Mister Hockey

by Lia Riley

“Those were some hard-fought playoffs, huh?” His brother’s deep voice was familiar, even though he sounded like a stranger. “I watched, you know. Game seven. Dad came over.”

  “Yeah, Detroit was a strong opponent.”

  “Hell of a hit you took.”

  “Yeah. About that.” Jed cleared his throat, debating a moment. He didn’t do personal conversations with his brother anymore. Travis never wanted to go there. But the guilt was there, as it always was when they spoke, pressing on all sides. The silent question pulsing through his brain.

  Why you?

  Why not me?

  “I’ve been having some issues since the playoffs.” Jed coughed once into his fist. “Double vision. Headaches. Saw a doctor and they’re saying I should give it up.”

  There was a beat of silence before his brother laughed. “You’re shitting me.”

  “Not at all.” He raked a hand through his hair. “I’m probably going to retire.”

  There it was. The words were finally spoken out loud.

  “Get out before what, you’re a fuckup like me?” Travis’s words took on a bite. “That’s great. Real great. Tell you what though. While the rest of the world thinks of you as some sort of big hero, I know the truth. The real Jed West is a piece of shit who abandoned his brother.” His voice rose in volume. “Left his sister-in-law and only nephew financially without help and living hand-to-mouth.”

  “What are you talking about?” Jed’s back stiffened, steel in his spine. “I have money deposited into your account every month. If it’s not enough, I didn’t know, no one ever told me.”

  But should they have had to? Tam was proud, not the type to come to him hat in hand.

  “Do me a solid and admit the truth,” Travis continued as if he hadn’t spoken. “Admit that you don’t think about us. That we aren’t big winners and therefore not worth your time. Because big deal Jed West only surrounds himself with successes. I get it. I remember how it went in our house, but—”

  “I hate asking this, man, but give it to me straight.” Jed’s gut was a knot. Substance abuse added fuel to the fire of Travis’s injury. Objectively, he knew his brother’s front lobe injury caused ugly thoughts and addictive behavior. But it was another thing to be on the wrong end of one of his binges. “Are you drinking?”

  Christ, Tam had done the right thing getting her son out of the home. Josh didn’t need to be around this. “Do you need me to fly out there because I can be on a plane tonight, scratch that, I can be on one in a few hours.”

  There was a click and exhale. What the hell? Was his brother smoking too?

  “Why did you call?” Travis’s voice slurred.

  Jed paused, maybe honesty would help build a bridge, break through what felt like insurmountable barriers. “Like I said. I’ve been thinking about my life. What I’m doing. Made me think of you too.”

  “Gotcha.” Another exhale. “Guess it wasn’t enough you tried to be like me growing up.” Travis gave a hoarse bitter laugh. “Now you’re still trying to follow in your big bro’s footsteps. Make sure you tell Dad. He’ll be so fucking proud. Both of his boys. Both winners.”

  “Travis, baby,” Tamara pleaded in the background. “Put down the phone. Come inside and I’ll fix you something to eat.”

  “Don’t call here anymore.” Travis slammed down the phone so hard that Jed’s ear rang.

  It didn’t take long for Tamara to give him a follow-up text: I asked your mom to email you an update. It’s too hard to talk when he is in these moods.

  Jed sank back into his chair, refreshing his inbox until at last Mom’s email popped in. Looked like one of her infrequent, short and to-the-point updates. One that managed to say everything and nothing at all.

  Subject: Travis

  Message: Hope this note finds you well. Your brother is being moved from his home to a long-term care facility. In addition to his chronic irritability and aggression, he is now demonstrating worrying signs of mania. His spending habits are out of control and he was arrested yesterday for aggravated assault outside their local grocery store. It is likely CTE but as the doctors told us, the condition is impossible to diagnose at this time.

  Best

  Mom

  “Ah shit.” He tossed his phone onto the car seat and buried his face in his hands. “Shit. Shit. Shit.”

  CTE, or chronic brain encephalopathy, couldn’t be diagnosed outside of an autopsy, but the hallmark symptoms were memory loss, confusion, impaired judgment, aggression and the depressing laundry list went on and on.

  Jed had one guess where the money had gone that he’d been sending. Nowhere good. Travis must have spent it. But, shit. A dull pain throbbed in his temples as he rubbed his forehead. His big brother was still his big brother. Would always be his brother. But there was no doubt that the man he was, the man he should be now, was gone forever, a stranger.

  And even after all this time, that fact still made his stomach turn.

  After his brother’s injury, his parents had faded away. They still got together for Christmas once in a while. But they seemed to have wrapped themselves in some sort of shield. Maybe unable to bear seeing Jed or be happy for his success because of the guilt over what their other—favorite—son had had and lost.

  And maybe Jed never quite forgave their dad for riding his sons’ asses, demanding nothing but the best. Bile rose in Jed’s throat. He was good at keeping these shitty feelings on lockdown. Too good.

  He started driving and his turns weren’t aimless. He was going to the library. He needed to see Breezy. To see her smile. Hear her laugh. Because she’d settle him. It’s what she did. He could want her too. Lose himself in her beautiful body all over again afterward while she sang funny little songs under her breath or confessed sweet dreams like opening a children’s bookstore.

  He pulled into the Rosedale Branch Library and didn’t even get out of his car. Because there was Breezy coming through the front door, looking like someone had drowned her pet kitten.

  She stopped short upon seeing him.

  “You can’t be here,” she said stiffly.

  “No?” He froze, unsure.

  “Because if I see you right now, I’m going to cry, and I swore. I swore I wasn’t going to cry.”

  “What’s happened?”

  “Nothing except for the fact you are looking at the former head of the children’s department.”

  “You lost your job?”

  “Lost? No. I wouldn’t say that.” Breezy’s nose was red and her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “It was taken away.”

  The wobble in her lower lip threatened to undo him.

  “She said the decision wasn’t personal. My boss. Tater Tots.” She reached up and dabbed her nose. “But got to say, it felt pretty darn personal to me. In fact, the witch couldn’t stop smiling the whole time she talked about how we were being merged with the Oak Ridge children’s library. In fact she said that I should be happy, because this change meant that the rest of Rosedale could remain operational and I didn’t want that, didn’t I?” She dug the heels of her hands into her eyes. “And I don’t. But I want a job!”

  “Tell you what. I’m gonna drive you home.” He took her hand and led her toward the parking lot. “We can come back and get your car later.” Once she was buckled inside his Land Rover, he took off for Breezy’s cottage. She didn’t respond, just gazed out the passenger window. Outside the sun was shining, people were jogging, walking their dogs, talking on their phones. He reached over and took her hand. “It’s a hell of a thing to have your world turned upside down when no one else has the first fucking clue.”

  How good would it feel to continue on, tell her how much he understood the feelings that must be roiling inside her, but that wouldn’t be fair. This was her moment to grieve. And he didn’t want to pull the rug out to make it about him too.

  “If you don’t keep your eyes on the road, Cap, we are going to end up in someone’s flower patch.” Breezy squeezed his hand in a gesture
of quiet thank-you.

  “Maybe losing your job will turn out to be an opportunity. Everything doesn’t have to be lost, you know?” He parked in front of her house, smiling when he got out and she waited for him. After he opened the door, he continued, “What if this is the push that you needed to open Itsy Bitsy?”

  “Maybe.” She furrowed her brow and shrugged.

  “I think you’re right.” He reached down and scooped her up cradling her against him as she shrieked with surprised laughter. “But right now I’m going to fly you into that house, Vixen, and turn this bad day around.”

  When it came to his family, or even his own body, he was failing. But with her—right now—he could pretend to be the superhero the rest of the world believed him to be.

  Chapter Fifteen

  She sank down into the tub, the vanilla-scented suds piling up to her chin, the hot water relaxing her tense muscles. As soon as they got into the house, Jed ordered her to strip. Before she could even get excited, he declared that he was drawing her a bath, that a day like today qualified for a good long soak.

  And while she wanted nothing more than his hands on her, have his clever mouth and devastating tongue driving away the memories of the terrible day, she couldn’t ignore the fact that she was so wound up that she might split into two before he took her over the edge.

  Three candles flickered on the edge of the tub, mirroring a similar flicker inside her.

  Hope.

  She’d never had anyone pamper her like this; at his best, Rory had once bought her a gas station rose.

  She wanted to hug the old version of herself who had no idea it could be better, or that she deserved more. That she deserved a real man who would tend to her needs not because he wanted to get something in return, but because he simply wanted to put a smile on her face.

  As she began to unwind, the memory of her firing crept in. No point in even trying to hold it back, might as well feel all the things, let the poison out and move on.

  Tater Tots had called Breezy and Daisy into her office. As soon as she’d walked inside, Breezy had known what was coming. Her boss was seated, hands resolutely crossed and placed in the center of the desk, her lips angled down a slight jowly frown, resembling Donald Trump from his days hosting The Apprentice. She started out highlighting the budget woes, the funding cuts, gaining speed as it became clear the children’s department was going to close, other branches would increase their programming.

  “During these tough times, we must make tough decisions. Not to worry, you’ll land on your feet,” Tater Tots had said, wrapping up a short “you’re fired” speech, before turning to Daisy. “One staff member was allowed to transfer to the adult desk. A difficult decision to be sure.”

  Yeah. Sure. Breezy had silently absorbed the impact while all the while the scream, “But I have seniority,” danced on the tip of her tongue. Not to mention the fact that she’d built up the department.

  “Thank you, Janet.” Daisy hadn’t looked over at her old boss.

  “When is this termination effective?” Breezy had asked. So many thoughts had rolled through her mind, how to say goodbye to the volunteers, to the neighborhood families, to the place that she had known since she graduated university—this had been her first “real” job. Her only job.

  “Effective immediately. Easier that way.”

  “I’m sorry, Boss.” Daisy had begun to sniffle. “I haven’t talked about this, but Dan is leaving. His unemployment got to him and he isn’t coping. I have the two kids, I have to be able to support us.”

  It was only then that Breezy had blown the cobwebs from her eyes, seen how haggard her assistant looked. Tiny pimples pebbled her forehead while bags drooped under her eyes.

  How could Breezy begrudge this promotional opportunity for her faithful assistant? She had a mortgage, but she wasn’t a single mom with two kids.

  “I’m happy for you.” She’d forced a smile. “Really happy. You deserve all the good things to happen to you.”

  And with that she stood up and dusted off her thighs. “As for you, Janet.” God, she’d sounded like Newman on Seinfeld when he said “Jerry.” “I worked my butt off here and I did a damn good job. I understand that sometimes it’s easy to want to keep the status quo and I wish you the best right here. Meanwhile I’m off to start living my best life, using my talents and creativity.”

  It felt good to say those words, so much so that it didn’t—hardly—matter when she’d tripped leaving her former boss’s office. It wasn’t until she got to her desk rummaging around for a box to store her precious items, that the tears threatened. It was one thing to talk tough, another entirely to be tough.

  The desire to be brave and take risks welled inside her, but that didn’t cancel out that this was a humongous life change, one that felt particularly overwhelming when she had just bought her first-ever house.

  And she wasn’t going to go beg for her mother’s help to bail her out of this financial hole. Uh-uh, no way. No how. Besides she was talking about taking a trip to the Winter Olympics and needed to save. She just wanted a friendly ear, or rather, one friendly ear in particular.

  Jed’s.

  The bathroom door cracked and he entered carrying a full wineglass and—bless him—the rest of the bottle. “Penny for your thoughts?” He knelt down and handed her the glass and smoothed back some hair stuck to her forehead.

  “I love this house,” she said, reaching out to touch a damp tile, slick with the room’s steam. “But I’ve gotten over my head. I still have a hole in my bedroom ceiling, a roof that probably needs replacing and no job to pay any mortgage.” She started to giggle and when she started she couldn’t stop. Who knew staring into the black abyss could be so funny, in a “we’re all going to die” way?

  He frowned. “You going off the deep end, Vixen?”

  “No, but how much can you get for plasma these days? Oh! And there’s always those egg ads in the free newspapers around town. Or I guess I could sell my body?” she quipped.

  “To another man?” His gaze burned with palpable possession. “I’m gonna stop you right there.” He ripped off his T-shirt; his belt, boxers and jeans followed in quick succession. Straightening, he stood naked, all carved muscle and perfect bone structure, and stepped into her bath.

  “You getting dirty?”

  “Filthy.” He didn’t smile. Instead his hand, slippery with bubble soap, slid up her thigh, the pad of his thick fingers tracing the seam of her inner lips with slow steady strokes. “Feel this? This right here?”

  “Yes.” She gasped.

  He slid in one big finger, crooking it. Her hand flew to the edge of the tub, gripping the cool ceramic. “This is me, making your pussy mine.” His words had an intense growl, even as humor flared in his eyes. “I’ll help look after you, Breezy.”

  “Will you?” Her lids lowered. “Even if I do this?” She grabbed his cock at the root, it was already stiff in her hand. “Because two can play at this game.”

  “You got me.” His eyes gleamed. “What are you going to do with me?”

  She gave him a sassy push, taking her hair and twisting the coil into a quick messy bun.

  It wasn’t until she parted his muscular thighs that it seemed to dawn on him what she was about to do. And his cock reacted, rising out of the water.

  “Confession.” She had goose bumps despite the water’s temperature. “I’m not a pro at this.”

  “Got to say, anything you’re gonna try will be pretty damn good.” His voice dropped an octave, raspy and brimming with need.

  She let her lips part over his gleaming tip, relaxing a little. So far so good. This didn’t feel scary, it felt good. Powerful even. The sexiest, most self-assured man that she’d ever known was sucking in his slab of strong abdominal muscles and hissing with pleasure, all because of her. Emboldened, she took hold of him around the base and let him slide the way down to her throat. Coming back up she nicked him with her top teeth. “My God, sorry,” she yelpe
d.

  He opened one eye. “Do I look sorry?” He sounded hoarse. “More.”

  She returned to her work, letting him slide up and down her tongue, practicing switching up the pressure, what it was like to hollow her cheeks, to stroke the thick rigid vein along the shaft with the flat of her tongue, to suck the tip like a lollipop, to reach under and cup the soft, slick sac in her hand.

  His appreciative moan sent a pulse through her pussy before he reached out and gently fisted her knot of hair. “Let me inside you.”

  “I’ve never done this.” She shook her head. “Want to keep going.”

  His lids grew heavy. A muscle twitched in his temple. “You’ve never done what?”

  “Had a guy . . . you know . . .” She wiped a bubble off her cheek, let the pause speak for itself.

  “You’re telling me that no one’s ever come inside that pretty mouth?” He nearly growled the words.

  “Nope. But you can role-play Neil Armstrong.” She cocked a teasing brow. “If that’s your kink.”

  He arched as she bent back, a splash of bathwater dousing one of the candles. For a moment, it almost extinguished her nerves too. But she had spoken the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth. She had wanted to do this. At least to try.

  And when it happened, the hot dizzy rush, she was swept away too. Glancing up as he spent himself, their gazes locked, his own flaming with wordless marvel. When he could finally speak he shook his head. “You fooled me good.”

  She took a demure sip of wine. “How so?”

  “I almost believed you. That it was your first time.”

  “I was telling the truth.”

  His pupils dilated. “Bullshit.”

  She dropped the wash cloth she was rubbing against her neck and raised a hand. “On my honor. I’ve never swallowed.”

  “Christ.” He rubbed his forehead. “I’ve never gotten head like that in my life.”

  “You want to tell me about all the girls?”

  “Shit. Sorry, no. I’m just saying you’ve got raw talent. A natural gift.”

  “I’m not sure you should hint to a girl that she could turn pro with her blow jobs.”