Chapter Eleven #2
There’s a loud crackle on the line that makes Victoria’s voice almost unintelligible, and then the call ends, the beep, beep, beep a deafening tone in my ear.
I’m frozen, still absorbing what just went down. She was walking home, alone. Emergency services were at the building. Then something about a fire.
“Oh, fuck.” It hits me all at once. I need to go. I need to get to her.
Clutching my cell tight in my hand, I scramble around the room, looking for my keys and wallet.
Once I have those items, I’m out the door and heading toward the stairwell.
My brain might be going a mile a minute worrying about Victoria, but I still have the frame of mind to know I can’t leave without telling someone.
Reaching the eighth floor, I sprint down the hallway, eyeing each door number. Finally seeing the one I want, I start pounding on the fake wood.
“This better be good,” I hear grumbled from behind the door.
“Coach. It’s Mason.”
The door opens on a fast swing. Coach Taylor leans against the edge of the frame, one hand still on the handle and the other rubbing a sleepy eye.
“What is it?”
“I have to leave. There’s been a fire at my condo building, and my girlfriend’s apartment is on the affected floor. I don’t know any other details, I’m sorry. But I have to go be with her.”
Coach doesn’t miss a beat, nodding before I finish my sentence.
“Do you need a car?”
“No, I drove here with Max and Sid.”
“Good. Go. Keep us updated, and then get your butt back here as soon as you’re able in the morning.”
“Thanks, Coach,” I say, walking backward to the elevator. “I’ll text and let you know what’s happening.” The elevator doors ding open blissfully quickly. Then I’m enclosed and frantically pressing the Down button.
The Toronto Nighthawks training camp is held in a city only an hour away from Toronto, so I’m able to make it back to the condo in record time. This time of night, the streets are still busy, but I don’t experience any major delays. I don’t think my heart or patience could take that, honestly.
When I turn down the street our condo is on, the road is blocked by other cars and fire trucks. Knowing this is as far as I’ll get, I park my car by the curb and speed walk the remaining distance.
The crowd is dense as I try and make my way through.
I can hear people crying, complaining, and gossiping as I scan the scene and try to find Victoria.
The building fire alarm is still going off, but it doesn’t look like an emergency is ongoing.
No one is running into the building, and the fire hose is just lying empty on the sidewalk.
I see a person in uniform right in front of me and am about to ask them how I can find Victoria when I hear her voice. Twisting my head in that direction, I instantly see her. She’s standing off to the side of the crowd, a hand covering her mouth as she listens to the firemen standing with her.
Even from this distance, I can tell she’s been crying, and whatever the firemen are telling her is not good news.
“Victoria!” I yell over the noise of the crowd. Her head turns my way, but it takes her a second to find me. She doesn’t say anything, but her eyes grow wide. They start filling again with tears.
I can’t stand the sight. With a little more force than I mean to, I push my way through the crowd and straight to her. My arms open, and she doesn’t hesitate to crash into them.
“It’s okay, honey. I’m here. I’m here,” I whisper into her hairline. Her arms wrap around my waist, squeezing me. I squeeze her back. Tipping my head up to the fireman and the other with a police badge on his suit belt, I give them a nod, appreciating that they’re giving us a moment.
When Victoria pulls back, her face is flushed with emotion, her eyes red-rimmed.
“T-the fire. They say it started in my apartment.”
“What? How?” I put my attention back on the men in uniform. “She wasn’t home all day. Was it electrical?”
The men exchange glances—a move that has my shoulders tensing even more. Either something bad has happened, or they don’t believe that she wasn’t home.
“Sorry, sir, but what’s your relation to Miss. Westwyld?”
“I’m her boyfriend. Why does that matter?”
“And were you with her today? When she was out of the apartment?”
I press my lips together, having a feeling this isn’t going to end well. “No, I’ve been out of town for the last week. Again, why does this matter?”
“Can I get your name, sir?”
My patience is wearing thin. I want answers, not to be asked inane questions. “Mason Warren. I live in this building as well, but not currently with Victoria.”
At my name, I see recognition hit both men, and they fumble for a second.
“The, um, reason we’re asking you this, Mr. Warren, is because, as your girlfriend stated, the fire did start in her apartment due to an ignitable liquid being poured on her floor. We have reason to believe that liquid was vodka, and a nearby candle was knocked over and caused the escalation.”
“That’s not possible.” My forehead crinkles with confusion. “Victoria doesn’t drink. There’s no way any type of alcohol was in her apartment.”
“It’s possible she may have had a relapse and—”
“I’m right fucking here,” Victoria interjects. “And I’m not a recovering addict, not that it’s any of your business. I just don’t drink. I don’t like it.” I pull her back into my chest, wrapping my arms around her in continued support.
“That may be, Miss—”
“I don’t know why I have to keep defending myself to you. I don’t drink. There was no alcohol in my apartment. And as I’ve told you, I’ve been at Honeycomb Studios all afternoon. The fire started before I even got home.”
Again, the men exchange looks. This time, however, one of them has understanding on his face.
“I apologize for the assumption. That was not my intention. However, we have to ask these questions, no matter how hard they are. We’ll check all this out and get back to you within the next few days.”
Victoria nods, her body still tense in my arms.
“Can I go up to my apartment?”
“I’m afraid not. There’s considerable damage, and the smell of smoke will linger for a few more days. You’ll have to find somewhere else to stay for the next little while.”
Victoria curses under her breath.
“Thank you,” I say to the men. “Do you have everything you need? I’d like to take Victoria inside.”
The men nod, giving us one long last look before turning and heading back toward the other men in uniform.
“Let’s go,” I say softly, turning her away from the crowd and into the building. The alarm has stopped, and the building’s security guard is back behind the counter. We lock eyes but don’t say anything.
In silence, Victoria and I take the elevator up to my apartment. She doesn’t leave my arms the entire way up.
When we get to my place, I lead her inside and straight to the couch. Angling her so that she falls to the side of me, tucked close, I wait for her to say something. I can’t imagine what she’s been through and is thinking right now.
After a couple of minutes, she twists her body so that we’re facing each other.
“I don’t have alcohol in the apartment,” she states.
“I know.”
“Then how the hell did it get there? Do you think someone was in my apartment?”
“Does anyone else have a key? Or did you let the superintendent know something wasn’t working right and maybe forgot?”
She gives my questions a beat of thought, then shakes her head. “No. No one should have access to my apartment but me. I think—” She hesitates for a moment, pressing her lips together. “I think someone must have broken in.”
I’m not sure what to say. I don’t want to dismiss her feelings, but that was a leap to take.
“Why do you think that?”
“The vodka, for one. There’s absolutely no way that could have been in the apartment. I just moved in. No one but you and a couple delivery people have come in, and it’s not like you’d bring that over as a welcome gift.”
“True,” I mutter, really thinking about the circumstances.
“And second, I’m not a candle girl. The scented ones give me headaches. Everything the cops and firefighters reported doesn’t make sense.”
I run a hand down her back, steady and slow. “You’re right. It doesn’t make sense.”
Victoria looks up at me, her eyes wide and searching, like she’s waiting for the moment I continue with a patronizing “but.”
But I won’t. I can’t.
“Something doesn’t feel right,” I continue, voice low. “Too many strange things happened tonight. Unfortunately, we don’t have enough solid facts right now to know what. Let the cops follow up, and hopefully, we’ll get answers soon. We’ll take it from there.”
Her head falls onto the side of my chest, her hair tickling my skin.
“I hate this,” she finally says, voice muffled by the fabric of my shirt. “Feeling like I have to defend myself. Feeling like no one believes me. Again.”
“I believe you,” I repeat, firmer this time. I reach for her hand and thread our fingers together. “We’ll figure it out. I’m not going anywhere.”
“Are you sure? I wouldn’t blame you if you backed out of our agreement now. Ran for the hills.”
“I am, without a doubt, sure that I don’t want out. You’re not just an agreement to me, Victoria. You’re my friend. Hell, you may have even taken the top spot in my life. Whatever you’re going through, whatever happens, the only place I want to be is by your side.”
I see her eyes begin to tear up again, and I can’t have that.
“No. No more crying. I know you’ve had a hell of a night, but you need to rest.”
Her shoulders sag, and she lets out a tired laugh. “You’re not wrong. Let me grab my phone so I can look up hotels.”
“Victoria, don’t be ridiculous. You’re staying here,” I tell her, brushing a thumb across her cheek. “That’s not up for debate.”
She opens her mouth like she might argue, but she must read the look on my face because she just nods.
“Okay,” she whispers.
“Good.” I lean over and kiss her forehead. “I don’t want to sleep and dash on you, but I do have to head back to camp in the morning. Early. So I’ll say this now, and I don’t want any debate.”
She waits, a hesitant but curious anticipation on her face.
“Make yourself at home. I’ve said it once, and I’ll say it again. You staying here will make me feel a hell of a lot better knowing you’re safe, so do whatever.”
She curls into me again, fitting perfectly under my arm, like this is where she was always meant to be. “Thank you.”
“Anything for you, sweet girl. Now.” I nudge her. “Let’s head to bed.”
Her hands grip the extra material of my shirt. “I don’t want to be alone tonight,” she says quietly.
“You won’t be.”
I scoop her up, sliding my hands under her legs and coming to a stand. With her still wrapped tight, I walk slowly to my bedroom.
The shadows are soft and familiar as I make my way down the hallway. The city lights spill in just enough through the windows to see her clearly in my arms and to make out where I’m going. She blinks up at me, tired and vulnerable but still trying to keep it together.
In my bedroom, I let her body slowly slip down mine until she’s standing pressed against me. Brushing her hair off her face, I speak low, right against her temple.
“Let’s get you comfy, yeah?” I ask. “Only if you want me to.”
She gives the smallest nod.
Gently, I kiss her temple, silently telling her she’s safe with me. Her hands fall to her sides, fingers fidgeting, but she doesn’t stop me when I reach for the zipper of her jacket and slowly slide it off her shoulders.
Her eyes lock on mine as I move closer, checking for any hesitation. There is none. Her blue eyes are blazing with heat, urging me to keep going.
So I do.
Pulling her T-shirt up, inch by inch, I reveal smooth skin and the delicate line of her ribs. She raises her arms and lets me lift the fabric over her head, exposing a soft lilac bra that fits her like it was made to be seen. My breath stutters in my chest.
She shivers—not from cold.
“You’re beautiful,” I murmur, tracing my fingertips down her arms before reaching the waistband of her jeans.
She nods again. No words. Just trust.
I unbutton them slowly, letting the moment stretch, and then guide them down her legs. She steps out of them without a sound, now standing in nothing but her underwear and that whisper of a bra.
She’s temptation personified. All lush curve and innocent looks. I want her with a hunger I’ve never felt before.
But the timing isn’t right. As much as I want her, and as much as I know she wants me, tonight is not the night.
“Wait right here,” I tell her as I turn and head into my walk-in closet. Grabbing the first T-shirt I see, I head back to her. The T-shirt is soft and warm in my hands, and when I pull it over her head, it falls to mid-thigh. She looks so small inside it. So heartbreakingly mine.
“It’s a little big,” she jokes.
“It’s perfect.”
“Is it your turn now?”
“My turn,” I agree quietly.
I strip quickly—not rushing but not wanting to tempt fate either. My dick is hard, and my willpower is thin. If she touches me just so…I’m toast.
Kicking off my sweats and standing with nothing on but my boxers, I reach for her hand. She’s got a glazed look on her face that makes me smile. She has the same effect on me.
I pull back the covers of my king bed and help her climb in, then slide in behind her. She wiggles back into me, sighing when she finds the right spot.
The sheets are cool, but her body is warm. She fits perfectly against me, back to chest, and I curl around her like a shield.
Within minutes, her breathing slows. The tension in her spine starts to melt. She lets out a soft sigh and tangles our fingers together again beneath the blanket. I squeeze her hand, letting her know she’s safe.
“Mason?” she whispers.
“Yeah?”
“Thank you. For everything tonight.”
I press a kiss to the back of her neck, my voice hushed against her skin.
“I’ll always protect you,” I vow. “No matter what.”
She squeezes my hand this time.
I wrap my arm tighter around her waist and bury my face in her hair, letting her scent lull me. Coconut and coffee. And now, me.
And for the first time in days, I breathe—really breathe.
Because she’s here.
Because she’s safe.
And because there’s no place I’d rather be than wrapped up in her.