by Lynda Aicher
Rachel smiled at a passing couple and took a sip of her wine. The full-bodied red danced on the back of her tongue as she swallowed it down. Instrumental music pumped quietly from the overhead speakers, adding a mellow atmosphere that matched the art. A bit dark, a bit broody with a slight note of optimism.
The entire event matched her mood perfectly. Despite what she’d said to Rock, she’d seesawed back and forth on coming right up until she’d stepped through security and spotted Rock and Carter waiting for her. Their warm hugs had been exactly what she’d needed.
She sniffed and willed back the tears that were once again crowding behind her eyes. Her sudden bloom into a water well was just one more thing that was so against her norm. Drill Sergeant Fielding had berated that tendency out of his children at a young age. And now, it didn’t seem to matter how she hated the tears, they still rushed up at the most inappropriate times.
Like now.
This was Carter’s night. The opening of his first solo show. And Rock was right there, at his partner’s side. Rock’s rugged, stern features with his scarred cheek and distinct military look were dynamically opposite to Carter’s classically defined features and movie-star likeness. The sight of the two handsome men dressed in suits and matching royal blue ties had turned more than one head—both female and male.
She found them now, across the room talking to a few of their friends. It was Rock’s homemade family. The one he’d created for himself. People he worked with who’d grown into the welcoming home he no longer had with their parents.
Her heart constricted around the obvious envy. She didn’t even try to suppress it. What was the point? It still hurt. Knowing she didn’t have that kind of bond with anyone. Wanting it and coming so close, only to have it ripped away. Or had she shoved it away?
Her hand shook as she raised her glass to take another longer sip of her wine. Her spot along the back wall adjacent to the small bar was unobtrusive and perfect. She couldn’t muster the front to mingle and smile with everyone. Not even for Rock’s friends, who were always welcoming to her. Seeing them all happily coupled up and in love was too much right then.
Not when thoughts of Scott continued to hammer her mind and heart.
She was so close to him again. Back in his city. A short fifteen-minute car drive, and she’d be at his house.
And then what? Had anything changed?
Could she support him if he continued to play hockey? Watch him fall again if his knee didn’t hold out and the pain drove him back to the drugs? Be his strength when he needed it?
Could she not?
She cleared her throat and swallowed more wine to keep the jagged edges that ripped her apart inside from showing. She’d tried to focus on Carter’s photos, to get lost in the raw emotion. She couldn’t do it. It was too close to what she felt like inside. Not all of the images were sad or empty either. Almost half showed the joy people still held despite their surroundings or circumstances.
She hadn’t reached that point.
A server passed, a tray of finger food extended to the mingling crowed. She thought of grabbing one, but her rebelling stomach kept her hand at her side. It was tied up in a knot so tight she’d barely managed to eat since she’d arrived last night.
The temptation to see Scott was in a constant war with her practical side that insisted she let it go. Let him go. She’d already done it once. Repeating the process would only hurt worse.
But what if she’d been wrong? Was wrong? She’d pushed him away before she’d given him any chance at all. Given them a real chance.
Around and around she went, always the same questions and arguments but never an answer.
A burst of laughter from a group in the corner had her attention swinging that way. It was a substantial crowd with an upbeat vibe. The gallery was smaller but hip and in a trendy part of town. This was good for Carter, and she was so proud of him and what he’d achieved.
She’d been proud of Scott too. Of admitting and getting past the drug addiction. Had she told him that? Maybe she should’ve been proud of his dedication as well. Of his drive to do what he did best and loved. And she was—is. But she was confused about how it all fit with her own feelings.
His decision to return so fast to the sport without involving her still hurt. If he really loved her—wanted to build a life with her—then he would’ve considered her feelings and opinions. Would’ve included her, not decided for her.
And if she really loved him—wanted to build a life with him—she would’ve been more understanding. Listened and tried instead of cutting him off completely.
Her throat burned again, and the wine only helped a bit. If she didn’t slow down, her brother would have to carry her home.
With a determined exhale, then another, she forced her shoulders back, lifted her chin and stepped into the fray. She wasn’t going to hide in the corner all night, no matter how shitty she felt inside. She would put on the front, force the laugh and be the friend and sister that she should be. It was why she was here. She made it halfway across the gallery, intent on reaching Rock and Carter, when she caught the familiar profile out of the corner of her eye. She froze, did a double take and almost dropped her glass.
Her heart jumped into a crazy race to launch her blood through her too-warm body. The knot in her stomach grew tighter, larger until she swore it was the size of a bowling ball. And that all happened in an instant. A blink of her eyes to confirm who she saw.
Scott was here.
Her Scott.
The man she loved and ached to see again but was too afraid to do so.
How long had he been here? Why was he here? How had she not seen him, known he was here until now?
The red liquid sloshed in her glass, but thankfully there was precious little of it left to spill. Her other hand clenched around her purse, straining the muscles down her arm until they matched the pull across her chest.
He was still gorgeous, even more so if that was possible. His black suit fit his frame to maximize his build. She knew exactly how broad his shoulders were and the strength beneath his tapered waist.
The overhead lights were angled to highlight the art, and he stood within the glow of one as he stared transfixed at a photo. His lips were compressed tight, hands clasped behind his back, spine rigid. The tension rolled from him, and the surrounding crowd seemed to sense it, given the space around him.
Blonder highlights shone in his brown hair, which he’d cut since she’d last seen him. Was it still as soft? How was he doing? A quick glance down showed nothing but the clean cut of his pants. If he wore the brace, it was hidden and completely inconspicuous.
Again, her assessment was done in a blink, or maybe it only seemed that way. Her fingers had gone cold, while a dampness collected between her shoulder blades. Her sleeveless summer dress was suddenly too warm, yet she shivered.
A server passed, and she handed her glass over without taking her eyes from Scott. Her nerves buzzed with fear and anticipation. Different from the first time she’d met him, yet somehow similar. She moved almost without knowledge, each step bringing her closer to him.
Like a magnet, he still drew her. The closer she got, the more her heart hurt and soared. Her love hammered louder and louder. It didn’t matter what she’d told herself about how she’d forget him, she hadn’t. Couldn’t.
She stopped a few feet away at an angle that kept her hidden from his line of sight. His focus was completely on the picture though. He didn’t even turn away when a crash of a breaking glass had almost everyone in the room jerking toward the direction of the sound.
Her eyes narrowed as she studied the photo that entrapped him. It was a black and white with the focus on an alley. It was taken from across the street and showed a partial awning covering a diner window at the edge of the picture. At the front of the alley, only slightly in the shadows, was a man in a gray hoodie, face obscured by the hood pulled over his head. He was handing something off to a man in a business suit. His
back was to the viewer, identity hidden.
The subtle shifting of the lighting between the alley and the two men brought them to the forefront and showed the hunched shoulders of the dealer, the slight head tilt of the businessman. But then, that was an assumption. The businessman could be the dealer and the other guy the buyer, which was the genius of the picture. It was impossible to tell which was which.
What did Scott see in that picture?
The world narrowed down to just him as she took the last few steps to reach his side. She inhaled and savored the subtle scent of his aftershave that blended with his heavier male one. God, she’d missed that. It sank deep, loosening the knot in her stomach by a notch.
And then she was stuck. Her breath jumped in her chest when she tried to breathe and her nerves rushed back to steal her voice. She reached to touch him but couldn’t make contact. What would she say? What should she say?
In the end, he saved her from having to figure it out. With slow calculation, he turned just his head to find her. The first hit when their eyes met stole what little air there was from her lungs.
Neither of them moved for what seemed like hours, and once again she took him in. He’d shaved recently, which made the dimple in his chin more noticeable. The lighting showed off the small scar in his brow and the dark circles under his eyes. The blue almost-gray eyes that held the pain and regrets that were in her.
She wet her lips and hunted for words. A sound. Anything to breach the lock when all she wanted to do was fall into his arms.
He took care of that too when he extended his hand to her, question and hope shifting into his eyes. And that was all she needed to take hold and step into his embrace. His touch rushed through her to wrap around her broken heart like his arms wrapped around her. Held her tight until she could finally breathe again.
She shuddered, inhaled and sighed.
This was where she belonged. She’d known it almost from the start. Had sensed it long before she’d admitted it.
“I’ve missed you,” he said near her ear. His breath warmed her cheek with each small exhale, sending goose bumps over her heated skin.
She buried her nose into the crook of his neck and took another long, deep breath. His words were a salve that soothed her worry and calmed her nerves.
Reluctantly, she shifted back so she could search him again. See him. “Me too.” So much and too much. “How are you?” Are you in pain? Back on drugs? Still skating? Hard as she tried, she couldn’t find answers to those questions just by looking at him. His eyes were clear, gaze intent, which had her hoping, but for what exactly, she was afraid to admit. Not yet. It was too soon.
“Better.” He slid his hand up to cup her neck, thumb sweeping over her cheek in familiar slow passes. “Now that you’re here.”
And there were the waterworks again, stinging her eyes and jamming her throat. She refused to let them fall though. Right up until one snuck out to slide down the side of her face.
His focus went to it, brows drawing down as he wiped the betrayer away with his thumb. “I’m so sorry I hurt you.” A raw edge roughened and lowered his voice. “I never meant to. God—” he swallowed, “—I don’t ever want to again.”
More patches. Another balm that worked more of its magic.
She grabbed his wrist and turned her head to press a kiss to his palm, holding it as she collected herself. Her heart still ached and she could barely think past the happiness and sadness that swirled together to muddle her brain. After a moment she released her hold.
“I’m sorry too,” she told him. Simple words with no specifics, yet they worked right now. In that moment it was a giant step forward that she’d been uncertain they’d ever make. “What are you doing here?”
His lips crooked in a half smile. “Looking for you.” She frowned, trying to remember if she’d ever told him the details for Carter’s show. “Holden gave me the information,” he supplied, answering her unspoken question.
Her brows went up, understanding dawned. She’d forgotten how connected—even by extension—Scott was to Rock’s network of friends. “Rock didn’t tell me,” she mumbled, thinking aloud.
“I didn’t tell him.” He glanced over her head then back, eyes dancing just enough to chase away some of the darkness. “I don’t think I would’ve been welcomed if he’d known.”
She had to smile at that. “He’s a bit protective.”
“And rightly so.”
“Too much sometimes.” And she wouldn’t change him, no matter how much she grumbled about it.
An awkward pause settled between them, but she couldn’t get herself to turn away or even glance down. It was just so good to see him again. Be this close to him, touch him. Feel him next to her. She’d missed all of it and now that she had it back, there was no way she wanted to let it go.
But...
“I like the white,” he said, running his fingers over the ends of her hair. “Every time you change it I think it’s my favorite, then you do it again and I think the same thing.”
His comment sent a warm wave through her that she savored for its simplicity and missed familiarity. She’d changed the color two days ago to make Carter laugh at the teasing comment he’d made when she’d left last time.
She stepped forward and rested her cheek on Scott’s shoulder, arms slipping around his waist to hold him close again. The love burst from her heart to surround her. Them. It declared what she wanted and had resisted before.
Feared maybe? After all her searching and longing, she’d taken the first excuse she’d found to shove it away. It was a risk to love him. To give her heart and herself to a man who came with baggage. But so did she. Everyone did.
He pressed a kiss to her temple, another familiar action that was so him—them—that it burst through her and sought out the courage she needed to dig deeper so they could make this work.
“We need to talk,” she said without lifting her head.
“We do,” he agreed. He didn’t move either.
The low chatter of the crowd was a buffering shield that seemed to protect them. Would it be the same once they stepped outside? Her body hummed with the need to get closer, yet she was content to stay right there for now.
He kissed her temple again, holding it for a moment before sighing. “I need to show you something,” he finally said. He eased her back, and her nerves were on instant high alert, tugging her skin taut.
“What?” Dread had her swallowing. What if he pulled out that dang mint tin? What then?
He closed his eyes, inhaled, a blank resolve in his gaze when he looked at her again. Her pulse kicked up and the knot reformed in her stomach. Doubts and fears chased through her until he laid a hand on her shoulder and urged her to turn around.
She faced Carter’s photo, Scott at her back, his hand firm on her shoulder. Was it the photo then? That was what he wanted her to see? “It’s a great picture,” she said, trying to figure out what he wanted.
He didn’t respond right away and she glanced back at him. His focus was locked on the image before them. His lips were drawn tight and his skin had paled, the circles under his eyes more pronounced.
Then he pointed at the photo. “That could be my dealer.” His voice cracked on the last word and was almost lost under the background noise. She heard it though. Every word. “The similarities are so close...” Her breath hitched and her hand flexed around her clutch as the importance sunk in. He’d used the present tense. Did that mean...
“His name’s Jessie,” he went on, a monotone coming over his words. “My dealer. I’ve known him since high school. It started out as a few pills here and there after injuries. A little extra to get through until the pain faded. I can’t say everyone does it. I can’t pass blame or brush off my responsibility. But I didn’t worry about it.” He took a deep breath. “That went on for years. Even before I played here. I always kept a stash just in case. There was a time when pills were passed around the locker room like candy, and doctors wrote p
rescriptions freely.”
He paused there, and she glanced at him, wanting to do something. Help somehow. He didn’t acknowledge her, lost in his head and memories she couldn’t see. She took his hand though. Clasped it in hers and held tight.
His lips quirked before he continued. “Then Bobby Gardner died of an overdose and things changed. Within the league, but especially within our team. What had once been fairly open was now a hushed subject. No one wanted to be seen as the next Gardner. Having extra pills became secretive, something to hide instead of share. Which is completely fucked up in itself, since it has always been illegal.”
He stiffened, glanced around and she did the same, but no one was near or paying attention to them. In an odd way, having the people around gave them a privacy that wasn’t overwhelming.
He brought her closer, wrapping both arms around her until her back was pressed to his front, his mouth close to her ear. She couldn’t see him this way, but he relaxed behind her so she let it be.
“Then I injured my knee for the fourth time,” he went on, his voice only audible because it was so close to her ear. “That could be me.” He motioned toward the photo, which she’d been staring at but not really seeing. “I know exactly where that is. I’ve eaten at the diner many times. That could easily have been me in that picture.”
She heard him swallow, the hard swoosh filling her ear as he hugged her closer. “I almost called him today,” he croaked. Both his admission and tone sent a chill through her. “I almost downed some pills I found in my sock drawer and called him for more.”
It was her turn to swallow. “Almost?” She sent up a thousand wishes and hoped that almost meant he hadn’t.
“Almost.” His voice was firm and strong.
“What stopped you?” She shuddered, the thought of how close he’d come to relapsing too real and scary.
He turned his face into the side of her head, his breath tickling her ear. “I remembered you would be here.”
Her heart did an all-out flip at that. She clung to his arms and squeezed back the tears that rushed up yet again. Could she be his anchor? Was she strong enough for that? Them?
