Chapter 18 A Rock Star in the Shadows
A ROCK STAR IN THE SHADOWS
REN
Adjusting to my new life has been an adventure.
After my ridiculous reaction to not being able to reach her, we fell into a nice rhythm of push and pull. Mostly she’d push and I’d pull, but having a better understanding of necessary communication made things easier.
Not that cohabiting with anyone is necessarily easy, but when you train yourself to talk through the uncomfortable parts, the rest of it comes more naturally. Even on days where you’d just as soon talk to a wall than the person you live with.
I finally moved into her place, a much roomier house in a less affluent yet, according to Cassidy, up-and-coming part of the suburbs.
While my condo isn’t small, it’s much smaller than Cassidy’s house, a sprawling yet still homey, brick construction with large windows and high ceilings.
I understand why she wanted us to live here, especially given the fact there will be at least one child at some point.
The property is fenced, there’s a nice yard, even a dog door on the back exit, just in case.
I will admit I enjoy the quiet, but it’s also been quite the culture shock for me having spent the last fifteen years living in a downtown condo.
It has been nice having new places to fuck her. And not having super close neighbors means we don’t have to worry about being loud.
That being said, if I have to hear one more motherfucker on my team say something questionable about Cassidy, I’m going to fucking lose it.
Not that locker room talk isn’t something I’m not used to. I’ve been all but living in a locker room since I was old enough to enter one without parental supervision. Shit, I’m sure at one point or another I’ve made Cassidy my own punchline, though I’m rather ashamed to think about it too much.
I guess it’s true that a woman really does change a man.
My lip curls at the thought, and once again I’m annoyed by the random sentimentality dancing in my idiotic head. We have a deal. A solid legally binding contract that will earn me the greatest reward of my life.
Yanking my pads off, I toss them in front of my stall then turn back to where the guys are all still fucking around, hoping they’ve changed the subject.
They have not.
If anything, it has only escalated into a competition of who can be the crudest, with Warren the douchebag vying for first place, like usual.
“Yeah,” Warren sneers, his hands coming out in front of him as he mimes humping someone. “I’d like to bend her over the Zamboni and show her a thing or two.”
“Seriously, man,” I respond clearly. “Fucking cut it out.”
He ignores my warning, or perhaps he doesn’t even hear it because he adds, “She’d have a hard time running her mouth with my dick in it.”
Fed up, I slam my fist against the locker, the noise reverberating through the room as I snarl, “That’s enough.”
The room quiets for a moment; everyone stares at me as if I have several heads. Dave raises his brows in question, but remains silent, and after a few moments most everyone goes back to their usual post practices rituals.
But not everyone. Not Warren.
“For fuck’s sake, Rafferty,” Warren responds pissily. “You’re not the only one with a hard on for her. Calm down.”
I stare at him, sure that I must have misheard him. “What did you say to me?”
Warren grins, opens his mouth to responds, but then Dave steps between us, his hand on my chest. “He didn’t say nothin’, Ren. Not a fuckin’ thing.”
I continue to stare, willing Warren to repeat himself, wanting to shove my fist right down his throat. Dave hits me on the chest, drawing my focus to him. He gives me a serious look then mutters, “He aint’ fuckin’ worth it, man.”
He’s right. Warren’s not worth being suspended from games and paying fines and having to listen to the rants about appropriate conduct between teammates from Coach.
But Cassidy is.
I push back against Dave, pointing at Warren as I spit out, “Watch what you say about my wife.”
Warren’s eyes widen, and, once again, the room falls completely silent. Dave’s eyes also widen, his raised brows almost reaching his hairline. But he doesn’t release me, if anything he squares off more fully, as if he’s bracing himself for battle.
Warren’s surprise only lasts a moment and then he’s glaring, anger burning in his eyes as he asks, “Your what?”
My sudden forward trajectory moves Dave a few feet before another teammate jumps in to assist, each of them pushing against a shoulder. “My wife,” I answer, just a few decibels short of a shout. “Never speak of my wife or else.”
“Or else what?”
Fury boils over inside me, and I lunge, fist raised, only to be pushed back by a few more teammates. Dave remains right there, his hand now on my cheek, turning my head toward him. “Go cool off, Raf. I’ll deal with this asshole.”
I choke on my words, ready to make another lunge as soon as Dave steps away, but another guy just takes his place.
They manage to herd me backward then around a corner, shoving me bodily into one of the trainer rooms before creating a human wall in front of the doorway while I pace like a caged animal.
“Ren,” Jake says loudly. I stop pacing, look over at him. “Congratulations.”
“For what?” I snap, still too pissed for rationality.
He smiles slightly then clears his throat as he extends his hand and replies, “On your marriage.”
Not expecting the sentiment, I instantly deflate, eyeing his hand briefly before finally accepting his handshake with a sheepish, “Thanks.”
The others offer their own congratulatory accolades, and I accept more handshakes and pats on the back, feeling the irrational rage slowly start to dissipate.
By the time I’m allowed back into the locker room it’s mostly empty, the only lingering teammates being the ones who were delayed because they were busy restraining me.
Having finally showered, I manage to put on my pants and then sit heavily on the bench, forearms braced on the tops of my thighs, head hanging low to my chest. The respect and admiration that I have for Cassidy is slowly shifting into something warm in the center of my chest which means one thing.
I am royally fucked.
“Want me to leave all the lights on?” Dave asks from the doorway.
“Nah,” I respond tiredly. “You can cut half of them. I’m getting a headache anyway.”
Dave pauses, hand on the light switch. “Want me to wait?”
I wave him off. “I’m alright, you go on now.”
Dave watches me for a moment, obviously not entirely convinced, but then, after a moment he nods, so I add, “Thanks, though. For managing that whole situation.”
He smiles, shrugs. “Don’t mention it.”
“And I’m sorry.”
Dave frowns and asks, “For what?”
“For not inviting you to my wedding.”
Dave laughs, shake his head. “I’m going assume it must’ve been some spur-of-the-moment deal that didn’t leave much room for invites.”
“Yeah,” I respond, my words low and tired. “You can say that again.”
“Don’t sweat it, man,” he responds easily. “Saved me from having to get gussied up.”
With a final wave, he exits the locker room, leaving me to my own warring thoughts. This isn’t exactly how we planned on announcing our relationship to the masses, but it is what it is now.
Knowing Cassidy will be waiting for me, I stand, moving back to my locker and grabbing a shirt. I’m just about to pull it over my head when a harsh voice cuts through the silence, “I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” startling me.
Whirling around, I immediately jump to the side, hands raised defensively when I see Warren not even six feet from me. His eyes wide, hand raised over his head, frozen in surprise.
He glances over his shoulder, and I follow his line of sight, seeing nothing in the deep shadows. He turns back to me, his eyes glinting with rage as he takes a step closer, his arm raising enough to reveal a glint of metal gripped in his hand.
I straighten, fully intending to defend myself, but then the voice sounds again, “You wanna die?”
Once again, I look behind Warren, who also turns slightly, but now, a figure materializes in the shadows, slowly coming closer. I squint, annoyed I had Dave cut most of the lights, leaving myself open to all sorts of fuckery in the poor lighting.
But then, as if by magic, Declan Hughes steps into view.
Warren frowns, mutters, “What the fuck?”
Declan stops about ten feet from Warren, his stance relaxed, his expression nonchalant. But I know better. Declan is pissed.
“I’ll be your huckleberry,” Declan drawls, his lip curling slightly. Then he leans to the side so he can meet my gaze as he adds “I’ve always wanted to say that.”
Again, Warren frowns, but he doesn’t stand down as he spits out, “Stay out of this, Hughes.”
Declan gives me a look and I shrug. “You’ve said it yourself a few times, Dec,” I pause waiting for someone to ask me what I mean and when they don’t I add, “You can’t fix stupid.”
Declan chuckles, but Warren turns his glare back to me. “You’re in no position to make jokes, Rafferty.”
I don’t even bother to pretend to be worried. I yank my shirt over my head and then lean back against the locker, my arms crossing over my chest. “Say whatever you want, Warren, but I’m enjoying my current odds.”
“What can this fucker even do?” He asks, using his knife hand to gesture toward Declan. “He’s so fucking famous it won’t be hard to prove he was here if something happens to me.”
Declan snorts, rolls his eyes. “No body, no crime.”
Warren’s eyes widen. “Are you threatening me?”
“Oh, I don’t know bucko,” Declan retorts, all humor leaving him. “Are you threatening Ren with that fucking blade in your hand?”
Warren’s gaze shifts to his knife hand and he blinks as if he forgot he was even holding it. He lowers his arm, but he doesn’t drop the knife; just hangs it loosely by his side. “I wasn’t going to kill him. Just scare him a bit.”
“One thing my elders taught me is to always know everything you possibly can about your enemies,” Declan explains calmly, walking closer, slowly. “And I sure know a lot about you.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I think you know all the times in your life where being a good ole white boy saved your ass from the punishment you clearly deserved.”
Warren swallows, his eyes like big saucers as he watches Declan watching him. When he doesn’t say anything, Declan continues, “You’re gonna get the fuck out of here, and you’re never gonna bother Ren again. Do you understand?”
Warren nods, and Declan goes on in that same calm yet frigid tone, “And know that this is your only warning. If you ever step outta line again, you better sleep with one eye open for the rest of your short, miserable life.”
Warren nods again, even though Declan hasn’t asked him to agree with anything. Declan closes the distance between them, and Warren steps back as if there’s a way for him to escape.
“I don’t care if you accidentally offend my third cousin seven times removed, who I didn’t even know existed, I will take it personally,” Declan warns, leaning in close so Warren has no choice but to hold his gaze.
“And make no mistake about me. I could take a slime ball like you apart with my bare hands and sleep like a damn baby.”
A chill runs down my spine at his words, and it’s not like I’m at all new to the darker side of Declan. I know firsthand how few qualms Declan has when it comes to fucking around.
Declan’s lips curve up, but there’s no humor in his expression. “And before you start getting any snake in the grass type of ideas, if something happened to me, my people wouldn’t just kill you. Do you understand what I mean by that?”
Warren nods again. “Yes.”
“Get the fuck out of here, then.”
Warren doesn’t need further instruction; he scurries around Declan, not giving me a backward glance as he disappears into the shadows, his retreating footfalls heavy as he books it to the exit. The heavy door opens, then closes, leaving the room in silence.
Declan turns back to me, his typical affable Declan expression on his face as he says, “I think I would’ve been good at hockey.”
Frowning, I shake my head, a rough burst of laughter escaping in response to his random segue. “And take the chance of ruining your pretty face?”
He scowls slightly then retorts, “Good point.”
Stooping over, I grab my boots and socks, moving to the bench as I say flatly, “Thanks for saving my ass.”
“My pleasure.”
I side eye his odd response then go back to tying my boot as I say, “I guess this means we’re even.”
“Nah, I don’t think he would’ve killed you.”
I laugh. “Maybe not, but I don’t think I’d enjoy being cut up either.”
“Superficial at most. Not even remotely close to what you did for me back in LA.”
“I didn’t do anything,” I scoff, still not convinced I saved his life as he has claimed over the years.
I finish dressing my feet then stand, rushing to my locker and stuffing my gear into my duffel bag.
Turning, I stop short as I find Declan right there, in my way.
I eye him questioningly, and finally he says, “Yes, you fucking did.”
“Whatever, man,” I respond tiredly, knowing there is no amount of debate that will change his mind.
“And just so you know,” Declan adds, his gaze serious. “We will never be even. I will owe you until the day I take my last breath regardless of if I’ve never had to help you or if I’ve helped you a million times over.”
“Dude, that’s not how IOUs work.”
“Maybe not,” he retorts. “But that’s what we do for our brothers.”
Brothers.
Declan doesn’t give me time to respond, instead stepping into me and wrapping his arms around me. He squeezes with purpose, obviously intent on getting a hug one way or another, so, give him a few slaps on the back until he finally steps back.
I clear my throat a few times, the stress of my day plus Declan’s brother declaration finally catching up to me. Not wanting to have a boohoo bromance at this point, I push the feeling down then laugh at myself because Declan has not even one negative thing to say about tears.
Hefting my larger bag over my shoulder, I reach for the other, but Declan grabs it, hanging it over his own shoulder as we walk toward the exit. Declan opens the door, steps back for me to precede him
Stopping just in the doorway, I turn back to him, wait for him to meet my gaze before I whisper, “Thanks,” as I blink away that annoyingly familiar sting behind my eyes. “Brother.”
Declan grins his most megawatt rock star grin, his eyes glowing as he recognizes what it took for me to say something that may seem simple to most people. He nods. Slaps me on the shoulder.
Then we walk out, together.