21. Hana
Istared at the Wildcatters hockey game on the TV screen, unseeing. The CATS and I sat in Paxton’s living room—my house, too, as I’d been living with him for nearly six weeks now, though there were days at a time when I didn’t see him, thanks to his busy travel schedule. The guys were mere weeks from the playoffs and well positioned for a strong run at the Stanley Cup.
And I was busy wishing I hadn’t set the boundaries between us, because I really, really, really wanted to have sex with Paxton.
Really.
I sighed as I stared down into my drink. It was some fizzy concoction Naomi had handed me moments after she arrived. “You look like you need something stronger,” she’d said. “Or someone stronger.” I sighed as I sipped in an effort to combat my embarrassment. My mind drifted yet again to the other evening.
Paxton had come home earlier than expected and caught me watching Magic Mike. I’m sure my cheeks had been flushed, as I’d been considering having Paxton recreate those moves for me.
“What are you watching?” he’d asked.
“A movie you won’t like. I’ll turn it off?—”
Channing Tatum’s epic dance scene in the workshop had started as I spoke, so I dove for the remote. In my fumbling haste, I’d missed it, knocking it to the floor.
When I’d finally located it and raised it toward the TV, Paxton had gently extricated it from my hand. His touch had sizzled up my arm, causing my lips to tingle and my nipples to harden as I yearned for his touch. I’d had to shift my thighs, pressing them together in an effort to ease the ache between them.
“This is what you watch when I’m not here?” he’d asked, seeming amused.
“No! Well, tonight, sure, because it was on…” I’d searched for it on his streaming services, desperate for a release of the sexual tension that had bloomed with such intensity between us.
“He’s got some sweet moves,” Paxton had noted as he tilted his head and squinted. “It’s like he’s made of oil.”
I’d groaned as I flopped back against the couch and stared up at the ceiling, willing the movie to end so my embarrassment could, too.
Paxton had shifted on the couch, stretching out his long legs, his thick thigh pressed against my much smaller one. I hadn’t been able to pay much attention to the remainder of the movie because I’d been so focused on where Paxton and I touched… And I’d daydreamed about how I would touch him.
Yet even then, my fear of him leaving me after we had sex held me back. It was irrational. Ridiculous. I’d known it then, and I knew it now, days later.
He’d done nothing to make me think he would. And yet…yet…like Eurydice in Hadestown, the Fates whispered in my ear, telling me the wind would change, and I would be thrust out into the cold once more.
Bereft.
I hated those voices, had tried to silence them.
I had failed for weeks, and I’d become enraged with myself for my paralysis. So, a week ago, I’d asked Ida Jane, a children’s counselor, to recommend someone for me to talk to. She’d given me three names, and I’d connected with a therapist. We’d had our first session earlier today, and we’d delved into my past and my fears. I couldn’t tell if talking was helping, but it was totally exhausting. That allowed my mind to wander back, once again, to the night Paxton and I had watched Magic Mike.
Another dance scene had flitted across the television screen, and Paxton had leaned forward so his elbows were on his knees.
“Guy has talent,” he’d muttered. “I can see why the lady likes him.”
“It’s more than just his moves…” I’d begun. “But, yeah, he’s sexy.” I’d pressed my lips together, wondering why I’d said that.
Paxton hadn’t responded. When the movie ended, I had turned to face him. He’d appeared melancholy for a moment before he’d schooled his features. “If I were a woman, I think I would have been totally turned on by that,” he’d said.
“That’s the point,” I’d agreed. After chewing my lip until it hurt, I’d blurted, “I want you, badly. I mean sexually. But I have this…block. Almost a phobia. I’m scared if we’re together, I’ll end up hurt, back in the hospital… It’s ridiculous, I know, but it feels so real…”
Paxton had embraced me tightly, as if he could hug the fear from me. If only. “I didn’t realize that was an issue,” he’d said.
“I…didn’t want it to be.” I’d lifted my head to look at him. “I’ve been working on it, trying to get over it, but I think I need professional help?—”
He’d nodded. “Ah, Hana. If there’s one thing I’ve realized, it’s that those emotions, especially fear, are much stronger than logic.” He’d kissed the crown of my head and slowly, I had relaxed against him, melting into his warmth. “I don’t ever want you to have to hide from me. Not your thoughts or your feelings. I’ve missed our ability to be close…” His voice had cracked, and he’d cleared his throat. “I’ve missed us, Hana. So if you need more time, that I can give you. Weeks, months are going to pass no matter what. At least now I get to share them with you.”
“What do you think, Hana?” Keelie asked, her pretty eyes sparkling as she smiled at me, yanking me from my memory.
“I wasn’t paying attention,” I admitted.
“Lost in Naese-land.” Naomi laughed.
I wished. I needed to get over my hang-up and jump him already. Because I had to face reality: Paxton was a young, healthy male. He worked hard, and he’d always played hard. He deserved a woman who did the same with him and for him.
“Have you been worried about that?” Ida Jane asked from my other side.
My cheeks blossomed hot as I realized I’d said that aloud. But I nodded. These women had proven to be great friends. And I needed to talk.
“Let’s have it,” Ida Jane said as she caught my cold fingers and gave them a squeeze. “What’s your worst fear?”
I puffed out a breath. “That he’ll leave, and I’ll be hurt—physically as well as emotionally. Maybe I’ll lose my leg, like I should have before. Not be able to walk. Not survive.” I whispered the last words, hating how they weighed on me.
“After what you’ve been through, I think that’s a pretty normal reaction,” Millie said. “I mean, I ran away from Luka because my subconscious bastard of a mind expected him to be like my ex and my father. But he wasn’t and he isn’t, and I’m thrilled that I was brave enough to overcome the need to keep running.” She shook her head. “I wasn’t protecting myself, like I thought. I was hurting us both by not being open and vulnerable—by letting fear win.”
Millie glanced over at Ida Jane to see if her therapist friend agreed. Ida Jane nodded, seeming thoughtful. “Fear is a real bitch,” she said.
I straightened my spine. Okay, well, then I would simply refuse to be afraid. Not anymore. I’d stood up to Jeremy. I’d made my peace with my mother. Paxton wanted me in his life. He hadn’t hurt me since we’d reconnected and didn’t want to. If anything, he kept trying to coddle me. I loved that, but I probably shouldn’t.
But that was beside the point. We were together at his request. I lived with him because Paxton had asked me to.
No waywas Paxton going to throw me out on the street. He wasn’t going to leave me again. He’d promised, and I believed him—not just because I wanted to, but because I’d noted the sincerity in his expression, and I’d seen how seriously he took the commitments he made to his teammates and their partners.
Paxton meant what he said to me. He wasn’t a na?ve college student any longer; he didn’t blindly listen to his father. He was his own man who knew what he wanted.
And he wanted me.
I hugged myself as the warmth of that realization permeated my chest and spiraled outward. Oh, that was delicious! I wished Pax was here so I could hug him—or better yet, throw myself at him as we both wanted.
A horn blared from the TV, and I looked over to see Naese with his arms up, stick clutched in his left hand, a huge smile on his face.
“Naese’s fourth hat trick this month,” Paloma said. She smiled my way. “Something’s going right in his life.”
“He’s scored three goals again?” Keelie asked, looking up from her diapering. “Wow. He’s on fire.”
“What’s that sign he just made?” Naomi asked. “I’ve not seen him do that before.”
“Oh.” I put a hand to my reddening cheek as a catch hit me in the chest—thrown right at my heart. He just kept proving himself over and over again.
“You know,” Paloma said. Her eyes sparkled.
My cheeks flamed even brighter. “Erm, yes. It’s just… He used to do that…for me.”
“Well, I can guarantee the reporters are going to want the details,” Ida Jane said. “Tell us now so we don’t have to wait.”
“There’s not much more to say. Pax started making that sign—it’s an H—the first time he scored a goal back in peewee. He said it was for me.”
“Aw. That’s cute,” Keelie said. Brooks continued to fuss. She settled with him in a chair and began to nurse.
“So, there’s something that’s been bothering me about the story you told us when you first showed back up on Naese’s life,” Naomi said. She was reclined in one of Paxton’s huge chairs, her son, Felix, on her chest. His tiny back rose and fell under her splayed palm. “Why did Naese’s dad push you two apart?”
“Because Sawyer, that rat bastard of a husband of mine, was hiding his affair with Hana’s mother.”
Our heads whipped toward the front door, where Rosemary Naese, Paxton’s mother, now stood.