Chapter 14-Ezra
Sokolov, at your service.
“How can I fully trust you? You hurt me that night.”
“I know, I’m...”
“He hurt me more.”
“Because you loved him.”
Loved.
Past tense, right?
The memory of Callie crying on Tuesday night has haunted me the past forty-eight hours. My whole body ached with the need to hold her but I didn’t want to push for more than she wanted to give. Then, I went and kissed her.
I always thought I knew the whole story when it came to Callie and Chase but now I’m not so sure what to believe.
“Mr. Sokolov?”
Mentally, I give myself a shake. There are ten people sitting around this table staring at me. “Sounds good. Celeste, make notes of what Ryan was saying for later.” Because I sure as fuck wasn’t paying attention.
I’m stretched thin this week between the upcoming inaugural game and the office but all I can think of are the two people who seem to be capturing all my attention lately.
The meeting ends, thank God. I’ve got great employees working under me at Power Play but I should probably spend the rest of the evening in my office catching up on anything that’s slipped by me the past few weeks.
But, before I can settle in, my phone rings. It’s Callie’s number. I’m already short of breath just knowing she called me.
“Ezra, you working?” a little voice asks. Not Callie.
“Hey, Bump. Yeah, I’m at work. What’s up?”
“Can you come here? I’m hungry.”
“Does your mother know you’re calling me?”
“Mama’s crying.You come cheer her up, okay?”
“What?! Why is she crying?! Are you okay? Are you safe?”
“Uh-huh. The washer blew up. Pop-Pop says it’s got demons to exercise.”
“What?!”
Like a bat out of hell, I fly to her apartment. I’m greeted at the door by a drenched Callie who’s only slightly red-eyed as she tells me the tale of the washing machine with a mind of its own. There was two inches of water covering the floor of their apartment when they got home this afternoon. Charlie is already here along with Callie’s landlord. Charlie had jokingly spoken of demons and exorcism which Wyatt mistook for exercise.
When the restoration people show, I make sure they understand that everything is to be fixed and returned to its original state no matter the cost as soon as possible.
But, I can’t be upset over this unexpected domestic crisis when I lead them into my penthouse an hour later.
“You live here?!” Wyatt asks, turning three full circles as he looks around.
I have the urge to puff my chest out and also want to cringe over that urge. “Yeah.”
“It looks like a museum! But without all the paintings!” I laugh at the strange observation as he runs to the double doors leading to the rooftop terrace. “Is there a pool?!”
“Not up here. The building has one but it’s currently undergoing some repairs.”
Wyatt walks over and lays his hand on my arm, looking up at me as if I just told him I’ve lost a loved one. “It’s okay, Ezra. It’s still a cool place.”
I can hear Callie snickering behind me. “Thanks, Bump. Want to see your room for the night?”
“I didn’t know he was going to call you. You don’t have to do this,” Callie says as I lead her to her guest room a short while later.
“I don’t mind that he did. Get settled and I’ll order pizza.”
“Okay. Ah, shoot. I didn’t pack pajamas for me.” Oh darn. “If we’re in your way at all, we could-”
“If you say go to a hotel, I’m insisting they put pineapple all over the pizza.” She presses her lips together in a thin, angry line. It makes me grin. “Your parents have houseguests with your cousin still in town. I have room. Here. You can wear this tonight.”
I toss her one of my old jerseys, secretly coveting the notion of my name across her back. “Thanks. I’ll get it back to you.”
“Sure.” Never give it back to me.
“Ezra?”
Damn, she’s on to me. “Yeah?”
“How did you know I hate pineapple on pizza?”
“Because I hate it, too.” And, I absorbed every detail about you I could learn when you were dating my brother.
I find Wyatt sitting in his room after I’ve dug through the correct box from the Fog’s PR team. They’d sent some for my approval and to give away to friends and family. He’s family. “Got you something.”
He raises his head and my heart seizes up. Fuck, he’s crying. What happened? He’d seemed fine at their apartment despite the flood. Does he not like being here? I want him to like my place. Is it the no pool thing? I’ll get a damn pool installed in the middle of the living room if he wants.
I walk over to the bed, dropping to my knees. “Talk to me, Bump,” I murmur, placing a hand on his knee and marveling over how small but perfect his hands look beside mine. I want to correct or destroy whatever it is that’s making him upset.
“Mama cried ‘cause of Bumpy,” he sniffles. “I left it on the floor. Books aren’t ‘posed to be left on the floor.”
It takes a little coaxing to get the full story. Wyatt’s copy of Grumpy Bumpy was once Callie’s copy. Waela read it to her as a little girl and it’s now ruined. “We’ll find another copy, okay? One for you and one for your mama.”
“Tonight? We read it every night, Ezra. Every night, Bumpy before bed.”
“Tonight, I promise.” There’s a bookstore around here somewhere. “Your mother forgot to pack pajamas so I gave her something to wear. Thought you might want something like it.” I hold out the kid-sized jersey.
His eyes go so big and round, you’d think it’s made of gold. “For me?”
“Yeah, for you. Yours to keep.”
He turns it over. “There’s no name.”
“We can get your name on the back if you want.”
He shakes his head, frowning. “No, your name.”
“My name?” I repeat. My heart thuds heavily in my chest. Maybe I need to get a checkup with the way these two affect me. “One of the ones that says Falcon?” There were specialty jerseys like that. Those were the most popular with my pipsqueak fans when I played.
“No, your name. Sokolov,” he says, only stumbling over it slightly as he pulls the little jersey on.
I help adjust the hem with my heart beating wildly now. My name. Mine. “Did you know my last name is Russian for falcon?”
“No… Did you know some frogs sleep all winter?”
I crush him to me for a hug, overcome with affection and protectiveness for this boy. He laughs, telling me I’m a bird. “Your mama called me Big Bird.” Christ, he might piss himself he’s laughing so hard at that.
“Looking good, Bump.” We both turn to see Callie standing in the doorway, smiling at us.
She’s wearing my jersey. It’s too big for her and her legs are bare but it makes her look like she’s mine. Fucking mine.
∞∞∞
“Adios, Cinnamon Toast. Now, you say…”
“See you later, Alligator?”
His sleepy eyes pop back open. “No, no, no. You say, Toodle-loo, Kangaroo.”
“Oh.My bad.”
“Later, Alligator,” he repeats. “Hey, that rhymes, too, Big Bird.”
Snickering, I pull the covers up to his chin. “Time to sleep.” I watch his eyes get heavy and murmur, “Toodle-loo, Alligator.”
Those green eyes so like my own fly open again. That adorable grin is back as Wyatt cackles while Callie rolls her eyes. “You’re getting him stirred up, Ezra. You’ll be sorry for that.”
Not a bit sorry. I got to read him his new copy of Grumpy Bumpy after Wyatt told me a dozen different things in the bookstore about hummingbirds and trains. We walked in there for Grumpy Bumpy. We walked out with thirty other books. Callie only fussed at me twice about it. Her original copy was a first edition. That’ll take a bit more work to find.
Callie murmurs a few words in his ear and brushes back his hair. She’d said he would be a little uneasy in a new place at night. Within two minutes, Wyatt’s breathing has evened out. He looks younger somehow, almost like a baby. It’s incredibly peaceful, watching this active little boy succumb to sleep. “I love seeing him all day long, love hearing his stories and watching him run and play and learn. But, this time of day is special.”
I can see what she means. She’s a wonderful mom. Wyatt’s luckier than he knows. I shake the unhappy thoughts off as we quietly close the bedroom door.
“Thanks for letting us invade your slick bachelor pad.”
We head downstairs toward my living room and I’m acutely aware of being alone at night with Callie who is wearing my jersey and no pants. “It’s not a ‘bachelor pad.’”
“You’re unmarried and I could fit my entire apartment in this room, Ezra. That’s the Golden Gate Bridge perfectly framed and lit up through that window. This is the fanciest bachelor pad I’ve ever seen.”
“How many have you… never mind. My home has nothing to do with my marital status. Do you not like it?” I want her to like it.
She laughs. “I can’t imagine anyone not liking it. Is there still some wine from dinner?”
There is and it’s still early for us to go to bed. I’d only want to go there if she was joining me in it.
She also pumped the brakes the other night when I kissed her so I’ll behave myself.
We share a glass of wine on the sofa, quietly talking with the lights down low. She’s busy admiring the view so I take my time admiring her.
It’s pleasant until her expression grows pensive. “Have you heard from him lately?”
“Yesterday, actually.”
I’d checked in after the skating lesson Tuesday night when she’d cried. I’d wanted to ask some things, wanted to give him a piece of my mind, frankly, for ever hurting this woman. But, I couldn’t bring her up naturally in our conversation without raising his suspicion and he’d been in good spirits talking about a successful therapy session.
She turns away from me. How does she feel about Chase beyond not wanting him to know about Wyatt? “Is he coming to play here?”
“There’s nothing decided about his hockey career right now.”
Truthfully though, he’s mentioned money several times, that he’s got to play somewhere. Saying no to him if he makes it through the program will be hard. He’s still my kid brother and there’s also Dad to consider.
“I know he’s in… at a private retreat.”
No need to mince words on that front. She’s not a reporter. “Rehab, Callie. It’s fancy but it’s still rehab. For his drinking and anger management issues.”
“I am sorry if he’s struggled. I don’t wish him harm even if I was very angry with him back at Princeton after I…”
“You caught him kissing another girl, right?”
She scoffs. “Do you usually use kissing as a euphemism for getting a blowjob?”
“What?!”
“Ah… guess I should’ve realized you heard a different tale.”
“You could say that.Jesus.”
Is that true? Do I take her word over my brother’s? Yeah, in this case, I know I should. Chase, you stupid fucker, always chasing girls. It makes me wonder what other tales might’ve been sugar-coated for my ears.
Also, Callie said blowjob and my dick heard that. Breathe, Ezra.
“It’s in the past and you weren’t the one who cheated.” She glances around the penthouse. “You must have lots of lady friends...”
“Not exactly.”
I can tell she doesn’t believe me. She doesn’t know.
“Tell me something about you” I prompt. I don’t want to talk about Chase or other sexual partners tonight. “Tell me something about Wyatt or work or things you enjoy.” I want to learn everything there is to know about her.
We drink the wine and talk. It’s easy, companionable. No, our opinions don’t always align but I kind of like that. I’ve got enough yes men following me around at work. She listens to what I say. I listen to her. We might spar but the energy doesn’t seem as wasted as it did when we were younger. Maturity has made it easier to admit that everyone has their own perspective and opinions can be altered.
Three glasses in, she rolls her neck and groans. “God, I’ve got such a crick in my neck. I think it’s from standing on my head inspecting the damage earlier.”
“I could, um…” In an instant, my wine glass is on the coffee table and I’m moving closer. “Turn and face the, uh… that way.”
Her lips curl into the sexiest grin. “What are you up to, Sokolov?”
“Giving a lady a massage. That’s all, I swear.”
“What do you know about giving massages?”
“Enough to know when I’m doing it right.” Her eyes flash in response. My dick thinks that means it’s a good time to get hard. Down, boy. “Do you trust me enough to put my hands on your neck? Promise not to strangle you.”
She chuckles quietly and nods before turning away. My eyes drop to my name across her back. My dick isn’t finished getting ideas.
Exhaling, I rub my hands together and then get to work. The very first squeeze produces a tiny moan. ZAP, straight to the cock.
I can tell Callie’s as surprised by emitting that sound as I am hearing it. “Sorry.”
“Never apologize for that. Moaning during a massage seems natural to me. Though, I think I made the trainers very uncomfortable at times.”
She laughs and lets me continue. Deep, circular motions starting at the point of pain and working outward, along her narrow, sloping shoulders and fine collarbone. Her skin is so soft and that orange blossom fragrance is seductive.
Callie’s breathing grows uneven and she tenses. “What’s wrong?” I ask.
“I just… it feels really good.”
“That’s no reason to tense up.”
“I guess I don’t know how to relax sometimes.”
Yeah, she’s a mother and a hard worker. When does Callie get to relax? I redouble my efforts, determined to show her she’s capable of relaxing and I’m capable of getting her there. The muscles bunched up under my hands loosen and she leans back a little further. Her ass touches my knees. Fuck, I want to swoop in for a kiss. And, slide my hands down the front of the jersey over her breasts and lower while I’m at it. I’m so hard my dick is trying to punch a hole through my pants. But, I will not stop. Even if I come from simply rubbing Callie’s shoulders, I’m going to give her the best damn massage she’s ever had.
Leaning forward a bit as I work one stubborn knot more firmly, I notice her biting her plump bottom lip. “Don’t you dare hold back a moan if it feels good. Those moans are my fee.”
I expect her to laugh. Instead, she’s brutally honest. “Sorry. It feels so good and you’re the first man to make me moan in a long time.”
Whaaaaaat?
“I cannot believe I just said that!” she yelps the next second.
She dives forward on the sofa, trying to escape my reach. Too bad for her, my arms are long and I’m quick. “Hold it right there,” I command, circling her waist and locking her in place with my mouth millimeters from her ear.
“Ignore what I said, Ezra…”
I brush her cheek with my lips, smirking when I feel their heat under that bronze glow. “What kind of moans has the rest of my sex been depriving you of, hummingbird?”
She’s breathing in and out rapidly but not resisting the way I’m holding her. “I… the good kind.”
“The good kind, huh? Tell me more about the good kind.”
“Ezra,” she whimpers.
I nip her earlobe. “Tell me.”
She shivers and obeys. “Like when you’re rubbing my neck and shoulders. Or my lower back.”
My hand drops down at once to gently do so. “Like this?” Her eyelids flutter and she releases a hesitant moan. “Good girl. I love that sound. So, tell me what other good kinds of moans you’re lacking.”
“The, uh, ones… especially the ones when I, um…”
“Have an orgasm?”
“God, Ezra.”
“Tell me.”
“Yes,” she whispers.
“Well, that is completely unacceptable.”
I move from my knees to a seated position, pulling her into my lap and tracing the outside of her bare upper thigh. Her eyes meet mine, huge and hazel and hopeful.
“Tell me exactly how long it’s been since a man made you moan that way, Callie… and then tell me exactly what you’ll permit me to do in order to rectify the situation.”