by Mignon Mykel
“Yeah?” I smiled.
Ryleigh nodded, her brows up and a smile on her own face. “Yes. I’ve been thinking of handing over the newborns and toddlers to you. You do a really good job with them.”
I was suddenly giddy with excitement. It was one thing to assist in a shoot, or be given a shoot every now and then, but Ryleigh handing over a section of her business like this spoke volumes.
“That would be amazing,” I told her honestly.
“I’m sure Porter’s going to want you to visit more often, and we can definitely look into opening your schedule accordingly,” his mom continued, a knowing smile on her face.
And once again, I was red in the face.
“Leave them alone,” Noah playfully scolded his wife before turning his attention to me and Porter. “You two have plans today?”
I could feel as Porter shook his head from behind me. “No. We went to breakfast, but I think other than that, we’ll just hang.” He looked up at me, as if looking for clarification. I just shrugged slowly, my brows up.
I didn’t know…
“When are you coming home next?” Noah asked as Porter’s hand slid from my hip down to rest on my thigh. I bit my lip, surprised with myself that I wasn’t uncomfortable.
“I don’t think I’ll be able to until the end of the season. We have some heavy traveling this half of the schedule.”
Would I not be able to see him in that time?
“We’ll have to plan a trip,” Ryleigh stated, picking up her phone to look in her calendar.
“Just let me know and I’ll get your seats squared away.”
“What about…”
I zoned out of the conversation as Porter and his parents planned a trip. I watched his parents in the monitor, and switched my gaze to me and him.
I was suddenly struck with that feeling of déjà vu.
Like this was meant to happen.
That this very instance, was where my life was supposed to bring me.
And then I found myself relaxing into Porter, because it simply felt right. Still talking with his parents, he moved his hand from my thigh to wrap around me, his hand resting on my stomach.
I was ready to face the battles.
I was where I was supposed to be.
True to what he told his parents, Porter and I stayed in the rest of the day. We laid on the couch, watching movies and sharing popcorn. Then, without bothering to get up, Porter pulled up a pizza app on his phone, ordering two pizzas—one for himself, and one for me.
“I’m pretty territorial about my food,” he joked with me as he typed in his order.
“You dumped those Boba Balls in my mouth,” I pointed out. “And you shared a pizza with me before. I don’t think you’re territorial about food.”
“I was trying to keep you around,” he told me with a grin as he handed me his phone for me to put in my order. I chuckled to myself when I realized his territorial pizza was actually the same as what I was ordering—barbeque chicken with bacon, green peppers, black olives, and extra cheese, on an extra-thin crust. I could have done without the green peppers, to be completely honest, but it was so much easier to simply click the ‘copy’ button.
I gave him back his phone after finishing and he sent the order. I didn’t think he saw what I ordered. Porter was the type to mention the similarity.
Twenty minutes later, and the front door was knocked on.
Because we always used the back door, I was a bit confused when Porter moved to the front to greet the pizza delivery guy. I sat cross-legged in my spot, watching Porter through the open hallway.
No sooner than Porter closed that door, the back door opened.
“Yo, Portsy, I’m home. Miss me, mofo?”
I smiled at Nico’s voice and turned my head over my shoulder. Nico was bent down and taking off his shoes.
“There’s a lady here,” Porter chuckled, bringing the pizza boxes to the coffee table. “Watch your mouth.”
Nico glanced up toward the couch and I offered a small wave. “Asher! How’s it going, sweetheart?”
My heart stilted at the endearment—reminders of another time—but I didn’t let it ruin my happiness. What little I knew of Nico, I knew he was a good guy.
“Good. Did you go home this week?”
Standing, Nico pushed his suitcase to the side and walked into the living room area, plopping down in the secondhand recliner that looked like it had seen better days.
“I did. My brothers were home. Ports. Funny story,” he said, turning his attention from me to Porter, who was now sitting down beside me.
“So, obviously, my family knew you were the rookie staying with me this year, but did you know that my kid brother met Caleb once?”
Porter was opening up the first pizza box, flipping the top so it rested flat underneath. “Nope. Which one is that? Ben?” Porter looked at me then. “Nico’s family is like mine. Nico and both his brothers play hockey.”
“Yeah, and Ben is playing in college but I imagine he’ll be picked up before his senior year. He’s a year younger than Ports here.”
“How did Ben meet Caleb?” Porter sounded interested, but I could hear the slightest edge in his voice. Over the last few months, I learned a bit about Porter’s rebelling stage—when he tried to do anything to not be compared to his brothers. I also knew it was the reason why he was in South Carolina and not with the Enforcers organization.
I thought the guy had some comparison issues, but I also thought it was kind of funny.
Porter was definitely loved by every person in his family, and if anyone had any issues with who Porter was or wasn’t, it was just Porter.
“We went on a cruise—”
Porter looked up, laughing. “Seriously?”
Nico frowned. “What’s funny?”
“That was the cruise where Caleb met my sister-in-law.”
“How do you know it was that cruise?”
“They have both vowed to never cruise again.”
“Huh. Small world, I guess.” Nico kicked the footrest up. “What are you two up to? Whatcha’ watching?”
“Some Netflix movie,” I answered, reaching forward for the second pizza box. Porter slapped my hand away and opened it for me.
“Are you serious?” He looked up at me.
I shrugged. “It was a good pizza combination. Do you know a word other than ‘serious’?”
“I guess I could have shared then,” he grumbled goodheartedly. “And yes, I do. Smartass.”
I reached forward for my box, grinning, and settled back with it resting on a pillow in my lap.
“I’m going to grab a drink. Do you need a new water?” Porter asked me, standing up.
“Yes, please.”
“I’ll take a beer,” Nico grinned from his chair.
“I wasn’t offering you anything.”
“Be a dear?”
I smiled at Nico’s antics. He may have had a few years on Porter, but there was definitely a bromance brewing there.
Porter shook his head and leaned down, startling me when he kissed my lips, and then walked around the couch.
“He’s territorial,” Nico chuckled from his spot, his ankles crossed and his hands resting on his stomach.
“About food? Yes.”
“About you,” Nico grinned.
I shrugged a shoulder, even if I had butterflies on the inside. It was…
Nice.
Nice to be wanted.
“He’s just testing our newly charted waters,” I finally said.
“Mmhm. I’ve seen that before.”
When he didn’t continue, I gave him a pointed look. “And that means?”
“My brother, Ben.”
Again, I waited for him to elaborate. When he didn’t, I said, “You are a man of few words, Nico. You start, but never finish.”
Nico grinned at me. “You’re a foster kid, right?”
My
brows lifted.
“Porter told me once. You see, we were talking about what we had in common. And while you’re not his foster sister, you are in his family’s fold now. I have a foster sister.”
My pizza forgotten, I watched him.
“And my brother Ben, well he loves her.” Nico cracked his knuckles. “Tahlie’s had a rough hand and as badly as my parents wanted to adopt her, everyone knew that Ben loved her and that would put some serious strain in the family, you know? He’s always been protective of her, watching out for her. Well, this week back home, Tahlie’s decided she’s had enough and she left. My parents know where she’s gone but were sworn to secrecy. Let’s just say, Ben flipped a lid. It was comical.
“So anyway. It’s just funny to watch Portsy with you, how Ben is with Tahlie. Just don’t run on him. I think the blowout would be a bit more dramatic than Ben’s.”
“What the hell are you two talking about?” Porter interrupted, moving into the room and handing a beer to Nico before walking over by me, a second beer in hand, along with my water.
Nico grinned at me and pointed his unopened beer at me. “Watch this.” He pulled out his phone as Porter sat beside me, cracking open my water and handing it to me.
Nico kicked his feet down and reached out, offering me his phone. With a frown, I accepted it, putting the water bottle down on the table in front of me.
I sat back and, moving the phone between Porter and me, looked down at the screen.
What I saw had my heart stuttering in my chest.
“Who the fuck took that picture?” Porter erupted beside me, putting his beer bottle between his thighs and taking the phone from my hand, scrolling through the page.
Finally, I found my voice. “What is that page?”
Porter continued to scroll through the page, pictures of the two of us over the week filling the screen.
“It’s that fucking WAGs site,” he mumbled.
The pictures were all paparazzi-style, most taken at the airport when he picked me up but a few were from the different places we went to this week.
“What’s wags?” I asked, looking up at Porter’s profile. He was frowning and his face was tight.
“I am so fucking sorry,” he mumbled when he reached the bottom of the page.
“What’s wags?” I repeated, a little louder this time.
“It’s an acronym for ‘wives and girlfriends,’” Nico offered. “It’s a page where many of the female fans go to, to see the status of their favorite player. And Portsy here, well, he’s now officially off the market.”
“Can I see, please?” I asked, reaching for the phone.
I knew when changing my name, that it wasn’t completely wiping away everything. I could still be found; that was, if someone wanted to find me badly enough.
What I ran from…
I turned off that thought. I didn’t know what came of the situation and frankly, I didn’t care.
Slowly, I scrolled back up to the top.
There wasn’t much of anything on the page, other than the pictures of Porter and I. Mostly pictures of us holding hands. There was one of him kissing my temple, but other than that, the pictures were definitely harmless. Many of them didn’t even show much of my face.
Nearly to the top was a side-by-side of two pictures, a picture of us and an older image. I lifted the phone closer to my face to get a look at the other couple.
In a nearly replicated pose, was Noah and Ryleigh likely thirty years earlier. I was struck with how much Porter looked like his dad, and it was a little eerie to look at Ryleigh then too. She had long dark hair at that time, much like my own.
‘It’s like watching history repeat itself.’ someone commented.
Another person followed up with, ‘i saw on the studio 11 site that this hos working with his mom. trying to get an in with his mom? ha #puckbunny -and what the hell kind of name is asher?’ I lifted my brows at that person’s comment, for more than one reason.
“Don’t read that shit,” Porter mumbled beside me, trying—and succeeding—to take the phone back from me. “Was there a point to this, dickhead?” he asked, tossing the phone back to Nico.
“Just wanted to see you go all protective. Proving a point to Asher.” He lifted his hip to pocket his phone.
“That was an asshole way to do it,” Porter grumbled. Before I knew it, he was standing and moving my pizza box from my lap. “Let’s go to my room.”
Nico chuckled under his breath and while I didn’t really think it was necessary, I could see that Porter was upset. I stood and bent to grab my pizza but Porter waved it off.
“Leave that one for the asshole.”
I looked over my shoulder at Nico and had to fight a grin. At least there was some comic relief to the situation. Porter was acting a little bit like a child, and it was funny to witness, even though I did have a small moment of panic myself. Nico winked at me and reached for my pizza. “You too, huh?” he asked, as he pulled the box into his lap. “Who the hell puts barbeque sauce on a pizza?” I heard him mumble as Porter took the other pizza and my hand, leading me down the hall toward his room.
Once in his room, Porter closed the door and leaned against it, pizza in hand, as I moved to stand near the bed. “Sorry,” he told me.
I shrugged, trying hard to not care that my being was plastered on the internet. Besides…the Johnson family wasn’t a hockey-watching family. I would be fine. “What’s the big deal? I mean, sure, it’s not exactly the best feeling, knowing that someone out there thinks I’m a ‘ho’ but—”
Porter put the pizza down on his dresser and stalked toward me. “They’re jealous bitches.”
“It’s really okay.” I had to look up at him when he finally stopped in front of me.
“None of them ever had a chance.” He said it so absolutely…
“Porter. It’s okay,” I repeated with a slight laugh in my voice. He really was being all caveman at the moment.
“I was determined to make you mine the first moment I met you.”
That had me stopping. “Really?”
“Yeah, really.” He put his hands on my hips and pulled me toward him, closing the small gap that remained between our bodies. “I saw you walk into Starbucks, and I was struck by you. And then I beat myself up because I was leaving.”
“I saw you walk in,” I confessed quietly.
“Then Avery introduced you to me, and I was completely gone. Fucking toast.”
I felt my cheeks lift to the side. “Fucking toast? You have an elegant way with words, Porter Prescott.”
“You were a walking contradiction,” he continued, ignoring me. “Gorgeous, but not wearing clothes that put it on display. Tattoos, piercings. Nothing like the girls I grew up with. But you were hiding.”
I pulled my lips in between my teeth, no longer having anything to say. I watched him as he watched me, giving me a rundown of what he thought that first day. “From the first moment, I wanted to know your ghosts. I know you have them, Ash, and I’ll be here whenever you decide you want to share them.”
“I don’t have ghosts,” I lied, but the look on Porter’s face, even paired with a crooked grin, told me he didn’t believe me.
“You have ghosts, Ash. I heard it in your voice when you saw the pictures. I see it when you zone. I felt it this morning. And I’m not gonna push you. You’ll tell me when you’re ready.” He sounded so sure.
Betrayal.
Disgusting.
“What if I’m never ready?”
“I have to believe that you’ll want to tell someone someday. And right now, I hope it’s me.”
I shook my head. “There are things, Porter…”
“Have you talked to anyone about them?” he interrupted.
I swallowed hard and averted my gaze, locking it on the black television set across the room. Marie knew most, even though I never truly told her.
And then with the Marine Corps and
my being uncooperative with the clinic the first time it happened…
I never testified. I didn’t even know if the case made it to court.
“You ought to talk to someone, Asher.”
I didn’t like this pity thing he was doing. “What do you know?” I finally asked him, a hint of anger in my voice as I turned my eyes back up to him. “You grew up in an awesome family and had things pretty much handed to you, I’m sure. You don’t know the monsters that exist.”
“Then tell me.” His voice was calm in comparison to mine.
I shook my head and tried to step back, but his hands were still on my hips and he squeezed. “I’ll drop it.”
His for now was unspoken but echoed between us.
I sat in bed, propped against my pillow and the wall, as the room darkened with the setting sun.
The pizza was long finished, the box now empty on the floor and the television volume on low. I could hear whatever it was Nico was watching in the living room, but I stayed put.
To my right, Asher lay on her side; out for the night, if I had to guess.
This day had its rollercoaster moments, that was for damn sure.
I watched her sleep as the week played back in my head. Being from such an open family, I knew that Asher holding back things was going to drive me fucking mad.
But I couldn’t even think about letting her go.
Not yet. Not when I was just starting to learn about her.
I turned my attention from her to my phone on the bed beside me, and I pulled up the Rockets WAGs site. Really, it was a blog that was run by no individual person. From what I gathered, and what Nico had explained when I first moved down, it was an open forum for anyone to post anything.
Every one of the Rockets’ players was listed—in roster order. Probably because, to some of these women, we were just a guy in a jersey with a certain number on our back.
I clicked on my name and the page loaded quickly. I clicked the link to put the posts in chronological order and started reading from September on.
The first few posts were filled with the usual whack jobs.
Some of the pictures posted were from high school, including one with Mo. I frowned. I hadn’t heard from her since she came down, not that I deserved it.
