Chapter 20 #2
"Try and stop me," she says, pulling back and looking around. "I guess the cat's out of the bag about us."
"Guess so," I say. "You okay with that?"
A pause, and then she nods, lifting up to peck my lips. "Yes, I am. As long as you are."
Still standing on the ice, I take a moment to scan the crowd, my arm around Morgan's waist as she stands flush against me—many have left or are making their way out, but at least half of the audience is still sticking around, finishing beer and watching as the kids take the ice for the customary post-game free skate; all eyes are on us.
I feel a twinge of guilt at the optics of being openly with Morgan at a charity game in memory of my deceased wife, but when I take Morgan's hand in mine and lift them together overhead, the response is deafening.
"I guess the town approves," I say.
Morgan eyes me. "Are you okay with this?"
I smile at her. "Yes, Morgan. More than okay. Taylor made me promise I'd give my heart to someone else, someday. I think she'd be glad that I'm keeping that promise." I tug her tighter against me. "I love you, you know."
She flushes. "It's different hearing it…not in the heat of the moment."
"I know," I admit. “And same. But it's true. I love you. I'm proud to be with you."
"I love you, too. But we need to get you home." She touches the bridge of my nose. "I can tell you're in pain."
"Let me change real quick, and then we can go."
She pushes me gently in the direction of the locker room. "Go on, then. Mal and I will be waiting by the exit."
Changing takes longer than it should, as I’m hounded by the guys—as much in excitement about my relationship with Morgan as in congratulations for the game or concern for my concussion.
By the time I finally get out of the locker room in my street clothes, my head is pounding worse than the worst hangover of my life, every step is agony, and I have to squint against the blinding glare of the harsh, fluorescent overhead lights.
My gearbag weighs roughly a thousand pounds, it feels like.
I reach the exit—Morgan is visibly anxious until she spots me, and makes a beeline for me.
"Give me that," she says, grabbing my bag.
Mallory intercepts. "I've got it. You hold onto Captain Concussion, here."
"Ladies, relax. I'm not an invalid," I protest.
"Noah," Morgan scolds gently. "You're very obviously dead on your feet. You're white as a sheet, and you look like you're about to collapse any second."
"I'm fine," I insist. "I just have a headache."
Mallory leans in close, muttering for my ears only. "Best to just go along with whatever she wants. When Mom is worried, she's impossible to deal with. Trust me on that one."
I surrender the bag to Mallory with a sigh and wrap my arm around Morgan's shoulders, giving her at least the impression of my weight; I'd crush her like a bug if I gave her all my weight.
She notices, however. "Noah, you have to stop thinking I'm delicate." Her arm snakes around my waist, and she squeezes hard. "Trust me."
I let more of my weight sag onto her, and honestly, it's a relief. The exertion required to stay on my feet is dizzying.
We reach Morgan's Jeep, and Mallory heaves my bag into the hatch while Morgan eases me into the passenger seat. I relax against the headrest with a sigh—just sitting down with my eyes closed is a massive relief.
I’m barely conscious for the drive, letting exhaustion wash over me, and then we're parking. I open my eyes and discover we're at Morgans' house.
Morgan helps me out of the car. "You didn't say which home. I want you here where Mal and I can keep an eye on you."
"As long as I can lay down."
"Can you manage the stairs?" Morgan asks.
"Yup," I grit out, even though I'm not entirely certain I can.
I grab the bannister and pull myself up, assisted by Morgan.
We reach her room, which I’m seeing in the light of day for the first time—pale blue walls, soft, plush, thick cream carpeting, an antique white four-poster bed with a sea-chest at the foot, a thick patchwork quilt draped over it. The room smells like Morgan.
She pulls back the blankets and helps me sit at the edge. "Shoes." I toe off my sneakers, and she reaches for my jeans. "Don't get any ideas, Noah Austin. We don't sleep in jeans is all."
I let her help me take my jeans off, and then slowly swing my legs onto the bed, moving gingerly. "This is probably the only circumstance in which you reaching for my pants isn't gonna go anywhere."
She snickers. "I know."
I sigh once I've peeled out of my shirt. "Thanks for taking care of me, babe." I eye her. "I hope I didn't worry you too much."
She eases me backward, and I allow myself to lie down; she perches on the edge beside me. "I won't lie—when you first went down and didn't get up, I freaked."
"I'm sorry, honey. I know that had to be a little triggering."
She shrugs. "My ex was in a bad brawl during a beer league game. He and some others from his team were jumped by rival players. The doctors think that it contributed to the severity of his TBI after the accident. It sort of soured me on hockey, I guess."
"And today probably didn't help, huh?"
She doesn't answer immediately. "Actually, it did, weirdly. Yeah, there was a fight, but it doesn't seem like there are any hard feelings, and you seem like you'll be fine after a few days of recovery."
"I will be absolutely fine, and I doubt I’ll need even that long."
She looks at me. "Can I ask what happened? I've never seen you angry like that."
I groan. "He said something stupid in the heat of the moment, that's all."
"Noah."
"He saw us together after you skated and made a dumb, vulgar comment. It’s not worth repeating, and I will not. He apologized, and everything is fine."
"What'd he say?"
I sink deeper into the pillow, closing my eyes. “As I said, it’s not worth repeating. It was stupid, more than anything, and meant to goad me. He was talking shit, and it got out of hand."
“It was about me? Or us?"
“Something like that. It's hard to recall at the moment anyway."
She sighs. "Fine, keep your secrets. Just… don’t get into anymore fights over me, yeah?"
"It's not a secret, honey. My memory is foggy, and it was a genuinely stupid comment. Guys talk shit, Morgan. It's part of the game."
"If you can't remember, how do you know it was stupid?"
I sigh. "Morgan. Let it go, please?"
She tenses. "I just…the idea of you getting into a fight over me bothers me."
“Tempers were already flaring after Mack took that stick to the face. He said some shit; I decked him. He decked me. He apologized; I accepted, and it's forgotten. If I see Officer Coone at B-and-I, I'll buy him a beer."
"My ex, the one before Kevin. He was…that kind of thing would have left someone in the hospital, or worse. Slade didn't forgive or forget."
"Well," I tell her, "I do both, and rather easily. It's forgotten, permanently, I promise. And just for the record, that's only, like, the fifth or sixth fight I've ever been involved in, in all the decades I've been playing hockey."
She settles lower on the bed, and I wriggle over to make room—she nestles her head on my chest. “Is that okay?"
I laugh. "I have a headache, honey. I didn't break a rib. I'm fine. And holding you is the best medicine I could ask for."
"Oh yeah?" Her hand teases over my crotch, under the blanket. "I've got some other medicine that may help."
"Jesus, Mom!" I hear Mal shriek from the doorway. “What the fuck?"
"Mal?" Morgan's hand vanishes. "I didn't know you were there."
"I just came to see how Captain Concussion is doing."
I'm shaking with laughter. "I'm doing just fine, sweetheart."
"Do I need to go stay with Nicola?" she asks.
Morgan groans in embarrassment. "No, you don't. I was just teasing him."
"Well, that's just cruel," Mal says.
"Not like that." Morgan answers, her tone sour with irritation.
"That was a hell of a game, Noah," Mal says, approaching the bed and sitting on the sea chest. "That pass to Carter while you were falling?"
I grin at her. "Gotta make the play.”
Mal's answering grin fades fast. "I'm guessing this didn't help me on the 'Mal wants to play hockey' front?"
Morgan groans again, turning her face into my chest for a moment. "Mal, c'mon. Do we have to discuss this now?"
"No. Just saying."
I squeeze her hip. "Morgan." I drop my voice to a murmur. "Not my place, I know, but…let the girl play hockey. She'll be as safe as she can be with Bill and the boys. If I had a daughter, I'd trust her on his team."
Morgan lifts on an elbow, peers at me, and then at Mal. "Your practice time with me doesn't suffer. This is in addition to figure skating, Mallory Morgan."
Mallory hops up and down, clapping. "I'll practice more than ever, I promise!" She stills. "This isn't a joke?"
Morgan snorts. "You really think I'd tease you about this?"
"I can play?"
"Yes, you can play." She pauses. "And just for the record, I’d decided to let you play before Noah said anything. Just so you don't go thinking it was him that made the difference."
I chuckle. "Wouldn't want that."
"Hush, you," Morgan says. "This is between my daughter and me.”
Mal is positively beside herself. "Should I get this in writing before you change your mind?"
Morgan chuckles. "No. I'm not going to reverse my decision unless you suddenly start talking about quitting figure skating."
"I told you, Mom—I still love figure skating. I just love hockey equally as much." She attacks her mother with a full-tilt sprinting bear hug. "Thank you, Mom—thankyouthankyouthankyou. You won't regret this, I swear."
Morgan pulls back a little and toys with Mallory's hair. "I'm sorry it took so long for me to come around."
Mallory sniffles. "It's okay. I get it…now, at least. I didn't always."
"I know I haven't been exactly forthcoming about the past," Morgan says. "I just want you to be happy. And clearly, hockey makes you happy. Please just be careful. Wear a mouthguard and don't get pancaked."
Mallory is on her feet, phone out. "I won't! I gotta call the girls. I gotta call Coach Bill!"
Morgan chuckles, watching Mallory spaz out. "Should have let her a long time ago."
I pat her hip. "No point in woulda-coulda-shoulda, honey. You had your reasons."
"Selfish ones."
I hesitate. "I hope I didn't overstep, Morgan. You're her mom. I'm just your…wait…Am I your boyfriend?"
"No, you didn't overstep." She snuffles a laugh against my cheek. "And I hope you're my boyfriend, yes. Do you want to be?"
"Do fish shit in rivers?"
She splutters. "Nice, Noah."
"I'm kidding. Yes, I want to be with you. I want to be more than just your boyfriend. I want to wake up next to you. I want to give Mal hockey lessons. Maybe you can teach me to figure skate."
"Okay, Doug Dorsey."
I grunt in confusion. "Who?"
"The Cutting Edge?" she says, expectant. "DB Sweeney and Moira Kelly?"
I shrug. "Not ringing any bells. Sorry."
"Well, that's a mortal sin," she says. "It's a classic. Hockey player meets figure skater. We'll have to watch it once you've gotten some rest."
"Sounds good. Right now, though, I just want to sleep."
Morgan nuzzles up to me. "Sleep, then. I'm not going anywhere."
I drift toward sleep. "I'm really, really glad we collided that day on the ice."
"Me too, Noah." She noses my jaw. "I love you, you know. So much. More than should be possible, considering we've only known each other a few months."
"I've never really believed that love is a function of time. I knew I was in love with Taylor from the moment I saw her. It only grew from there."
"Love isn't a function of time," Morgan echoes. "Huh." She traces my temple. "All this silver does come with wisdom after all, huh?"
"Rude." I crack my eyes open as much as I can and find hers. "About that other medicine…"
She buries her face in my throat, shaking with laughter. "Sleep first. Shenanigans later."
"Fine. But I'm not going to forget I was promised shenanigans. I'm not that concussed."
Her voice is soft, breathy, erotic. "Neither will I, I promise."
I growl. "You can't use that voice on me when I'm incapacitated, woman."
"No?" she breathes. "Does it…do something to you?"
"Morgan," I scold, struggling to keep my voice stern. "It hurts to move, or I'd be inside you already. Stop teasing me."
"Who's teasing? You won't have to move at all." Her hand slides back under the blankets. "All you have to do is lie there and let me make you feel all better."
"You make me feel all better just like this," I whisper. "You don't have to do anything else."
"Have to?" she says. "No. Get to? Yes." Her hand curls around me. "Now hush and let me have my way with you."
"Yes, ma'am," I say, groaning. "If that's an order."
"It is."
"Then far be it from me to disobey an order."
"Good boy," she breathes, drifting down my body, hair trailing over my skin.
At the first touch of her mouth, I gasp. "Oh fuck, I love you."
She pauses to giggle. "Good thing you already told me, or I'd develop a new complex, thinking you only love me for my oral skills."
An embarrassingly short time later, she's nestled against my chest once more, and I'm in a whole other dimension.
I open my mouth to say…something, but she covers my mouth with her hand. "Hush, baby. Don't ruin all my hard work by talking. Just sleep."
"I fucking love you, though," I mumble. "And not just for your oral skills."
"I know."
“That doesn't hurt, though."
She giggles again. "Oh, I know. Believe me, I feel the same way about your oral skills."
"When I wake up, I'll give you a demonstration of said skills."
"But I'm fully dressed."
"Then get naked."
"Yes, sir." She slips out of bed, closes and locks the door, undresses, climbs back in bed with me, and reassumes the cuddle position, this time naked.
"Good girl." I cup her bare ass, groaning in appreciation. "Do I have your permission to wake you up with my mouth?"
She snorts a laugh. "Yes, you do. Now and always—you have blanket permission to wake me up with your mouth any time you want.”
We drift off to sleep—I'm on the cusp when I hear her mumble. "You're the best thing that's ever happened to me, Noah."
That's a complicated thing, for me.
Losing Taylor was the worst thing that's ever happened to me. I obviously wish it had never happened. But it did. I'm not sure I can say I'm thankful for it, but from it, I have Morgan and Mallory. A new life. A new love. It doesn’t replace what was, but adds to it.
My last thought before I tumble into unconsciousness is that I hope Noel finds this for himself.
It's long overdue.