to play with and I’d be out buying giant puppy piddle pads tomorrow. “You know, he’s young, and he’s got all this energy that he needs to get rid of.”
“Hmm, not unlike someone else I know.”
His gaze lit up with sexual promise. He then took an hour or so to show me just how much energy he really possessed. It was quite a lot.
The next day after the morning skate, we drove out to Hershey. Bryan had been adamant about seeing Tennant, and I was not about to deny him this…or much of anything.
The rehab facility was shiny and new, state of the art, and filled with smiling staff aiding those who had suffered terrible brain injuries down the sunny halls. Upon checking in at the visitor’s desk, we were told that we could find Tennant in the western solarium and to follow the blue line on the floor.
We passed rooms that housed swimming pools, weights, and all manner of rehab equipment. The place was spotless, the floors buffed, the walls bright white with yellow wallpaper trim up by the ceiling.
Bryan hustled along, my hand in his, until the blue line on the sparkling floor ended outside a beautiful room filled with plants and walls of glass overlooking rolling lawns. At a table by a small rock fountain sat Tennant, his mother and Max van Hellren. I had a small fan moment upon seeing the retired star player seated across a checkerboard from Ten. I’d always loved the way Max had played hockey. We made our way across the room, stepping carefully around therapists and families visiting patients. Some of the patients were working with small balls, others were writing with pencils or chalk, with others trying to pick up little things that they then had to place into containers.
Tennant glanced up when we neared the round table. He smiled widely at us. Max craned his head to see what his checkers partner was smiling at. Then he rose and took Bryan’s hand.
“Glad to see someone has decided to come out and take a turn. I’m tired of this pup whipping my ass.” Max pumped Bryan’s hand and then mine.
“He’s full…uh…full of shit,” Ten said, his voice nice and strong, if still a little slurred. “I beat him…uh…maybe…uh…twice?”
“Right. Try like five times out of seven games.” Max offered Bryan his seat, then lingered behind Mrs. Rowe, who was reading a book on an e-reader.
“Soon as Ben gets back from the manager’s office, we’re heading out. Nice to see the team keeping him in their thoughts,” Max whispered to me as Bryan set up the board for another game, Tennant’s faltering speech a sign that while the young man was better, he had a hell of a long way yet to go.
“He’s never far from our thoughts, trust me.”
Mrs. Rowe looked back at us and smiled sadly. Max patted her shoulder, then glanced up to see Ben walking toward us. I’d seen a few images of them together since Max’s retirement. Talk about the dream life. Out on a farm with rescued farm animals and small pets.
“Sorry that took so long,” Ben said after we'd been introduced. “We're hoping to set up a small animal visiting program or even have the patient's rehab feature caring for some rabbits that we've just rescued.”
“That would be amazing,” Bryan said as he waited for Ten to take a turn. It took the kid a bit of time, and you could see the frustration flaring up at his constant need to ask if he could move a certain way with no king. “Ben, you wouldn’t happen to have any cats in need of a good home, would you? Ones that get along well with other cats?”
Max’s handsome boyfriend smiled as if someone had handed him a winning lottery ticket.
“Bryan, let me tell you all about the cats we have that are looking for a good home.”
Ben pulled a chair over to sit next to Bryan, who was the very picture of innocence. Max and I exchanged glances.
“Might as well have a seat, Gatlin. This may take a while,” Max said with a knowing little wink.
I had nothing planned for the rest of the day and seeing that glow in Bryan’s gaze made the next hour talking about cats and adoption papers fly past. Sort of. Okay, not really, but if it made Bryan happy, then I’d have sat there for a month.
Epilogue
Bryan
There was no two ways about it; the kittens had taken over our lives.
“Remind me again why we took two?” Gatlin muttered as he extricated kitty claws from his neck.
“Company,” I reminded him and scooped Lemmy from Gatlin’s outstretched hands.
He shook his head when the little fur ball wriggled free and launched itself at him again, this time using his Railers’ jersey as a ladder, snagging the logo and up to his shoulder, where my number sat on the arm. Gatlin scooped him up and held him in one hand, the tiny kitten batting at his fingers. I caught the smile on his face; he could pretend he was annoyed by Lemmy and his sister, Fox, but I’d caught him sleeping on the sofa yesterday with both kittens curled on his chest and his hands reflexively and protec
tively holding them.
“C’mon little one,” he murmured and carried him through to the small utility area that we’d made kitten-friendly. Fox had found an old hockey helmet, and that’s where she slept, softly snoring and quite the opposite to Lemmy. Where Fox slept and ate and then slept again, Lemmy was a terror who wanted to get into everything.
He’d watched me in the shower from the mat, and I swear I saw intent in his eyes and made sure the glass door was firmly shut, aware that having a kitten climbing my naked body would not make the list of good things.
Finally, we could shut the door on them, and then it was time to leave for the arena. Tonight, we played Florida, and I was excited to be the starting goalie, with Jamie Rowe trying to get past me. I liked Ten’s brother a lot, same as I did Brady, but hell, I was not going to let them get a goal on me. No way.
We were halfway down the stairs when I realized I’d forgotten my lucky coin. Every hockey player has a lucky something. Mine was a coin that Daisy had given me for the bus my first day with the billet family. My new mom wanted to make sure I had enough money, but I was too shy to get on the bus and had walked. We’d won a game that night, and ever since, the coin was always with me. Stupid I know, but there you go, we all cling to things that make us feel good.
“I’ll start the car,” Gatlin said and took off down the remaining stairs. He was coming with me to the arena, had a space in the family box, and had made fast friends with Connor’s wife and kids. In fact, he was good with kids and kittens. A family man.
When I walked back into the apartment, my cell phone was ringing. I'd taken to leaving it there, noticing that the sound of it wrecked my concentration. Despite knowing that the telephone triggered memories of Aarni and the Raptors, I was still working through these issues.
I didn’t mean to look at it, but a glance at the screen and Aarni’s name appearing there was enough to knock me sideways. I fought the need to instantly answer it in case I pissed him off, and it went to voicemail. My coin was where I left it, right next to my deodorant, and I pocketed it and began to leave.
Only the cell rang again.
I picked it up, and my thumb hovered over the ”OK” to answer it. I didn’t consciously recall my thumb connecting with the button, but it did, and I heard Aarni’s voice.
“Finally you answer your damn phone,” Aarni snapped. I placed the phone on the counter and stared at it. “Bryan? Bryan!”
Stepping back and away, I couldn’t take my eyes off the damn thing.
“Bryan, are you there?”
I reached over and put the call on loudspeaker.
“I’m here,” I finally said.
“Fuck’s sake, Bryan, I’ve been trying to get hold of you.”
I hadn’t seen any missed calls, so this was only the second time he’d tried, and he was angry I hadn’t answered straight away. An apology was on the tip of my tongue, but I forced it down. I was done apologizing and worrying where he was concerned.
“What do you want?” I asked instead.
“This is stupid. You saw what happened. I didn’t deliberately hurt that asshole, but the fucking Railers won’t let it go. I made a statement. What else does everyone want?”
I stayed quiet, and that was fuel on the fire.
“Fuck’s sake, Bryan, tell your fucking asshole of a center to make a statement and get everyone off my back.”
Ah. So that was what this was about.
I felt Gatlin beside me, and he curled his hand around mine, lacing our fingers. He was everything to me, my strength, my love, my future, and I never knew I could ever love someone as deeply as I did Gatlin. I didn’t rely on him for decisions or worry about what he thought. I wasn’t scared of my own shadow when I was with him.
He made me stronger just by being in my life.
“Bryan, are you listening to me? Tell Ten to release a statement.”
Gatlin squeezed my hand, and I glanced at him, seeing the compassion and concern in his eyes.
“No.”
The word was so simple. I don’t think I’d ever said no to someone before in quite the same way, not with such utter conviction.
“Bryan—”
“No, I won't tell Ten to do anything. You threatened him and me, and you deliberately dragged him over your skate and dropped him. You wanted to hurt him, not in the heat of battle but in a deliberate way.”
“That’s fucking bullshit—”
“You deserve everything you’re getting. You’re vindictive, threatening, controlling, and playing for a team that is rotten to the core, and I swear I am done with you.”
I reached for the phone, cut him off mid-tirade, and ended the call.
Then I stood in silence for a few moments until Gatlin tugged me close and I went into his arms willingly, resting my cheek on his shoulder and inhaling the scent of him. I waited for the panic or the guilt, but instead, I felt lighter.
“I love you,” I murmured, and tightened my grip on him.
He eased me away and then used the tip of his finger to tilt my chin.
“Love you more,” he whispered. “Always.”
Then hand in hand we left for the Arena, and goddamnit, I was going to stop every shot on goal. I could feel it in my bones.
I was invincible.
THE END
Next for the Railers
Neutral Zone (Harrisburg Railers #7)
Neutral Zone is available in the next Harrisburg Railers Volume
Tennant Rowe has it all, a boyfriend he adores, a loving family, and a career on the rise. He’s sure of his place in the world, and the future can only get brighter. Then one night, in a flash of skates and sticks, life changes forever. Getting back on the ice is Ten’s priority, and experts tell him that it’s just a matter of time.
Jared watches his lover fall in more ways than one, and when tragedy strikes, even the strongest of relationships are tested. Ten is strong, but Jared has to be stronger to help the man who holds his heart. Only, he has to admit that maybe it isn’t just him who can make Ten whole again.
Jared and Ten’s love is forever, but the rocky path to the romantic Christmas Jared had planned may be hard to travel.
Neutral Zone
Volume 3 of the Harrisburg Railers Hockey Romance Series includes the following novellas:
Neutral Zone | Hat Trick | Save The Date
Meet V.L. Locey
V.L. Locey loves worn jeans, yoga, belly laughs, walking, reading and writing lusty tales, Greek mythology, the New York Rangers, comic books, and coffee.
(Not necessarily in that order.)
She shares her life with her husband, her daughter, one dog, two cats, a flock of assorted domestic fowl, and two Jersey steers.
When not writing spicy romances, she enjoys spending her day with her menagerie in the rolling hills of Pennsylvania with a cup of fresh java in hand.
vllocey.com
[email protected]
Meet RJ Scott
RJ is the author of the over one hundred published novels and discovered romance in books at a very young age. She realized that if there wasn’t romance on the page, she could create it in her head, and is a lifelong writer.
She lives and works out of her home in the beautiful English countryside, spends her spare time reading, watching films, and enjoying time with her family.
The last time she had a week’s break from writing she didn't like it one little bit and has yet to meet a bottle of wine she couldn’t defeat.
www.rjscott.co.uk | [email protected]
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