The Crease: A Rochester Riot Sports Romance

by Colleen Charles

  She fell silent, shocked at his outburst and the words he used. A faint nausea built in her throat. Her eyes clamped shut against the innuendo because ultimately, she knew the meaning behind them. Still, she had to know the truth if only so she could help him heal.

  “W-what do you mean, exactly?”

  He looked up at her. “I’ve never told anyone this, Kylie Rose. Can I trust you?”

  “Of course, you can trust me. I’m the poster girl for trust…for secrets. I have secrets of my own. Trust me on that,” she said with a tremulous smile, hoping her humor would help him through the agony of telling her something he’d held inside for so many years.

  “He was my coach, and many others, years ago, in Midget triple. We were so dumb, so naïve and hungry to get to the big leagues, even though the percentage of players who actually make it is…” He held up his thumb and finger a few millimeters apart.

  “You made it,” she affirmed.

  “Yeah. No thanks to him. But lots didn’t. One of my teammates committed suicide because of him. His mother found him hanging from their bathroom shower rod. Dead. Her only son.”

  “Oh my God.”

  Kylie imagined that poor mother finding her child that way. Because of the actions of a sick and twisted man.

  “He’d keep us in line, convincing us the only way to make it to the top was to do as he said and shut up. Told us crazy things, like how drinking a man’s semen would make you stronger.”

  “Jesus,” she whispered. Flashes of that night at his apartment after pizza and red wine flashed through her mind. He’d said he wanted to go slow. Now she realized his trepidation had nothing to do with her or her self-doubt around her own worthiness. Shred carried his own baggage around like dead weight. The only difference was that he carried his in Louis Vuitton and she carried hers in a backpack from Goodwill. “No wonder you acted the way you did when I was at your place. I’m so sorry I ever doubted you.”

  “It gets worse. He’d invite players for TV night campouts at his place. When we were on the road, he’d have certain guys bunk in with him. They didn’t want to talk, but we all knew what he was doing. He’d sneak under their blankets in the dark and…” He broke off, clamping his eyes shut. Kylie wanted to reach out and open them with her fingertips. If he hid his eyes, he hid the windows to his wounded soul. How could she help him then?

  Instead, her caress fell to his chest, and she stroked him there in silent support. “Were you one of them?” She hated to ask but had to know. Had to know so she could help him somehow.

  He was quiet for a long time before finally saying, “Yes, but not…not as bad as the others.” He blew out a long breath. “He preferred the littler guys. I’d always been huge for my age and in the upper percentile of height and body weight. My dad always said I was built like a Polish brick shithouse, but I’m sure I was on the reserve list to molest in the worst possible way. I was a big kid, Kylie. I could have stopped it. I should have stopped it. I put my own selfish dreams about making it to the NHL before the health and well-being of my own friends. What kind of depraved motherfucker does that make me?”

  “Oh, Shred. That’s horrible…I’m so sorry. You don’t have to tell me any more.”

  He shook his head slightly. “I do. Every time I get near someone, close to someone…someone like you…” He paused, clearly trying to choose his words carefully. Her heart throbbed with an ache she’d never known. An ache purely for this man. “I freeze up. I feel…ashamed and guilty. Like I don’t deserve to enjoy it. I shouldn’t enjoy it, Kylie. Just like I shouldn’t enjoy my NHL career as one of the league’s top goaltenders. Everything good in my life is fake as shit because it all came on the pain and suffering of others.”

  “You were a child, Shred. In the moment, you had to have been terrified and afraid. Any kid would have been. And you’ve worked hard in spite of the fear you lived in. You are one of the best goalies because of you…not him.”

  He shook his head. “But I should have done something. I feel so guilty.”

  “What about the other boys? If they didn’t say anything either, that just proves how badly that man had you all under his thumb.”

  He blew out a breath and pinched the bridge of his nose again. “But I should have–”

  Her lips formed a frown. “Don’t should on yourself. You were a scared kid. And you do deserve happiness. You enjoyed what we just did, right?”

  He threw her a panicked look. “Oh, yeah of course I did. I’m just afraid that…one day you’re going to notice and think that I’m withdrawing…becoming distant. It always happens, and I can’t help it. No matter how many flowery words I give to a woman, I can’t give her what she truly needs. What she deserves. And I won’t be able to give it to you either. I just thought you should know.”

  She shook her head, her heart throbbing for him. Uncertainty washed over her in waves. “Was he never caught? Never arrested?”

  “There’ve always been rumblings, but the NHL likes to take things like this and sweep it under the rug where the cockroaches live. So nope. No one would testify against him. We were trapped in our little bubble of hockey dreams; we thought he was our ticket to the top. Besides, he convinced us of how we’d be laughed at, looked at funny by our friends. He said we’d be called nasty names for life if we talked. You know what happens when victims report sexual assault. It’s always their fault because they asked for it. They wanted it. How in the hell could anyone ever say that a little boy wanted that?”

  “That’s crazy. We have to see justice done. We have to report him, tell Murphy and have him brought up on charges. What about your dad? He’s a rich and powerful man, and I really like him. If he knew this, he’d make Bernie pay, wouldn’t he?”

  Shredder let out a mirthless chuckle. “You think Murphy doesn’t know? Rumors have swirled around Murphy for years along the same lines as the ones about Bernie. Kristoff Helios used to spend hours locked behind closed doors with Murphy and every time he exited with a huge smile on his face, he got an undeserved promotion. Cole suspects that Eloise knows something, but she’s under a gag order. Bet I can guess why Murphy hired Coach Griffs.”

  “You’re joking.”

  “Wish I was. And about my dad…he doesn’t know and there’s no way I’m telling him now. What good could come of him going after Bernie and killing him? Where we come from something like that is a death sentence. My wonderful philanthropic father would only end up caged behind bars. I can’t let that happen. No. I’m keeping it locked deeply inside, and now I expect you to do the same. Don’t let me down, Kylie Rose.”

  Kylie gave a helpless sigh. She hurt for him. She wanted him. She wished they could stay in the confines of this beautiful room and not have to deal with any of it. She took his hand and moved it up to her left breast, holding it there to let him feel her heartbeat and possibly entice him into pleasuring his cares away. If she couldn’t ease the pain with her words, she’d use the comfort of her body.

  “Shredder Politski, in spite of your painful confessions, I want you to know that today is your lucky day.”

  He gazed up at her with abject confusion lining his anxious face. “How so?”

  “In addition to my penchant for yoga, meditation, organic fare and all things Zen, I took classes in the Reiki healing arts, and I can now boast that I am a certified Reiki Master.”

  “I’m not sure I want to know what that means,” he said, his lips finally tugging upward. It wasn’t the heart-melting Shredder smile yet, but it was a start.

  Kylie rolled over and crawled her body up his massive torso until she lay flush against him and hugged his neck.

  “Did you know that the span of my arms from fingertip to fingertip is over five feet?”

  The corners of his lush lips tugged even higher. Just a few more millimeters and she’d have her Shredder back.

  “No, I didn’t know that.”

  “That means you have five feet of healing Reiki energy wrapped around your entire b
ody. Cleansing you. Healing you.”

  He hugged her tight and caressed the curve of her back with his massive paws. “I’ll take it.”

  Kylie lifted her chin and brought her lips within a breath of his, but she didn’t kiss him even though she desperately wanted to. Something else hung between them, bitter and unresolved.

  “I don’t want you to leave the Riot,” she whispered.

  “You could come with me,” he whispered back.

  “What? No…I couldn’t.”

  If Kylie left, Jezz would have no one.

  “Why not? I know I didn’t get around to asking about your family, but you said your parents are gone, no siblings. And I’m sorry for that, by the way…but that means you’re like an NHL free agent, free to move wherever you want, do whatever you want. If that included wanting to be with me, that is.”

  “B-but I have a job,” she stammered. “I love the team too. I can’t just leave.”

  “If the players all thought that way, we’d never get anywhere in our careers. It’s the nature of the game to move around. It’s inevitable. You could look at it under the same lens. If you wanted to, that is.”

  He sandwiched his hand between their bodies to clasp her breast, and her nipples tingled to aching attention. Her private muscles twitched in response. “That’s a lot to think about. I think I need some time,” she said.

  Shredder moved her along his strong, deliciously muscled body as if she were weightless and closed the tiny gap between their lips for a kiss. A sweeter, longer kiss filled with more promise than any other of her entire life. But that was the thing about promises. It hurt too much when you discovered they were empty.

  “Then let’s not think at all,” he said in between insistent touchdowns of their lips. She remained silent for now, content to bask in the adoration of his need for her and agreed, giving a silent answer with her body.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Morning dawned the sweetest sunrise Kylie could ever recall experiencing. Waking up in Shredder’s bed made her question whether she was actually awake and not stuck in a dream state. Ah, the fairytale again. Part of it had come true. But then the wicked stepmother in the form of one gross douche bag named Bernie Griffiths had galloped in on his black steed and lanced the happiness with his perverted jousting arm. But with each other, they could do anything. Overcome anything. The problems they’d discussed the night before seemed to pale in the bright light of day. They could overcome anything if they worked at it together.

  After a third bout of lovemaking, once this morning and twice the night before, a comfort level was setting in, and Kylie reveled in it. She hoped that she’d had something to do with it. Shred seemed less on edge, less melancholy each time they reached climax with each other as if her orgasms and his had healing properties.

  “Breakfast?” he asked, tapping her bare butt as she lay partially covered by the comforter. He stood up and grabbed her hand to pull her from the soft mattress.

  “Do we have to? Can’t we order in?”

  He laughed. “It’s still a home, not a hotel. Be thankful we have kitchen staff.”

  They dressed, Kylie pulling on her favorite pink yoga outfit, and Shredder led the way to the breakfast room. As they approached, they heard voices and the pleasant rumble of conversation coming from within.

  “Sounds like mom is up,” Shredder said. They entered the room, and Kylie bumped into Shredder’s wide back as he stopped short. Something was wrong again, and her heart tripped over itself in a mad rush to start pounding the blood through her body.

  “Sheldon!” a voice called. “It’s so good to see you. You’re looking fantastic, just like you always do.”

  That voice. It’s so feminine. So sexy. So…not mine.

  “Morning, darling,” Natasha’s voice purred. “Look who’s here; on a stopover from Montenegro especially to see you. Can you believe your good fortune?”

  Footsteps tottered toward Shredder, then a pair of arms flew around his neck. Kylie couldn’t see anything else beyond his broad shoulders. All she knew is she hated the woman attached to the arms before she’d even seen her.

  “Ari,” he said, a touch of disbelief in his voice.

  Kylie stepped out from behind him to see a stunning, exotic girl with long auburn hair cut in bangs clinging to him. She swayed back and forth as she hugged him, bending one leg as she leaned upward, her booted toe pointing daintily backward. The woman was a dead ringer for that curvaceous supermodel Denise something or other. Kylie hissed in a breath, took one look at the woman’s killer body encased in a designer wrap dress that hugged her voluptuous breasts and her thigh-high leather boots and just about threw up all over them.

  Shredder moved his hands to break her choke-hold and press her arms down. “Ari, I thought you couldn’t make the party this year,” he said.

  She stood back a step and shrugged which only served to throw more of her glorious, thick mane of shiny hair over her chest. “I got bored in Montenegro. I saw a night flight available that would put me here this morning, and…well, here I am.” She giggled in delight, her golden-brown eyes flashing at Shredder, sparing Kylie a dismissive glance.

  Shredder slipped his hand behind Kylie’s back and moved her forward. “I’d like you to meet Kylie Rose,” he said, presenting her. “Kylie, this is Ariana Troutman.”

  “Hello,” Ariana said in a somewhat mechanical tone.

  “Hi,” Kylie nodded, keeping her arms to herself even though they itched to slap the smug smile off her perfect features instead of shaking her manicured hand.

  Natasha spoke up, brimming with disdain she could barely contain. “Ariana is Sheldon’s soon to be fiancée,” she said. “Ari, Kylie is Sheldon’s friend from Minnesota. His assistant, didn’t you say? Just come for the weekend.”

  “Minnesota’s too cold for me,” Ari said with a delicate shudder. “Thank God you won’t be there much longer.”

  What? There were too many questions colliding in her brain at once.

  Fiancée? Shredder was getting married? And she’d just cheated with him under his fiancée’s nose?

  How did this woman know he wanted to be traded? Had Shredder told everyone about his plan to get dealt to another team? Everyone but her?

  Even though Kylie’s mind raced, Natasha stood there with an expectant look, so she knew she had to say something. She’d dismissed Shredder’s mom at first but now realized she’d prove to be a worthy opponent in the revenge arena. She was already getting payback for Kylie’s joke at her expense.

  “I like the weather in Minnesota. I come from hardy stock.”

  Natasha’s lips turned up the tiniest bit. “Indeed.”

  “I think I’ll skip breakfast,” Kylie said, turning to Shredder. “Why, I haven’t even packed my suitcase, and our plane leaves today. Let me know when you’re ready to leave.”

  She pivoted and stalked out of the bright room and into the hall; not exactly knowing where she was going but determined to get the hell out of there before she exploded. Part of her hoped he’d follow her. Choose her. As much as she’d like to give Shredder’s mom another dressing down, that would embarrass him, and he’d been through enough emotional turmoil in the past twenty-four hours. The best thing to do would be to just remove herself from the situation.

  Her heart sank when she didn’t hear the clomp of his huge feet blazing a trail behind her.

  God, you’re such an idiot, Kylie. He can’t run after you like some kind of pussy-whipped robot in front of his domineering mother and her Barbie doll heiress apparent. The one who would look, dress, and dance perfectly as surely as if she’d been carved out of wood for the marionette strings of her puppeteer, Natasha Politski. Stop reaching for the stars when your feet need to be firmly planted on Mother Earth.

  She spotted a seating area near a span of windows with comfortable-looking settees and armchairs. She plunked herself down forcibly, her head sinking below the level of the high chair backs. Since she was so petite, it wa
s easy to curl into a ball and escape the notice of everyone. She’d mastered the art of disappearing over the years. Doing so could keep you from a harsh word or a slap from overwrought foster mothers.

  She heard Shredder and Natasha’s voices as though they’d stepped into the hall just outside the breakfast room. She didn’t turn to look, just kept hugging herself and trying to calm her racing heart. Tears pricked her eyes, and she fluttered her eyelashes. She would not cry in front of anyone in this house.

  “I told you about girls like her, Sheldon. I described them very accurately, and I fail to see why you don’t recognize the type. You heard her. She admitted she has no family connections, no inheritance. She has a lowly clerical job with a sports organization. No prospects and terrible taste in fashion. She’s just looking for a meal ticket, darling. She will drag you down and be an embarrassment to you, to us, the Foundation. Please, why can’t you just be the dutiful son I raised and do what’s best for the family business? With great privilege comes great responsibility. It’s time for you to step up and claim yours. Do what’s right, Sheldon, my darling.”

  “I’m done listening to this,” Shredder said. “Where did she go? See what you’ve done, mother? I’m a thirty-one-year-old man, and I’m done being controlled and manipulated. I have my own successful career that I built through sweat equity. And I learned from dad how to invest well, so I have my own money. It may not be close to the size of the Politski fortune, but I’ll be set for life. Life my way. I’ll take Kylie and leave. You can debate her character all you want once we’re gone. You’re still my mother, and I love you, but you should be ashamed of the way you judge people you don’t even know.”

  Inspired by his impassioned speech defending her honor, Kylie rose from her chair and stood where they could both see her. Shredder spotted her first. “Kylie, I’m sorry about all this. I’ll explain on the way home, okay? We can get an earlier flight if you want.”