32. Piece by piece
32
Piece by piece
Exton
“How’s that retirement going?” Coach asks, his tone nonchalant while his jaw is taut and I fight the urge to squirm under his gaze, feeling like that sixteen-year-old boy who ran away and got caught sleeping under the bench in our ice rink.
“Um, retirement?”
“Yeah, you know that’s what they call it when you stop working, or in your case, playing hockey.”
“I didn’t retire.”
“No?” he asks with faux surprise. The bastard is taunting me. “Strange, that’s what I assumed after learning that Miss Monroe is up and walking but not from you. In fact, I didn’t get so much as a peep from you. Or an answer to my messages. For a month!”
I shift uncomfortably, “Well, you said I wouldn’t be able to play until playoffs anyway, so what’s the point?”
“What’s the point? What is the fucking point ?” he bellows, slamming his board against the desk and then takes a deep, steading breath. “The point , Quinn, is that this is your team, and you left it to fight against the wolves without their alpha! The damn playoffs aren’t going to happen unless you get your ass back out there.”
I open my mouth to say something, but nothing comes out. What the hell does he mean?
“Speechless? Ashamed?” he taunts some more, and I frown.
“You are the one who kicked me out!” The temperature in my voice rises.
“But you are the one who never came back.”
“Why would I? To screw up some more?” I throw my arms out. “I’m clearly fucked up. You all are better off without me.”
“This is the first year in my time here that Outlaws might not make it to playoffs.” He shouts the last part, the sound shaking the pictures on the walls around us. “So, excuse me if I don’t care about your little tantrum.”
“It’s not a tantrum,” I grit out.
“No, you’re right. This is hockey and shit happens here, but you still pull yourself together and show up the next day. You get your anger, and you direct it at the puck! Not other players, not the ice that welcomes you every time you step on it. The puck. You wield it like the weapon it is, not an outlet you decided to make it this past year. What the hell is going on with you? Is it about your father?”
My head snaps up at his question, my heart hammering in my chest as those embers of anger spark up, gearing up for the blow out.
“It’s got nothing to do with him.”
“Oh, no? So, the fact that he passed away this year had no impact at all?”
I clench my teeth, looking away. “None.”
“I spoke to him, you know.” I freeze at his words. “Cole called me two years ago. He called and I contemplated dropping the phone, but he simply asked if you were happy. That’s all.”
If I was happy …did he die from delusion by any chance? And just like that I hate myself for that thought alone.
Fuck…
“I don’t want to talk about this.”
“But you should.”
“If this is why you wanted me to come in, I’m leaving.” I turn for the door when his words stop me again.
“You are an Outlaw. The Outlaws are you. You might not be the team captain, but they all look up to you. They all follow you, and yes, this year you’ve let them all down. You screwed up, you allowed your personal problems to drag onto the ice but that doesn’t mean you walk away from them! Doesn’t mean you don’t wake up the next day and try harder.” I stay as I am, listening to him, taking in what he says but still not believing it.
How could they ever look up to me? How could anyone?
“Tell me, if Minaev would be going through a dark phase and suddenly quit playing, would you leave him be? Would you let him just throw away his life like that?”
“No.”
“Did you let Miss Monroe throw away her life?”
“No.”
“Look at me, son.” I’m weak against that and turn around. “So, why do you think yours is any less important?” I got nothing to say to that and Coach shakes his head. “You really don’t believe that you are. How did I not see that all this time?” He gets up from his chair, walking over to me and places his hands on my shoulders.
“We all screw up, Axe. Some worse than others but we all deserve another chance. You did. And you didn’t waste it.”
“What are you talking about?” I frown, not understanding what he means.
“I’m proud of you, Exton. I watched you with her the whole game. I’ve watched you with her in Iris Lake. I’ve seen what you’ve done and I’m proud of you.”
My throat clogs up at his words and there is a definite sting in my eyes right now and I take a deep breath to will the moisture away.
Fucking hell, I can’t cry. I won’t.
But I’ve never been told someone’s proud of me. Never. And to hear it from my coach. The one who’s been more like a father to me, is doing shit to me.
“Iris Lake? You were out there?”
“Of course,” he says like it was a given. “I’d never leave you all alone, Exton. You are more than just a player to me. You are my own and I kept an eye on you at all times.”
Oh hell…he just had to say that…had to make me all emotional.
“I’ve also seen what she’s done to you and I’m even more proud for the man standing in front of me right now. You are different. Whatever you two went through, it wasn’t just for her. She wasn’t the only broken one. And she healed you just as much as you healed her. I see it, Stella sees it. Severin can’t fucking shut up about it.” He grumbles the last part with annoyance, and I huff out a small laugh, despite my clogged throat.
Coach claps my shoulder as a father would. I imagine. “Practice is tomorrow at four. To get into playoffs we need a very clean win in two days.”
“I don’t—” I start but Coach squeezes my shoulder.
“Think about it, okay? But we need you.”
Electra
It wasn’t until the game was over and the arena almost empty that Exton decided to go see Coach Hill.
The whole walk toward his office, I could feel the radiating tension from him. I could see his thoughts bouncing in every direction as he gripped my hand for dear life. For that calm he needs from me.
Now, I’ve been standing in this hallway for about twenty minutes, my own shoulders filling with worry.
I’ve seen the look in his eyes today and it’s one he should always have. That thirst to be out there, to snatch that stick from Fooley—or whatever his name is—and show them how it’s done. He needs this. God, he needs this, but he is too stubborn for his own good and he doesn’t see his worth like I do. Like I’m sure the rest of the team does.
The door creaks open as somber Exton steps out. His brows are furrowed, his mouth in a thin line and his eyes. God, his eyes are misty.
“Exton?” I ask, but he just paces up and down the hallway.
“Practice is at four tomorrow.”
I let out a shuddering breath, and without a second thought I run to him, jumping into his arms as he catches me, holding me tight to his trembling body. I wind my legs around him, hugging him as hard as I can to lend him whatever calm he needs.
“You’re back?” I whisper into his neck.
“I don’t know.” His answer makes me pull away slightly so I can look at his face.
“What do you mean?”
“I’m finally at peace, Electra. I’m at peace and I’m afraid I’ll lose myself again on that ice. I’m afraid I’ll lose you. Once you see that side of me…I’ll lose you.” The fear in his eyes is so palpable I can taste it, and I lift my hand to his cheek cupping it gently as I press my lips to his.
“You’ll never lose me. And you won’t lose yourself. You know why?”
“Why?”
“Because I won’t let you, baby. I’ll be right there. Every time. I’ll be your calm. Let me carry your soul for a bit, you’ve done all the heavy lifting up to this point. Now, it’s my turn.”
His deep brown eyes watching mine for a long beat before a gram of tension leaves his body.
“I love you.” Exton’s hand cups the back of my head, holding me as his lips find mine and I return his fevered kiss. “The things Coach said…” he trails off, showing me with his body what he feels instead of saying it and I mumble.
“Give it all to me. I’ll be there with you. You’re not alone, Exton. Hurt with me.” And with a low whimper, he does, pushing me against the opposite wall, his lips trailing over my jaw, neck as I arch it to give him better access until he settles in the crook of my neck. Inhaling my scent while sending wild shivers over my body, waking up my blood, waking up the desperate need for him from one simple touch.
Exton winds his arms under my butt, lifting me and holding me against the wall with his as he trails his lips down lower. Over my collar bone and then lower, biting the top of my breast over my thin long-sleeve, and I gasp.
“Baby…” My hips roll against his hard-on he has pressed into my aching core. My fingers are in his hair, clawing at his back, begging for more, more, more, and he groans about to pull my shirt up right here in this hallway when someone clears their throat behind Exton.
I startle, pulling away from him, my cheeks pink, hair a mess. Oh my God, I was just shamelessly grinding against Exton when someone caught us.
I tip my head over his shoulder to see who’s there, and the situation goes from bad to kill-me-now.
“Miss Monroe,” Exton’s coach says with amusement, his lips curved into a knowing smirk.
“Um, Coach?” I roll my lips, squirming against Exton’s hold to let me down but the man just stands there like a solid wall and…laughing. He’s freaking laughing while I’m dying of embarrassment over here.
I pull my arm away as much as I can and punch him which does nothing but makes his body shake harder. This is not how I wanted to properly meet him for the first time.
“Make sure this one shows up tomorrow, will you, Electra?” He nods toward his player, and I nod with a forced smile.
“I will,” I squeak out, fighting against Exton’s hold but small little me can’t do anything against the hulk.
Coach turns, walking away with a chuckle of his own as he says, “Oh, to be young again.”
“I’m so going to kill you, Exton! You are a dead man walking,” I grit out quietly.
“Promises, promises,” Exton taunts me with a teasing, lazy smile on his face as his hand squeezes my ass and his lips are back on mine.
“Ex—” I beat against his chest, but he just pushes his tongue deeper, his erection rubbing against my sensitive clit once again and all fight and lingering embarrassment leaves my body. In its place is dark need for this man.
“Home. Get me home, now, Exton.”
“No fucking way. I need to have you spread naked with my cock in your drenched, begging pussy in the next minute or I really will be a dead man walking,” he says, and we are moving.
Exton is carrying me somewhere dark, locks the door behind us and in the next second he’s thrusting into me with a low groan as his hand slips underneath my shirt and bra, kneading my breasts.
“Fucking heaven.”
After that we are both lost in each other, moving as one, dissolving into each other’s touch, feel, pleasure.
“I love you,” I whisper as I come.
“Now and forever,” Exton adds as his cum paints me from the inside.
We are just walking out of the arena, wearing matching stupid grins and hearts in our eyes when I hear it.
“Electra?” The voice in the back of us makes me stop in my tracks. Exton stops with me, looks over his shoulder to see who called me and his lip curls into a menacing scowl.
Let me handle this , I tell him with my eyes.
But I have all this excess anger I need to unload, and his face looks so perfect for it , his say, and I roll mine.
Please.
Fine, tear him to pieces, give him that angry elf energy.
I almost want to laugh but hold it back. No need to share any of my happiness with the person behind.
“Filip,” I answer as I turn around, facing my old trainer but also a person I considered a friend. Or more like, family. And the same person who gave up on me as soon as my body hit the cold ice that day.
“You…you are walking?” His wide eyes are sweeping over my form, looking up and down and focusing on my legs.
I look down there myself and then back at him. “Yeah. Sorry to disappoint,” I say in a flat voice and watch his throat work on a hard swallow.
“Disappoint? This is great! This is amazing. Are you skating at all?”
“Mm-hmm.”
“Oh my God! When are you coming back?”
“Coming back?” I frown. “Coming back where?”
“To train?” He says it as if I insulted him with my question. “In fact, you should’ve called me right away, we could’ve already swapped you back into your place. Ohhh, the media is going to love this! And Erik! He’ll be ecstatic.”
“Okayyyyy,” I draw out, “I’m going to stop you right there.” Filip looks confused. “There is no coming back. There is no training with you. There is no my place. Not with you or Erik.”
“What are you going to do? Just give up?” he huffs. “Throw away your career?”
“That’s not really any of your business anymore, is it? As I remember you were all too eager to come in the morning after Erik left, thrusting papers into my hand that stated I was being let out of my contract with your team.”
“But…”
“Goodbye, Filip.”
“You’ll be nothing without us!” he calls out. “There is no Elle without Erik!”
“Thank God,” I mumble, tugging on Exton’s arm and pulling his taut body after mine. The man was a second from putting his fist through Filip’s face but there wasn’t any need.
Because he gave me enough to fight for myself.
I was broken—and not just physically. It was my spirit. Erik broke my spirit with Filip’s help and Exton put it back together. Piece by piece. Shard by shard, placing each icicle back into one, tough, and this time unbreakable iceberg.
And any Titanic that comes my way, will be crushed upon sight.
“My badass little star.” Exton’s lips twitch into a half-smirk, he winds his arm around my shoulder as we make the rest of the way to his G-wagon. When I look out the window as we drive out of the parking lot, Filip is still there, watching us with unblinking eyes.
So, to accentuate my point, I lift my middle finger up and mouth “Kindly, go fuck yourself” with a sweet smile on my face.
“I had no idea hockey was so intense,” I say, walking up to Exton and sitting next to him on the couch as the storm outside beats against the huge window. The only thing visible are the tiny raindrops fighting against the glass.
The weather is changing quickly, washing away the snow and replacing it with lightning and booming thunder.
Exton jumps slightly at my appearance having been too lost in his own head he didn’t notice me. Instantly, though, his face softens, the frown lines he was wearing disappear, and he wraps an arm around my shoulders, pulling me into him. We sit there in silence for a bit with only the soft crackling from the fireplace breaking it. Exton started it when we got in, and it feels very nice.
The soft, amber light dancing across the darkened room. The warmth, wrapping around us on this stormy night like a soft blanket and the cracking sounds, comforting.
“It is.” He nods. “Did you like it?”
“To my surprise, I did.” I smile softly, catching a glimpse of the letter and the little key on the coffee table. The one that got him all lost here, and I tilt my head up to look at him. “Open it.” I nod my head toward the piece of paper without taking my eyes off his.
“Open it?” he huffs. “I was thinking more along the lines of burn it.”
“And what will that achieve?”
“Give me peace,” he grits out, finally focusing on the storm outside as if he missed it just like he missed my presence.
“Will it though?” I tilt my head to the side. “I want honesty, baby. Whatever it is.” I place my hand on his thigh, and Exton grabs it right away in his, lacing our fingers together as he runs his thumb over mine.
“If burning it will take away the pain you feel, I’ll go get the matches,” I say and wait. Wait for him to tell me or even nod but he doesn’t. He just keeps rubbing his thumb against mine.
“Why do I have to open it?” He asks. “What could he possibly have said in it to make everything he put me through worth it?” The questions, the conflicting emotions, they all run through his face.
“Nothing. Nothing will ever be worth that. But I think you need to open it for yourself. Not for him. He’s dead, Exton, but you are the one who can’t move on.”
His eyes light up with anger like I knew they would at my words.
“I’ve been living just fine,” he snaps and then sighs, pulling me into his lap. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to say it like that.” Exton cradles my face, but I gently pull away.
“Are you going to practice tomorrow?”
His jaw works with my question, his breaths growing more forced. “No. I told you already, I can’t allow that ang—”
I cut him off. “Anger that you feel at your dad? The same one who wrote that letter? The one you are planning to burn to give you peace?” I lift my eyebrow in question. He knows I got him cornered and I keep pushing, not waiting for his attack. “Then you should be all good to go back to your team.” I stretch my lips into a taunting smile, and he knows it.
Exton is an asshole, but he is my asshole and I couldn’t care any less if he wants to be one or snap at me. I'll bite back so hard he won't be able to sit on his ass for weeks, but I won't let him suffer. I won't see him fall through that ice, watching him drown all over again. He still has a few scars hidden deep inside, but I’ll be the one to hold his hand as he peels off the scabs.