25 - Haven
HAVEN
The house was loud again. Not party loud, just— full.
Voices overlapping in the kitchen. Someone arguing about a missed pass. The low hum of a television, no one was really watching. Boots thudding on the stairs, as doors opened and closed throughout all three floors.
I stood at the counter, tablet open, pretending to review clips from practice. Pretending only, because I’d already reviewed them. Twice.
I just couldn’t focus on them, because my mind was… elsewhere.
“Spreadsheet.”
I glanced up to find Ares leaning into the doorway. He had his arms crossed, shoulders filling the entire frame like the house had been built around him.
I hadn’t heard him come in, which wasn’t all that surprising. He moved like that. Quiet… until he wasn’t.
“What do you want?” I asked, going back to my tablet.
“Talk.”
He grunted the word like a caveman.
“About?”
“You.”
I stopped typing for a second.
“That sounds ominous.”
He didn’t smile. He didn’t move, either.
“Why didn’t you say anything?” he demanded.
I leaned back against the counter.
“About what?”
“Don’t do that,” he growled.
“Do what?”
“Act like you don’t know what I’m talking about.”
I shoved the tablet aside. It wasn’t like I was getting any work done anyway.
“You mean the part where I can actually play?” I said. “Or the part where you never bothered to ask?”
He stood for a moment longer, then pushed off the doorway. His jaw was still tight as he crossed the room in a few heavy steps.
“You’ve been here for how long?” he asked. “Watching. Talking. Breaking things down like you’ve got it all figured out.”
“I do have it all figured out,” I smiled. “Well, mostly.”
“That’s not the point.”
“Then what is?” I challenged him. “Please. Enlighten me.”
He was close enough that I could smell him now; all ice and sweat and leather. Not to mention some intoxicating natural musk, that was driving me crazy.
“There’s a big difference,” he said, his voice going tight, “between knowing something and actually being out there.”
“I know. And I just showed you I’ve done both.”
His eyes flashed an electric blue that bordered on violet, as he looked me up and down. I wasn’t sure if he was assessing me, trying to intimidate me, or just generally checking me out. One thing was for sure, though:
Ares was trying to keep himself in check again.
“You think I don’t see it?” he said, after a beat.
“See what?”
“The way things changed today, after your little stunt.”
I didn’t answer. I only scoffed.
“I’m serious, Haven. You go out there once, and suddenly everybody’s listening. Suddenly, it’s all different.”
“Wow,” I laughed. “I can’t believe it.”
His expression twisted into a scowl. “Believe what?”
“You just called me by my actual name.”
That threw him for a loop. He actually stiffened.
“The team knows where I come from now,” I said evenly. “I have a hockey history. I didn’t just drop out of the clear blue sky, with a tablet glued to my hand.”
“So?”
“So that’s a good thing, isn’t it?” I folded my arms. “The team respects me.”
Ares paused, and bit his lip. I’d see him do many things, but I’d never seen him do that before.
“Maybe,” he allowed. “On some levels.”
I laughed. “Please.”
“Look at it from our perspective,” he went on. “You walk in, you don’t say anything, and you start making changes. And now suddenly you prove a point, and everything’s supposed to shift?”
“I didn’t ask for anyone to do anything,” I snapped back at him. “You guys were the ones who assumed I only knew one side of the boards.”
A slow-growing anger was boiling inside me. Especially since this wasn’t a guy who backed down.
“You think that was a power play?” I said, pointing vaguely.
“I think you knew exactly what you were doing.”
I locked gazes with him, and stared even harder into those ice blue eyes. The usual suspicion Ares carried for me was no longer there. It had been replaced by something else, entirely.
“You’re pissed,” I said quietly.
The muscles in his neck flexed.
“I’m not pissed.”
“You are,” I said. “I just don’t know why.”
His lips had gone tight now. Like he’d said too much.
“You don’t like that I didn’t need you to validate me,” I guessed. “You’re not happy that I didn’t wait for permission.”
He shook his head. “That’s not it.”
“You don’t like that I proved you wrong.”
Ares eyes darkened.
“That’s definitely not it.”
“Then what is it?” I pushed.
For a long, pregnant moment, the room was silent. Even the rest of the house seemed to go quiet.
And then suddenly, I knew.
And my eyes went wide.
“Oh shit…” I gasped.
The big defenseman tilted his head. If his jaw got any tighter, his teeth would shatter.
“This is about what happened in the hot house, isn’t it?”
His gaze shifted uncomfortably left and right, before settling back on me.
“Nothing happened in the hot house,” he said coldly.
Too fast.
I swore. “Oh, yes it did.”
“You’re not even allowed to be in—”
“You’re mad because you lost control,” I cut him off. “You let something happen. You actually felt something for once, other than the need to—”
“I swear to God, if you don’t—”
“—hit someone.”
The words fell like a hammer. They stopped him cold.
He stepped back all of a sudden, like he needed distance. It felt like I’d crossed some kind of invisible line.
I still didn’t regret it, though.
“Ares…” I said, a bit awkwardly. “Listen…”
He spun away, leaving me wondering what the hell just happened. He didn’t look back, either. He just stomped through the doorway, disappearing from sight.
The house felt abruptly cold again, when it didn’t before.
Desperate to avoid my room, I found a quiet chair in a corner of the living area and opened my tablet to do some work.
The numbers wouldn’t come together, though.
Every line, every column of data seemed to dance away as I tried to make sense of it, until all I could do was power the thing off.
My reflection stared numbly back at me, from the now-black screen.
But my thoughts kept circling back to Ares.
Eventually I stood up, and my feet carried me upstairs without thinking. Past my room. Past the rest of the attic.
Straight to his.
I knocked once, softly. There was pause, and the door opened.
Sebastian took one look at me, and didn’t ask a single question.
“Hey,” he said quietly.
That was it. That’s all it took.
“I just—” I started, and then stopped. It was obvious I didn’t know how to finish the sentence.
He stepped back and opened the door wider.
“Come here.”
I didn’t hesitate. His room was warm, and not just the temperature. Everything about it was welcoming. The dim lighting, the quiet. The way the downstairs noise barely touched it.
I sat on the edge of the bed, hands clasped loosely in my lap. Sebastian sat down beside me, and gently laid a hand across mine.
“You wanna talk about it?”
I shook my head. “Not really.”
He smiled, and I leaned into him. I did it slowly, carefully, until my head rested on his shoulder.
Sebastian didn’t move, didn’t react. He just let me.
And that part meant everything.
Soft music played faintly from a set of headphones on his bed. I exhaled, letting the tension bleed out of me in slow, cathartic waves.
“Can I…”
“Sleep here tonight?” he chuckled softly.
“Yeah.”
“Of course.”
His hand slid further forward, into my palm. Our fingers intertwined simultaneously, as if we both shared the same thought.
“Let’s go next door and grab your pajamas,” he murmured. “And pillow. And anything else you want.”
The comforting scent of him filled my nostrils. The bar of soap we shared in the shower. The sandalwood in his shampoo. All of it intermixed with the rugged smell of leather and Febreze, sprayed on his pile of goalie gear, in the corner.
I needed something real. Something steady.
Slowly I stood, and peeled off my clothes. All the way down to my undergarments.
“I don’t need pajamas,” I murmured softly.
Sebastian’s warm brown eyes were suddenly fixated on my body. Or rather, parts of my body.
“You don’t need pajamas,” I smiled down at him.
I’d never seen a guy take his shirt off so quickly. It made me laugh.
And I really need to laugh.
“I need to feel your skin against my skin,” I said, throwing the blankets back. “I want to keep each other warm.”
He dimmed the lights and we slid in together, his arms and legs folding over me in a way that felt like we’d done it a thousand times. Nothing needed to be said. Quietly, we absorbed the darkness.
And slowly, deliberately, thoughts of everything — and everyone — else, faded to black.