Bruiser

by Whiskey, Samantha

  “Maybe we should work on that whole skating thing, first,” I suggested dryly.

  She stuck her tongue out at me and got back up. Something told me she would always do that when knocked down—get right back up. There was some fight in that girl, the same as her mom.

  Hudson: I bet you already know from her device, but we’re at the Shark Arena. Come to the players’ entrance on the south side and tell the security guard I told you to. He knows I’m here with Elliott.

  Shea: On my way.

  She’s just Elliott’s mom. Just Elliott’s mom.

  I repeated my mantra as I worked with Elliott. “It’s all about trusting your own body,” I reminded her. “You have to commit. How are your feet?”

  “They hurt a little, but it’s not too bad,” she told me.

  I tapped her helmet. “Skates can be a bi—...pain to break in,” I barely caught the swearing slip. “It takes some hours to get them comfortable. We can bake them for you the next time we meet, and that will shave some of the hours off.”

  “Cool! Hey, Mom!” She waved her hands over her head, throwing her body off balance. I caught her around the waist before she bit it.

  “Way to show her how awesome you are,” I teased.

  She rolled her eyes at me.

  “Go show off,” I urged her, making sure she was steady on her skates before releasing her.

  She nodded with an excited grin and took off down the ice. “Look at me, Mom!”

  “I see!” Shea called from the bench.

  “Watch the wall!” I instructed.

  “Got it!” Elliott answered, and she did. She shifted her body weight, throwing it at the inside edge of her right skate and outside edge of her left, and skidded to a stop.

  “Not bad!” I told her before skating over to the bench.

  “Whoa,” Shea said, backing up as I stepped inside.

  “What?” I asked, looking down at her. Damn, the woman was tiny when I was in shoes, but in skates, I had even more than my usual twelve inches on her.

  “You’re fast,” she admitted.

  “You haven’t even seen me try yet,” I told her with a smirk. This was my house, the one place in life I excelled, and I knew it. I’d never had to show off for a woman—they’d always come pretty easily to me, what with the star college player status and then the NHL contract and the millions that followed, but man, I wanted to show off for Shea.

  “Show me,” she challenged.

  Oh, I planned to.

  “How much bigger are your feet than Elliott’s?” I eyed her heels.

  “My Hobbit-like daughter?” she followed my line of sight to the row of skates lined up along the boards. “They’re not much bigger, actually. Not sure if you’ve noticed, but I’m kind of small.”

  “Good things come in small packages,” I answered automatically.

  “Then you must be pretty bad,” she fired back quickly before her cheeks tinged pink like she was embarrassed that she’d accidentally flirted with me.

  “What? Never had a thing for a bad boy?” I fished out a pair of skates that looked like they might fit her feet.

  “You have no idea,” she whispered.

  I knelt at her feet and looked up at her. There was zero teasing in her eyes. Zero flirtation.

  As certain as if she’d been wrapped in yellow caution tape, I knew I had to tread lightly here. She was haunted, and not in the way that I was—where my ghost was long dead and exorcised. No, her fear was real. Palpable.

  “You didn’t just buy that tracker because I had Elliott today, did you?” I asked quietly.

  She shook her head. “She’s had it ever since she started school.”

  I tucked that bit of knowledge away and nodded. “Sorry. If I’d known that, I wouldn’t have teased you earlier.”

  “It’s okay, I needed it. I don’t...trust easily.”

  That was an understatement. She was locked up tighter than the crown jewels.

  “I get it. Do you need help with the skates?”

  She shook her head. “I’ve got it.”

  “Let me know if you change your mind. There are socks in this pocket of my bag.” I pointed to pocket, then rose and joined Elliott back on the ice, giving her the space I somehow sensed she needed at that moment.

  Maybe it was because I was the same way. Not with the trust issues—I was a pretty good judge of character with one exception. But when I divulged too much of my past to someone, I tended to withdrawal. It always left me raw, like a wound that never quite healed because you kept picking at the scab.

  In those moments it didn’t matter that I was twenty-nine years old.

  I was trapped in the body of a much-smaller boy, facing the beast that alcohol turned him into, listening for footsteps on our porch. The turn of a key. The sound of my mother crying.

  I shook the memories free and concentrated on the feel of the ice beneath my feet, letting the rink take it all away.

  “I haven’t done this in years,” Shea admitted as she came out from the box.

  “Need some help?” I asked across the blue line where I was helping Elliott.

  “No,” she assured me, gripping the wall like a lifeline.

  “You’d better help her,” Elliott whispered.

  “She said, no.”

  “She didn’t mean it,” Elliott assured me as Shea shuffled along the boards.

  “One thing they teach boys is that when a girl says no, you believe her.” I kept my voice low as we both watched Shea struggle. My muscles involuntarily clenched as she slipped once. Twice.

  Nearly landed on her ass.

  “No exceptions?” Elliott cringed as Shea barely caught herself on the wall.

  “No. Exceptions.”

  “What if like...someone is drowning but swears they’re okay and tells you not to save them?” She shot a pleading look at me.

  “She’s not drowning.”

  “She’s...something,” Elliott muttered.

  Yeah, this was pretty damn painful to watch.

  “So, uh, are you sure you don’t want a little help?” I asked as she rounded the curve.

  “I’m fi—ahhhh!” she shrieked as her left leg slipped forward and her right leg fell back, sending her sliding into some splits that she definitely hadn’t consented to. “Okay, help!”

  I flew across the ice, skating faster than I ever did at drills. Hell, maybe even during a game. My heart and lungs pumped with the rhythm of my arms, and I came to a quick stop just behind her, careful that the snow I shredded didn’t hit her in the face.

  “Gotcha,” I said, lifting her under her arms until she stood, wobbling, in front of me.

  “Whoa,” she threw over her shoulder.

  “Yeah, you’re pretty whoa. How are you feeling? Was that as painful for you as it was for me to watch?”

  She scoffed. “I’ll have you know that I’m perfectly okay—Crap!” Her skates flew out from beneath her, and I barely caught her in time, turning her in my arms and hauling her up against my body for sheer stability.

  I gripped her hands and placed them on either side of my waist. “Hold.”

  “Uh-huh,” she said into my chest as her fingers dug into my obliques.

  Elliott skated over and came to a perfect stop. Damn, that kid had some talent.

  “See how awesome I am?” she asked her mom.

  “Yep,” Shea said with the side of her face resting against my chest.

  I didn’t need to see her face to know she was ten shades of red right now. Not when she was practically burning through my Henley.

  “Does this mean I can go out for hockey? Please? Pretty please? I’ll do a month of dishes!”

  “Can we talk about this once we’re back on land?” Shea begged.

  “You do kind of suck at this, Mom,” Elliott whispered like there was anyone else around to hear her.

  “Yeah, that point has not been lost on me,” Shea retorted.

  “Hey, Porter! You and your girls about done
?” Devin called out from the doors that led to the Zamboni.

  Your girls. My. Girls.

  Hearing that didn’t freak me out as much as I’d expected.

  I gently used my fingers to tilt Shea’s chin so she was looking at me. “Are we done?”

  “Out here?” she clarified.

  Only out here, my instinct answered. I tossed that shit back in the Neanderthal cave and nodded instead.

  “Yes. Please, God, yes.”

  “Three minutes,” I told Devin, then chuckled softly as Elliott skated blue line to blue line. “Never thought I’d get those words past your lips.”

  And now all I wanted was to hear them again and again. Preferably while she was under me or over me. Or even in front of me. Fuck, the thought of her curved ass in my hands while she clung to me like this was enough to send my body into overdrive.

  Not now, asshat, I told my dick.

  “Ha,” she said with a heavy dose of sarcasm. Her eyes drifted to Elliott, who fell trying to stop, but picked herself up and skated on. “What’s your favorite thing about hockey?” she asked me.

  “Listen,” I told her.

  The only sounds were Elliott’s blades against the ice.

  “I don’t hear anything.”

  “Exactly. I don’t hear anything outside this rink. Don’t think about anything that doesn’t exist in this rink. All the bullshit disappears, and all that’s left is who I am, or at least who I want to be.”

  Her feet shuffled, and I wrapped my arms around her back to steady her, taking her slight weight into account with my own balance.

  “Porter?”

  “Shea?”

  “Get me off this god-forsaken sheet of ice,” she ordered.

  “Awh, come on, I thought you enjoyed holding on to me,” I teased.

  “Now.”

  “Right now?”

  “As. Quickly. As. Possible.” She bit out every single word.

  A grin erupted on my face as I bent, lifting her into my arms the same way I had outside Connor’s house.

  She sputtered but wrapped her arms around my neck—unlike last time.

  Damn, she felt so good, so right in my arms. All curves and a fire I knew would burn me if she ever let herself flare up.

  “Porter,” she urged me.

  “Hold on tight,” I warned her a split second before I pulled her even closer.

  Then I launched across the ice with Shea in my arms, gliding with sure, strong movements that were only a hair slower than my earlier performance and coming to a sudden stop at the doors of the players’ box.

  “Seriously?” she questioned, blowing a strand of auburn hair out of her eyes, but not letting go of her grip around my neck.

  She was close enough to kiss.

  “You enjoyed it.”

  “Oh, really? And what makes you think that?” she tossed back.

  “The giant smile on your face.” My own answered it.

  She lifted one of her hands to her face, letting her fingers lay across her lips as if she needed to feel it for herself. “Huh,” was all she said.

  I gently put her down inside the box.

  “You’re crazy fast,” she admitted, sitting on the bench and unlacing her skates.

  “I can outskate just about anyone,” I admitted. “I’ll fetch Elliott so you guys can get home.”

  “Thank you, Porter. Not just for bringing her, or fighting me to mentor her, but for letting me see you in your element. I think you’ll be good for her,” she admitted quietly.

  “I think she’s good for me. You both are.” I didn’t wait for her response before gliding over to Elliott. “Time’s up, kid.”

  “Ugh. Already?” She sent a pleading look up at me that mirrored her mother’s. So much about them was alike. Except the eyes. Those, she must have gotten from her father—whoever he was.

  “Yep. We’ll come back, don’t worry.”

  “Promise?” she asked.

  “Promise.” My phone buzzed in my pocket, and I ran my thumb across the screen to open it as Elliott climbed into the box with Shea.

  Natalie: I miss you. Please forgive me, Hud. Please? At least call. Text. Something.

  My insides twisted, just like they did every time she reached out.

  I’d been honest when I’d told Shea that I could outskate almost anyone, but then again, Natalie had always been my exception in the worst of ways.

  I wasn’t sure I’d ever skate fast enough to outrun her.

  Chapter 4

  Shea

  “You said camping,” I said, trying like hell to keep my jaw from dropping as Porter turned down a private road that led to what had to be a multi-million-dollar resort. It had been almost a month of Porter being Elliot’s Big—weeks of adventures for the two, and sometimes me.

  “In the loosest of terms,” he said, his hands gripping the wheel of his Mercedes.

  “I brought our tent.” I shook my head. “And bug spray.”

  He laughed, the sound hearty and rare.

  “Why did you even let me pack them?” I asked, glancing back at Elliott, whose nose was practically against the glass, her pale green eyes wide and awestruck. I sank a little in my seat, swallowing down the guilt creeping up my throat. I worked constantly, and I would never, not in my life, be able to give her this experience.

  “Because if I brought you here,” he said snagging my attention as he turned into the long, paved drive toward the resort. “And you told me you’d rather camp for real, in a tent with sleeping bags, then I would turn us around and take you and Elliott to the nearest spot.”

  “You’d brave bugs and cold hard ground for…her?” I almost said us.

  “’Course,” he said, parking. “I’m not afraid of the wilderness.”

  I believed him.

  I believed there wasn’t much that scared him.

  “Whoa,” Elliott said as we hopped out of the SUV.

  I followed her gaze, both our heads slightly tilted to take in the freaking palace before us. I tugged her into my side as we stared at the soft beige sandstone exterior, the intricately carved columns that boarded an elaborate set of stone stairs. Gobs of windows, lush trees and landscaping decorated the property, and the cool, crisp water beckoned from behind it.

  The sky was clear and cloudless, a rare treat, and for just a moment, I felt the singular kind of peace that comes from the quiet of getting away from the everyday hustle of life.

  “Can we swim?” Elliott asked, bouncing on her heels. “Can we play volleyball on the beach? Are there hot dogs?”

  “Yes to all,” Porter said, coming up behind us with our bags. He naturally left the tent and other camping gear in the back of his Rover. “As long as your mom is cool with this over regular camping.”

  “Please, Mom?” Elliott asked, pulling out all the stops on her puppy-eyes. Like I would say no anyway.

  “Of course,” I said, reaching for my bag that Porter had slung over his shoulder.

  He tugged it out of the way, motioning toward the entryway. “After you two,” he said.

  I flashed him a soft smile and headed up the giant stairs with Elliott in tow. The ornate wooden doors opened to an even more lavish entryway—accented by velvety soft carpeted rugs and rich wooden beamed ceilings.

  “Finally made it, Porter?” Connor called from the winding staircase that likely led to an endless amount of suites.

  “Had to stop for essentials,” he said, fist-bumping Connor before glancing at Elliott, then me.

  Heat flushed my skin.

  “Hi, Shea,” Connor said, giving me a friendly wave. “Elliott,” he said, hunching closer to her level. “Hannah and Lettie are on the beach,” he said. “I know they’d love to have a cool older kid to hang with them,” he continued. “If you’d like.”

  Elliott smiled, nodding as she glanced to me in question.

  I cut my eyes between Porter and Connor, tugging my lip between my teeth.

  “Ivy and Pepper are out there. Bailey and
Paige, too,” Connor said, noting my worry.

  I sighed slightly. “Okay, honey,” I said to Elliott. “I’ll get us situated in our room and then come find you.”

  “No rush,” she said. “I’m totally going to teach Lettie and Hannah how to spike a volleyball. Then we’ll crush y’all old people later!”

  I chuckled, the smile hurting my cheeks it was so big as she rushed off to follow Connor to the beach the resort sat on. It had been too long since we had a vacation, even a small one, and I couldn’t help the happiness radiating in my chest as I watched her be so…her.

  “This way,” Porter said, his deep tenor raising chills on my skin. I hadn’t realized he’d come to stand at my side, ready to show me where we’d be staying in this totally-out-of-my-realm-resort.

  Following him up the stairs, it was an effort not to stare at the muscles peeking through the tight black T-shirt he wore. The soft fabric clung to him like a second skin, the bulging muscles beneath straining the material. He carried three bags on one shoulder like it was nothing, and Elliott’s bag was stuffed full of not only clothes but two pairs of running shoes, her softball glove, and her basketball.

  He took a right at the end of an enormously long hallway, stopping in front of a door on the left side. A huge window at the end of the hall offered a perfect view of the water.

  “This room has the waterfront view,” he said, opening the door for me.

  I followed him inside the room, stunned by the lush white carpets that were soft under my shoes, the two queen beds piled high with luxurious comforters and pillows, and the rich wooden furniture that accented the room.

  He set our bags down on the nearest bed before heading toward the two white-washed wooden doors across the room and opened them to show the view he mentioned.

  I slipped past him, stepping onto the balcony, my hands on the smooth railing as my eyes trailed across the beach below. I spotted Elliott, her toes buried in the sand as she chucked a volleyball into the air, Lettie and Hannah tracking her every move.

  The smell of sand and sun and salt carried on the soft breeze that lifted my hair from my shoulders, and a deep, relaxed sigh soothed out of me.