8. Layken
CHAPTER EIGHT
LAYKEN
“ W hat do you mean you ran off to Napa for the weekend instead of buckling down and looking for a job?”
“Mom, I?—”
“Of course, you would run off and do something stupid. As if getting fired from your job wasn’t bad enough.”
“But that wasn’t my fa?—”
“But married, Layken? Really?” She scoffs. “Do you have any idea how embarrassed your father is at work? All we ever wanted was for you to find a stable husband and have a lavish wedding so he could walk you down the aisle like the proud man that he is.”
Really?
That’s all you wanted?
“I’m sorr?—”
“But you had to go and take that from him too, huh?”
“Mom!”
“And I suppose now you think you don’t need a job or a name for yourself because you’ll just mooch off this man? Do you even have a plan?”
“Yes, Mom. For now, I’ll be working on my book while?—”
“Oh, my God, Layken. Get your head out of the clouds!” she shouts. “Writing your books does not pay the bills. It’s not a stable line of work. It’s not respectable. You need stability. You need structure. Did he make you sign a prenup?”
“What?” I rear back even though she can’t see me over the phone. “No.”
“Well, that’s good at least. When he leaves you, you’ll get a large sum of his money.”
“Mom! I don’t want Griffin’s money! That’s not why I married him.”
Of course, this would be the moment Griffin walks through the door with dinner in his hands. I can feel his eyes on me while he sets our dinner on the small table in the corner of his living room.
“Oh? Then please, tell me, daughter, why you ran off with the man for the weekend and came back married to him?”
“Because I love him, Mom.” My cheeks flush when I say the words out loud. It’s weird saying it when I don’t really mean it and I instantly feel guilty.
“Oh, I’m sure you do, Layken. I’m sure you do.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“And just when are we going to get to meet this mystery husband?”
“He’s not a mystery Mom. His name is Griffin Ollenberg. Look him up if you want to. And I don’t know when you’ll get to meet him because he’s in the middle of his season and we’ll be traveling a lot.”
“So, no time to visit your parents but you certainly had the time to get drunk and create a night of bad decisions for yourself.”
Taking a deep breath, I pull my shoulders back and tell Mom exactly what she needs to hear. “Mom, marrying my literal soulmate was not a bad decision. I would make the same decision over and over again if given the chance so I suggest you get used to the fact that your daughter is married now. I’m sorry it wasn’t in the cookie-cutter way you had always dreamed of, but thanks anyway for being happy for me. Now if you’ll excuse me, my husband has dinner ready and I’m not going to disappoint him by letting it get cold. Goodbye, Mother.”
I tap the button to end my call and toss my phone onto the couch. Then I blow out a breath and deflate against the cushions.
“Literal soulmate huh?” Griffin says with a sympathetic smile.
I raise my hand to silence him. “Don’t even start with me.”
“You should put all that in a book.” He gestures in a circular pattern. “All that you just said. The cookie cutter stuff. That was good.”
“Thanks, I guess.” It’s an odd feeling taking a compliment from Griffin. In any other instance, he’s right. I love reading books where the characters so easily profess their love for each other. And one day I hope to find my soulmate. The man who loves me for who I am instead of someone I’m forced to be to appease my parents. One day I’ll find my happily ever after, but I don’t think that day is today. I’m hardly Griffin’s type.
Not when there are gorgeous Barbie-type women willing to fall at his feet in any town he plays in.
He offers me a hand off the couch and I take it, letting him pull me to my feet.
“I meant it, you know. You’re good with words. You shot her down better than I would have had I been talking to my parents.”
We sit together at the small dining table and Griffin opens the box of tacos from one of our mutually favorite restaurants. The savory smell wafting through the air makes me salivate.
I grab a tortilla chip from the bag and dip it into the nearby queso. “Tell me about your family,” I say, popping the chip into my mouth and reaching for my first taco.
“I’m not really sure you want to hear what I have to say about my family.”
“Uh oh, why is that?”
He takes a bite of his taco. “Because my family and I are really close.”
I gasp and smile, “You are?”
“Yeah.” He nods, watching me curiously. “That doesn’t upset you?”
My brows furrow. “Heck no, Griffin! I think that’s amazing! You’re very lucky to have a family you’re close to. I imagine they love you very much. Have they always been supportive of your hockey playing?”
“Oh yeah. My dad would shoot pucks with me all the time. And my younger brother, Gage…” There’s a sparkle to his eye when he mentions his brother. “He would come to every single practice and every single game growing up. He was even the equipment manager for the team when I was in high school.”
My heart melts a little listening to Griffin talk about his family.
“That’s so sweet! So, Gage didn’t play hockey too? Is he a lot younger than you?”
He shakes his head. “Only two years younger and he didn’t play on my team, but he did play for the adaptive team for a few years.”
“Adaptive team? What does that mean?”
“Teams for kids with physical or cognitive disabilities.”
“Oh.”
That must mean…
I sit back watching Griffin, trying to gauge whether or not I’ve hit a nerve, but he takes another bite of his taco and glances at me before he explains, “Gage has Down Syndrome.”
“Oh. Okay.”
He nods. “Yeah. He’s high functioning but has enough of a delay that playing in the mainstream leagues would’ve been dangerous for him.”
“I totally get it. And you’re close with your brother, yeah?”
“Mmhmm,” he says, stuffing the rest of his taco into his mouth. “I don’t really remember a time without him. We’ve been best buds our whole life.”
“I love that.”
“Do you have siblings?” he asks as I take a sip of my soda.
“One younger brother, and one older brother, yeah.” I nod. “They’re the perfect ones compared to me.”
“What?” His brows pinch. “What do you mean by that? How are you not a perfect child?” He raises his hand. “Present marriage situation excluded, of course.”
Picking at the toppings on my taco, I try to come up with the easiest way to answer Griffin’s question. “I’m the middle child between two brothers, for one. They were the sporty ones growing up. They participated in everything. They never needed to study but aced all their classes. Went on to ivy league colleges and stuck close to my dad’s profession. My older brother, Justin, is a judge in Oregon where he lives with his super-hot wife and super-attractive model-worthy kids and their golden retriever. And my younger brother Braylen, will be taking the bar exam this spring and hopes to work with one of the largest law firms in Dallas. He’s engaged to a senator’s daughter so he’s got everything going for him. And then there’s me.”
He turns himself sideways on his chair so he’s facing me now. “Why do you say it like that though? ‘And then there’s me’,” he asks, repeating my words.
“Because compared to them I’m the lazy screw up. I didn’t go to college at all and instead got a job with a non-profit right out of high school.”
“But there’s more to life than going to college,” Griffin says, irritation in his expression. “College isn’t for everyone and that’s totally okay. We wouldn’t have people working in trades if we didn’t.”
“I know that. And I know my parents know that, but that doesn’t mean they’re okay with one of their own children making that choice. My dad is a judge, which is an elected position, so my mom would do everything in her real-housewives type of power to give the appearance that our family was the perfect Anaheim, California, family. So, when I decided I didn’t want to go to college because it just wasn’t for me, she freaked the fuck out. Kind of shunned me from the family and refused to give me the time of day.”
“That’s fucked up.”
I nod. “Yeah. It was what it was. And at the time, I was happy to get out and be on my own, you know? I was finally free from the chains of my family.” I raise my fists to signify my freedom. “I moved in with a friend…it was this super shitty rundown apartment which means I knew my parents would never visit and then I found a job working for a local non-profit. I worked my way up in the organization I was with and then got lucky enough to win the job at Pacific Children’s. I was damn good at my job.”
“Is that where you met Corrigan then?” he asks, taking another bite of his food. “At the hospital?”
“Actually no. She was the one who told me about the opening. She used to volunteer at the organization I was working for. We kind of became friends through a mutual friend and that mutual friend moved away. Corrigan liked what I was doing for this company so much that when she heard about an opening at Pacific, she called me and told me about it. And then I got the job and the rest was history.”
“Wow.” He smiles, shaking his head. “Do you ever marvel at how cool it is that somehow the universe drops certain people into your life at just the right moments? Like whether you realize it or not, the people you meet or talk to or interact with each day have some sort of effect on your life in one way or another?”
“Like right now, for example? Like how the universe decided I needed to shack up with Griffin Ollenberg of the Anaheim Stars?”
He huffs a laugh and sits back in his chair, a look in his eye that I can’t quite place. “Yeah. Like right now. But I’m just Griffin. I’m just a guy who happens to play hockey. That’s all.”
I nod. “I think about it sometimes, yeah. For years though it was just that I knew I didn’t go about my life the way my parents saw it going for me. I didn’t go to college, I didn’t get this fantastically high-paying job, I didn’t marry for status and wealth.” I shrug. “I just wanted to be normal. You know?”
“Normal, huh?”
“Yeah.”
“And what exactly does that mean to you? Normal.”
I dab at my mouth with my napkin. “I don’t know. I’m a hopeless romantic so I kind of want the whole picture. The husband who is head over heels in love with me and isn’t embarrassed to show it. And not because I’m the person he wants me to be but because I’m me. The girl who can dress up for formal charity events in sparkly tight gowns and dangerously high heels, and the girl who can spend the weekend in her husband’s sweatshirt and no pants reading trashy novels. The girl who can speak in front of large crowds with poise and confidence and the girl who snorts when she hears a funny joke. The girl who can eat at any fine dining restaurant but still enjoy getting her fingers dirty when she accidentally…” I pull the tortilla chip out of the queso I just dipped it in, “…dips her chip too far into the queso and has to lick it off. I want the I-love-yous and the random touches when we’re together and the kisses just because. I want the hot sex and the angry sex and the sad sex and the just-because sex. I want all the things. I want a real life with someone who wants to be with me as much as I want to be with him.”
“None of that sounds bad at all. And maybe you lucked out.” He chuckles. “I’m as normal as they come.”
“Dude.” I roll my eyes. “You’re stupid rich and you play professional hockey. What part of that is normal?”
He shrugs. “Okay so not all of me is normal. But under this warrior-like body that I get paid to maintain, I’m just a normal guy looking for the same things you’re looking for. We all want that quote-unquote normal life.”
“I guess.” He has a point. “You’re an amazing player, Griffin. One of the best. I would never belittle that.” I bob my head. “And you’re not a douche. If I had to marry a hockey player, you’re definitely not the worst choice.”
“See?” He winks and nudges my leg with his. “You’re a lucky girl being married to me. I’m not the worst choice!”
“Oooh yeah,” I snicker, playfully rolling my eyes. “So very lucky. I married the hot hockey player in a state of inebriation and I didn’t even get a good fuck out of the deal because his penis was broken.”
He slowly lowers his taco to his plate and picks up his napkin to wipe his mouth and oh, my God, I can’t tell if he’s going to rage against me or say nothing and pretend he didn’t hear me.
Hell, I shouldn’t have said anything.
Why can’t I keep my mouth shut?
I know he heard me.
Did I make him mad?
Embarrass him?
I’m just about to apologize for teasing him about the drunken state of his manhood on our wedding night when he smirks and then lunges straight at me.
“That’s it.”
He tugs at my arm, pulling me up out of my chair, and then quickly hoists me over his shoulder. “WHAT THE? Griffin!” I squeal. “Where are we going? Put me down!”
He slaps my ass but doesn’t answer me even when I rake my fingers up his back tugging at his t-shirt. Laughter emanating from my mouth as he carries me through his apartment “What are you doing? Where are you taking me.”
“You’re grounded!” he says, slapping my ass a second time.
“Obviously I’m not grounded or I would literally be on the ground but nooooo,” I whine, “I’m ass-up folded over your shoulder you big butthole! Put me down!”
“Butthole, huh?” He chuckles. “Those are some savage words coming from my wife.”
“How about nut waffle rectum fucking testicle beater?”
He laughs so hard he stumbles with me in his arms. “Listen Hobbs…if you want someone to fuck your pretty little rectum, I’m here to fulfill all husbandly duties as needed, but you better know what you’re asking before you use fightin’ words like that.”
He carries me into my room and tosses me onto my bed in a fit of giggles and then he hovers over me as if he’s about to kiss me, his eyes flitting between mine. A spark of excitement shoots through my body all the way to my toes at the thought of reaching up and pressing my lips to his. God, it would be so easy. I swipe my tongue swiftly across my bottom lip and I don’t miss the fact that he follows the movement. Just when I think he’s going to lift off me he lowers his pelvis to mine and hooooly shit I can feel him!
Ooh…
I can feel his erection between our bodies.
God, what would he do if I pushed my hips up from underneath him?
With a voice somewhere between a whisper and a growl, he says into my ear, “I think my cock works just fine and I’ll be more than happy to show you any time you want. Just say the word, Hobbs.”
I can feel my cheeks flush with heat and I hate that he can probably see that he’s affecting me, so I say the very first thing that comes to my mind.
“And what word would that be, husband?” I tease him, raising one brow. “Flaccid?”
His smile widens and he bows his head, defeated. “She’s savage and relentless, ladies and gentlemen, but that’s why we love her.”
He shakes his head, places a swift kiss on my forehead, and then says, “Layken Ollenberg, you’ve been a very naughty girl.”
“Did I forget to tell you that Naughty is my middle name?”
“Yes.” He smiles. “Yes you did forget. So, as your punishment, Layken Naughty Ollenberg, you sit here and think about what you did.” He lifts off me and turns to walk out the door, but not before I hear him mumbling, “Telling my poor dick that he’s broken. Who does she think she is? Don’t worry, buddy…” He peers down at his crotch. “I believe in you.”
Laughing as he walks out of my room, I shout down the hall, “Does this mean I don’t get any more tacos?”
“NO! Your taco is mine now! And I will enjoy every second of eating it for you.”
Pretty sure I enjoyed it very much the first time from what I recall of our wedding night.
“That’s what he said!” I shout back.
“Fuckin’ right he did!”