15. Walker
FIFTEEN
Walker
Finn was badly shaken.
After the cops were done with us, I curled over my guy like a protective eagle curling its wings around their chick and shouldered our way through the press corps shouting questions at us.
I led Finn to my car, got him in, closed the door, and spun to face the thicket of reporters.
Bright lights from the rolling cameras made me wince as I addressed the reporters desperate for a story.
“Mr. Carter and I are not commenting at this time at the advice of the Rochester police.” That was a lie.
The cops had not told us anything, but I had to assume that the criminal justice system would work better if we didn’t go blabbering to the press about what happened.
If we deviated one inch from our statements, it could fuck things up when things went to trial.
And I so wanted this piece of shit to go to trial.
I could taste the need for retribution on my tongue.
It was metallic and cold like old blood.
“We ask that you respect his need for privacy at this most upsetting time.”
And with that, I nudged a guy asking me about my relationship with the teacher aside as only a hockey player can nudge.
If not for a random cameraman behind him, that reporter would have been planted in the snowbank.
When I got into my car, I locked the doors, cranked her over, and off we went, sending the press scattering to get out of the way.
“Fucking vultures,” I grumbled as my seat belt alarm pinged steadily.
“It was the same in New York after that whole twink incident that got me sent down.” I threw Finn a look as we slowed at a stop sign to leave the school grounds.
I shoved the belt into the latch plate and the pinging stopped. “You okay?”
He looked pasty. “Just cold.” His hazel eyes locked with mine. “What twink incident?”
Well shit. I had a lot to tell him. But not right now. “I’ll tell you everything when we get to your place, okay?” He nodded. His slim shoulders drawn to his ears. “We’ll have heat soon.”
“You handled them well,” he whispered as we sped toward his little apartment complex.
“I have experience with the press.”
“Right, playing in New York would give you practical knowledge,” he replied as he shivered. The heater was still blowing chilly air, so I pulled up at the next light and peeled off my coat. “No, you should keep that.”
“I spend 80 percent of my life on ice. I have the constitution of a polar bear. You need it more.” I draped it around him despite his weak protests.
With a hum of pleasure, he pulled it on, burrowing into the oversized coat like a chilly little eaglet.
I really needed to stop watching eagle nest hatchling videos in my downtime. “There. Better?”
“Much.” He pulled the collar of the cocoa-colored shearling coat up to his nose.
Given that it was an XXL plus extra tall, he was lost in it.
If we weren’t still mentally fried from what had happened a few hours ago, I would have felt all kinds of randy seeing my tiny guy in my big coat.
Right now, though, my libido had checked out. Maybe it would reappear later. I hoped.
We rode along in silence, the radio playing some old ?60s hits. Finn was lost in his head, gazing at the wintry streets. The shivering had stopped anyway. When we pulled into his drive, he sat there staring at his place as if he wasn’t sure where he was.
“He was going to shoot us.” Finn’s voice cracked as he spoke. I left my truck running while we sat there, hot air blowing so hard on our faces my eyes were dried out and my nose felt like sandpaper.
“Let’s get you inside, baby.”
He nodded, a few tears sliding down his cheek. The truck ticked as the engine cooled while I got him out of the truck and through his front door. He found the lights. Then, he looked up at me at his side, my arm around his middle.
“I can walk.” He padded away, leaving me at the front door. I toed off my sneakers and followed him to the tasteful living room. He flopped down on the sofa, the furred collar of my coat resting on his ashen cheeks. “I could use a drink.”
“Yeah, I feel that. I would love a stiff one myself, but booze and my mellow pills don’t mix. Can I make some coffee?”
“Right, yes, of course. You can’t drink. Please, coffee. Cream is in the fridge.”
“Got it. You just rest, baby.”
“Can you check the doors and windows? To make sure they’re all locked?”
“Totally can do that.” I knew that fear well. Many were the nights Harper and I had lain in bed, me cuddling her to me, my face bruised from a beating, startling at every little noise. Trauma made a soul jumpy.
His kitchen was cute. The appliances were older but well taken care of. The fridge was covered with pictures of him and his students as well as some of him and his brother. Drawings from his students, awards from the school. He was so beloved. Not just by me either.
I took a moment to text Harper to let her know that I was okay and that there might be some news flowing into her feed with my name in it.
I promised I would talk to her in the morning.
She was out on a date with some guy she worked with.
She’d been flirting hard with the guy for weeks, and so, she was probably busy getting her freak on with said dude.
A dude I hadn’t met yet, but then, she hadn’t met Finn either, so that was tit for tat or whatever they said.
I turned off my phone.
As the coffee perked, I did a sweep of his home.
Nice place, a little on the small side and somewhat old, but it was Finn all over.
When I returned to the kitchen, I poured two mugs, creamed them, and toted them to the living room.
Finn was right where I had left him, still wearing my coat, and all that I could see were his little nose and eyes.
“Did you check the windows?” he asked, carefully taking the hot mug from me.
“Yep, and the doors. No one is coming in here.” I sat down beside him, thighs touching, and took a sip of my coffee. Strong as hell. Which might be a good thing because we had a long night of talking and processing to do.
“I feel as if I don’t know which way to turn my thoughts.
My mind touches on something, then leaps off in another direction.
I can’t settle my emotions or my thinking.
” He cradled his mug in two hands. Thankfully, they weren’t trembling as badly anymore.
He glanced at me from under thick lashes.
“I’ve never felt such anger before directed at me or a child. It’s… terrifying. Poor Jamie.”
“Yeah,” I huffed while I stared at the little statuette I’d given him sitting on the entertainment center that held his TV, a few books with cloth marks hanging out of them, and a stack of papers.
“He’s going to be scarred from that, but…
” I turned on the sofa, knee up, arm coming to rest on the back behind his shoulders.
“He had someone to stand up for him, and that will make a huge difference.”
Finn shook his head. “I was too scared to do anything. You were the hero.”
“Pfft. No, I was just doing what I’ve been doing for years. See some asshole dude trying to hurt someone you love, and you get your dumb ass in front of your loved one.”
He swallowed loudly. “I know we’ve been through a lot tonight, and it may not be the best time for you to get into it all, so please tell me if you’re too upset to talk about your childhood before I broach the subject.”
“Nah, it’s fine. There’s no good time, baby.
” I gave him a flimsy smile. I suspected he was using my past to avoid having to think about what he’d just lived through.
Avoidance. Something that I knew well. “It started well before either my sister or I were born. Dad was a violent man even as a child, according to a great-aunt whom we met once. Mom left after Harper was born, not a clue where she went. One time, a neighbor told us they’d seen her when they’d been in Texas visiting family, but I didn’t care.
She left us with him. Yeah, she was running for her life because he’d beat her for years, but… ”
“I’m sorry for asking.”
“No, no, I want to get this all out because I love you, and you need to know the full story before we get any more involved. This way you can tell me to take a walk out into Lake Ontario and not come back. I would not hold that against you because I am fucked up in big ways.”
“I would never tell you to do that.” He wiggled around to face me, tucked his feet under his backside, and reached out to take my hand. “I love you no matter what.”
We’d see. Taking a deep breath, I plunged back into my timeline, something that I never did with anyone other than Dr. Quackers.
I started at the beginning, when Dad had to shift his aggression to his kids because his battered wife had gone shopping for groceries and had simply disappeared off the face of the earth.
“I was six. Harper was two. The fists started flying on my seventh birthday and never stopped. Hockey was my savior in a lot of ways. It was the only thing that gave me pride. It was also a way to vent. Fighting in juniors was a no-go, but once you got older and into the pros, fighting was not only accepted, it was also cheered. Gladiatorial sport and all that. I had refused to billet in my junior days, which crimped my chances to play with better teams, but I could not leave Harper unprotected.” This all came out as Finn held my hand tightly.
“The whippings, the hatred of his own children for resembling his runaway wife…
they became more and more frequent until I hit fifteen.
“By then, I was bigger than him, stronger. I could—and did—fight back. And I began to win the battles at home more and more until he stopped waving his fists in my face. I went to college, taking Harper with me and setting her up with a friend who lived near campus. She went to work at a diner after lying on her application, saying she was eighteen when she was really only fourteen. She began training with me at the school gym. Dad never once asked where she went or why, the bastard.”
Finn nodded silently, his grip tight.
“Hockey was my game, kickboxing was hers.
No one was ever going to slap us around again.
Only, she could handle the Vesuvius of aggression that we carried inside of us in a productive way.
Me? Meh, not so much, but every fight I had in the pros got me good press and stick taps.
I was a star, fists of fury, rich and looking for an outlet for the bubbling dark goo that Dad had planted in my chest.
“When he died of a massive coronary in my senior year of college, Harper and I cheered. We never went to the funeral. Neither of us cared where he was buried. Somewhere in Maryland, according to the funeral home mailing address. I’d probably piss on his headstone if I ever stumbled across it.
There was a pittance of life insurance left after the funeral director got his cut.
We bought her a car for work and some new gloves for her bouts.
Then it was gone. Just like him, and Mom, and all the other adults who were supposed to care but never really did. ”
I took a break then, looking down at the little statue with the happy teacher.
“This coffee sucks balls,” I confessed but downed the last cold dregs to wet my throat.
“So, all of that kind of leads to the twink who tried to steal my phone last October. I lost my shit. Beat the hell out of the guy and ended up being arrested. The Vipers were not impressed. I had a rap sheet with the league already, so that was the famous straw breaking the camel’s back.
I got sent down here to get my shit together with the Copperheads and met you.
” I looked right into his dewy eyes. “The very best thing that has ever happened to me was going to that art class and meeting you. The first time I saw you… something nice and sweet took root. And you watered that seedling of possibility and fed it, gave it your sunny smile, and it grew. Why am I talking flowers?”
He smiled, a shaky one, but a smile just the same. “Because you are a beautiful man.” I rolled my eyes. “You are.”
“Beautiful. Not so sure that can be applied to me. But I will say that men can be beautiful because fuck you, Dad, and your stupid, hurtful gender norms bullshit.”
“Yeah!” Finn croaked as he let his head drop to my shoulder.
“I’m sorry I flipped out when you called me beautiful. Sometimes, when I least expect it, his hate flares up like a vile weed that tries to strangle the pretty flower you planted.”
“ You planted it, Walker.” He lifted his brow from my shoulder to look into my soul. “I might have moved the bushel basket to allow the sun to shine on it, but you did all the hard work to make it grow.”
I kissed his nose. “I love you. I know I’m a junkyard dog, so if you get tired of my slobbering all over you or lifting my leg on the sofa or chewing up your shoes, just send me to the pound.
I didn’t have a really good role model for how a healthy love is supposed to be, but I promise I’ll do my best. I’ll bring you the paper every day and not bark at the mailman too loudly. ”
He chuckled before patting my face. “I love you. You’re a big man with the heart of a hero. I will always keep you close and shelter you from whatever demons still haunt you. As for the mailman, I think he carries dog treats.”
“Mm, I hope they’re peanut butter.” I pulled him under my arm. He curled into me, fitting perfectly, just like that final Lego snaps into your completed pirate ship.
“Thank you for sharing,” he whispered before his empty cup slipped from his fingers.
I held him there for the longest time before slipping my arms around him to lift him and carry him to his bed.
He never moved as I laid him down and pulled his covers over him.
It was only when I flipped the light off that he stirred.
“Walker, lie with me. I’m always safest in your arms.”
How could a man deny a request like that? I removed my jeans, leaving me in a tee and boxers, and climbed into bed. He freed himself from my coat, his pants and shirt, and joined me under the comforter, his cheek coming to rest on my chest.
“Close your eyes. No one will ever hurt you when I’m around.
Woof,” I whispered to him, but he was already asleep.
I pressed a kiss on his hair, then lay there long enough to see the sun rise before my body finally shut things down.
Whatever awaited us when the sun rose was going to have to just wait for a few hours…