31. Othelia
Chapter thirty-one
Othelia
Rook
Can we talk?
Please, Othelia.
I throw my phone onto the other side of the bed with a grunt. His messages make me think of his stupid face and how he looked at me on the ice tonight. I won’t give in; I’m not replying. He wanted me to mind my own business, so this is me minding my own fucking business.
Throwing the covers over my head in a huff, I squeeze my eyes shut, willing myself to fall asleep. Feeling a cramp in my leg, I shuffle, rolling to the other side, aggressively adjusting the pillows to get comfortable. As I lay in bed, the incessant ticking of the bedside clock grows louder, my frustration mounting with every stroke, as time seems to drag on.
I prop myself up and snatch the pillow beside me, burying my face in it to stifle my screams: loud enough to get my frustration out, but not loud enough to disturb Rian and Layla next door. With a huff, I flop backwards onto the mountain of pillows and stare at the ceiling.
As the lights flicker above me, I can’t help but be drawn to the window. Through the sheer curtains, the captivating skyline of Seattle unfolds before my eyes, its city lights singing a tempting melody. My guitar case catches my eye and I instantly know what I must do.
I throw on some comfortable sweats and pull my hair back into a messy bun. Slipping my feet into flats, I grab the key card and tuck it into my pocket. Leaving my phone on the bed, I can see it still lighting up with new notifications. But I don’t need any more Rook tonight.
I quietly close the door behind me, leaving a note for Rian next to his key card on the table so he knows where I am when Layla wakes up for a midnight feed.
As I make my way towards the elevator, I can’t help but notice the artwork lining the hallway. The massive photographs showcasing different eras of Seattle captivate my attention, immersing me in the city’s vibrant past. With my guitar case tightly in hand, I can’t help but think of Rook and his deep connection to Seattle. These photos are of his hometown.
I let out an exasperated sigh as I drop my head, ignoring the rest of the photos. Ignoring him.
After a quick elevator ride, the doors slide open to a breathtaking rooftop lounge. One side has a sparkling blue pool that looks enticing, even on the cool night. The other, filled with lush ferns, colorful plants and the comfiest looking couches surrounded by glass railing overlooking the entire city, fairy lights twinkle overhead wrapped around the open wooden pergola. I look around, almost sighing in relief when I spot no one else. That this twinkling paradise is all mine.
I set myself up on the couch furthest away from the elevator, right against the railing, so I can take in an unobstructed view of the city. One side of me has the ocean, waves lapping against the shore, The Seattle Great Wheel is lit up like a beacon in the night, the rainbow lights moving in slow spirals as it rotates and on the other side The Space Needle stands grand and intimidating.
I don’t know how long I sit, just staring out at the city. An overwhelming amount of loneliness hits me. I am so grateful for the life I have, but I never thought I’d find myself sitting on a hotel rooftop in the middle of the night, alone.
It’s a strange feeling, spending your life surrounded by people and yet still be totally alone. When your life has just been a revolving door of opening your heart to people, only to have it left in shreds at your feet.
I don’t know how many more times I can open myself up to people when I always end up never being enough.
I swipe away the tears and open my guitar case, stroking the hummingbird, before grabbing the neck and pulling it out, cradling it in my lap.
With my guitar in position, I take a slow breath in and begin strumming and plucking, waiting for chords to appear. When a slow melody builds and I have run through a section of the bars several times, I pause to write them in my notebook.
With my eyes closed, I surrender to the music, feeling the intensity of its notes as they crash against me, bringing forth waves of frustration, sadness, and loneliness. With a soft and controlled voice, the lyrics effortlessly flow from me.
How am I supposed to breathe
Without you next to me
You were my strength, my guide, my light
But now you’re gone from sight
With each word I sing, a tear trickles down my cheek, a bittersweet release of emotions. The first lyrics that have come to me since losing Sloane.
So now I sit here wondering,
Why you left me all alone
When you were the only person
That’s ever truly been my home
The final chord rings out into the distance as I slowly open my eyes. The same city lights greet me, but a sensation of being watched has the hairs on my neck standing to attention.
A quick glance over my shoulder reveals him leaning against a column, his hands casually tucked into his sweatpants, his eyes shimmering as they catch the reflection of the lights.
I turn back. Pissed off, I throw my notebook into my guitar case before gently putting my guitar back on top, slamming the lid and snapping the locks. I quickly stand. I move to walk past him when his hand snaps out and grabs mine.
“Othelia… please. I’m sorry.” He looks defeated. Now closer to him, I can see the dark circles shading his eyes, hair standing on end like he hasn’t stopped running his hands through it since he showered. “I fucked up.”
Pulling my hand out of his, I take a few steps backwards.
“It’s fine, Rook, you don’t owe me anything. I’d hate to confuse you with my best friend.” The moment my words hit him, he gives me a pained look, his breath catching in his throat as if I delivered a powerful blow to his stomach. Turning from him, I stride towards the elevator. I can’t do this with him. Not now, with tears still fresh on my cheeks, but his shaking voice stops me.
“You reminded me of her.” I don’t move to turn around, but the hurt in his voice has me frozen in my spot, unable to take another step. “I heard you singing to Layla, and it was too much. Your voice and that song brought back too many memories and I just couldn’t handle it. The way you and Layla looked at each other,” he huffs, “the way your fucking hair was braided. It was all too much.” Turning back to him, I struggle to process everything he has just said. He pinches his nose, squeezing his eyes shut.
“I heard you singing Elvis and I could vividly see my mother singing and dancing with me in the kitchen of our tiny home. I remembered all the times we laughed and how she tried to teach me to speak Norwegian and failed miserably.” His words sound choked, struggling to come out. But when he opens his eyes, the need shining in them shows his desperation for me to understand. To know him.
“But those memories also bring back fucked up memories of my father, how scared he used to make us, the things he used to do to her. I do this for her. All of this for her.” His arms gesture wide, before he drops them as he steps towards me, but this time, I don’t back away.
“I have to be the best for her. She has given up so much for me to do this, to follow my dream. So now anything less than one hundred percent of my commitment isn’t enough. It isn’t a fair trade if I don’t give my all. Fuck, even if I do, it still won’t enough. I would give all of this up in a heartbeat. Go back to the minute I got selected and refuse. Take some menial job and live happily with her, safe and whole.”
He takes another step towards me and I feel like I can’t breathe. My brain scrambles to work out what could have possibly happened to his mom to make him feel this way. So guilty; so indebted.
He lifts a hand to stroke my face, palm resting on my cheek, and I press into his warmth, closing my eyes.
“I am so sorry, Othelia. I should never have brought Sloane into it. I was so overwhelmed before the game and then I played horribly and told myself if I just ignored you, if I stopped trying to be lost within your orbit, I would get myself back on track.” His finger brushes back a loose strand that has sprung free from my bun. “Then you came up to me and were so sweet, so caring, and I didn’t know what to do. How can I ignore you when you make me feel like the most important person in the world? So I lashed out. I hurt you.” My gaze falls to the floor with his confession.
This week I have felt alone and unimportant. That yet again my mother was correct and I just get in people’s way. Feelings of never being enough, never being the one that is chosen, have filled me with so much doubt.
His hand grips my chin, directing my face back up to his. “I will never make you feel that way again, Othelia. The fear and hurt on your face when I spoke to you is something I promised myself I would never cause on a person off the ice. I never wanted to be like my father, a man who used his size and temper to relish in people’s fear.” He lets me go and steps back, giving me space to breathe.
“I understand if you don’t want to talk to me again, I deserve that and more. I just didn’t want you thinking you had done something wrong. That you weren’t enough, because it’s me that’s lacking. It could never be you.”
I chew on my lip, my heart pounding as I think over all that he has told me.
Taking my silence as confirmation, he nods sadly and walks past me, his head drooping in defeat.
I find myself at a crossroads: do I let him go, despite this excruciating week of not talking with him, in order to shield myself from potential heartache if this doesn’t work out? Or do I choose him, risking the hurt, but believing that he has the power to make the risk of falling truly worthwhile?
“Wait,” I shout, louder than I intend, as he steps into the elevator. His hand shoots out to stop the doors from closing. He looks at me with such restrained hope, waiting for me to decide. “Can you tell me more about her?” I hold out my free hand in offering.
A slow smile creeps across his face, revealing his newfound determination as he steps out of the elevator. He reaches for my hand, intertwining his fingers with mine and leading us back to the couch.
He sits first, gesturing to the spot next to him for me to join him. I place my guitar on the floor next to us and make my way to the empty spot. I sit sideways facing him, tucking my feet up next to me, resting one arm on the back of the couch so I can lean on it.
He adjusts, turning to sit closer to me, draping one hand over the back of the couch, his fingers reaching to brush my shoulder. His hand slides forward on his lap, palm turned upwards, silently offering me the choice to hold it if I want.
I slide my hand into his, and he wraps his hand around mine, giving me a soft smile. Before he answers, he takes a moment to soak in the panoramic view of the city, feeling the weight of the moment as he exhales a breath. “What is it you wish to know?” he finally asks.
He waits patiently while I think about what question I could ask. “How close to the city did you live?”
“We moved all over. I think we had lived in thirteen or fourteen houses by the time I graduated.
“Seriously?”
“Yep, my father was an asshole and when my mother left him, he made life… difficult.” He looks uncomfortable when mentioning his father, but begins stroking small circles on the back of my hand with his thumb.
“What’s your mom like?”
His eyes soften when I switch the subject back to her. “Honestly, she was the best. We did everything together. It was always just me and her.” The small circles continue and I don’t miss the fact he said was the best.
I get the urge to be closer, so dropping my legs, I push up next to him, leaning my head on his chest. His heart thumps in my ear, but he releases another long breath as he wraps his arms around me, squeezing like he’s scared I’ll disappear if he lets me go.
“I bet she’s proud of you.”
He lets out a pained sigh, the sound filled with disbelief. “My mom was hurt. She has a brain injury that requires round-the-clock care.”
I push myself up, using his chest so I can see his face. “Rook…” My hands clench in his shirt.
He pulls me back to him, pressing his face into my hair as he hugs me. “It happened in my rookie year. I was in Boston. I wasn’t even sure she’d survive. When she woke up and didn’t remember things, the doctors assured me it would pass, that short-term memory loss was common with brain injuries.” He shudders underneath me. “But it didn’t. It got worse. She needs help with everyday things and her memory is all over the place. Some days, she thinks I’m still a kid, other days she doesn’t recognize me. Some days…” He pauses like he is going to continue, but shakes his head. “So now I manage her care from Chicago and fly back here whenever she needs me to.”
“Can she move to you?”
He sighs. “I tried to bring her out to Boston while I was there and it made things so much worse. She hated it. Seattle is her home. It’s the first place she lived when her parents moved here from Norway and I can’t take that away from her, not when she has already lost so much.”
“You’re a good son.” He scoffs and I sit back up, placing my hands on either side of his face. Red rims his eyes and the dark circles under his eyes are now almost black. “You are a good son. I know you don’t feel like it, but not many kids would drop as much for their parents as you have.”
He tries to drop his eyes away from mine, but I keep my hold firm on his cheeks, the stubble scraping against my palms. When I don’t release him, he looks into my eyes again, looking broken.
“Thank you for sharing your mom with me.” I push myself up to bring myself eye-level with him. He wraps his arms around my waist, holding me. I lean towards his face and press a kiss against his lips. My eyes flutter closed as he holds me tighter. When I pull back, he keeps his eyes closed, his eyelashes now wet and glistening in the city lights.
“I thought I lost you too.” His voice sounds more broken than before. “I swear, Tilly, I will never make you hurt again. I’m so sorry.”
“You called me Tilly.” His eyelashes flutter open and I see the confusion in them. “You never call me Tilly. Well, except when you came on the phone.” I chuckle and his face brightens with the most beautiful smile before he tosses his head backwards.
“Ugh, don’t remind me.” He sighs.
“Of what, the best phone sex of my life?”
He brings his face back to mine, a questioning look on his face. “I thought that was your only phone sex?”
“It was. I didn’t say how low the bar was.” I laugh as he tickles my ribs, pulling me closer.
“No, it’s not that I don’t want to remember it. The guys noticed I took ages in the bathroom and questioned me when I came out.”
“What?” I push away from him, but he holds me firm.
“Relax, Rockstar. No one knows what we did.” He chuckles before quietly murmuring something to himself.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t catch that last bit.”
He drops his forehead onto my chest, and he sighs dramatically before speaking directly to my chest. “They think I had an issue after a questionable box of tacos for lunch.” He raises his eyes, wincing as he takes in the shocked expression on my face, before I burst out laughing, collapsing back onto the couch in a fit of giggles.
I can’t breathe because I’m laughing so much “Oh, my God! You didn’t.”
“What was I going to say? Sorry, I was drilling my hand to the sound of the assistant captain’s little sister coming on my phone .” He drops his hands back onto my thighs before rubbing them back and forth.
“Nope, you’re right. Diarrhea was definitely the better option.” Another fit of laughter bursts from me. Rook smiles widely, matching my own. God, this man is breathtaking. I love his grumpy, dominant side, but I think this carefree, funny side just might end up being my favorite.
He drags me over his lap, wrapping my legs on either side to straddle him, before leaning in and giving me the sweetest kiss. “You didn’t answer my question,” I say.
“What question was that?” He leans back on the couch, running his hands down my waist and along my thighs, distracted as he touches me. “Fuck, it feels good to touch you.”
I feel a blush creep up my cheeks. “Why don’t you call me Tilly?”
“I didn’t think I’d earned the right to yet.” He shrugs like it’s no big deal.
“What do you mean?”
“I thought it would be reserved for people close to you, and I didn’t want to push.” Leaning forward, I press another firmer kiss onto his lips, his hand sliding up until it meets the nape of my neck. I lean back a little, creating a small space between us, but our lips remain touching.
“You can call me Tilly… but I don’t mind ‘Rockstar’ either.” Both of our lips tip into smiles before they crash back together.
We stay on the couch for what feels like hours, talking, laughing, stealing kisses. “Oh God, Rook. It’s three o’clock.” He groans as he nuzzles into my neck. “Don’t you have training in like four hours?” His forehead collapses against my shoulder as he groans again.
“I guess we should get some sleep then.” He abruptly stands, picks up my guitar and holds his hand out for mine, which I quickly slip into his. “My room or yours?” he asks as he directs us towards the elevator.
“Umm, me in mine and you in yours.”
He turns his head towards me, glowering. “What?”
“You know, no sleep will be had if we’re in the same bed.” The elevator dings and the door slides open. He pulls us inside before pressing me against the wall, brushing kisses along my neck.
“I’m not hearing a downside.”
“Plus, Rian will freak out if he wakes and I’m gone.” Groaning, he collapses against me before reaching out to hit the button for my level. I reach up, running my hand along the nape of his neck, making him nuzzle more into me.
“You’re making this so hard to walk away from you,” he groans and I smile. I feel it too, but I need to take a breather after tonight. Getting to know him on the rooftop for the last three hours has given me a greater understanding of who he is.
He holds my hand the entire ride down and the walk to my door. He holds my guitar out for me to take as I slip my key card out of my pocket. Leaning in, he kisses me and I melt into him. I don’t think I will ever get used to these types of kisses from him.
“Thank you for hearing me out. You had every right to walk away. I was horrible to you.” He rubs at the back of his neck.
“I appreciate you sharing more about your life with me. I understand how grief can sometimes sneak up on you.” Lord knows I’ve had it hit me over the last few months.
“Can I see you later? Maybe after morning skate?” He looks at me with so much hope but also a weariness that I still might walk away.
“Yeah, I’d really like that.”
His eyes brighten, and he leans in, giving me a lingering kiss.
“Goodnight, Tilly,” he whispers before pulling back and walking backwards to the elevator, watching to make sure I get inside. Crimson colors my cheeks as I swipe my card and push open the door, leaning out one last time as he gives me one last smirk and wink as the elevator closes with him inside.
A knock on the door pulls me from my thoughts as I sit on the couch, trying to flesh out the last few lines of the bridge. I place my guitar down and glance over at Rian, who sits at the dining table scrolling through his phone, his eyebrows wiggling when the knock appears again.
“Are you not planning on grabbing that?” I question as he continues to sip on the coffee I didn't realize he made.
“I'd hate to deny you the opportunity to converse with your gentleman caller."
“What are you even talking about?” I scoff, but my cheeks redden at the thought Rook might be on the other side. Rian dramatically waves towards the door and I pick up my pace while flipping him off. The sound of his chuckle echoes behind me.
Unlocking the door and swinging it wide, my eyes can't help but rake over Rook, leaning against the door jamb with a coffee in hand. His freshly washed hair falls haphazardly over his face, making him look more boyish than the hardness I'm used to from him. He has a team sweatshirt on with the sleeves rolled up, exposing those deliciously tattooed forearms and dark wash jeans that hug his sculpted legs.
“Hey,” I say, sounding out of breath, even though I've only crossed the living room. “I wasn't expecting to see you until later this morning.”
I gesture to my sweats and loose-fitting tee that's hanging off one shoulder, my hair tied up in what once resembled a bun but is now more down than up from the hours I've spent running my fingers through it as I've worked.
“Do you always open hotel doors without checking the peephole?” He sounds pissed off but his eyes take in my disheveled appearance, coasting over my bare shoulder and the fact that my nipples have now made an appearance through the thin shirt causing him to lick his lips in response.
My thighs clench at his darkening gaze. “Uh sometimes.” I shrug.
It's a bad habit of mine. My head is usually thinking about a million other things than my own basic safety. Dom has scolded me about it forever. Rook shakes his head, holding back his response but running his free hand through his hair, making it more rumpled, a sign of his frustration.
“I was heading out for a few hours and was hoping you would join me.” He looks at me with such vulnerability, our talk last night opening painful doors for him.
“Uh...” I bite my lip, wanting to say yes, but the whole point of me being on these trips is to help Rian.
“ Go . I'm quite capable of looking after my own kid,” Rian yells, clearly knowing where my head is at. I lean away from the door to stare at him.
He’s flicking through his phone and sipping away on his coffee like he hasn't been listening in on our conversation. A lopsided smirk grows as he continues to pretend to ignore us. I turn back to Rook and mimic his stand against the door.
“It appears I have an opening in my schedule.”
The small vulnerable smile he gives me back makes my heart skip a beat.
“I'm going to have to change, though. Do I need to wear anything specific?”
“Just be you,” he says with such sincerity, I blush. “Oh, and this is for you.” He holds out the steaming coffee, which I eagerly accept, inhaling the sweet aroma and melting against the wall. Rook chuckles beside me and I take a quick mouthful. Humming in appreciation at the perfectly sweetened brew.
“Mmm, okay, hold this and I'll get ready.” He takes back the cup, our fingers brushing. As our eyes meet, his index finger moves purposefully along the inside of mine. Thank God he’s holding the cup because the way my hand trembles at the contact, the reminder of how he can touch me, sends a shiver up my arm.
His eyes lock onto my reaction, and we inch closer to each other. His head tilts towards mine, and his hand gently brushes against my cheek. It then slides down to the back of my neck. With a gentle tug, he pulls me closer, and our lips meet in a passionate kiss, instantly opening to welcome one another.
A loud cough from inside the room has me jolting, but Rook remains firm, holding me to him, our foreheads resting together. “Maybe if you’re gonna go you should, maybe… I don't know... go.” Rian's sarcastic remark earns a chuckle from Rook, and I can't help rolling my eyes.
“Gimme five?” I ask.
“Take all the time you need.” He pulls me closer again, this time planting a soft kiss to my forehead before he steps back, releasing me to lean against the hallway wall.
"You know, you can come in, dumb ass,” Rian yells again. Rook shakes his head with a small smile dancing on his lips before he mumbles something that sounds an awful lot like I'll show you dumb ass. Stepping back, I open the door wide to invite him in, then close it once he’s inside.
“I’ll just be a sec.” I swiftly make my way to my bedroom, feeling the lingering warmth of my just-kissed lips against my fingertips, while my brother’s knowing smirk on the other side of the room becomes impossible to ignore.