Chapter 21
Chapter
Twenty-One
Travis
Someone replaced my boyfriend with one of those damn Canadian cobra chickens.
He sits, glaring, daring you to come near him, and then he snaps and flaps his wings at you.
Even Dash, who’s usually a Dirk whisperer, has been steering clear of him.
He cancelled on me last night, saying he had to stay at his brother’s.
A family emergency, but he was fine, and he’d tell me when he saw me.
Didn’t like that, almost went over there to retrieve him, but I’d done the same thing—made him wait to hear my news. I went with “not being a hypocrite”, but now I wish I had been. He stormed in here late, put on his chef’s jacket, and proceeded to bark orders on the line.
The door to my office swings open, and my son invites himself in, shutting the door too quickly, resting against the back of it, taking a few breaths.
Oh yeah, the lack of knocking thing Dirk asked me to talk to him about. I should do that now.
“Sorry for barging in, Dad, but Dirk’s out there. Am I a bad friend for avoiding him?”
There, he apologized. I don’t need to say a thing because my eyes said it for me—he gets it.
Right?
“All good, son. Happen to know why he’s …” I trail off, letting him fill in the blanks.
“A loose puck? Yeah, something to do with his brother. He won’t talk about it, but he sure is pissed. It’ll blow over like it always does, but can I hide in here until Hurricane Boulder leaves the building?”
“Have a seat.”
It doesn’t take long for Hurricane Boulder to head this way, but unlike my son, he knocks.
“Yeah, we’re in here,” I say, so he knows it’s more than just me.
Dirk enters, setting eyes on Dash. “There you are, I’ve been looking for you. Let’s go, Nolan. I’ve got shit to do.”
He’s not here to see me? Or is that his cover? I can’t tell.
“Was just telling Dad here, Syd’s picking me up. It’s his last day before he goes on his big trip, so, uh, thanks, but I’m good.” Dash scurries out of here like a ferret with a sock.
Syd’s already gone. Part of me’s proud my son’s a terrible liar. I bite my lip to keep from laughing.
Dirk eyes him until he’s out of the room, and stares in the direction he went. “Lying little shit,” he says without any heat. “Syd’s gone.” He shuts the door behind him, and as soon as he does, the anger, which I realize now was false bravado, vanishes like steam.
He turns, and I stand, opening my arms for him. Dirk collides with my torso, and I sweep myself around him. “What happened, pretty boy?”
His body shakes. He sniffles. “I have to quit hockey.”
“What?”
Dirk gives me the rundown of their night. Whatever anger he unloaded into the air finds me, and I glow red hot with it. “How could he let you do that?”
“It’s not about him letting me, this is about me taking the weight off him. You should have seen him, Trav. It was like every bad thing that ever happened to him fell away. I did that—I have the power to keep that tension away. It’s about time.”
I shake my head. “No. Not like this. You can’t do this, Dirk.”
“I am. I’m not taking it back.”
“You have to.”
“Why? Why do I have to?”
“It’s dishonest.”
That hangs in the air for a beat, because he knows it is. But now that I’ve said it out loud, I’ve made it real. He can’t ignore the little voice that’s probably already whispering to him.
He shrugs. “What’s one more thing at this point?”
“Not the same kind of dishonest, Dirk.”
“Oh well, at least it’s not murder.”
I knew that one was gonna keep biting me in the ass, but I couldn’t have predicted how much it would sting. “You don’t get to keep using that.”
“Actually, I do. Murder? Preeeeety bad. Maybe not to your criminal ass, but definitely to the rest of us civilians.”
I already have my arms around him, but I get in his space, crowding him, giving him the big, dominant energy he likes feeling from me. “I’ll tell you what’s criminal: sleeping without you.”
He sighs with longing, letting his head rest on my chest. More knots of him loosen, and I like to think that’s because I’m with him. “I missed you last night, Trav. That’s why I know I’ve made the right choice.”
“Choice?”
“Yeah. It was you or hockey. There was no fucking question. Are you into marriage for real? Beyond our husband banter, I mean. Because if you’d have asked me before, I would have said fuck marriage.
But Rhett has this whole ‘own you on paper’ thing going, and I’ve fallen hook, line, and sinker for it.
I want to own you on paper, and I want you to own me on paper.
I want to make it harder for you to leave me.
I want rings. I want to tell people you’re mine. ”
He tilts his chin up, blinking at me. Whoa, there’s a lot to unpack there.
“What do you mean you chose me over hockey?”
“Hunt’s done so much for me, and I never do anything he wants me to do.”
“Like me.”
“Yeah, and hockey. He’s always wanted me to go to university. I can’t give you up, that’s not even on the table, so it was hockey.”
“You don’t have to choose.”
“I do. And I know I’ve been in a mood today, but I’d do it again. No regrets, Trav.”
In a mood is putting it lightly. I toy with his lower lip. “I’m touched, but I never want you to have to make that choice. You’re not doing it.”
“Trav!”
“No, listen. We’re gonna fix this, okay?”
He’s downcast. His lips move as if they want to speak once, twice, and then he exhales, frustrated. Finally, he settles on something.
“I want to believe you, but I don’t think you get it.”
“Maybe not, but let’s deal with one thing at a time. You didn’t want to tell him about us before, but now you do. Let’s deal with that, and it might change things, okay?”
He takes a shaky breath. “Okay.”
“Better. Now for the marriage thing. If you don’t think I’m putting a ring on your ass, you don’t know a thing about me.
I’ve already picked out a spot on my body where I plan to tattoo your name, and remember, I’m from a different generation than you.
Marriage means something to me. Call me old-fashioned, but I want it in fucking stone, in every way we can declare it. That’s my stance.”
Mr. Charging Bull tucks a stray lock of his hockey hair—which he didn’t cut—behind his ear, biting his lip, being adorably fucking shy.
“Um, yeah. All of that. I want all of that. Now, can you do that thing? You know? That thing I like? I need it, Trav.”
I know what he wants. Using his chin, I guide his lips to mine, sucking, breathing him in, stealing his breath.
I kiss him like I’ve been starving for him, like I can’t stop, and won’t.
Until we hit that wall with him struggling beneath me.
I let him get just enough oxygen, just enough to get by, and plunge again, letting desperation slip in, all my hungry desire.
I might be the one kissing him, devouring him, but it’s me who comes undone.
Taking his air derails me, changes me. I don’t stop, pushing him to his limit, taking more of him, until his knees almost buckle, until his nails dig into the back of my neck.
That’s when I release him—when he’s wrecked, when he needs me to hold him up.
He hangs on, panting, but not too hard, only taking slow sips as if he wants to remain breathless for as long as possible.
“Only you can do that to me,” he croaks. “Starve me enough to possess me.”
Dirk’s eyes glitter in our post-kiss stillness. That wasn’t just a kiss, it was destruction of the best kind. The kind that tears down and rebuilds.
“Better?”
“Yeah.” He smiles. “Whatever happens, it’s us, baby—that’s a future I can co-sign.”