Chapter 33 Ren
REN
I’m under no illusion that Darby would even consider me—without Henrik making it possible. From the first moment we met, she looked at me with suspicion. She saw me for what I really am.
A cheap trick. The smooth operator. Playboy. A hotshot know-it-all with a smarmy smile. Shake my hand and then scrub your palm on your pants to get rid of the grease. A fuck ‘em and leave ‘em manwhore who can’t remember your name in the morning.
Yeah. I’ve been all that and more.
Standing before her, I fight the urge to put on that persona. It’s hard to keep it real. To make myself vulnerable. It’d be easier to flash a dazzling smile and make a joke about the size of my stick—than let her see how much I ache for something real.
For her. Especially what she has with Henrik.
Besides, he’s got me beat in the stick department.
Her eyes shimmer. Midnight skies burning with diamond stars. Pentagrams glow in the constellations of her eyes. Warding her heart from me? Or can she be the safe haven I’ve never known?
It’s easier to write lyrics in my head than risk saying the wrong thing and ruining the moment. I’d rather die than tarnish the shine in her eyes or destroy that fragile light.
Silence weighs so heavy I feel my chest tightening but I’m still not sure what to say. If I could put the mask on and sing, I’d know exactly what to say to her. But without it…
“You don’t have to say anything,” she says. “I’m sorry he put you on the spot.”
Damn. Fucking it up whether I open my mouth or not. “I’m trying to think of what to say without singing it.”
Henrik rolls his eyes. “Just tell her, man. She needs to hear it from you. Tell her what you really want.”
“I want…” That last word hangs between us, pulsing and heavy with intent. Aching with a million emotions. Grinding my bones to dust. Crushing my heart. My brain freezes solid, a painful slice behind my eyeballs like I just sucked down a giant slushie without pausing.
Then a wet, cold nose pokes at my hand, startling me. Shaking me out of the freeze. I look down at Skadi’s furry face and fight the urge to sink down to my knees and wrap my arms around her. Instead, I scruff her ears and tangle my fingers in her ruff.
“I want what you have with Henrik,” I say in a rush, keeping my gaze on the dog.
“I want something real. I want your laughter every morning. I want to breathe in the scent of your hair when I close my eyes. I want to hear the sounds you make when you come. I want to taste your skin and feel you shiver when I touch all the right spots because I know you inside and out. I want to feel the sun of your smile. I want to bask in the heat of your love. But you don’t have to touch me.
You don’t have to let me touch you at all.
Radiate that love into Henrik, and maybe some of it will warm me too.
Just don’t send me away. Don’t shut me out.
Please. Let me stay near. Even if it’s agony to—”
My voice cracks and I fall silent.
Darby makes a small sound. Gods above and below, if she cries, I’ll never forgive myself. I can’t bear to look at her.
She slams into me like a mini whirlwind. Her arms squeeze around my waist tightly. Her face against my chest. “Why would I not want to touch you? You’re like a magnet. Impossible to ignore.”
My hands hover without touching her. I don’t think I have the right.
Henrik enfolds us both in his mighty embrace, smashing her between us. “Right here. This is what I want, Darby. This is what I’ve dreamed about my whole life. Will you melt the ice in both of us?”
She tips her face up, letting me see those starry diamonds again. The pentagrams are still there but they’re realigning.
Pulling me in. Allowing me to enter the circle of her protection.
“Yes.”
I seize her face in both hands and inhale her mouth. Drinking down her heat. Letting her scorch me from the inside out. She tastes so good. So pure. If I could find a way to bottle her up, I’d hoard every drop like the greedy bastard I am.
Henrik’s pushing us toward the open door of my bedroom, but I come up for air. “What about Skadi?”
“Oh.” Darby laughs breathlessly, a sheepish look flickering in her eyes as she looks down at her dog. “She’s a bit like me.”
“What does that mean?”
“If she has free roam of the house, she’ll snoop.
Despite her name, she doesn’t really tear stuff up, though.
She might drag out hats and socks, stuff like that, but she doesn’t tear them up.
She just likes to make a mess. We can put her in a room, but she’ll howl if she gets lonely, and she’s used to having me in sight or nearby all the time. ”
Henrik laughs, shaking his head. “That’s why there was so much crap strewn about on the floor this morning.”
She winces. “Sorry. I forgot to warn you.”
“It’s alright, babe. Like you said, she didn’t tear anything up. She just wanted to smell everything.”
“I don’t have anything she can hurt.” I let go of Darby long enough to lean down and look into Skadi’s bright blue eyes, almost the same color as her owner. “Have fun, Skadi.” And thank you.
“Your white couch—” Darby starts to say.
“Shred it. Vomit on it. Shit on it. I don’t give a fuck.”
“She would never have an accident inside unless she was sick. But your couch may look like it’s draped in polar bear fur in the morning.”
“Cool.”
By sheer will alone, I keep my mouth and hands off her as she enters my bedroom. Her eyes widen as she looks around, taking it all in.
Cheesy as fuck, but I treat my bedroom like an altar.
Relics of my hockey career adorn the walls.
The gold medal we won in the Olympics. My jersey, still stained with blood, from when we won the first Stanley.
My favorite sticks are crossed on the wall opposite the bed over a showcase of trophies and smaller cases holding pucks to represent the records I set.
At first glance, it might look like my ego needs constant stoking with all the reminders of the hockey star I used to be. But it’s far more than that.
It’s the pictures of me and Henrik with victory grins. Pictures of the four of us celebrating after games. My most prized possessions are the much older pictures when all of us played together starting as mini-mites and up through high school.
Now I’ve added another altar. Our Creator Awards from our YouTube channel.
An overflowing box of fan letters sent to our PO Box.
Framed still shots from our shows. The first hockey mask I wore—without the red paint.
It’s become tradition for us to change up the gear slightly every time we create a new show.
“Everything’s white,” she whispers. “Like snow. Ice.” Shaking her head, she laughs softly as she turns to me. “You really do worship the snow gods.”
My lips quirk. “As much as possible.”
“He’s not wrong,” Henrik says. “It’s the ice that brought the four of us together, and the snow that brought you h—” He hesitates slightly and says, “Here.”
I’m pretty sure he meant to say home. Our eyes meet and I nod. Me too, big guy.
“I’ve never seen such a big bed.” There’s awe in her voice but mixed with something else. Not recrimination or judgment, but a touch of hesitation. Her eyes tighten a little, doubt edging into the shine.
As if she’s imagining all the orgies I’ve had and fears she can’t possibly measure up.
“I’ve never had another woman in this bed,” I say quickly.
Her eyes snap to mine, narrowing even more, searching for the lie.
I hold her gaze, keeping my guards down.
Mask off. She needs to know the truth. All of it.
“Here in this house, yes. I used to pretend the bedroom downstairs was the main bedroom, and this was just a private study. Door firmly closed and locked. This is my hallowed space. No one else has ever been in here except Henrik when he built the damned place. I guess Leland too, because he wanted to see the altars I set up so he could do something similar for his books.”
Her eyes flare. “No one? But—” Her gaze flickers over to the bed and then back to me. “Why is it so large then?”
“Wishful thinking.”
She still doesn’t quite believe me. “Why wasn’t the door locked now?”
Another wry grin. “Wishful thinking,” I say again, tipping my head toward Henrik. “I unlocked it after our little talk this morning. If nothing else, I hoped to show you the space, so you’d understand why the Ice is so important to me.”
Her lips tremble slightly, and it fucking wrecks me. I’m on my knees at her feet, my arms locked around her legs like the finale, silently begging for forgiveness. Mercy. Even though I don’t deserve it.
Her fingers glide over my skull, tracing the ink lines on the shaved side.
Down my neck. “I’ve only ever been with one man, my ex, before I came here, and let’s just say we weren’t very creative in the bedroom department.
I haven’t dated since the divorce. I really don’t know what I’m doing.
I don’t know how it’s supposed to work.”
Henrik looms over her shoulder, a grim giant with gentle hands. Steadying her. Protecting her back. “I got you on this, babe. Like I said, let me run the team, and I guarantee a victory.”
She leans back against him like she’s the one melting. “Okay.” Then her eyes meet mine, shining again, shimmering with tears but not sadness. “Show me what you’ve got, Hotshot.”