Chapter 14
CHAPTER 14
ESME
I’d been counting down the minutes until I could go home and collapse into my bed. I hadn’t planned to stay through the Grizzlies game, but the hype and excitement of the doubleheader had gotten to me. And the Parliament players had begged me to stay.
I’d spent most of the game in the players’ box chatting with players and getting to know girlfriends, boyfriends, and spouses while also enjoying a catered dinner and talking with Easton and Tom about some prospects working their way up in both the juniors and college hockey. One prospect we were focused on was a local kid playing Division I hockey in Michigan. He was a little rough around the edges, but I’d seen film of him and he had the makings of a professional hockey player.
About halfway through the second period, the players got excited over a fight in the stands, but the conversation I was in the middle of had my attention. I’d seen enough drunken fights in my days playing—I didn’t need to watch another.
Besides, the show in front of me was much more interesting. Lincoln, the owner of the Parliament, had come into the box looking just as powerful and commanding as he always did in the hallways or in meetings. He made his way over to us and instead of taking the open seat beside Easton, Easton wrapped his hand around Lincoln’s wrist and guided him to his lap.
As soon as Lincoln was settled, Easton touched his lips to his neck then whispered into his ear. Lincoln blushed and wiggled slightly, then settled quickly when Easton squeezed his thigh. A few days earlier, I wouldn’t have thought twice about the action. That was before I had days of research under my belt. My mind was spinning with possibilities, none of them vanilla or remotely innocent.
Tom’s reaction didn’t help me figure anything out. He glanced over, his mouth turning upwards into a teasing grin, and shook his head at the two. “Gah, you two are sickeningly in love.”
“You’re no better with your husband. You two are the definition of sickeningly in love. Have you ever taken a look in the mirror when he’s around you?”
Tom just rolled his eyes and the conversation returned to the prospect and finding a time for me to go out to watch him. They wanted me to see if I thought he’d fit in well with the Parliament or if we should give him another year or two of college before looking at drafting him.
By the time our conversation wrapped up, the final period was a few minutes from ending and we began making our way to the locker room. I was still trying to figure out if there was anything I could do to benefit the Grizzlies, though all Easton wanted to do was see his best friend, who just so happened to be Tom’s son. The relationships between the teams were going to take longer to figure out than my job. It was all so complex I struggled on the best of days to keep up with which player or staff member was in one way or another related to or dating another player or staff member.
Downstairs, the locker room was already filling with players. Cunningham walked in right behind his players and looked around at the men all stripping off their gear.
“Good game, guys. Good game. These are the games that will keep us in the run for the Cup this year.”
A round of cheers and hoots went up and Cunningham gave them a few seconds to die down. “Rest up, everyone. The next few weeks are going to be a grind. Check in with Doc and the trainers if you need to. Take advantage of the next couple of days. Be respectful to the media as you talk to them tonight.”
“What he means to say is make sure to leave the fines to him,” Imil joked with a jab to Cunningham’s side. Cunningham rolled his eyes playfully and stuck his middle finger up at the assistant coach before he turned and headed out of the room. If Blaise’s pinched expression could be believed, it was probably for Cunningham’s own press conference. He was legendary in the league for calling games as he saw them, good, bad, or ugly. It was entertaining to everyone but the hockey operations guy who kept track of all his fines… well, him and the league.
I thought about following to see what Cunningham had to say and went as far as stepping into the hallway to get a front row seat to the insanity. I didn’t make it farther than just outside the locker room door before coming across Jake, still in his full uniform, listening to Seth and Maz talk about concealer in the hallway.
I’d never been a player who bothered hiding my bruises on a regular basis, but sometimes it couldn’t be helped. Being a well- known player came with photo shoots. Editing could do a lot, but makeup helped, at least according to the people paid to put it on me.
Over the years, I’d learned enough about putting on concealer to be able to do a passable job. People asked too many questions when I showed up to a bar with a black eye when all I wanted to do was let loose for the night.
Seth pushed something into Jake’s hand. “Just keep that. I’ve got a brand-new tube in my bag. I keep the stuff on me at all times.”
Maz nodded in agreement. “And if, or really when, it turns yellow, come find me. I’ll hook you up.” Jake stammered a response, and then something happened between Seth and Jake, and Maz seemed exasperated while shooting his boyfriend a look. “Sorry for his broken filter.”
The two men turned and headed toward where the players parked their cars. Maz was still scolding Seth as they walked away. “We’re going to get you home before you say anything else to get you in trouble.”
Seth didn’t sound worried about the veiled threat. If anything, he sounded excited. “Oh, how much trouble?”
Jake shook his head and turned my way before I could avert my eyes. I forgot all about pretending not to stare when I saw the giant red welt under his eye, and the commotion during the second period came back to me.
“Holy shit. Are you okay?” My feet went toward him of their own accord, my hand automatically reaching toward his face.
At the moment, Jake didn’t look like the flirty guy from the bar or the capable police officer I worked with. He looked small as he blinked up at me, color filling the apples of his cheeks and spreading across his nose. “I’m okay.”
Instead of pulling away from my touch, Jake leaned into my palm. It was easy to see he was beyond tired. “Were you the one who got in the fight during the second?”
His shoulder lifted. “I had to break up the fight. Drunk person.” He yawned. “The EMTs and the team doctor checked me out. I’m fine, just bruised. And I have two days off to recover.”
“How long have you been here today?” I asked. I’d put in a long day as well, but I’d also gone home to nap, eat lunch, feed Chloe and Stank, and relax for a few hours between my morning meeting and the first game. Jake had been here before I’d arrived the first time and I hadn’t heard that he’d left.
“What time is it?”
“Just past eleven.”
“That’s it? I was certain I’d be here until at least midnight.” He sighed. “Of course, I haven’t finished the rounds.”
“What time did you get here today?” He still hadn’t answered my question and the exhaustion on his face had me concerned.
“Around eight or so.”
That was a solid fifteen hours earlier. “What did you have for lunch?”
Jake blinked. “Uh… Oh! I had a protein bar from my desk drawer.”
A protein bar might claim to be a full meal, but Jake needed more than that in a day to keep him going. “And dinner?”
He answered without having to think as hard. “A pretzel.”
When I scowled, he smiled. “With cheese.”
“Let’s go find you food, then get you home.”
“I have rounds to do.”
I shook my head. “Aren’t there other police officers and security guards around here who are supposed to be doing that?”
Jake nodded slowly. “But I’m the supervisor.”
“Do they know their jobs?” I barely gave him time to nod his head before speaking again. “Great. Then they know what to do. They’re adults. They’re professionals. And you’ve nearly put in a double shift, haven’t eaten, and are dead on your feet. You’re going to spend the next two days sick as a dog if you don’t take care of yourself now.”
As I’d said that, I’d placed my hand on his back and directed him to where a buffet had been set up for the players after the game. “You’re very bossy,” Jake said around a yawn.
I wasn’t normally like this but something had snapped in me when I’d seen his swollen cheek and it hadn’t gotten any better when I’d noticed how tired he was. If anything, it had gotten worse. All I wanted was to wrap him up, feed him, and get him to bed.
Protective.
I’d never been protective of anyone but teammates on ice, yet that was exactly how I felt about Jake right now. He needed someone to take care of him and make sure he ate and made it home.
I wasn’t going to let myself think about my feelings yet and continued to direct him toward the buffet. When we turned the corner, Jake’s eyes widened. “Whoa. This is nice.”
“Have you never gotten dinner after a game?”
Jake blinked at me in confusion. “I didn’t know it was a thing.”
That was going to change as soon as I figured out who to talk to about it. But that could wait for later. At the moment, I needed to get Jake fed and home.
“What do you like?”
He looked slightly overwhelmed at the options. I was going to chalk his reaction up to being hungry and dead on his feet. “I’m not really picky. Just no mushrooms.”
“Do you mind if I make you a plate?” He shook his head and I pointed toward a small table along the wall. “Go sit over there. I’ll get you food. Then we can figure out how to get you home.” Because there was no way in hell I was letting him drive, as exhausted as he was. Jake didn’t question my instructions as he headed over to the table.
I already had pasta smothered in a rich white sauce on the plate and was spooning roasted vegetables to the side when I finally thought about what was happening. Jake had followed my directions without question and I was plating his dinner.
Is it natural submission?
Is it exhaustion?
Is this something a Daddy would do?
I was ready to bang my head against a wall for letting myself overhear his conversation. Every single interaction I’d had with anyone since Wednesday had left me questioning if I was reading too much into it or if there was some kinky undertone to it.
As I thought, I managed to fill a plate for Jake without processing what I was adding. Pasta with chicken, veggies, and some baked fruit dessert were on different parts of the plate. Somehow, nothing touched. If I counted the cream sauce, it was a fully balanced meal with all the food groups.
Yeah, this is definitely a Daddy thing.
It took until I got the plate back to Jake for my heart rate to slow down. He wasn’t paying attention to me and tapped at his phone, not looking up until I slid the plate in front of him. At that he startled like he’d forgotten all about food. When he looked up, he blushed bright red and quickly turned his phone off.
I almost asked what he was hiding but stopped myself at the last second. I wasn’t actually his Daddy and I had no business asking what he was doing or who he was talking to.
“Thanks,” he said more to the plate than to me. He was embarrassed by something—I just didn’t know what.
“You’re welcome.” It was all I could say despite wanting to know what had his blush so bright. And really, what was I supposed to say to the man I’d been having fantasies about since we’d hooked up over the summer? Even having him pull me over and write me a ticket hadn’t stopped the fantasies from coming. Adding in working with him and knowing what I now did, I had no idea how to talk to him, what to say, or even how to act around him.
I wanted to get to know Jake better but also wanted to ask him about his little side, ask if he had his blanket with him—which was stupid—find out what he needed to relax. I wanted to see his little side and take care of him, but we were nowhere near that point.
My attention was focused on my thoughts until I heard deep breathing from across the table. Jake had fallen asleep while eating. There was still a bite of fruit on his fork, but his head had lolled downward and he was out.
“That’s it.” I stood up and walked to Jake’s side, putting my hand on his shoulder and leaning in. “Come on, baby, let’s get you home.”
Jake blinked slowly, not reacting to what I’d called him. His eyes were still unfocused when he nodded. “Home, yeah. Good idea.” He yawned and pushed the chair back. “My car is in the garage.”
“There’s no way in hell I’m letting you drive yourself. You fell asleep eating. Where do you live? I’ll drive you.”
“No! No, you don’t have to go out of your way. I’ll…” He trailed off to yawn again, then rubbed his tired eyes with the heels of his hands. He winced when he bumped the bruise. “Fuck.”
I knew Jake was going to hurt. I knew what getting clocked in the face felt like. I’d started and finished more fights in my career than I could count. While I was certain there was a stat sheet somewhere on how many fights I’d been in during my years with the Bulldogs, the actual number wasn’t important. It didn’t matter if it was a fist, elbow, or stick. If it landed on someone’s face, it was going to leave a mark.
I’d known full well it was possible a fight would happen each time my skates had hit the ice for a game. At a certain point, it was routine. But the often overlooked part of hockey fights was that they were mutual agreements. There was an etiquette to fighting. Not that we didn’t sometimes take it too far, but we learned to both give and take hits. Rarely did they amount to more than bloodied knuckles from striking helmets. By the time the helmets came off, the blows were mostly glancing and toward the ears.
Regardless, after the game when the adrenaline had worn off, they’d hurt like a motherfucker and all I’d wanted to do was sleep the pain away.
Jake hadn’t known the blow was coming. He hadn’t been prepared. And it most certainly hadn’t been a mutual agreement. He was in pain. Police officers didn’t get in as many fights as a hockey player. There was no way his body was used to the adrenaline surges and crashes I’d lived with my entire adult life. As such, he was in no condition to drive.
He looked like he was going to protest before he sighed. “I can take a ride share.”
The growl of frustration I let out made something flash in Jake’s eyes and I watched as his posture changed. He rattled off his address and something pinged in my brain, refusing to let go until I finally put my finger on it. I drove by his street on my way home.
“Come on, sleepyhead. We can figure out the car situation tomorrow. You need your bed and Elle.”
He nodded, too tired to think about my mention of his blanket. I hadn't forgotten the conversation in his office and how he’d agreed without thinking told me my deduction had been dead-on.
We made our way to the garage silently. I waved to a few people as we passed them and only stopped briefly to let Blaise know I was taking Jake home. One glance at him and Blaise’s eyes widened and he shooed us away. “Go. Get him home. And drive safely.”
I placed my hand on Jake’s back and directed him to where I was parked, going as far as to open the door and make sure he was buckled in before I shut it.