Playing Defense (A Dallas Demons Hockey Romance)

by Aven Ellis

  JP comes back and kneels down next to me to carefully examine my head.

  “I don’t see any cuts, but I should take you to the ER. You might have a concussion.”

  “What? No, absolutely not,” I say, shaking my head.

  “I’ll call the team doctor,” JP says, ignoring me.

  “JP, stop. I hit my head. It hurts, but I’ll be fine.”

  “No, you need to get it checked.”

  I see the alarm in his eyes as he retrieves his phone from his pocket.

  JP’s honest concern for my well-being touches my heart, and I put my hand on his arm to stop him.

  “I’ll get it checked if I get symptoms, but, for now, I promise I’m okay.”

  JP puts his phone down. “I’ll check on you a million times after I leave.”

  “And I’ll answer honestly a million times.”

  We’re silent for a moment as we sit on my hallway floor. JP looks around the room, and I take in what he’s seeing.

  My coffee table has my laptop parked on it, with a stack of notebooks beside it. My water bottle, half-empty, sits next to a stack of opened bills, tossed every which way in a heap. The sofa has a pile of throw pillows and about five blankets strewn across the top. I also have some books on one end of the couch, and an empty glass on the end table, along with my bag of rice cakes.

  JP’s gaze lands on the laundry basket next to us, as I couldn’t be bothered to take it to my room last night, and a huge pile of lacy thongs rests on top.

  “I don’t always leave my underwear in the living room!” I blurt out.

  JP turns, and a slow, sexy smile passes over his face. “I consider that a perk for me, getting a preview of your underwear like this.”

  “This is beyond embarrassing,” I wail, easing myself back to the floor and staring up at the ceiling fan to avoid his gaze. “I tripped over my own shit, crash landed with you on the floor, then you fell again, and now you’re seeing that I’m crap at picking up after myself, and you haven’t even seen the kitchen or the bathroom yet, and I know you must wonder how I can live like—”

  JP silences me by leaning over and dropping a kiss on my lips, one so gentle and tender my heart flutters in response.

  He moves next to me, and I turn to face him so we’re lying side-by-side on the floor.

  “You make my life interesting,” JP says softly as he gently combs his fingers through my hair.

  I swear I can’t breathe.

  “I’ve only been in it three days.”

  “I know.”

  “You’ve discovered one of my fatal flaws. I’m a mess.”

  “I told you, I don’t like ice in my drinks. Who cares? Besides, we have a great intro story now. The time we entered your apartment and tripped over shoes and crash-landed on the floor? Who can say that?”

  I begin to laugh, and he does, too. Then we’re laughing so hard we’re crying. Finally, we stop and I can speak.

  “My mess doesn’t scare you, does it?”

  “No. Other things scare me. This isn’t one of them.”

  “What does scare you?” I ask softly.

  The conversation is about to turn serious now. For two people hanging out, I can feel it shifting. Part of me is terrified. The closer we get, the more I have to reveal. Open up. Allow the possibility of being hurt.

  But lying here on the floor with JP, side by side, being emotionally open is a risk I’m going to take.

  “Not having what my parents have. The love they have. To live a life without that scares me. What about you?”

  “Being vulnerable. Opening myself up for hurt.”

  JP’s eyes lock with mine. We’re inches apart, starting to bare our souls to each other.

  I realize the intimacy I’m sharing with JP is more than I’ve shared with any man.

  Even men I’ve had sex with.

  Whoa.

  What is happening here?

  Am I already starting to fall for JP?

  “What else scares you?” I ask, needing to get back on more secure ground. “Big or small.”

  JP continues to stroke my hair, which makes me relax a bit.

  “Snakes,” he says easily.

  “Good thing you moved to Texas, since we have none,” I tease.

  “I hate them. Anything that can cause my death with one bite I’m scared of. What about you?”

  “Tornadoes. And thunderstorms,” I say. “Severe thunderstorms terrify me. I hate the loud thunder, the lightning, the hail.”

  “I think they’re kind of cool,” JP admits.

  “When I was a little girl,” I say, “when my parents were still married, there was a bad storm with large hail. The sirens were going off, and the weather person was talking about circular rotation, and we all had to get in the bathroom. Hail was slamming on the roof. It sounded like baseballs were being thrown at it. Then the skylights shattered and rain came pouring in. Jordan held on to me, and I was crying I was so scared.”

  “Where were your parents?” JP asks. “Why weren’t they comforting you?”

  “Mom and Dad were fighting,” I say quietly. “They were screaming at each other in the bathroom in front of me and Jordan. Dad said he’d rather take his chances in a tornado than be stuck with Mom. Mom screamed he could do it for all she cared, all he did was make her feel weak and powerless. I was terrified he’d leave us and be hurt, but he didn’t. They fought until the sirens shut off.”

  I see the disbelief in JP’s eyes. Shame engulfs me. Obviously this wasn’t a normal way to grow up. To a man like JP, who was raised by parents who loved and respected each other, knowing how wheels off my upbringing was probably makes him uncomfortable.

  “Reese,” JP whispers, “I’m so sorry. You were a little girl. You should have been made to feel safe by the adults in your life.”

  “Don’t feel sorry for me,” I plead. “I’m okay now. Well, except I’m scared of storms.”

  “People who love you should help you navigate storms,” JP says, moving his hand down to my face and cupping it protectively. “All of them. That’s what you should have now.”

  Tears prick my eyes. I feel so exposed to this man, laying out a part of my past for him. A part of who I am. And he’s not running from the conversation or trying to make light of it.

  “Whenever there is a storm,” JP says quietly, “of any kind, I will be there. If you want me to be. That’s a promise.”

  I nearly lose my breath as I realize the direction things have taken. I no longer see this man as someone I’m hanging out with.

  As JP’s mouth claims mine in a sweet, protective kiss, a new feeling surges in my heart, one I’ve never wanted. One I’ve never needed.

  Certainly, one I’ve never felt before.

  I realize JP could be the man I’m meant to fall in love with.

  Chapter 20

  September 17th

  Today’s Schedule: Dinner in Southlake with Dad, Lydia, Jordan, Ian, and Ronan, 7 PM

  “I have to admit I was hoping you’d bring JP,” Lydia says to me as she runs water over some heirloom tomatoes in a colander. “I can’t wait to meet this new man in your life. You know I said he was welcome to join us for dinner tonight.”

  I freeze as my stepmom shuts off the tap. I’m standing at the edge of the expansive kitchen island in the sunlight-filled kitchen. Lydia is working on sides, Dad is grilling steak and lobster tails outside, and my siblings are enjoying the pool on this early night.

  I choose, however, to stay out of the pool and keep my makeup and hair dry, as I’m going straight to JP’s after dinner. So here I am, munching on carrot sticks and ranch dip, which also opens me up for a lot of questions from my romantically minded stepmom.

  “Lydia, we’re casual,
” I say. “Hanging out. That’s it.”

  But my heart knows it’s moved past hanging out.

  I’ve seen JP every night since we connected on Monday. I never get sick of being with him. Everything changed for me when I revealed my deepest fear to him.

  I let him in.

  I’ve never let anyone in like that.

  I’ve never wanted to.

  But seeing the compassion in his beautiful eyes, the concern, the care JP had only for me, made me feel safe, and before my head could stop me, my heart spoke the truth.

  “Well, your pictures on social media tell me you spend a lot of time hanging out together,” Lydia says emphatically as she shakes the water off the tomatoes.

  I sigh. In addition to the pictures we shared of bowling and Oreo eating, someone took a picture of us kissing at the Turkish restaurant, which showed up on Connectivity and got reposted on Tumblr and Twitter. JPsSwissMiss posted that JP was dating a model and since models aren’t forever dating material, she would offer to heal his “precious Swiss heart” after I broke it.

  Irony. My heart is the one in jeopardy of being broken.

  “It’s early,” I say, speaking not only to Lydia but myself, too. “We’re seeing each other, but who knows where it will go?”

  That’s my reminder to myself.

  “Every love story has a beginning,” Lydia says, turning around and smiling at me as she brings the tomatoes to a cutting board on the island. “I think this might be yours.”

  I’m saved by the back door opening, and the scent of grilled food quickly permeates the air. “Hon, I’m ready for those steaks,” Dad says, coming inside. “The corn and lobster tails are well on the way to being done.”

  “I have them resting here for you,” Lydia says, smiling brightly at my dad.

  I watch as they talk to each other. Even in simple interactions, I see the bonds of friendship, affection, and love between them. Their relationship has been like this for ten years now, the entire length of their marriage. Dad met Lydia after he separated from Mom, and they’ve been together ever since.

  Committed and happy.

  What made Dad love Mom enough to marry her, swear to love her forever, and have two children with her and yet the whole thing would still fall apart? How did their love end up with two people hurting each other so badly that there was nothing but pain and hate at the end? How many nights did I hear Mom crying and pleading with Dad to try and work it out when they thought I was asleep? I can’t forget the anguish I heard in her voice and the way Dad got choked up when he said love wasn’t enough to save their marriage.

  Love wasn’t enough.

  The back door opens again, and this time Ian strolls in, his blond hair wet from swimming and a striped beach towel casually draped around his shoulders.

  “Hey, do you have my hockey tickets for this season?” he asks, interrupting my thoughts. “I only need weekends and holidays, so Rochat should be able to hook me up, right?”

  “Ha-ha, no,” I say. “JP is not Ticketmaster.”

  “If you asked, he would,” Ian says. “He’d do that for his girl and the brother she loves best.”

  “Ronan wants tickets?” I tease.

  “Come on, ask him for the season home opener. It’s a Friday. I’ll come up with Ronan that night and drive back the next morning for the football game in Austin.”

  “Jordan can get you tickets,” I say, this time selecting a broccoli floret and popping it into my mouth.

  “Wait until they are engaged, then you can ask for tickets from your future brother-in-law,” Dad chimes in. “There’s no way he’d say no then.”

  I nearly choke on my broccoli.

  “Dad!” I sputter, reaching for my glass of water and taking a sip.

  “Kidding,” Dad says, winking at me. “Trust me, the last thing I want is you rushing into anything. I know you’re a smart girl. You won’t jump into anything with a professional athlete.”

  I furrow my brow. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  Jordan and Ronan step inside from the patio, also wet and with towels wrapped around them.

  “Reese, pumpkin, you know the stories Jordan has told us about the players,” Dad says. “Athletes have access to a lot of money and status, which changes people. They tend to be partiers and womanizers. I want you to be careful.”

  “I am,” I say.

  But not for the reason you think, I add to myself.

  “Mitch, don’t stereotype JP like that,” Lydia says. “Not every athlete is going to cheat.”

  “Some do,” Jordan adds as she uses the towel to dry her face. “Some party. Like Easton Shaw, the free agent they signed from Baltimore this summer. Now that’s a player I wouldn’t trust.”

  Gah. I need to start brushing up on my Demons knowledge outside of JP and Matt because I have no clue who Jordan is talking about.

  “He’s exciting, though,” Ronan adds. “He has incredible hands. You should see that guy pass the puck. I heard the only reason Baltimore gave up on him is that they were sick of the partying.”

  Ronan wants to be a sports play-by-play announcer, and he’s a walking encyclopedia of sports knowledge and stats.

  “Matt Rhinelander 2.0?” Dad asks.

  “Pre-Holly Matt Rhinelander,” I correct. “He’s a different guy now.”

  Matt used to be a huge partier and player before he got together with Holly. This Easton guy, whoever he is, sounds like he might be like the old Matt.

  “That is why I’m telling you to be careful,” Dad says, looking pointedly at me. “There are more guys like Easton and Matt than good ones.”

  “Oh, JP is one of the good ones,” Jordan says. “He wants to fall in love, and apparently, he wants to fall in love with Reese.”

  “Aw, isn’t that cute?” Ian teases.

  “What a wuss,” Ronan adds, piling on.

  I feel my face grow hot with embarrassment, right up to the roots of my hair, and I will them all to disappear.

  “The three of you need to get changed and quit dripping water on my floor,” Lydia says smoothly, apparently reading my mind. “And Mitch, you need to get these steaks on the grill, or we won’t be eating anything but salad and ranch dip for dinner.”

  Everyone moves, with my brothers and Jordan heading upstairs to change and my dad going back out to the grill. As soon as they’re gone, Lydia moves toward me, drawing me in for a hug.

  “You are a smart woman. Trust yourself. Listen to your heart,” she whispers in my ear. “I know it won’t let you down.”

  I step back from her, nodding.

  And I hope her advice is right.

  ~ ~ ~

  I eagerly head to JP’s condo door. It’s nearly ten o’clock, but JP said he was still game for me to come over after dinner.

  During the drive from Southlake to Dallas, I thought a lot about my situation. Ha-ha. Only I would call seeing JP for nearly a week a “situation.”

  I know JP isn’t what my dad suggested I look out for.

  JP is a good man.

  Who is good for me.

  I’m not going to worry about what the future holds and what my feelings might mean. I’m going to cherish the time we have together and not put any pressure on it to be more than it is.

  Real.Life.Reese is going to live in real life moments.

  Starting now.

  I ring his doorbell, and my stomach tingles as I hear the door unlock. JP pulls it open, and joy sweeps over me at the sight of him.

  Oh, my, he’s wearing another crisp white dress shirt and black dress pants.

  Seriously. Smoking. Hot.

  “Hi,” I say, smiling at him. “Why are you so dressed up on a Saturday night?”

  JP flashes me a s
exy grin and pulls me into his arms. “I wanted to look good for you.”

  His warm mouth claims mine, and I melt into his chest, letting the spicy, assertive scent of his cologne drift over me.

  Delicious.

  JP breaks the kiss and brings me inside, pushing the door shut behind me. I stop walking when I spot something new in the living room.

  A black baby-grand piano.

  “JP,” I say, heading over to it. “You got a piano?”

  “Yeah. My special delivery came today,” JP says, following me over to it. The piano is set up in the corner of his living room, next to the large bank of windows overlooking the city. “I can finally play again, which I’ve been wanting to do.”

  “I didn’t know you played,” I say in amazement. “How did I not know this?”

  “I love music,” JP says, sitting down on the bench. He pauses for a moment, rolling up the sleeves of his shirt and revealing his powerful, tanned forearms and causing my pulse to burn in response.

  I swear there is nothing sexier than powerful forearms.

  “I have to keep some things for you to discover about me,” JP says. “I’d hate for you to lose interest.”

  “I don’t think you have to worry about that, Batman.”

  “Good,” JP says. “Here, have a seat. I learned something for you today.”

  My heart is about to burst as I sit down next to him.

  “What?” I ask, amazed.

  “It’s a piece in your honor,” JP says, flipping some sheet music.

  His fingers begin flying across the keys, and a familiar tune fills the air.

  I lose my breath as I realize what it is.

  It’s “Under the Sea” from the movie The Little Mermaid.

  JP begins to sing the words, his deep baritone filling the air, and I know he learned this song for his mermaid.

  Me.

  I swallow down tears as I listen to him sing. He’s an accomplished pianist, his fingers moving effortlessly as he plays. JP is a brilliant, amazing man with many gifts to give.