Chapter 13
Eli
Whenever I couldn’t help but miss Lex, and I dreamed of the storybook love story I wanted us to have, I always thought we would have to make the magic for ourselves.
But when the fireworks ringing in the new year illuminate the world outside his apartment just a few seconds after we both orgasm, I feel giddy.
A giggle escapes me, one Lex matches as he keeps staring into my eyes. It’s like he’s also filled with hope and love, like we’re one mind, and since we’re still connected, one body.
Maybe one heart.
I’ve always been a hopeless romantic when it comes to him, but I don’t think I need to share any of my thoughts. It really feels like he knows anyway.
After a moment, though, the spell is half broken when I shift, and we both wince at the mess we made and our oversensitive dicks.
Even with the wincing and the hissing when I slowly sit up, neither of us stops smiling.
“Wait here,” he whispers as he guides me to lie on my side next to him. He sprints to the bathroom and comes back with a wet washcloth, then cleans me up with so much care I feel like my heart will burst with love.
After he also cleans himself, we go back out to his living room and turn off all the electric candles, then we go right back to bed and fall asleep holding each other.
It’s better than any dream my mind could’ve conjured.
Waking up in Lex’s bed, circled in his arms, will never get old—the definite twinge in my ass probably won’t either.
“Are you okay?” Lex asks, his face scrunched up with worry when I wince as soon as I sit up on the bed.
“You’re so sweet,” I tell him, cupping his cheek and risking another twinge to lean down and kiss his lips. “I don’t think I’m ready for another round this morning, but I’m okay.”
He doesn’t seem to mind in the least when instead we enjoy lazy hand jobs in the shower before Lex has to go to morning practice.
I might stare at the closed front door for a long, wistful moment before I finally snap out of it and get to work.
An impromptu trip across the country means I left my team a bit in the lurch, though none of them seemed even slightly bothered by it. But I still plan on helping as much as I can from here.
I check in with Austin, but since I’m staying put until Lex gets back, I tell him to take the morning off, then I spend five hours checking in on them, offering to help with whatever comes up, but thankfully, there are no emergencies. Everything is running smoothly.
When he gets back, Lex tries to hide how draining practice was for him, but I can see through the bright smile he puts on.
“I don’t doubt you’re happy to see me, but you don’t have to pretend this doesn’t suck.” I don’t expect him to start spilling every emotion he’s feeling, I just want him to know he doesn’t have to suffer even more for my sake.
“Okay,” he mumbles, face downturned and dejected.
“Let’s go see Ruko. I bet he can make you feel better, huh?”
I get a tiny—but real—smirk for my trouble, but it disappears when we get into the elevator.
“He’s going to tomorrow’s game.” The way he says it tells me he’s tired of trying to convince him to stay away as much as he’s dreading whatever Ruko’s reaction will be when he’s seeing the game live.
“I’ll be with him,” I assure him. “I know I’m tiny compared to your Dad, but I’m scrappy. I bet I can take him down.”
Lex is still laughing when he starts his car.
Lunch with Ruko is wonderfully familiar and also a whole new experience.
It feels like . . . like lunch with the boyfriend’s family.
That’s stupid.
Not only because I know Ruko already considers me family—and in all honesty I think of him as a kind of uncle, even if it’s unsaid—but also because we haven’t really had the boyfriend conversation.
Regardless, it feels like that’s what we are.
The meal passes by quickly, even if the tone isn’t always a happy one, with Ruko refusing to miss another of Lex’s games.
There’s a glint in his eyes, as he declares he’ll be there to support his son, that tells me it’s going to be way more complicated than that.
When we get back to his apartment, I assure him yet again that I’ll be with Ruko at the game, that I’ll try to do my best to keep him calm, and in return Lex gets on his knees and shows me paradise.
I don’t know if I should laugh or give Ruko a lecture the next day when he picks me and Austin up to go to the game.
He’s . . . well, he’s wearing Lex’s sweater—in theory.
It’s just . . . it’s his Juniors sweater, so . . .
That’s not subtle, and it doesn’t go unnoticed by the fans who are in suites next to ours or the ones in the seats in front of us who look up and point their phones eagerly at Ruko.
I’m wearing a simple tee and jeans, so no one gives me a second glance.
Maybe it’s because Ruko stands by the club chairs in the open section of the suite, where fans can see him perfectly. Standing tall with his arms crossed and that terrifying scowl on his face, it’s almost like he’s posing.
I don’t know if it’s for the fans or for Lex’s teammates who all skate out for warmups.
“Here we go,” I whisper to myself and decide that sitting next to where Ruko’s standing is the best course of action.
I get myself a Coke and debate with myself for a minute whether I should post a picture or something, maybe zoom in on Lex and say something ridiculous that could take attention away from Ruko’s wardrobe . . .
Then again, I don’t really want to diminish even a little bit of the impact he’s having.
So my phone stays in my jeans.
The game starts and I follow it along as best I can. I tug on Ruko’s arm after five minutes of playtime and force him to sit, then pepper him with questions about rules, plays, and decisions players make.
I’m pretty sure this is the best education a person could get when it comes to hockey, and soon enough, I can tell he’s only thinking about the game and not about . . . everything else.
The tension in his shoulders comes back, though, whenever Lex has the puck, and I realize, whenever Lex is on the ice.
Even I notice it then, how no one passes him the puck, and how he doesn’t pass to anyone either.
He’s all alone out there, and it’s heartbreaking in a way I never expected.
Those are supposed to be the men he can count on, and they’re just leaving him out there to fight on his own.
He gets one goal for the Empire in the middle of the second period, and he doesn’t even celebrate. Not even a smile while the fans in the stands go crazy and Ruko releases a war cry that only slightly resembles something celebratory.
But that’s as far as the scoring goes for either team.
I’ve always struggled not to get bored during hockey games—during all sporting events really. Of course I love watching Lex play, but he’s not on the ice all the time.
Now, with Ruko making sure I understand the logic behind every pass, or where players fuck up, what rules they break, it’s significantly more entertaining.
With only five minutes remaining in the third period, though, things get interesting again.
Lex takes a shot on goal, and it looks like it’s going in until the Montreal goalie bats the puck away with his stick. I groan right along with every other fan, but the puck lands right by one of Lex’s teammates.
It doesn’t matter, though, because Lex somehow plows into the goalie and all hell breaks loose.
“Lex,” I whisper helplessly as two of Montreal’s players grab him and start pommelling him.
The outraged roar of the crowd barely registers for me as I watch punch after punch touch Lex’s pretty face.
“Motherfuckers!” Ruko roars.
“What—” I start to ask, but then it all stops.
The Montreal players let go of Lex and he falls like a puppet without strings on the ice.
I can tell he’s trying to stand, but he can barely get his hands under him.
Then I see it, the flash of red on the ice, and the referees finally blow their whistles.
It takes forever, but finally one man with a medical bag makes it to Lex and starts helping him sit up. I want to cry, I want to jump over the twenty rows of fans and go to him, but Ruko grabs my arm and points up at the jumbotron, where they’re showing a replay.
I don’t want to fucking watch that again. But it’s not the fight they’re showing, it’s what happened before.
Lex’s own teammate pushed him into the goalie. My mind registers the number and name on that player’s jersey even without meaning to.
“Enough,” Ruko says, with a quiet kind of finality that’s somehow scarier than his scowl.
He pulls me up by the arm he’s still holding, and out of the suite, muttering words I can’t make out while I try to understand exactly what just happened. Austin follows us silently, and I wonder if he understands more than I do.
Shouldn’t be too hard because I don’t understand anything, but it stops mattering when Ruko pushes open a door and we walk into what looks like a mini doctor’s office.
Lex is on the examination bed, his head tilted back while who I assume is the team’s doctor gently prods his nose.
“Shit,” Lex hisses when his eyes connect with us. I’m not sure if it’s because the prodding hurts or because of our presence, but I get a pretty good idea the next second.
Ruko spins on his heel and somehow doesn’t bump into me as he marches right back out.
“Go with him!” Lex hisses.
I do what he says on autopilot, and feel Austin come with me when I follow the sounds of . . . breaking glass around the corner.
There’s a long concrete hallway lined with huge frames of pictures.
Pictures of hockey players scoring goals, celebrating, and Ruko has already smashed two by the time I understand what he’s doing.
A quick glance tells me he’s smashing every single picture he or Paul are in.
There are a lot of them, naturally, but it doesn’t look like that’s going to stop him.
He yanks a third frame off the wall just ten feet in front of me, and breaks it over his knee with another enraged growl.
“Ruko,” I shout, but it obviously doesn’t get through to him. He just keeps going, and I’m self-aware enough to know there’s nothing I can do to stop him.