The Year We Fell Down

by Sarina Bowen

  My face was a dribbling mess, and I wiped my eyes on my jacket. “You’d better fish that puck out of the net, then,” I said. “I can probably score on you a few more times. In between crying jags.”

  “We’ll just see about that, Callahan.”

  I managed to put the puck away one more time, to Hartley’s three. When we got back on the bus, I was sweating everywhere. “We wore the wrong gear,” I said. “Next time I’ll lose the jacket. But gloves and elbow pads would be nice.”

  Hartley winked. “Next time.”

  I was drained. All day I’d wanted to quiz Hartley about what would happen next. I’d wanted to know where we stood, even if it was difficult to ask. But just then, with the memory of the gleaming white ice dancing before my eyes, it was enough to rest against his shoulder. He put an arm around me, and we barely spoke at all before the bus pulled up on College Street.

  “Where did the sleds come from?” I asked as I maneuvered out of the van.

  “I saw them in a storage room last year — like a dozen of them. So I asked the facility manager if we could use them.”

  “And the ice time? That couldn’t have been easy.”

  “That’s Bridger’s doing. Coach is still pissed at me.”

  “Will you thank Bridger for me?” I said quietly.

  “Sure.”

  As we approached the front door to McHerrin, Dana caught up with us. “Hi guys.” She squinted at me. I’m sure I looked like a train wreck, with red eyes and a sweaty brow. “Everything okay?”

  “Absolutely,” I said. “But I need a shower. You’re home early.”

  “My groupies are headed to a bar, but since my fake ID sucks…” She shrugged. “I’m going to make some tea.” She swiped her ID to open the front door.

  I wanted to thank Hartley again, but his phone rang. He checked the display, and then he answered. “Hey, Mom,” he said, trapping the phone beneath his chin. “Yeah, I did call you. There’s something I wanted to tell you, and you’re going to love it.” As he went into his room, I heard him say, “I’m finished with Greenwich, Connecticut.”

  I left Hartley to his call and headed for the shower.

  The reason might sound silly, but I pinned up my hair before stepping into the spray. The icy smell from the rink lingered in my hair, and I wasn’t ready to wash it away. I was happily rinsing the sweat off my body when Dana came into the bathroom. “Corey?” she called.

  I stuck my head out of the curtain. “You’re supposed to knock!” Dana knew I was a psycho about privacy.

  “Sorry.” Her grin was mischievous as she shut the door behind her. “But Hartley just came looking for you. He said, ‘tell Callahan that I’m waiting up for her.’” She giggled. “I swear I kept a straight face. Almost.”

  “Wow. Okay.”

  “So…” she gave me a devilish look. “I came in here to tell you, in case you were on the fence about shaving anything…”

  I pulled the curtain closed. “My God. You’re giving me a complex.”

  “Why?”

  “I’ll bet Stacia has her garden tended professionally.”

  Dana hooted. “But she’s history, Corey. Tidy pubes and all.” I heard her leave the bathroom, giggling.

  After I’d dried off, I wrapped the towel around myself and transferred to my chair. As I rolled past Dana in the common room, she asked, “what are you going to wear?”

  “Excellent question. Let me see.” I stared into my dresser drawers far longer than I’d ever done, finally settling on a skimpy camisole top and yoga pants.

  “Perfect,” Dana said when I emerged for her approval. “Sexy, but it doesn’t look like you’re trying too hard.”

  “Dana? You’re making some high-level assumptions here, I think.”

  She shook her head. “I saw that boy’s face. I think he drooled a little on our rug. Did you put on slinky underwear?”

  “I don’t own any, so I went without,” I said, running a brush through my hair.

  She squealed. “I guess you don’t need my help.”

  “Sure I do. Big decision: the sticks or the chair?” This was the real fashion question in my life.

  Dana considered. “The chair. Definitely the chair. It will be easier to tear your clothes off that way.”

  I wheeled toward the door. “Is this the point where I’m supposed to say, ‘don’t wait up?’”

  She arched her eyebrows. “I’ll expect a full report.”

  I gave Hartley’s door two knocks, feeling self-conscious. But I could hear the low thump of house music coming from inside his room, so I opened the door. Inside, Hartley was holding a basketball in the middle of the room, wearing jeans and nothing else. My mouth went dry at the sight. Though the light was low, I could see each perfect muscle on his chest, and the trail of fine brown hairs running down the center and into the waistband of his jeans. He shifted, tossing the basketball aside. And then he was coming for me.

  For me.

  It’s not easy to get close to someone sitting in a wheelchair. So when he leaned down, I wrapped my arms around his neck. His skin was velvet under my palms. Hartley put his hands on my hips and lifted me right out of the chair, pulling me to his chest. He slung one arm under my bottom and just held me there, nose to nose, studying me with his serious brown eyes.

  “Callahan,” he whispered.

  “What?”

  His answer was a kiss, sweet and slow. I wanted this very badly. But even so, my heart beat wildly, and I wondered what it all meant. I pulled just far enough away that I could see his eyes. “Hartley? I…I can’t just be a hookup. Maybe some girls can pull that off, but…”

  He put two fingers over my lips. “You have me, Callahan.” His hand slid to cup my cheek, and I leaned into its warmth. “You’re the first person I want to talk to in the morning, and the last thing I want to see at night.”

  My gasp of happiness was cut off by his lips against mine. Gently, he sat me down on his bed, pushing the hair back from my face with his thumb. He deepened the kiss. As our mouths melded, Hartley groaned from the back of his throat, the sound reverberating down my spine.

  When his tongue stroked mine, I felt it everywhere.

  Hartley dropped his mouth to my ear, whispering, “I’m sorry it took me so long.” And then his lips brushed my cheek, while his hands reached around my body, pulling me tight against his bare chest. And then we were kissing, and rolling around on his bed like two starving people discovering an unexpected feast. I let my hands skate all over him. There was no longer any reason not to touch him, and suddenly I couldn’t touch him in enough places at once. While my fingers explored the hard muscles of his chest, Hartley kissed his way down my neck. He grazed down my body, lifting the base of my camisole to nose across my stomach. When his lips dipped into the waistband of my yoga pants, my breath hitched.

  He raised his chin. “Maybe we should go and get our friend Digby.”

  “No,” I shook my head.

  Hartley’s muscles popped as he crawled back up to me, his face hovering over mine. “You need to tell me what you want,” he whispered, tucking a strand of my hair behind my ear. “I don’t know what you’re ready for.”

  I thought I already knew all the ways his brown eyes could look back at me. But I’d been wrong. Now they flared with such heat and desire that I could barely believe that I was really in his bed, and that it wasn’t just some misunderstanding. “I want you to…” I broke off, because it was so hard to say. “I want everything. I want you to be the same with me that you were with other girls.”

  His gaze had the intensity of a laser. “But it’s not the same with you.”

  My heart faltered. “Why?”

  “Because, Callahan.” The brown eyes came closer. “I never loved anyone the way I love you.” The next kiss was long and slow, and full of promise.

  When we came up for air, I made a move, reaching for his fly. Watching me, Hartley’s face flushed. I unzipped his jeans. And when I reached into his box
ers to wrap my hand around him, he groaned.

  Fingering my camisole, he slipped it over my head. Then he put his hands on the waistband of my yoga pants. “Is this okay?” he asked, his voice husky. He looked at me the way a man looks at a woman he’s undressing — with gravity and longing.

  I nodded.

  He removed my pants and then shucked off his own. When he lay down on top of me, we were finally skin to skin. The mood was nothing at all like our Weirdest Night Ever. Our kisses were deep and urgent, and our bodies moved against one another with such sweetness and heat that I felt a prickle behind my eyes. “Hartley,” I breathed. “Make love to me.”

  “You sure?” he panted. “You waited for me. I’d wait for you.” He hovered just over me, his nose an inch from mine.

  But I was finished waiting. I’d never told Hartley straight out that I was a virgin. There was no way I wanted to stop and have that conversation now. I put two fingers over his lips. “Don’t baby me, Hartley.”

  His shoulder muscles flexed as he shook my fingers off his mouth. Then pressed his hips against mine in a way that made both of us gasp. “I’d never baby you, Callahan. You’re the toughest person I know.” He opened the drawer of his bedside table, emerging with a little foil packet. He tore it with his teeth, and then reached a hand down between our bodies to roll the condom on.

  My heart began to pound with nervous anticipation. But Hartley slowed down, propping himself up on one elbow. He cradled my cheek with his free hand, studying me with such ferocity that it burned me up inside. “I have always wanted you, Callahan.” His fingers whispered down my neck and along my shoulder, tracing a shivery line all the way down my arm. He brought my hand to his lips and kissed my palm. “I was just too stupid to say so.”

  Inconvenient as it was, I felt prickles in my eyes. “I can’t believe…” I started, drawing in a breath through my nose, to try to stop my tears.

  “What?”

  “…That we’re finally here,” I said. “I tried so hard not to care.”

  He brought my hand to his chest, pressing it over his heart. “That’s my fault. But I can start making it up to you right now.” Then his hand left mine, snaking down my body, leaving quivers in its wake. My breath hitched when his fingers first grazed me right where it counts.

  Hartley took his time, tempting me with his touch, all the while his kisses drove me wild. I closed my eyes and sank into all the sensation. I had never felt more lucky than at that moment. In spite of all that had gone wrong over the past year, nothing was over for me. Everything was just beginning.

  “Look at me,” Hartley begged, hovering above.

  I opened my eyes to find his brown ones shining down on me.

  “I love you, Corinne,” he said. And then I felt pressure between my legs, and then a sharp pinch.

  “Oh,” I sighed, surprised by the unfamiliar sensation of fullness.

  “Am I hurting you?” he asked, his lips pursed.

  I rubbed my hands along his trim hips. “I can feel you. But I want to feel you. Just go slow.”

  His eyes fell sweetly closed, and his face became serene. Very gently he pulled his body back, and I sighed at the loss of him. But then he crept forward again, and the beautiful feeling of fullness returned. He kissed me as he withdrew again. He moved so slowly that I began to fear he wouldn’t be back. But there he was again, pressing on, making me gasp with want.

  Hartley lowered himself over me, his lips near my ear. “You don’t know how happy you make me,” he whispered. Then he began to move in a gentle rhythm, his kisses and his body syncing together. When he gave a twist of his hips, I heard myself moan.

  There was no more pain, just a delicious tightening of all my senses. The taste of Hartley’s mouth and the heat of his skin were everything to me. I buried my fingers in his thick hair. But it was the sounds he made which really moved me. It began as a hum of pleasure, buzzing in my ear. Then he inhaled very deeply, followed by a groan. As we moved together, his breathing changed, becoming shallow and short.

  Everything about it was beautiful.

  — Hartley

  Must. Slow. Down.

  Making love to the best girl in the whole world was heady stuff. I’d been lying to myself for a long time about how much I wanted this, and finally letting go of all that tension go really did a number on my self-control. I was a live wire. I was a kite in a thunderstorm. I was a seismograph, the needle quivering in anticipation of the earthquake.

  I was probably going to disgrace myself.

  Wrapping both arms around Corey, I rolled us over, flopping my head back onto the pillow. “Time out,” I panted. “I’m getting carried away.”

  She lay on my chest, cheeks flushed, pink lips swollen from my kisses. “That’s okay,” she breathed. Her hands swept over my pecs, her fingernails scraping my nipples. Fuuuck. She was going to kill me.

  I caught both her hands in mine, and tried not to look at her boobs, which were very close to my face. “But this…this is okay, too.” Smiling up at her, I tugged her arms down, until her elbows were on either side of me. Then I took her hips in my hands and rocked her against me.

  That’s when her eyes went a little wide. This was all new to her, and I’d never want to scare her. But that’s the thing about Corey — she’d speak up if it wasn’t right. Even now, the look on her face — one part wonder, one part bravery, with a dash of oh my God — it cut me in half. Corey was one hundred percent genuine all the time — there was no artifice, no faking. And when I was with her, I could be just the same. There was no need to hide from her. She wanted all of me, no matter what.

  And now I could finally give it to her.

  Biting her lip, she began to move, cautiously at first. But after a moment, her body took over, knowing just what it wanted. I watched her face as she found what she was looking for. Her eyes fell closed, and she made that sound again — a sigh so deep and fine that I felt it in my toes. Then she followed it up with a breathy little moan.

  Holy hell.

  “I like the sound of that,” I bit out. And then things began to happen very fast. I knifed upward, claiming her mouth. Her lips pursed with erotic distraction as my hands guided her legs, deepening her motion against me. My vision darkened, and I felt my body pause, like the still air before a storm. Then I growled, and the sound shot through both of us. Corey began to gasp as I jacked my hips up off the bed. Sensation crashed over me, and I lost myself in it. My own release and the happy sounds she made were the only things I knew.

  — Corey

  We lay beside one another, breathing hard. Hartley’s strong thighs were tangled in mine. He stroked my breast, his lips brushing my brow.

  Wow, I thought. Or I might have said it aloud. I wasn’t sure, because my brain had short-circuited.

  He pulled me in to lay tight against his chest. “Damn. So much for going slow,” he panted. “I’ve been wanting to do that for a long time.” He kissed my forehead, and I grinned like a maniac.

  Under my palm, his rapid heartbeat thudded against my hand. This part was wonderful — our clumsy caresses, the gradual slowing of our breathing. Here was an activity — cuddling after sex — for which my disability presented no problem at all. I grinned into his shoulder.

  “What’s so funny?” he whispered.

  “I was just thinking that you don’t need two working legs for this. We’re just like two normal people.”

  Hartley tipped his forehead against mine, so he could see into my eyes. “We are two normal people, you dope.” He gave me a quick kiss. “Only better-looking. And with higher than average SAT scores.”

  “You forgot humble.”

  “Right.” His brown eyes shone with love, and it made me feel wistful.

  “I just wish I could give you the original me. Not the broken one.”

  He closed his eyes and gave his head a shake. “There’s only one Callahan, the one who removed my head from my ass. I have her already.”

  “Hartley, y
ou have to wish I could always keep up with you. Skating, running. How could you not want that?”

  His arms tightened around me. “I want a lot of things. I want a couple million dollars. I want a father who will say my name, and I want the Bruins to win the Stanley Cup. But I’m pretty damned happy right now without any of those things. There’d be no point in moping.”

  I buried my face in his neck, where I’d willingly leave it forever. “I mope anyway, sometimes.”

  He smoothed my hair under his hand, and dropped his voice down low. “Don’t get me wrong. If I ever see video of you flying down the ice to score on a breakaway, I’m going to cry like a little girl.” His lips grazed my face. “But then I’ll remove a few pieces of your clothing, and remember that life is good.”

  Even though that was just about the sweetest thing Hartley had ever said to me, a doubt nagged the back of my mind. “Hartley?”

  “Yeah, beautiful?”

  “What if I couldn’t…be with you? And enjoy it.”

  His arm came tightened around me. “But you can.”

  “But what if I couldn’t?”

  “Okay. What if I’d broken my skull instead of my leg? We can lie here and imagine all the shitty possibilities. Or we can lie here and make out some more.”

  “I just…” I took a deep breath. “I just love you, Hartley.”

  “I know, beautiful.” Then he kissed me again.

  Later, I got up and wheeled myself into Hartley’s bathroom to pee, just like the E.R. doctor had told me to do. I borrowed Hartley’s toothbrush, because I didn’t think he’d mind. And then made my way back to his bed.

  He was asleep.

  I climbed in beside him, pulling the sheet and blanket up over us. Before closing my eyes, I gave Hartley a little kiss on the shoulder. Just because I could.

  Chapter Twenty One: Those Old Dudes

  — Corey

  When I opened my eyes the next morning, Hartley was holding my hand, his thumb slowly stroking my palm. I turned my head to look at his handsome face and found it serene, his eyes closed. Since he wasn’t looking at me, I left the giant, sloppy grin pasted on my face.