Chapter 18 #2
"Feeling you inside me and connecting with you, making love with you?
" I'm still inside her, and she squeezes me with her inner muscles.
"I get so much pleasure just being with you, Noah.
So please just trust me when I say I'm not feeling left out, here.
I enjoyed that every bit as much as if I'd come.
" She nuzzles my jaw. "Besides. Next time we're alone, I'm pretty sure you'll make up for it. "
"Damn right I will," I murmur. "And then some."
She pats my shoulder. "I'm not keeping score, Noah."
"You won't ever fake an orgasm, will you?" I ask.
She looks at me like I grew a second head.
"Like I could even do that? I'm no actress, Noah.
So no. Not only am I not really capable of that, I just wouldn't." A happy sigh.
"If it sounded like it felt as good for me as I hope it did you, then that's because it did.
I don't need to climax to enjoy the way you fuck me, Noah. "
"Sometimes, it feels like you're too damned incredible to be real," I tell her.
She gives a short bark of laughter. "I feel the same way about you.
" She sobers. "It's what was holding me back from letting you stay last night.
I was scared. Part of me doesn't trust this—I trust you, I do.
But I'm so happy. It feels so good to be with you, and I don't mean just physically.
That's a whole other thing—I’ve never, ever felt even close to how incredible you make me feel, Noah, whether I come or not.
And trust me when I say that you make me come like…
well, like I didn't know was even possible, so suffice it to say that 'too good to be true' also applies to sex.
I just…it's hard to trust that something this good can be real. That there's no catch."
"I understand all of that completely," I say.
She gently eases me away, and I give her space to get to her feet—she does so gingerly, on wobbly legs. "See? Still have shaky legs, even without an orgasm."
"Just don't think that that's gonna be a common thing," I tell her.
She leans into me, kisses me, one foot popping up.
"Oh, I have no doubt." She lets out a rushing sigh.
"Now. We have to go adult. Because unfortunately, we can't just stay in here screwing all day, as much as I'd like to.
" She pushes me toward the bedroom. "Let me get cleaned up and I’ll be down in a second. "
I wet a washcloth and clean myself, and then give her the bathroom. I hear the toilet flush as I dress in my station blues, and then the shower turns on.
I head downstairs, tugging my TFFD beanie on. I find Mallory seated at the island, sipping a mug of coffee, peering at her phone, and eating cereal. I'm absolutely clueless as to how I'm supposed to handle this.
"Hey, Coach," Mal says, her tone bright, if a little sleepy. She sounds…casual. Normal. Unsurprised and unaffected.
"Hey, Mal. Good morning." I gesture at the coffee pot. "May I?"
She looks at me like I asked for permission to breathe. "Um…yeah?"
I chuckle nervously, open a cabinet at random, and find only juice glasses and a variety of Wheeler Figure Skating Academy tumblers.
"Next one to your right," Mal says, not looking up from her phone.
I find the correct cabinet, pick a mug, pour coffee, find cream in the fridge, stir, and lean over the island across from Mallory, who puts her phone to sleep, flips it face down, and meets my eyes.
"Can I say something, Coach?"
"Sure. Of course."
"My mom deserves happiness. She's put me first in everything my whole life. And since she's met you, she's…" she shrugs. "Come alive. I dunno how to put it. Like a flower opening up, even though that sounds kinda cheesy or whatever. So just…don't hurt her. Don't break her heart. That's all I ask."
"I can't promise I’ll never do or say anything stupid, Mal.
I'm human, and worse, I'm a guy." Mallory snickers at this.
"Your mother is an incredible woman, and I care about her deeply.
All I can do is promise that I'll do everything in my power to make her happy and hopefully keep her happy.
" I chew on the next thought, trying to find the right way to phrase it.
"I…no matter what happens with your mom and me, I don't want you to think I'm trying to—"
She holds up a hand to stop me. "Whoa. I don't need any of that, Coach.
" A pause, and then in a softer tone. "I've never had a male role model or authority figure or whatever.
I wouldn't know what to do with one, to be honest. But I feel like I can trust you, if only because Mom does.
I know the guys on the team trust you and respect you, too, and that's good enough for me. Anything else, let’s just play that one day at a time, okay? "
I grin. "I can do that." I sip, eyeing her over the rim. "Can I just say that I appreciate your candor?"
She shrugs. "We Wheeler women aren't very good at holding back."
"Can I ask you something?" I say.
She looks surprised. "Uh, yeah. I guess."
"Your last name, Wheeler…" I start, then trail off, looking for the best way to phrase it.
"It's Mom's ‘maiden name,’” and here she uses air quotes and heavy verbal sarcasm, “which is, like, the most archaic phrase of all time, but whatever.
She changed her name back to Wheeler after the divorce.
And then spent, like, months filing petitions and stuff to change my last name.
Eventually, she got my sperm donor to consent, and here I am, Mallory Morgan Wheeler, as god intended. "
"Sorry if I'm prying."
She smiles, shrugs, and shakes her head. "Nah, not at all." She looks away, then back to me. "So. The game is tomorrow. How are you feeling?"
I widen my eyes, letting out a breath. "Oh boy, honestly…ready. I'm in good shape, we've got a good roster this year. The cops do too, though, so it's gonna be as close a game as ever."
"Mom is freaking out a little," Mallory says. “She hasn't skated in front of an audience in a long-ass time."
"I'm freaking out a lot, if you must know.
" Morgan comes down with her hair dry and braided down her back, wearing tight, black jeans and a lavender Wheeler Figure Skating Academy hoodie with a black pair of Uggs.
She pauses beside me, glances at her daughter, and then lifts up to kiss me—quick and soft.
Mal grins as we pull apart. "Awww. You guys are cute."
Morgan goes to the pot and fixes herself a mug of coffee. "No, 'ew, gross'?"
Mal rolls her eyes. "What, am I twelve? No, Mother." She drops her gaze to her cereal bowl. "To be perfectly honest, seeing you guys being all cute together gives me hope. I was pretty turned off to boys after what Heath did."
I glance at Morgan. "Do I want to know?"
Mal answers. "No, you do not. Mom handled it."
I chuckle. "I have no doubt. I pity the fool."
Morgan snickers at my A-Team reference, but it goes over Mallory's head, unsurprisingly.
"I know people, Mal," I tell her, stage-whispering conspiratorially. "I can have him put in a holding cell for a few days."
Mal seems to consider it. "No, as tempting as it is to keep messing with him, I just want to put the whole thing behind me and hope that I find a good guy someday."
"You will," I assure her. "A pretty, smart, independent, athletic young lady like you? You'll need a big fat stick to beat the boys away with."
She snickers. "Thanks for using the right preposition there, Coach."
I frown. "What?"
"Noah.” Morgan’s voice is even, but shaky with barely-restrained laughter. “Beat the boys away versus beat the boys off."
My eyes fly wide. "That is not what I meant. Jesus. Like I'd make a joke like that to a seventeen-year-old girl?"
Mal cackles. "Relax, guy. I made the joke."
"Guy?"
"Fella?" she smirks. "Dude. Bro. Chief. I've got more."
"Let's just stick to either Coach or Noah," I say.
"Noah?" She tilts her head, her gaze going from me to Morgan.
I shrug. "I get enough of titles and formality at work. I'm not technically your coach anyway. If you like calling me Coach, go for it. If Captain or Cap suits your fancy, fine. But I'm good with Noah. Seems appropriate enough to me at this point."
"Yeah, I'll never call you Cap," Mal says. "If you're cool with me calling you by your name, then I'm cool."
"Then we're cool," I say.
"Cool."
Morgan splutters, amused. "Wow. You two are so articulate."
"Cool," Mal and I say in unison, and then all three of us burst into laughter.
I glance at Morgan, and her eyes are twinkling—she turns away, but not before I see a glimmer of a tear in her eye. She fiddles idly with the towel hanging from the oven handle and then turns back. "Okay. Noah, breakfast. What do you like?"
You, I almost say, but think better of it—and indeed, when I look at Morgan, she's giving me a look that says don't you dare say it, mister.
"I have a better idea," I say, and guide her by the shoulders to the island beside her daughter. "You sit and drink your coffee while I fix us breakfast."
"But—" she protests.
"Morgan." I interrupt her. "When was the last time anyone made you breakfast?"
"I'm gonna go out on a limb and say never," Mallory answers, pulling her mom onto a stool at the island. "Mom gracefully accepts your kind offer, Noah."
"Excellent." I pull open the fridge and peruse the options. "Let's see…wow, you girls are healthy. Lots of good stuff in here."
I pull out some green peppers and a packet of breakfast sausage. I get two pans heating while dicing the peppers. A few minutes later, I'm divvying up three plates of scrambled eggs with peppers and sausage.
Mal looks positively gleeful when I set a plate in front of her. "Second breakfast! Score!"
I sit beside Morgan, and we dig in. When she finishes eating, Morgan rests her head on my shoulder. "Thank you, Noah."
"My pleasure." I check the time on my phone and curse under my breath. "Gotta run, girls. The captain can't be late."
Morgan snags my hand at the front door as I shrug on my department jacket. "Hey."
I bend and kiss her. "I'm so glad you texted me last night."
She grins at me. "Not as glad I am." She searches my face. "Thanks for being cool with Mallory. And for breakfast."
"Mal is cool, so it's easy to be cool with her. You raised a hell of a kid, sweetheart."
She drops her head. "It just means a lot that you care about her in all this. I know she's mature, especially for seventeen, but she's got a tender heart under there."
"Morgan, I'm all in. Okay? You, her, us, the whole thing. One step at a time, though."
She rests her head on my chest for a moment and then pulls away, pats my chest, and then gives me a gentle shove toward the door. "Go to work. But call me or message me when you can, yeah?"
"Will do. You too. Just, obviously, I'll have to answer when I can."
"I know. Now go. The captain can't be late, after all."
I'm whistling when I get to work, and find myself whistling while I do paperwork. Which, of course, gets the attention of my son.
"Someone's in a good mood," he says, flopping heavily into a chair in that way of his.
“Yeah, I guess so."
"Care to share with your son?"
I take off my glasses and toss them onto the desk. "Just…things are good with Morgan."
He grins. "Good? Good how?"
"I stayed over there last night."
His eyes widen. "Hey, that is a big step. You're happy?"
I nod. “Yeah, I am. I honestly wasn't sure I'd ever feel truly happy again." I eye him, hesitating. "It's hard to let myself feel that way, sometimes, though."
"It's what Mom wanted."
“Yeah, but certain parts of me have a hard time accepting that." I gesture at him with a pen. "What about you? Anyone catching your interest?"
He shakes his head. "No. I've been on a few dates, but…" he sighs. "It's gonna sound shitty."
"So say it anyway. I'm your dad. I know you."
"All the women around here that are single and age-appropriate just don't interest me.
There's nothing wrong with them, I just…I dunno. I grew up with them. Went to school with them. Shit, I dated Leah Martin, and her ex-husband and I were teammates our whole lives. It’s just weird.
I don't know. I love living here, I love being back in Tomlin Falls, and I'm not going anywhere, but I sort of wonder if I'm ever going to meet anyone. "
I sigh. "Yeah, problems of living in a small town, I guess. But I know the right person will come along. Probably when you least expect it."
"I think you said something almost exactly the same when I broke up with Heather Edmonds junior year," he says.
"It was true then, and it's true now."
He laughs sarcastically. "Dad, I'm in my thirties. I'm starting to wonder if it's just not in the cards for me."
"You are too young to give up, kiddo. As I said, this kind of thing has a way of sneaking up on you when you least expect it."
"I hope you're right. Because if I'm honest, I really want it."
"You'll find your person, Noel. You have so much love to give. Just…be open when it comes. You'll know."
The tones go, then, and it's off to the races.