Chapter 2
CHAPTER TWO
MICAH
I was a ball of nerves as we headed into the parking lot of the club. Vanya had, of course, parked Alexio’s car with the valet, so we were stuck at the curb near the bouncers, who all smelled like Axe body spray as we waited for it to arrive.
I rarely ever wished for sight. In reality, the concept of it kind of scared the shit out of me. I preferred to accept the world through my fingers, ears, nose, and tongue.
But right now, I would have given just about anything to know whether or not Hunter was lurking around. Though I supposed that even people with sight wouldn’t have been able to see him if he didn’t want to be seen.
Vanya didn’t seem concerned. He kept one hand on the small of my back, and with the other, I could hear him texting. I knew he was doing that by the way he was muttering in Russian, then laughing at his own jokes.
“I see car,” he told me, jolting me out of my thoughts. “Is big line, waiting for valet.”
“And, uh…that guy—”
“Mm?”
“You don’t see him, right?”
“No. If I see him, I get my knuckles all bloody from the punching.” He shifted, and then his arm moved around my waist. I wanted to shove him away, but the comforting weight of him wasn’t letting me act like my usual self. “This guy—he’s not ex-boyfriend, right?”
“He wishes,” I blurted, then sighed. “We went on two dates. Both dates were terrible, and he turned into a real fucking asshole. I thought I got rid of him, but he popped up last season, and—” I didn’t want to tell him the rest.
I wasn’t telling anyone the rest.
“Well, if you want punching—or you want me to kill him—I will.”
“I don’t want you to kill him,” I sighed out.
“Mm, if you say so. But I could find someone. I know people. They know where to hide bodies.”
“Because you’re Russian, right?” I knew plenty of Russian players who liked to claim they were the best at everything.
Vanya just laughed. “Because I watch so much murder TV shows. You know…where guy is…I forget the word. Talking, then camera show person whose sister die because she’s meeting bad guy who hides her body under big tree or in basement?”
“True crime?”
“Yes, yes! True crime. I listen to podcasts, then watch shows in hotels. And people…they’re so stupid, you know? Make terrible mistakes with murders. Leave so many clues!”
“That’s kind of a good thing? So they get solved?”
“Maybe for killing good guys, yes. But bad guys? Trust me, I can do much better.”
I knew I should step away from him after that. But I didn’t. “I have no idea what to say to that.”
“Just be glad we’re friends, yes?”
I didn’t get the chance to answer. Tires popped and crackled on loose gravel sprinkled across asphalt, and then Vanya moved his arm away from me, giving me time to catch the back of his elbow.
I checked my pockets for my wallet, room key, phone, and cane as he handled the valet, and then he led me to the passenger door.
“I can’t believe I’m riding in Alexio’s precious baby.” I didn’t know my brother’s fiancé very well, but he had a reputation for being kind of a dick, kind of thick-brained, and obsessed with his car.
I was pretty sure one of those was true.
“He would probably get mad at me for letting someone in, but it’s you, so it doesn’t count. Jonah loves you, so he loves you.”
“Is that some kind of rule?” I asked as I felt along the lush leather seats before climbing in. It was tall and probably the nicest place I had ever rested my ass.
Vanya didn’t answer until he’d climbed in and shut the door. “Is rule for you. I love Jonah, then I meet you and love.”
I didn’t know what to say to that either, so I kept my mouth shut and instead felt around the console, then the dash. It was very smooth, and it smelled incredibly clean. I could easily picture him sitting inside the thing for hours, rubbing microfiber cloths over every surface.
“Alright. Your team staying at same hotel?”
“Oh…uh. Probably?” I had no idea. I just went wherever they told me to go, and I didn’t usually interact with my own team, let alone the NHL assholes who were rarely around if we were playing on the same night. “I’m at the Riverside something or other.”
“Is same, yes.” Vanya went quiet again as he pulled out onto the main road, and I held my breath because even outside of NYC, I hated the traffic.
Late at night, it was a lot, and being that I had no way to see what was coming, it was jarring when we were surrounded by bad drivers.
But with Vanya, it was different. The first time he had to brake quickly, I gasped, and before I could react further, his hand found mine on the console. He gripped my wrist first, and then his fingers loosened and stroked lazy lines over my palm.
Tell him to stop, I screamed in my head. Tell him to let go. Tell him you don’t want this.
But lying to myself never got me anywhere, and the one thing I didn’t want was for him to let go. I was treading dangerous water. I’d been here before—though not with the same ferocity I wanted him. But I’d felt comfortable around people before.
I’d let my guard down.
And it always ended ugly.
“Vanya,” I murmured, trying to find my courage to say something—anything—that would distract me from wanting to climb over the leather lump separating us and kissing him breathless.
“You okay?”
Fuck him for checking in.
“Fine.”
He said nothing. It was probably his version of calling me out on the lie. But after a few moments, his fingers traveled from my palm, up my arm, grazing over the bend in my elbow, then back down again.
Over and over, he touched me. Over and over, his fingers moved higher until he was eventually stroking over my pulse and just below my ear. I let out a shuddering breath and turned my face toward him.
“Vanya,” I said again. I didn’t know why I kept invoking his name. It felt like a prayer. I swallowed heavily. “Thank you for tonight.”
“For rescue?”
I bit back a grin and nodded. It wasn’t just for the rescue, but that was easier than the truth. And safer. His fingers ghosted over my jawline, pulling back and forth, back and forth like the tide on the shore.
“You like rescuing people?”
“No. Because it mean someone get hurt. I don’t like that. I can be bad guy, you know? Not on purpose. When I have to be. Is not my favorite thing.”
I leaned into his touch. I couldn’t help it. I didn’t want to help it at this point. I hadn’t felt this good in…god, so long. The last time was…maybe the train? When Hugo and I were on our way to Montreal.
Except with Hugo, I didn’t want to crawl into his lap and kiss him and fuck him until I forgot my own name.
What the fuck was this man doing to me?
“Do you want to tell me who that guy was?” Vanya asked very slowly, like he was taking care with his words.
“No.”
“Okay.”
“Just like that?” I asked. “Okay?”
“You don’t want to tell, is okay. The only thing that matter to me is you’re safe. And right now, you’re with me.”
“You think that makes me safe?” My voice came out a strained whisper.
His thumb grazed a line just under my lower lip before it was gone, and I only didn’t protest because the car slowed and began a turn, and I knew then we were at the hotel.
“I think is up to you, pretty goalie.”
There the fuck he went again with that name. Goalie, yes. But pretty?
The SUV rolled to a stop, and Vanya turned the engine off, but neither one of us moved. I wasn’t brave enough. I didn’t want this to be over.
“I need to say something,” Vanya murmured in the quiet space between us.
I was still facing him, but I twisted my body a bit more in his direction. It took every ounce of willpower not to reach for him. “Okay.”
“I like you.”
I scoffed. “Really?”
“Is not joke. You always act like it is. Like is so funny I want you on air hockey team or darts.”
“I’m shit at darts.”
He laughed, and he touched my face again, warm, calloused palm cupping my cheek. “I know. We lost.”
“I mean, I can’t see the board, so…”
“Yes. I like losing with you.”
“I need you to shut the fuck up, Vanya.”
He did, but only for a second. “Why?”
“Because I—” I couldn’t say it. Could I? Was I going to let those words tumble from my lips? Was I really going to create another fucking personal disaster that could ruin so many things, considering he was on Alexio’s team, and he was one of Jonah’s new best friends?
Shit.
Yes. Yes I was.
“If you don’t stop, I’m going to crawl into your lap and shut you up myself.”
“Okay.”
“Vanya—”
“Okay,” he said again.
Something snapped. I sat up, felt forward with my hands until I touched him, assessing how much space I had between us, how much room I had to maneuver, and how much expensive shit I might break in Alexio’s car.
It took me three seconds to determine I didn’t care about most of that, and with a heavy, determined breath, I pushed up, swung my leg over toward him, and let his massive hands guide me against him.
Usually, when I did this, warning bells began to ring in my ears. Fear would skate up my spine. Ugly voices from my past would begin whispering in my head.
And then everything would come to a screeching halt.
The times that didn’t happen were good, but they were frantic. I was racing a fucking clock, trying to outrun the moment my past trauma would ruin everything. That was a phrase my therapist had given me.
He’d also given me a list of ways that could help me cope with how sex made me feel so I could use them with a new partner I trusted, but that was the problem: I didn’t fucking trust anyone.
Vanya felt different, and there was no rhyme or reason why. He was mouthy and rude and pushy. He was massive and intimidating and could be a serious boundary-crosser, especially when it came to competitive games.
From a logic standpoint, he was no different to Ryan—the first guy I’d dated after the big incident, who had been kind and careful with me. But Ryan hadn’t been enough.
He was no different than Chase, or Brenden, or Aaron, who also tried but couldn’t get past the walls I’d built up.
Vanya was somehow everything and nothing like them.