Chapter 36 Henrik
HENRIK
Istare down at my sleeping beauties for a solid ten minutes.
Maybe longer. Grinning ear to ear since they’re not awake to catch me looking like an idiot.
Darby’s hair spills out around her. Ren has his nose buried in her throat.
I tuck the blanket up against her back to make sure she doesn’t get chilled without me against her, and then I head downstairs to make breakfast.
Sun’s up, so it’s later than I’m usually up and around. Another clear, perfect day. For flying. If she wants to leave.
My gut pitches uneasily, clenching and grinding like a gummed-up transmission.
It doesn’t matter if she wants to go. I’m going with her.
It’ll be fine. I don’t need to be here physically except for the shows every Friday.
As long as she’s willing to come up for a weekend, we can live anywhere. Denver. Vegas. Pluto.
Lee can come get me and take me back. Unless the weather’s bad. Then I’ll drive. I’ll skate, snowshoe, hitchhike. Whatever. To get back to her.
Besides, if Ren’s here too, she’ll want to come with me. That’s only one of the many reasons I welcome him in our bed.
As I round the living room toward the kitchen, Skadi peeks up at me, her ears perking. “Good morning, Skadi. Do you need to go out?”
She shakes her head, jingling her tags on her collar, and settles back down in the pile. With the sunlight streaming in, I see she’s added a few more items to her nest. Evidently, she snuck into the bedroom at some point in the night and stole my socks, Ren’s underwear, and Darby’s long john pants.
She wants to smell all of us together in her cozy little nest. Smart dog. Since she doesn’t get up, I pass on through to the kitchen and check the water level in the bowl Ren set down for her.
I have to laugh. It’s a commemorative crystal bowl engraved with our old team’s logo.
I’m rummaging around in the fridge to see what Ren has when I hear my phone ringing. I snag it off the counter where I left it to charge and sigh.
Doyle.
“Yeah?” I answer.
“Where are you? I stopped by your place and nobody’s home.”
“We spent the night at Ren’s.” His fridge is pretty well stocked considering he eats with me most of the time. He’s got plenty of eggs and cheese for omelets, canned biscuits, and a pack of thick applewood-smoked bacon. “What’s up?”
“I wanted to talk about the show.”
I put him on speaker so I can wash my hands. “Sure.”
“Did you see it?”
“Of course. We watched it before we even made it to Ren’s. Then we showed her some of our early work.”
“You’re not concerned?”
“About what? She loved it.”
I can’t see his face, but I can practically hear him rolling his eyes. “I don’t care what she thought. It was a mistake to bring a stranger to see the show. Let alone participate.”
His tone is clipped, telling me he’s itching for a fight. I refuse to play along. “She’s not a stranger,” I say lightly. “She’s going to be a part of our lives now, and I want her to know what we do.” I deliberately say our and we, laying down the bricks for him to follow.
He lets out a long-suffering sigh. “You spent the night at Ren’s.”
“Yep.”
“I wouldn’t trust any girl of mine around that horndog."
“You’re not me. Besides, that horndog and I make a damned fine team if I do say so myself. We had to change the sheets so we could even sleep.”
“You’re fucking kidding.”
“Nope,” I say cheerfully, beating the eggs. “One of the best nights of my life. Only thing better was the night before when I got to take her to my bed first.”
“I thought you were smarter than that.”
“Careful.” I deliberately huff out a not-very-amused laugh. “If we weren’t friends, I might be offended.”
“You said last night she was yours.”
“She is.”
“Not any longer. You know how Ren is.”
I let out a deep rumbling hum. “I do. I saw him in full action last night.”
“You’re a damned fool. Women are always using you to get to him.”
I very calmly—yet firmly—set the steel mixing bowl down on the counter so he hears it. I don’t say anything while I pop the biscuits open, lay them out on the pan. Bacon on another sheet pan. Into the hot oven. Set a timer for ten minutes so I know when to put the biscuits in.
I never should’ve told Doyle the truth of why I left the team—and not Ren. One’s using the truth against me, and the other beat himself up for years because he thought it was his fault.
I let out a mean, gruff laugh meant to needle him just as hard. “Maybe she’ll use me to get to you too.” Then I hang up the phone.
I turn around to see what other goodies are in the fridge and see Darby standing there. Eyes wide with shocked horror, mouth parted, her fingers partially covering her lips. Hair gloriously disheveled. In nothing but my shirt hanging to her knees.
I’m wrapping her up in my arms before I’m even aware of moving toward her. Holding her high, her feet dangling, crushed against my chest. “I’m not mad. I’m not hurt. I’m not sorry. I was merely trying to yank his chain as hard as he was yanking mine.”
“But—” Her voice cracks.
“Use me,” I break in. “I fucking want you to use me. Every second of every day. I want you to get to all of us. That’s my dream come true, remember?”
“You sounded mad to me.”
Letting out a long breath, I gently set her down so I can cup her cheeks and turn her face up to me. “I was annoyed with him. Not you. A friend shouldn’t use something told in confidence as a weapon later, and that’s what he was trying to do with me.”
“He doesn’t sound like a very good friend.”
“I agree. Right now, he’s not. But after decades of past friendship and knowing he’s got some troubles with his daughter right now, I’ll give him some grace to fuck up with me. But he doesn’t get to fuck up with you, babe. I’ll knock his teeth out first.”
“I don’t want you to lose a decades-long friendship because of me.”
“If he can’t wrap his mind around what we’ve got, then he’s not a friend of mine anyway.
Ren’s already frustrated with him digging his heels in about advancing the band and fighting him every time we come up with a new idea.
The seams in our friendship were already strained long before you skidded off the road into Mooseville.
” I lean down and brush my lips over hers. “Ren up yet?”
“He’s in the shower. Did you see the basket of extra stuff he set out in the bathroom? It’s like a gift shop. When did he get all that? Why?”
“You worked a miracle, babe. He’s usually not up until eleven at the earliest.” I kiss her again, even deeper.
Then I pick her up, tossing her around so she’ll squeal and laugh as I carry her to the kitchen.
I set her on the counter so she’ll be in arm’s reach of me while I cook.
“Like I said, babe, we’ve been dreaming of you for years.
Didn’t you listen to any of the words in his songs last night? ”
“I caught some, yeah. But sometimes it’s so loud I’m not sure what he’s saying.”
I grab a bag of spinach, a couple of peppers for color, and green onions out of the fridge and wash them. “He’d explain it better than me, but in the beginning, he treated his songs like prayers to the snow gods. It was our angle, our brand with the hockey act, but it was also more than that.”
“Prayers about what? Good ice?”
I laugh. “We can make good ice anytime we want. No, what he was trying to manifest with his songs was you. Guess it worked.”
DARBY
Guess I’m going to have to get a paper copy of their lyrics. Or put on some damned headphones. While I’m not looking at any of them because they’re too damned distracting.
I lose my train of thought as I watch Henrik move around the kitchen. Confident, comfortable, grabbing stuff out of Ren’s cabinets and fridge as easily as if he’s at home. A competent man in the kitchen is the sexiest thing I’ve seen in my entire life.
Of course it helps that he’s shirtless. He’s got on some light flannel sleep pants—evidently he keeps clothes at Ren’s too?
But that’s it. The thin material emphasizes all the bulges, and I don’t mean just his thighs.
His waist looks damned near tiny compared to the sweeping expanse of his chest and shoulders.
He’s not cut and lean like Ren but thick, bulging power.
Raw masculinity. Thick chest hair. Beard.
Brawny arms like he’s out there chopping wood by hand every single day.
Even his hands are massive yet still skilled with the knife, effortlessly chopping up the vegetables.
I’m too mesmerized to tell him I don’t like peppers.
Something dings. I think it’s the oven timer, but he doesn’t turn around or stop chopping. “Your phone’s behind you if you want to check who that’s from.”
Oh. I didn’t even recognize my own text notification. I twist around and grab my phone off the fancy stand big enough to charge half a dozen devices. A text from Mom fills my screen. She’s one for details, proper punctuation, and no abbreviations.
Hi, honey. Your father reminded me to tell you we booked a last-minute cruise before the holidays. We leave the 13th and will be gone until the 27th. We won’t have cell service. Love you.
Well crap. I hadn’t told my parents I was driving in because I wanted to surprise them.
I haven’t been home much since we moved out to Colorado.
They’re a little… eccentric. Michael hated spending time with them, so we only rarely made the trip.
They lent me money to pay for the attorney until I sold the business, so I felt like crap asking them for even more money just to fly out and visit them.
I paid them back. They’re well enough off to travel anytime they want. It wasn’t a hardship for them to help me. But still. It sucked asking for help.
Thirty-three-year-old children shouldn’t need to ask their parents for money. Especially to come out and visit them.
“Everything okay?” Henrik asks.
“What day is it?”
“Saturday the 6th.”
If I’m going to see my parents at all before the holidays…
I need to get out to Vegas soon. Dread tightens my throat.
I’m not sure how he’ll react. I don’t want to leave.
I don’t want to go back to Denver either.
Though my mind still doesn’t understand how I can make such a life-altering decision in a matter of days. Hours. I got here… Thursday night.
Two days ago.
And my entire life is flipped on its head. I don’t know up from down.
All I know is I don’t want to leave the comfort of his big body wrapping around me. Which he’s doing now as if he senses my upset even though I don’t think I reacted. Maybe he’s just that good at reading me now.
“Talk to me, babe. We can figure anything out if you tell me what the problem is.”
“Not a problem,” I mumble, rubbing my nose back and forth in his chest hairs. It should tickle. It does. But it’s also so soothing. His scent fills my nose. No cologne or fancy deodorant. Just the smell of his warm skin. “Not exactly.”
He doesn’t pry or attempt to drag anything out of me.
He just holds me. His hands slowly glide up and down my back.
Letting me breathe in his scent and soak in his warmth.
Until I finally screw up enough courage to tip my head back and look up at his face.
“My parents are leaving on a cruise the 13th and won’t be back until after Christmas.
They didn’t know I was coming. I was going to surprise them. I haven’t been home in years.”
Without saying anything, he moves a step or two away, just enough to snag his phone still laying on the counter. He hits a number, puts it on speaker, and lays it back down beside my thigh. It rings once. Twice.
“What’s up?” Leland asks.
“How does it look to fly out to Vegas tomorrow?”
“Let me check the weather to see if anything in the forecast changed, but it should be fine.”
I start to open my mouth, but Henrik kisses me. Slow, drugging strokes of his tongue. Teasing me until my hands are curled around his nape and my thighs open, welcoming him to stand between my knees.
“Yeah, we should be fine. Any deets on the return flight, or are we flying by the seat of our pants?”
“The latter,” he says against my lips.
“Ren going?”
“Wherever we’re going, count me in,” Ren calls from the other room.
“Doyle?”
“No,” Henrik says.
“Got it. What time do you want to leave?”
“You’re the pilot. You tell us when you’d like to go.”
“Let’s see, it’s a good three-hour flight. Ren, can you drag your butt out to the airfield by ten tomorrow?”
“I’ll be there at six if that’s when we’re leaving.”
Leland laughs. “I’d like to see that, but we might as well get a little sleep before we go. I’ll have the beast fueled and ready to take off at ten.”
“Thanks, Lee. Let me know if you need anything.”
“Well, since you’re asking…”
“Shoot,” Henrik says.
“Get Doyle off my ass about the video edits from last night.”
“Done. Anything else?”
“You are a couple of chapters behind…”
His lips curl against mine. “Guilty as charged. I’ve been a bit distracted lately. How about you come over tonight for a leisurely, cozy night of reading? I’ll get caught up before we leave in the morning.”
“Your place or Ren’s?”
There’s no judgement or hesitation in Leland’s voice as far as I can tell but it still makes me blush. Especially when both Henrik and Ren say, “Mine,” at the same time. Henrik turns to scowl at him over his shoulder. “Are you cooking?”
Ren doesn’t hesitate. “Yep. That’ll give you more time to get caught up.”
“Ren’s,” Henrik tells Leland. “What time, Hotshot?”
“Six work?”
“Fine by me,” Leland says. “See you then.”
Henrik plants his hands on the counter, leaning in with a smug quirk of his lips. “See, babe? All worked out.”
“Not quite,” Ren says. “Where are we staying in Vegas? I’m assuming your parents don’t want a bunch of strangers descending on them.”
“Their home is pretty small,” I admit.
Plus I’d rather not spend the night with three men at their house. The temptation to be naughty would kill me, especially if Ren and Henrik both had to share the tiny guest room with me. I don’t think there’d be room for Leland, if he even wanted…
Wait. Hold on just a damned second. Are you considering…?
“I’ve got this,” Ren says. “Let me make a few calls.”
“It can wait until after breakfast,” Henrik replies. “Come make some coffee while I start the omelets.”
“I was going to take Skadi out first, but… You little scamp. Now I know where my boxers went. Those are silk!”
Skadi looks very pleased with herself and yowls a couple of times as if to say, “You’re welcome.”