Rites of Passage

by Catherine Gayle

  His absence was both a relief and a source of terror, almost in equal measure.

  I felt so sick about walking into that room alone and not having him to lean on that I almost chickened out at the last minute. In fact, I was making the return walk across the parking lot to my car when London wheeled through the glass doors in front of the building and called after me.

  “Where do you think you’re going?” she shouted. “I’m not signing your form if you don’t get your ass in here.”

  I stopped and turned to face her, crossing my arms in front of me before realizing that was a defensive gesture and dropping my arms to my sides. “Forgot something in my car,” I said, just barely loud enough for her to hear me.

  Then I realized she had her son strapped to her chest in one of those Baby Bjorn things, and I wanted to crawl behind the wheel of my car and race out of there as fast as I could. I couldn’t bear the thought of being around her and her baby and seeing how happy they were. What the hell was she doing back at work again already, anyway? Surely they would have given her a few months of maternity leave.

  But she raised her brows and gave me one of those looks that said she wasn’t buying my bull for a second.

  I shrugged, went to my car, grabbed a tube of lip balm from the cup holder, and headed back her way.

  She hadn’t moved an inch the whole time, her eyes constantly on me.

  “Told you I was coming right back,” I muttered as I caught up to her. After unscrewing the top, I spread a sheen layer of balm over my lips so it would seem like I legitimately had been intending to return to the building once I’d grabbed it.

  “Drew texted me this morning,” she said. “He thought you might try to chicken out of coming since he wouldn’t be here.”

  “Yeah, everyone knows me better than I know myself.” The words came out as a grumble. Hating the bitchy way I sounded, I held open the door for her and waited for her to go in ahead of me.

  “At least now you can prove us all wrong. Seems like a good place to start.” The way she said it made me wonder what else Drew might have told her, or else maybe I really was so easy to see through.

  “I’m kind of surprised to see you back here so soon,” I said.

  “I could say the same.”

  Touché.

  She kept wheeling alongside me as I walked toward the conference room where the meetings were held. I supposed she intended to make sure I was safely ensconced in the room before getting back to whatever else she needed to be doing. She followed me to the table with food and drinks, grabbing a Greek yogurt and a spoon for herself while I fixed a cup of coffee. Even then, though, she didn’t head out to go on with her day.

  Which was more than enough to unnerve me. Did she think I was a loose cannon? Maybe Drew had told her how I cut myself, and she thought she needed to keep a close eye on me herself so I wouldn’t do something stupid and bleed out all over the carpets.

  I didn’t know what it was, but I couldn’t shake her. Even when I carried my Styrofoam cup and pastry to a seat near the back, she followed me, parking her chair right next to me. Damn it.

  “They don’t care that you’re bringing him to work with you?”

  “I’m not working today,” London said matter-of-factly, like it should be obvious.

  Which meant she was here because of me.

  I took a sip of coffee and immediately wished I hadn’t, because a massive wave of nausea bubbled up in my stomach and chest. Forcing the bile down again, I angled myself in my seat so I could look at her, doing my damnedest not to glance down at that little boy in her arms. “You don’t have to babysit me. I’m here. I’m doing what I need to do to be okay. I don’t know what Drew told you about me—”

  “He only said he wasn’t sure you were going to come,” she cut in. “That’s it. Nothing else.”

  “Then why—” I cut myself short because the baby started to fuss, and a flood of tears rushed to my eyes and my throat swelled closed. I couldn’t look away as London gently bounced him in her arms, one hand patting him on the back in a gentle, soothing manner.

  A motherly manner.

  She was a natural with her baby, completely at ease even though several heads turned at the sound of his whimpers. Would I have been? Now I’d never know, because I sure as hell wouldn’t ever have another opportunity to learn.

  Within a couple of minutes, he was calm and once again sleeping soundly.

  She met my eyes, hers full of fierce determination. “That’s why,” she said, steel resolve in her quiet tone. “Because of how you look like you’re being eaten alive when you see a baby. And how you reacted the first time you came and realized I was pregnant—how you couldn’t look at my belly without getting this same look in your eyes. And how you brought my wheelchair to the hospital but didn’t even bother to come inside. And how you ran past me like the hounds of hell were chasing you at Drew’s house that day. I don’t know why you can’t handle seeing anything to do with babies, but I want to be sure you get help. That’s why I’m here.”

  I gaped at her, unable to say a word. She reached into a bag that was slung over the back of her chair and took out a pack of tissues, passing them into my hands. Only then did I realize I was actually crying, not just hoping I wouldn’t.

  “You don’t have to tell me about it if you don’t want to. But I think you should be getting regular counseling. Maybe something one-on-one instead of a group setting like this.”

  “I can’t afford—”

  She held up a hand, stopping me. “We have assistance programs in place, and I have a lot of counselors who’ll work with us and whom I can highly recommend. I know that sometimes it’s difficult to accept help, but I want you to let me help you.”

  I asked the only thing I could think of. “Why?” Seemed like I was asking that a lot lately.

  But she shrugged, and after a moment, she winked. “Call it a hunch that a certain friend of my husband’s wants you to be in his life—and if you’re going to be in his life, I want to be sure you’ve got your ducks in a row. We just finally got him to a good place again, so the last thing he needs is—”

  “Some crazy chick coming along to drag him back,” I cut in.

  “I wasn’t going to put it quite that way, but yeah. Essentially.” London gave me a wry smile, and despite myself, I returned it. She was an in-your-face sort, but she didn’t pull her punches. I liked that.

  There wasn’t much I could say in response other than to nod my understanding. Especially since the counselor in charge of this meeting cleared his throat and called everyone to order. Besides, I was still trying to come to terms with the fact that she was right. For whatever reason, Drew did seem to want me to be in his life, and I was getting used to having him in mine.

  I still thought he was too good to be true in a lot of ways, so I kept waiting for the other shoe to drop. So far, he’d only proven himself to be exactly what he seemed on the surface.

  That wasn’t going to keep me from attempting to guard myself against the inevitable letdown, but I was going to enjoy this—whatever it was—for as long as it lasted.

  Especially since my sex-in-lieu-of-cutting plan was working out brilliantly, and Drew was going along with it whether he realized he was or not. I wasn’t about to tell him that was what I was doing. He’d be bound to recognize the desperation of the move, and he might think I was just using him for sex.

  An hour later, I’d somehow managed to survive another group session without completely losing my shit. I’d even been able to tell them a bit about myself without going too deeply into the details—name, occupation, that I’d contracted HIV from an ex who shared his drug needles.

  London had stayed next to me through the whole session. I didn’t know if she realized I was using her as a crutch, but I definitely had been. Much like Drew during the first couple of meetings, she was my lifeline, my connection to the small thread of sanity within me that still hadn’t snapped.

  Now I was following h
er and her baby down a long hallway to her office. She opened the door and wheeled inside, only coming to a stop once she was settled behind her desk. She powered up her computer, but when she tried to bring the keyboard tray toward her, the baby was in the way.

  Before I could stop her, she had him out of the Baby Bjorn and was handing him to me. “Here, hold him for me for a minute so I can print up the paperwork we’ll need for your assistance application,” she said, settling him into arms that felt like shattered glass, ready to break into tiny razor-sharp shards at the slightest provocation.

  I couldn’t breathe. A weight settled in my throat and pressed down, down, down until my heart and lungs were compressed. I tried to swallow, but that only made me blubber and choke on my sob.

  London’s gaze shot up to me, calm and steady. “There’s a chair to your left. Sit down.” It was an order, not an invitation.

  I stumbled over, cradling her son to my chest as I lowered myself into the seat with the sort of care I’d never taken for myself. “You should— I can’t—”

  My attempts to speak combined with the transfer into my arms were apparently more than enough to wake him up. He started fussing, his tiny fist waving around in the air while his eyes scrunched closed in distress. I shot my head up in a panic.

  “Stop hyperventilating,” she said smoothly. “Breathe. You’re doing fine. Erik’s just hungry.”

  “Well shouldn’t you—”

  “There’s a bottle in the diaper bag over there,” she said, pointing to a cabinet next to me and the turquoise-and-terra-cotta bag with a Thunderbirds logo on it. “Why don’t you feed him while I take care of this?” Once more, this didn’t come across as a question.

  The chair had wheels, so I didn’t have to worry about my wobbling legs. I carefully scooted over. I cradled Erik in one arm and dug around in the bag with the other. My hand finally landed on the bottle. I took it out, removed the cap, and angled it toward his near-frantic mouth. In no time, he latched on and started to suck. After a few moments more, his whimpers stopped.

  I swallowed down the lump of emotion balled up in my throat, determined to get through this without falling apart.

  But then he reached up with one tiny hand, and his fingers wrapped around my pinky and grasped me tight, and I couldn’t hold it all in anymore. One of my tears dripped onto his forehead, and I wanted to brush it off his tender skin, but I couldn’t bring myself to take my hand away from his. He was so small and strong and alive and perfect. Absolutely, utterly perfect.

  “See?” London said. “You’re holding him, and you’re feeding him, and you’re fine.”

  “I’m not fine,” I choked out.

  “Okay, maybe you’re not fine. But you’re not going to die, either. You can do this. You can be around other peoples’ kids, and it won’t be the end of the world. You just need practice so maybe you don’t scare the kids if they’re a little older. Babies probably won’t notice, but toddlers? Crying on them might freak them out.”

  I never thought it would happen, but I burst out laughing.

  Maybe I would end up actually liking London after all and not just admiring how she went about things.

  RAVYN LET OUT one of her sexy, throaty moans—the kind that always went straight to my dick because they meant she was coming—and wrapped arms and legs tighter around me. “God, Drew, don’t stop.”

  Stopping wasn’t in my plans any time soon. Laughing, I gave her an openmouthed kiss on the side of her neck, reveling in the salty-sweet taste of her skin and the way her whole body contracted around me. I’d been able to feel other women orgasm when I was inside them before, but the sensation had never been as intense as it was with Ravyn.

  Giving her pleasure was fast becoming an addiction, but there were far worse addictions either of us could have, so I’d take it.

  Almost three weeks had passed since the day of the impromptu pool party at my house—a couple of weeks since my meeting with the team officials—and the two of us had spent time together almost every day. We had sex almost every time we saw each other…sometimes more than once. I wasn’t a teenager any longer, but somehow, Ravyn made me feel like one.

  I still didn’t have a solid answer about what the two of us were to each other, but she wasn’t pushing me away anymore. Even when I did everything in my power to get closer to her, she didn’t fight it. Maybe she wasn’t welcoming me into her life with open arms yet, but I still counted her softening toward me as a victory.

  It was a Sunday evening at my house. She’d worked all day, and I’d picked her up to bring her over when she finished up. I’d intended to make her dinner once we got back to my place, but we distracted each other before I got around to it.

  Food could wait.

  The Thunderbirds had started back to training camp, and tomorrow night was our first preseason game against the Avs. After that, we were heading out on a quick road trip to Dallas and Arizona before returning to Tulsa for the remaining exhibition games on our schedule.

  I couldn’t stand the thought of leaving Ravyn behind.

  Some of the guys assumed my anxiety was because I had trust issues, like maybe I thought Ravyn was going to cheat while I was gone. There was good reason for them to think along those lines, but they couldn’t be further from the truth.

  With Chelsea, I’d never worried about her when I was gone with the team. We’d known each other since high school, and she’d always been self-sufficient.

  In hindsight, maybe she’d been too comfortable with being on her own. She certainly hadn’t needed me in the end.

  I knew Ravyn was capable of taking care of herself, but I couldn’t ignore the fact that she hadn’t cut herself once in the last three weeks. Was it due to her having another outlet for all the emotions wreaking havoc on her mind—a sexual outlet, with me—and if so, how much? By the same token, how much was due to her making progress with the counselor she’d started seeing, thanks to London’s interference?

  I wasn’t sure it could be quantified, but I couldn’t deny I was worried. Probably more than was fair.

  “Hey,” she said, taking my face between her hands until I met her eyes. “I’m over here.” She drew up her knees and changed the angle of her hips, which brought my attention back to her—to the present—better than anything else could have.

  I let out a groan of pleasure. Her body was like liquid silk beneath me, all quiet sighs, hungry kisses, and frantic grasping. I couldn’t get enough. She flitted her hands over my chest before scraping her fingernails down my back.

  “Christ, that’s good,” I said with a ragged moan. She was so tight after her climax, and somehow softer all over.

  Ravyn nibbled on my shoulder and trickled her fingers over the backs of my biceps in a way that made me quiver. “I love your arms,” she said, and fleetingly, I tensed.

  My arms? All right, then. For the briefest of moments, I’d fooled myself into thinking she was going to tell me she loved me. And even though I wasn’t so sure I loved her yet, there was a part of me that wanted her to love me. Because it might mean she was coming out of her depression. Or maybe that she wanted to. But it would at least mean that she realized having me in her life was better than not having me in her life—and I wanted to become a much more permanent fixture than I was currently.

  I wasn’t ready to analyze that realization. Especially not while she was still moving beneath me, her hands exploring every blessed inch of my skin like it was hers for the taking. Which, admittedly, it was.

  Still, the idea that she loved my arms was better than no love for me at all. I couldn’t complain.

  I kissed a path along her neck and jaw until our lips met again. She opened for me immediately, her tongue warring with mine in a frenzied, addictive tangle. I couldn’t tell who was the aggressor between us a lot of times, and I liked that. I might like it too much.

  In bed, Ravyn always gave as good as she got, and she always asked for exactly what she wanted.

  She broke away a
nd dropped her mouth lower, finding a sensitive spot just below my Adam’s apple. The soft, wet, pointed tip of her tongue nearly undid me. But her strangled gasp and gentle sigh as her lips slithered along my skin finished the job.

  The base of my spine tingled with my impending climax, and I groaned into the pillow next to her head.

  She drew me down against her, her thighs trapping me around the waist and keeping us connected as I crashed back down to earth. As for me? I intended to soak up her affection for as long as she offered it, because I knew it wouldn’t last long.

  She had a habit of ending things sooner than I wanted, crawling out of my arms and heading off to the bathroom. And when she returned, she might let me hold her, but there was always a distance between us—and not just on a physical plane—that didn’t exist when I was inside her.

  “You should keep the scruff,” Ravyn murmured, her lips next to my ear. A husky laugh accompanied her words.

  I hadn’t shaved in a few days, which was unusual for me. The scratchiness was uncomfortable, and my mother had always insisted that a man should be clean shaven for his woman. Some habits were hard to break. I rarely went more than a day unless my team was in the playoffs. But playoff beards were a sacred tradition in the NHL, so I sacrificed comfort for my teammates.

  “Mm.” That was about all I was capable of saying at the moment. Especially once she started running her fingers through my hair, massaging my scalp. My entire body had been feeling the effects of getting back into game shape, but somehow her gentle touch relaxed me from head to toe. “I’ll give you about three years to stop that,” I said, my voice muffled in the pillow and her hair.

  “Only three?”

  “You could go four. Maybe a decade. I’ll suffer through it.”

  This time, she laughed out loud. The sound of her laughter wrapped around my heart and squeezed the same way her thighs were clenching my waist, keeping me trapped. No matter how much time I spent with her, I could never get enough of it. Probably because for so long, her laughs were few and far between.