Chapter 19
JENSEN
Red is the only color I see as I bring my crutch up again before smacking the end of it across Cole’s mouth. “I’m going to fucking kill you!”
Cole smiles up at me, blood on his teeth and dripping down his chin. He laughs, only fueling my anger more. “Maybe I’ll take her back after all. She’ll always be mine in some way after I took her virginity and fucked her repeatedly over the years. Over and over—”
“Say she’s yours one more time, and I’ll cut your throat with my skate. Lainey. Is. Mine,” I growl.
A security car pulls up, and I put my crutch back under my arm as Cole chuckles.
“I look forward to it … next season, when you can actually skate again.”
“Jensen.” Matty holds me back as I nearly lose control again.
Kos talks to the security guy, who loads Cole into his backseat, explaining that he got through security somehow and isn’t welcome. The security worker apologizes profusely as I walk back toward the house with only one thought on my mind—finding Lainey.
The girls went after her, so I’m sure wherever they are, she won’t be far. I can’t thank my team and partners enough for having her back.
Morgan’s waiting in the hallway by the bathroom when I walk in, and she points to the closed door.
I nod thankfully and walk to it, leaning my forehead against it as I knock. “Hey, it’s me.”
Movement sounds inside before the door unlocks and opens. Her eyes are red, but she doesn’t meet my gaze, keeping it locked on the floor. “Can we go home?”
“Yes.” I pull her into me and kiss the top of her head as she sniffles. “Let’s go.”
I lead the way, and she shrinks behind me, looking smaller than ever as her body turns in on itself, her stare fogged over.
Thankfully, the guys must have gone into the backyard or into the house from another way because the driveway is empty when we get back outside, the security guy and Cole also gone.
Lainey doesn’t say another word as she unlocks the car and quietly slides inside, forgetting to blink, staring at the steering wheel.
I toss my crutches in the backseat before sitting down up front as she starts the car.
Playful, happy music hums through the speakers, sounding mocking as her eyes well with tears.
Reaching over, I turn it down as she backs out of the driveway, my heart aching at her pain.
I don’t know whether to say something or wait for her to break the silence. I don’t want to push her too far, but I also don’t want her to think that I’m not worried sick about what she’s feeling.
She answers my unspoken question as she turns the radio back up, her phone giving instructions through the sound system.
I don’t pressure her or make a peep while we leave the community, but as she merges onto the freeway, I gently slide my fingers into hers, brushing the back of her hand to remind her that I’m right here.
Night’s fallen in the city, and the lights illuminate her face as she drives us home. Home—the word she used to describe my penthouse. Was that a slipup? I sure hope not. I hope she considers my place hers, and I hope she never wants to leave.
Uncertainty lingers in my mind as I recall the hot and cold moments of the last few weeks. Every time I feel like I get closer to her, she shuts down and closes me off. This time could be no different, especially since Cole involved himself.
He’ll get what’s coming to him tomorrow. I might not be on the ice, but my boys are, and they’ll handle it on my behalf.
In the meantime, my focus is solely on her, and if not talking right this second is what she needs, then so be it.
Silence consumes us during the next few minutes as we near home and pull into the parking garage. She kills the engine, staring into her lap, and I hate that I recognize the look on her face.
A blank expression so numb that it almost looks cold. I hate even more that I wasn’t outside to get rid of him before he could even say a word to her.
“Ready?” I murmur softly, trying not to startle her if she’s lost in her thoughts.
She blinks away her stupor, the slightest nod communicating her response as she grabs her belongings and steps out of the car.
Eye contact is nonexistent as we head inside—something that’s driving me insane. I want her to talk to me, to let me in. But when we get inside the penthouse, she walks off to the spare bedroom without a word or glance, and my body tightens at her coldness.
“Fuck,” I whisper to myself when I hear her door click shut.
I groan as I crutch over to the staircase and head up to my room, leaving the door open as I sit down on the end of my bed, lying back and staring up at the ceiling.
We used to tell each other every single thing about our lives, and I know that was a different time for both of us, but that’s still who we are at the end of the day, just Lainey and Jensen.
I wish I knew what she’s so scared of. Fear is the only explanation. I just don’t know why. Does she not trust me anymore? Does she not want the same things from me as I’ve been leading on?
My heart starts racing at that thought, stinging me to the core. I know she wants me as badly as I want her. I can see it in the heaviness of her blue gaze, the way she watches me when she thinks I don’t notice.
The possibility of us not ending up together is a reality I never want to face. I don’t think I’d survive it. I need her more than I need air to breathe, more than I need to skate and play hockey. There’s nothing in my life I wouldn’t sacrifice to be loved by her, and that’s not ever changing.
I’m hers to the core, and I think I always have been. Any relationship I’ve ever had was fleeting. I constantly found reasons to end them all, nothing ever feeling like enough or right.
When Lainey first started dating Cole, I was so mad because she knew that I hated him from my time in high school and AHL hockey. He’s always been such a dirty rat of a player.
I tried to forget her, drowning myself in alcohol and flings. But nothing ever stuck or felt good.
Eventually, I stopped trying. I haven’t been with anyone in the last couple of years at least. I didn’t want to waste mine or anyone else’s time when I knew the relationship wouldn’t go anywhere.
I haven’t always been sure about what I want out of life after losing Carly and basically losing my parents, who I haven’t spoken to in almost a year—our new normal since I moved out nearly eight years ago. But I’ve always been sure about how I feel for Lainey.
Maybe it’s time I finally tell her.
My heart jumps into my throat as I sit up and crutch to my door, glancing down the hallway at her closed door. “I got this.”
Crutching down toward her room, I stop outside it, my breathing shallow as I slowly lift my fist and knock three times. “Lainey?”
I don’t hear any movement, so I call out again, “Lain?”
A shadow moves back and forth on the floor at my feet, light seeping out from beneath the door. She’s pacing back and forth on the other side, probably contemplating if she’s going to let me in.
“Just open the door. I know you’re right there. I can hear you pacing,” I say softer, knowing she’s less than a foot away from me.
The doorknob jiggles, and the shadow stops moving. One second. Two. Three. Four. Five.
Come on, baby.
The most exciting creak sounds as she pulls it open a few inches. And then a few more, and I notice the redness in her face, the splotchiness spreading down her neck.
Her eyes are bloodshot. She sniffles, her gaze on the ground as she steps back, making room for me to enter.
Planting myself firmly in her space and needing a break from these crutches, I sit down on the end of her bed and face her as she leans back against the now-closed door, keeping as much space as possible between us.
I want to ask her if she’s okay, but I already know the answer to that question. “Talk to me.”
She sniffles, wiping beneath her makeup-streaked eyes. “About what?”
I flash a playful glare at her. “You know what. About what happened back at Kos’s. About how one second, you’re kissing me, and the next, your walls are sky high again. I want to talk about it all.”
She laugh-exhales, humorless and cold.
I want to be patient for her—I do—but I’m at the end of my rope. Not being able to be with her, having this invisible wall between us, is driving me insane.
Rising to my feet, I crutch a hesitant step toward her, and her eyes whip up to mine, wide and nervous.
She wets her lips and doesn’t say a word as I take another step, only a few feet left between us.
“Are you angry that I hurt him?” I ask, trying to gauge where her emotion is coming from.
Her face twists with confusion. “What? No. God, I’d hit him with my car if I could get away with it.”
A small smirk lifts my lips. “I could arrange that if you want.”
Her shoulders soften ever so slightly. “I’m not mad at you for anything.”
I take another step toward her. “Then what is it? What is keeping you an arm’s length away?”
Those vibrant blue eyes drop to my chest as I take another step, only a foot between us.
“I-I …” She trails off.
Balancing with my crutches tucked under my armpits, I reach up and gently run my finger up her neck, gently guiding her chin up, forcing her to look up at me. Finally, she doesn’t shy away and holds my stare.
So much emotion swirls in her haunted gaze. My eyes bounce back and forth between them as I try to dive inside.
“Talk to me, baby. You can tell me anything,” I murmur, and wetness coats her stare.
Her lips part, but again, not a sound escapes.
Sliding my fingers along her jaw and into her hair, I hold her gently, leaning closer to her face. “You are all I’ve ever wanted and all I’ll ever need. I’m sure you’ve figured that out by now.”
Her nostrils spasm, her bottom lip quivering as she slowly shakes her head, a tear rolling down her cheek. “You shouldn’t.”
“What? Why?” I scoff.
“You deserve better, Jensen.” Her voice cracks. “Trust me.”