Chapter 13 Lincoln
LINCOLN
Istare at Parker, my entire body tense, my fingers gripping the base of my chair to stop me from getting up and marching toward her and…I don’t want to think about what could follow that.
“Where have I been?” she echoes in confusion.
“Yes. Parker. Where have you been?”
“Out with Casey. We went for Mexican. Why? What’s—shit, didn’t your date turn up?” She balks. As if that’s an issue I ever have. And no, not for the reason you’re thinking. Women always turn up; I don’t date. Ever.
A self-deprecating laugh falls from my lips as I push my chair back and stand.
“Yeah,” I muse. “Something like that.”
She watches me like a hawk as I round the table and move closer to her, reality still not hitting her.
I feel like a fucking fool.
I did this. I did all of this for her. To celebrate the first day of her new job, to say thank you for noticing what I’ve managed to hide from all the others and force me to deal with it. But she didn’t come.
I have never, ever gone to this much effort for anyone else before, and she didn’t fucking turn up until the food was cold and the evening was over.
Maybe you should have invited her properly, a little voice shouts, but I ignore it.
I did mention it, and really, do I need to invite my roommate to dinner in our own place?
Apparently, I do.
“Linc, what’s—” She cuts herself off as I step into her space.
Emotions riot within me as I stare down into her eyes. The worst is the embarrassment. I should let her think I got stood up; it would be better than confessing that I did all of this for her.
But I want her to know. As she said earlier: she knows me. She’ll know the significance of my actions.
Shit, I’m not even sure I’m aware.
Was this…did I…did I plan a date?
No. I just wanted to hang out with my roommate, with the girl I grew up with.
We’re…friends. Kind of.
“There’s a card with the flowers,” I state before stepping aside and moving around her.
I’m out of the room and kicking my bedroom door closed before she has a chance to say anything.
As I move, my groin hurts, and I curse myself for not grabbing an ice pack on the way.
I could go back out there, but I refuse to see the moment she figures out what that really was out there.
“Fucking idiot,” I mutter as I drag my T-shirt off and stalk toward my bathroom.
I don’t need another shower, I had one when I got back, but the need to shut myself in my own little rainfall heaven is too much.
It’s easier to forget reality when there is nothing but the sound of falling water around you.
It’s the same with the rain, but there doesn’t seem to be much chance of that tonight.
Kicking my pants from my legs, I leave a pile of abandoned clothes behind me before turning the shower on and stepping under the water long before it’s warm enough.
A shudder races through me, but I don’t shy away. It’s nowhere close to being as bad as an ice bath.
I like the pain, embrace it, and use it to help me focus, to push me forward.
My eyes fall closed as I think about who I’m doing all this for now.
Sure, at the beginning, I played hockey because I loved it.
Because I got to hang out with my best friend and have a laugh.
I wanted to be like my dad. But as I got older and truly began to understand the legacy he left behind, the more I wanted to do him proud.
And that need only got stronger when he passed.
It was too soon. He wasn’t ready. We weren’t ready. He wasn’t even sick, for fuck’s sake. But none of that matters because he’s no longer here. All that’s left is his legacy, and I have every intention of keeping it alive.
He was one of the greats. He won three back-to-back Cup finals and all of the prestigious awards. He held records for years that others have struggled to beat.
Honestly, I can only ever dream of being as good as him. He was incredible.
Regardless of how good I was, he always supported me. He was the best coach a little boy with stars in his eyes could get.
I just hope he’s up there somewhere now, looking down on me with his proud smile.
Everything I do is for him, because of him. I just wish he’d gotten to see more.
My heart is in my throat as I think back over times gone by with my dad. Hell, our whole family.
The thought of Parker plucking the card from the flowers and reading the truth is enough to have me hiding in here a little longer.
When my skin is wrinkled, I figure I need to man up and face reality.
Turning the dial, I step out and grab a towel.
After wrapping it around my waist, I pull the bedroom door open, leaving little puddles of water behind me.
“The fuck?” I bark, my heart lurching at the sight of someone sitting on the edge of my bed.
Parker’s eyes widen, and she jumps to her feet. “Shit, I’m sorry. I shouted. I thought you heard me.”
“Clearly fucking not,” I mutter as I rip my eyes away from hers in favor of walking toward my dressing room for a clean pair of boxers.
“I’m sorry.” The sincerity in her voice makes my steps falter. I don’t look back, though. I can’t.
“It’s fine. It was a stupid idea anyway.”
“No, it wasn’t,” she says in a rush, moving closer.
Goose bumps prick my skin as I spot her in my periphery. She’s close enough to touch me. She won’t, though.
“It was so thoughtful. I really appreciate it. I just…I wish I knew. I’m sorry I didn’t and messed it up.”
“Don’t worry about it. Dinner wasn’t all that nice, anyway.” It’s a lie. I pulled out the big guns and made her my specialty, parmesan chicken. I might not be a great cook, but that dish…I nail it every time, even if I do say so myself.
“That can’t be true; it smelled amazing.”
“Garlic and tomato always smell good,” I mutter, forcing myself to continue.
She lingers behind me as I pull out a pair of underwear.
I consider my actions for almost a full second, but I quickly decide that she’s the one who invited herself into my room, so screw it.
Her breath catches as my towel hits the floor, leaving me standing before her bare.
I’ve never been one to be shy about my body. It helps that women throw themselves at me daily and that I’m on more billboards than I’d care to count. But knowing that I’m naked with Parker hits differently from every other woman I’ve ever been with.
Heat courses through my veins, awareness making my hairs stand on end.
“Linc,” she warns.
“What? You invited yourself in here. Just be glad I didn’t walk out of the bathroom naked.”
I step into my boxers and tug them up my body before spinning to face her.
Her cheeks are rosy, and I swear there’s desire in her eyes.
I wonder how long it’s been since she saw any action.
“None of your business.”
I rear back, blinking at her in surprise. My hand lifts to the back of my neck, massaging my tight muscles.
“What?”
Shit. I didn’t mean to say that out loud.
“We don’t all sleep with every willing candidate.”
“Nor do I. I’m selective.”
“How discerning of you.”
“I know what you think of me, Parker,” I point out. “As you said earlier, you know me.”
Her eyes immediately drop to my inner thigh. I grit my teeth, trying to convince my body that she’s only interested in my adductor.
“How is it feeling?”
“Fine.”
“Liar,” she hisses.
“Wha—”
“You can try and tell me all you want that it’s not hurting, but I watched you walk over here. I know, Storm.”
“Damn you, Donnelly.”
“I’ll go and get you some ice.”
“You don’t have to do that.”
“It’s the least I can do for screwing up your night.”
“You didn’t. Eating alone was much more peaceful.”
Her mouth opens and closes, but she swallows down whatever comment she wants to make.
Instead, her entire body relaxes and her voice softens. “If you’d have just told me—”
“I thought I had. Clearly, I fucked that up.”
“Linc,” she starts, but I don’t let her continue.
I’ve been vulnerable enough tonight. And after where my head went in the shower earlier, I’m done. I’m exhausted. I just want to fall into my bed and crash.
“Are you getting ice or not?” I ask a little harsher than I intended.
I've shown her a side of myself tonight that I’m really regretting.
It’s only ever happened once before, and the exact same thing happened.
I was shut down and reminded of the person everyone thinks I am.
The player, the life and soul of the party.
The fun one without a care in the world.
If only that were true.
And it just goes to prove that Parker was wrong earlier. She doesn’t know me. Not really. She knows Lincoln Storm, LA Vipers’ number seven. She doesn’t know Linc, the guy who’s been there right under her nose since we were just kids.
“Y-yeah. I’ll get your ice.”
I stand frozen on the spot, watching her go, my head spinning with thoughts and feelings. Most of which I shoved down a long time ago.
Six years ago, to be exact.
Thankfully, Parker returns with an ice pack from my freezer before I make the mistake of losing myself in memories that are best kept in the past.
“Get comfortable,” she instructs, jerking her chin in the direction of my bed.
“I’ve got it, Donnelly,” I say, practically snatching it from her.
She watches as I fall onto my bed, pressing the ice pack against my inner thigh. It’s cold—freezing, actually—but I don’t react.
“You’re not benching me for our next game,” I state, my eyes closing as I rest my head back.
“We’ll see,” she warns.
I don’t look as she moves, and my eyes don’t open for long minutes after the sound of my door closing fills the room.
But it doesn’t matter that she’s gone. She’s still the only thing I see.