For Pucking Keeps: A Hockey Romance (The Seattle Vipers Series Book 1)

19. Jaz

NINETEEN

“Ilove you.”

I let the words spin around in my head on repeat. Over and over, a merry-go-round, spinning violently. I am barely hanging on, even as Tor fucks me twice more, ripping orgasms out of me like a man possessed. The words taunt me as we shower later, me on my knees, deep throating his dick, swallowing the last dregs of his energy. Even as he holds me close and we both drift off sleepily together, Tor’s confession of love is a haunting whisper in the quiet hours of the morning, and the source of my panic. I lay beside him, as still as I can be, until his breathing deepens brushing the back of my neck like tiny kisses. Hockey players are insatiable, and after almost two weeks away from me this series, we both missed each other. I should be cuddling into his warmth, letting sleep claim me, but I can’t.

Moving as slowly as I can, I slide out from underneath his arm and leave the bed. Tor shifts and pulls my pillow towards him, tucking it in beside him. I can’t help my smile at the gesture. When he tells me he doesn’t want to be without me, it’s adorable moments like this where I know he’s given me another one of his truths.

Truths.I shudder inwardly, hugging my arms around myself, my heart heavy, guilty. I feel too exposed. Keeping my steps light I make my way to his walk-in closet. In the center aisle, I pull open his well-organized drawers, foregoing my own clothes I opt for one of his oversized t-shirts instead. I may feel wretched, but I still need to have him close to me as well. I inhale his scent, vetiver and musk, masculine and strong, so Tor. Pulling the shirt over my head, I smooth it down my body and make my way back to the room, crossing to my small desk near the wall of windows. A small smile of appreciation graces my lips as I spot my laptop ready and waiting. I look over my shoulder at Tor’s sleeping form and my stomach flips, butterflies dance a jig of excitement. The excitement of knowing without a shadow of doubt the depth of my feelings, the same love he professed, resides within me for him. I love him just as fiercely. I keep my eyes on him, until the butterflies turn into pains of nervous energy, that send me spiraling.

I flop down in my chair and open my laptop. The screen comes to life, the words of my manuscript pop into view. I silently berate myself for not shutting down the program I’m using, regardless of the document saving on its own.Hey, you can never be too careful. I read over what I wrote the night before and I close my eyes, trying to push the feelings of shame and regret down, remembering the moment between Tor and me like it was yesterday. This particular chapter is about the morning we spent at Pike’s Place Market, getting lost amongst the tourists, just the two of us. It is one of my favorite memories, good food, laughter, shared kisses, and not having any concern about who snapped pictures of us. It was the first time he slept over at my house. I documented it all, the intimacy, the words of affection, and my growing feelings. I wrote about the next morning when I found him in my writing cave and freaked out. I denied him a chance to read what I’d written so far. I told him I didn’t like people reading what I wrote until it was perfect.

I lied. I fucking lied and it’s all here in these pages. I wrote about his disappointment, and how thoroughly he kissed me, and how he told me he understood. He understood. I wanted to tell him everything right then and there. I could have walked him through it all and maybe, just maybe, he would have truly understood.

There is no going back though. I’ve reached the point of no return. With every chapter I send to Jules, every edit and rewrite, I am falling deeper and deeper down the rabbit hole. Julia, my editors, all love the story, and they are encouraging me to keep going, all of them aware of the personal nature of every word. The pressure to meet my deadline after months of writer’s block is the only thing that is pushing me to keep my mouth shut.

“Fuck,” I whisper, feeling sick. I drop my head in my hands. Tor has only asked me for honesty, that’s all, nothing more, just my truth. I’ve failed him, and he will see this as betrayal. I’ve held nothing back. We’ve only been together for three months, three wonderful, unbelievably magical months, and I’ve put it all in my book. Yes, the names have changed, the city and hockey team are different, but it won’t matter to him. He will see only our journey together on every page. How is what I’m doing any better than what Shaun did to me? I feel like a cheat. It’s why I couldn’t say the words back to him last night. Even when I wanted to shout my declaration from the rooftops. I love Torrance Bailey, but my love feels tainted, because when he finds out what I’ve done. . .he won’t believe me.

Or will he? Am I reading too much into the situation? It’s just a story, a narrative about two people who fell in love at first sight. Fiction. It’s my duty as a romance writer to explore this trope. But this isn”t just a trope, it’s my real life. I am experiencing something not many people can say they had the chance to experience. People don’t believe it’s possible, yet, I am living it, feeling it grow and blossom every minute of every day I am in Tor’s presence.

A window pops up on the screen. I already know it’s Julia, she’s someone I could set my watch by. She’s probably already in her office, cup of coffee in hand, with my latest chapters in front of her.

I type out the customary message, “You work too hard.” Waiting for her reply my knee bounces nervously. The rising panic I felt earlier returns. Tor’s words echo in the back of my mind. “I love you.” Three words hold so much weight, crushing my chest, making it hard to breathe.

I rub my chest to ease the phantom ache, watching the dots dancing along the screen. My thoughts catapult me back to months ago when I sat in my office. This moment feels eerily similar to waiting for Shaun’s reply that never came.

Anxiety churned in my gut as I drove through the night, the heavy rain made it harder to see.The roads were starting to flood.It seemed everyone had the same idea to rush home.

When Shaun hadn”t answered my messages earlier, I hadn”t been able to stop the feeling of unease in the pit of my stomach. Dinner. We were supposed to have a nice quiet night out. Shaun’s suggestion, he”d said we needed a night out to reconnect. He”d missed me, even though I came home to him every night.

“You can take a night off from writing surely, Alexis. I love you,” he’d stated, gripping my hands with so much sincerity I couldn’t say no.

But he didn’t answer. When I’d called the restaurant to tell them I was on my way, the receptionist told me he wasn’t there. So, there I was, rushing home, thinking the worst.

I knew wedding planning had been stressful. I hadn”t been the easiest to get along with lately, but I had been as present as I could be. Our relationship had been a bit strained, but Shaun loved me, and I loved him. He encouraged me and supported my work. I reminded myself of this every time doubt crept in, when I worried if marrying him was the right thing to do. I was lucky to have him. He’d been with me from the beginning of my writing career, our relationship had morphed from friendship to love slowly, our love took time to flourish; easy, convenient.

A horn honked loudly, pulling me from my thoughts and I quickly changed lanes to allow the impatient driver to pass. “Call Shaun,” I ordered my phone. The phone began to ring as the road to my neighborhood came into view. The phone rang and rang, only to go to his voicemail. Dread coiled in my belly as I thought about all the reasons why he wasn”t answering. When had he ever ignored my phone calls? In fact, I was the one who got the third degree when I didn”t pick up his calls. I got so lost in my writing that everything around me faded into the background until I could come up for air. I realized then I might lose him if I didn”t devote more time to him. Maybe I’d write less after we married. Even as I thought it, I wondered if I was compromising too much.

Pulling into the driveway, I parked behind Shaun’s car. “Oh, thank God,” I said to myself, my relief and worry eased.

I rushed up the path to the front door, stopping short when I saw Mace’s car parked on the road across the street. Thunder boomed and lightning streaked across the sky ominously and I hurried up the walkway to get out of the downpour. I didn”t question why Mace was here, my best friend was always around. I”d just talked to him earlier this morning as he asked me my plans for the day. Then we”d made plans to have coffee tomorrow morning to catch up with Julia, like we always did. But had I missed him telling me he was going to stop by tonight? I went over my conversation with him in my head as I entered the house, dropped my things and went in search of Shaun and Mace.

“Hey, Shaun. Did the weather make you decide on not going out?” I asked as I made my way through our home, bypassing the front living room, aiming towards the kitchen. That was what I did. I’d talk to him, and normally he would appear, always present, hearing my voice ring out through the house with my ramblings of the day.

But he didn”t come out to greet me. Neither did Mace. When I entered, the kitchen was dark and empty, with only Shaun’s car keys on the counter. Pausing, I listened for voices, but I couldn”t hear anything, especially from this part of the house.

“Shaun!” I called his name once more, continuing my rant. “I was so worried I rushed home as soon as I could. I mean, you know how my thoughts spiral. I was thinking the worst. Oh yeah. My sisters called, but I won’t talk about the wedding tonight.” I kept talking as I removed my shoes, leaving them under the stairs as I made my way up to the second floor. “It’s been the longest day of edits.” I sighed. “Did I mention I hate editing. I may need you to check my work. I’m absolutely going cross eyed,” I said as grunts and moans echoed down the hall. My steps slowed, the pit in my stomach returned, bile rising in the back of my throat as I stepped closer and closer to our bedroom door.

“Oh fuck, Mace. That’s right baby, fuck my ass!” Shaun’s voice was lustful, pleading, his pleasured moans made tears spring to my eyes.

I already knew what lay in wait for me but like a moth to a flame, I fluttered along to my death, the burn inevitable.

“This ass is mine!” Mace shouted. “Say it, Shaun. Who do you belong to?” he demanded. The sound of skin slapping skin combined with the thumping sound of our headboard hitting the wall felt like a smack to my face.

“I’m yours, Mace. Only yours.” Shaun’s muffled words were the final nail in the coffin of everything I thought I knew. I flung the bedroom door open, my eyes burned as I fought back tears, because I would be damned if they got to see them fall.

Mace’s ass came into view, his legs spread wide, muscles flexing as he thrust wildly into Shaun. I felt like I was having an out-of-body experience as I saw Shaun clutching the sheets, body bent like a pretzel as he writhed beneath my best friend.

The sound of the message popping up on the screen, brings my thoughts back to the present. The surprise and shock of that night fades fast as I scan Julia’s message.

Julia: I only work hard for you. But enough about me. I have good news. In fact, excellent news to share this bright and early morning. You, my dear friend, Alexis, well, Jaz, have been nominated for the Lit! Award for your last book. The best news, the ceremony will be held in Seattle, so you don’t even have to travel. You can take your arm candy with you and make all the nerds jealous. I will even get a chance to meet him.

I sit back in my chair, floored with disbelief. I should be jumping for joy, maybe a silent victory dance so I won’t wake Tor. But I don’t have the heart to celebrate. A Lit! Award is prestigious, especially for a Romance author. I am honored, and if Tor doesn’t have a game, I know he will be beside me. That’s not a worry. What does worry my already worried mind though?—

Me: Shaun? Mace? Tell me they won’t be there Julia.

The dots dance, then stop, then dance again, and that same sense of dread I felt all those months ago comes rushing back.

Julia: He received an invite. Remember he did edit the book, Lex. He feels he has every right to be there. Mace has said it would be a good chance to clear the air.

Me: I don’t want to clear the air, Jules. I’d rather not attend if they will be there.

Julia: Don’t be ridiculous. This is your night. Don’t let them ruin it. Plus you’ve moved on. If you don’t want to talk to them, you don’t have to.

Me: I don’t need this on top of everything else.

Julia: You’re still feeling guilty, aren’t you? I don’t see anything wrong with what you’ve written. So what if it’s more autobiographical than not. Your readers won’t know.

Me: But I will. Besides, Tor won’t see it that way.

Julia: Listen, as a friend I get it. As your publisher, this is business. You can’t pull the book. You have no time to rewrite it. This is happening, accept it. Tell him, get it over with. Make him understand.

Me: I don’t think he will understand. I don’t want to lose him.

Julia: If he loves you. . .

Me: He does. . .

Julia: Shit.

Me: Yep. I’m screwed because I love him too.

Julia: Damn.

Me: Tell me about it.