by Keeland, Vi
“Sorry,” he whispered. “I’m not trying anything, I swear. I thought I could control it, but apparently I have as much restraint as a twelve-year-old boy.”
I smiled sadly. “It’s okay.”
Max leaned his forehead against the back of my shoulder. “I’m going to go…take a quick shower. Get things under control.”
Great. Now I had a to-die-for body wrapped around me, a lead pipe pushing against my ass, and a vision of Max jerking off in my shower. He might get relief from that, but I certainly wouldn’t. “Or…” I pushed my ass back against him. “We could work it out.”
Max groaned. “Fuck, Georgia. Are you sure?”
I wasn’t. But lying here feeling frustrated didn’t make me feel very good either. So I responded by slipping down my pajama pants and underwear.
Max kissed the back of my neck and gently attempted to turn me on my back, but I wasn’t having it.
I shook my head. “From behind. Just like this.”
He stilled. “Why?”
I didn’t want to analyze the reason, or even talk for that matter; I just wanted what I wanted. And it annoyed me that he wasn’t taking off his clothes and getting on with it. This was all he wanted from our relationship, wasn’t it?
“Can we not talk? Can’t you just fuck me the way I want?”
Max didn’t move or say a word.
After thirty seconds or so, I thought he might tell me no. But then he took off his pants. He reached around and found my clit and started to rub small circles. But I didn’t want that either. I took his hand from between my legs and lifted it to hold my throat. “I’m on the pill, and I don’t want foreplay or a condom. I’m clean, and I trust you if you say you are. Okay?”
Again there was a long pause before his grip around my throat tightened. But then I felt his other hand reach between us and guide himself to my opening. “Open your legs,” he said sternly. “Put one on top of mine.”
I did, and before I had even settled back into place, Max was pushing inside me. My body wanted him, but it hadn’t fully prepared, so it burned a little as he drove in. But it was exactly what I wanted—to feel a little pain. Soft and sweet would’ve killed me right now.
Though Max was still being too gentle. He pushed in a few inches and pulled back out, trying to ease into me when all I wanted was the opposite. So the next time he started to push in, I used all of my might to push back on him as hard as I could, impaling myself to the root.
Max hissed. “Fuuuck.”
“Harder.”
He pulled out and pushed back in with a little more force.
“More.”
We grew wild. Each time he’d pull out, I’d demand more until we were slamming into each other. My chest was tight with emotion, and it felt like the only thing that could release it was an orgasm powerful enough to make my body quiver. The bed shook, I thrashed around, and our bodies grew slick with sweat.
“More.”
“Fuck, Georgia. I’m going to come.”
“Don’t you dare! Not yet.”
He growled and pulled out. I thought he was going to stop, but then suddenly, he flipped me over onto my stomach. Max slid a hand under my belly and hoisted my ass in the air. When I raised onto my elbows and attempted to get up on all fours, he splayed his fingers wide and pressed me back down. “No. You don’t want me to look at you, so ass in the air and face in the pillow.”
Max got up on his knees, gripped my hips, and pounded into me from behind. When he slid a hand around to my clit, it was like a bomb detonated inside of me. My body clenched around him, and I let out a loud moan even though the pillow stifled it.
Max pumped twice more, letting out a ferocious roar as he buried himself inside me and unloaded.
After, he rolled onto his back and laid next to me, panting. I kept my face buried in the pillow so he couldn’t see the tears that came when the dam broke.
CHAPTER 25
* * *
Max
“Do you actually work here? Or just come to get away from your wife?”
Otto shook his head and scribbled something into a small notepad. “Checking the seats, Pretty Boy. Every single one of these gets tested twice a year.”
“Sure, that’s what you’re doing.”
“Where’s your pretty girl today? She smarten up and kick you to the curb already?”
I chuckled. “Glad to see you’re in your regular good spirits.”
He got up from one seat and sat down at the next. “Go plant your ass in E forty-four,” he said, pointing. “The bolts are stripped. When you sit down, you’ll wind up on the floor. It’ll do you some good to remember the crappy accommodations the people yelling your name are shelling out two-hundred bucks for.”
Otto was eight or nine rows away, so I walked up and took the aisle seat on the other side of the stairs to give him room to work.
“How you feeling?” I asked.
“Good. Finished my treatments and getting my strength back.” He flexed his hands. “Pins and needles are the same, but I’ll deal with it if it means I buy a little more time. I decided to call it quits here, though. Gave a month’s notice yesterday.”
“You get a job somewhere else?”
“Nope. My wife talked me into taking a road trip we’ve talked about since before we got married. Her brother has an RV he never uses, so we’re going to drive from here to California taking the north route and drive home through the South. Might take three weeks, might take three months. We’ll see how it goes.”
“Good for you. That sounds awesome.”
“I wanted to work as much as I could, bank money for my Dorothy for when I’m gone. But she says she’d rather have time with me than a little extra cash.” He shook his head. “I was being stubborn, but when she asked me what I would want if the shoe was on the other foot, I realized the money isn’t important.” He lifted his chin to me. “What about you? You coming here on a Wednesday when you’re off because you got news? Maybe tell me about your trade to the Blades, or do I have to read about it in the Post someday?”
I smiled. “Actually, that’s why I stopped over. We finalized the deal, so I’m probably going to be heading out to sign the contract next week, and then they’ll want to do a press conference.”
“You happy? Did you get what you wanted?”
Three months ago, I wouldn’t have hesitated to say yes. But the last few weeks, it felt like no amount of money or fame could get me what I wanted in life. Yet I nodded. “It’s a great contract.”
“Glad to hear it. And how’s your smart girl?”
I smiled. “Georgia’s good.”
“She moving out there with you, or you gonna be one of those fancy bicoastal couples?”
My face answered before I did.
“Oh, Jesus. You’re not going to try one of those long-distance things, are you? I might be old fashioned, but a couple should sleep in the same damn bed at night.”
I shook my head. “We were just having fun over the summer.”
His bushy brows pulled together to form what looked like a caterpillar. “So you’re not in love with this girl?”
“It’s complicated.”
“Oh.” He nodded. “Complicated? I get it. That’s young people speak for cop-out.”
“Sometimes the best thing you can do for a person you love is set them free.”
Otto snorted. “Did you read that shit on a Hallmark card? I didn’t realize you were so soft.”
“Soft? Don’t make me get up and kick an old man’s ass.”
He waved me off and grumbled something I didn’t catch.
“So whatta you think about the Radiski trade?” I knew that would change the subject. Otto thought Radiski was the most overrated goalie in the league, and he’d just snagged a huge, multiyear contract.
For the next hour and a half, I followed along, moving row to row as Otto tested out each chair and we bullshitted about the busy trade season. When it was time for him to take lunc
h, I figured I’d go.
We walked to the door together, and I extended my hand. “I’ll stop back again before you leave.”
“Sounds good.” We shook, but Otto didn’t let go of my hand. Instead, he used it to keep my attention and looked me in the eye. “Humor a dying old man and let me give you some advice.”
“What’s that?”
“Whatever you think is so complicated, isn’t. Don’t wait until you’re seventy and sick to figure out that life is pretty simple. Be with the people you love, and your life will feel full in the end, whenever that time may come.”
• • •
Things just weren’t the same between Georgia and me after the night we had our talk. We still spent time together, and most people wouldn’t have noticed the change from the outside, but I felt it. There was a wall that hadn’t been there before, something blocking my ability to feel as close to her. I understood it, of course. But it still wasn’t easy to accept. Every part of my body screamed to take back what I’d said and tell her I’d do whatever it took to make us work. Yet I didn’t, because deep down, I knew I was doing the right thing for her.
The following Saturday, I picked her up to go out to dinner. Our table wasn’t ready, so we waited at the bar and ordered a drink. While we were there, two women who didn’t look old enough to drink the alcohol in their hands recognized me.
“Oh my God! You’re Max Yearwood, aren’t you?” one of them asked.
I smiled politely and nodded.
They got up from their stools on the other side of Georgia and stood in front of me. “I love you so much. Please say you’re coming to California? We’re just visiting New York. We live in Santa Barbara.”
The announcement was coming in a few days, but I wasn’t about to have it leaked on a fan’s social media.
“We’re still working on things,” I said.
The taller of the two covered her heart with her hand. “God, you’re even better looking in person.”
My eyes slanted to Georgia and back to the women. “That’s very nice of you. But I’m sort of on a date.”
For the first time, the women seemed to notice someone sitting next to me. They looked Georgia up and down. “Are you his wife?” one of them asked.
Georgia shook her head.
“Girlfriend?”
My eyes caught with Georgia’s again. She frowned and shook her head.
The more aggressive, taller one reached into her purse. She pulled out a business card and handed it to me. “If you do wind up in LA and want someone to show you around, I’d be happy to.”
I held up my hand. “I’m good, thanks.”
The woman shrugged. “Can I at least get a selfie with you?”
“I’d rather not. Like I said, I’m on a date.”
Luckily the hostess walked over and interrupted. “Your table is ready, Mr. Yearwood.”
“Thank you.” I gave the ladies a curt nod before offering my hand to Georgia. “It was nice meeting you.”
After we were seated, Georgia was quiet.
“I’m sorry about that.”
She laid her napkin across her lap. “It’s fine. You should’ve taken her number. They were both pretty.”
I frowned sharply. “I wouldn’t do that.”
Georgia drew figure eights in the condensation on her water glass. “Do you remember when we first met, and I told you one of the things I wanted to work on was to stop overanalyzing everything?”
“Yeah, of course.”
“Well, I spent this week completely preoccupied about something, and I think I just came to a decision.”
Considering where this conversation had started—with two women who lived out in California trying to give me their number—I didn’t have a good feeling. “A decision on what?”
She looked up. “I think we need to say our goodbye now, Max.”
My heart jumped into my throat. “What? Why? Because of those women?”
Georgia shook her head. “No, I’ve been thinking about it all week. It’s just… It’s hard for me, sort of like pulling the Band-Aid off a wound a little at a time. I need to rip it at this point and start to heal.”
Fuck. I forced myself to look into her eyes, but I wasn’t prepared for what I saw. Her beautiful green eyes swam with heartache, and I don’t know how I hadn’t seen it until this moment, but they also had dark circles beneath them, coming through a layer of makeup. She didn’t normally even wear stuff on her face. I felt like throwing up.
All I wanted was to convince her to stick it out until the end. It was only a few weeks anyway. Maybe it was the giant ego everyone always said I had, but I felt like I could talk her out of it, if I tried hard enough. But…that would be selfish.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
I had no choice but to agree. The very least I could do was make it easier on her. So I gulped down the lump in my throat and nodded. “Okay. I understand.” I waited a minute. When she was still quiet, I said, “Do you want to go? We don’t have to have dinner.”
“No, it’s fine. We’re here. And I do enjoy your company.”
Thank fuck. “Okay.”
“Do you think we can just not talk about it and have a nice dinner?”
“Sure.”
Over the next hour, we talked about my trip to California, a new line of outdoor products she wanted to look into developing, and how the ladies who watched my dogs were going to use my apartment to bake their dog treats after I left since I still had six months on my lease.
The entire time, I felt like I was standing on a gangplank, waiting to walk off and drown. When the waitress came by and asked if we wanted to look at the dessert menu, we shared a secret smile and both said yes. Neither of us was ready for the evening to end.
But eventually, the restaurant patrons thinned out, and when the waitress came over for the third time to check on us after we’d finished dessert, we finally gave in.
We were only a few blocks from Georgia’s apartment, and I was glad she let me walk her home. But in the lobby of her building, she pushed the button for the elevator and turned to face me.
“I think we should say goodbye here.”
My stomach dropped to the floor, but I nodded and did my best to smile. “Okay.”
Georgia took my hands, her eyes brimming with tears. “I just wanted to say that while right now I’m hurting, I don’t regret our time together.”
I swallowed the giant lump in my throat as I cupped her cheek. “The only thing I could ever regret about us is the ending, sweetheart.”
Tears streamed down Georgia’s face as the elevator arrived and the doors slid open. She put her hand over my hand on her face and turned to kiss my palm. “Goodbye, Max.”
I bent and brushed my lips with hers. “Goodbye, Georgia.”
She stepped into the waiting elevator, but I couldn’t turn and walk away. Instead, I shut my eyes and let her go.
CHAPTER 26
* * *
Max
A lot happened over the next few weeks. I signed a monster of a contract to play for a team with real playoff potential, flew out to California for a live press announcement followed by a two-day media junket, and I packed up my apartment in New York. I still had plenty of time until practices would start, but since there was nothing keeping me here anymore, I said screw it and booked a moving company to come get my stuff. Then I went online and bought a one-way ticket back to California five days from now.
I should’ve been out-of-my-mind happy with all of my good fortune. Most people worked their entire life to earn what I was going to earn in one year, and everything I’d dreamed about since I’d laced on my first pair of skates was within reach. Yet I was miserable. So fucking miserable.
My mother was currently up in Boston to visit my brother and the kids, and I was supposed to go see her. But considering I could barely stand myself, I couldn’t expect anyone else to put up with my miserable ass, so I called and told her I had a lot of things to wrap up here, and
instead I would come up to Washington once I was settled in on the West Coast next week.
Then I decided to go for a run.
I had no idea how far I’d gone, but I was a mile or two from home when it started to rain. Not just drizzle either, it goddamn poured. But it felt kinda right. On my way back, I passed the Garden. Glenn, one of the security guards I’d been friendly with, happened to be outside under the overhang, smoking a cigarette. He’d been on duty the night I met Georgia. He waved, so I stopped.
“Yearwood, you traitor.” He smiled. “Figured you’d be out on the West Coast, hamming it up at parties with movie stars and starlets by now.”
“Soon.” I put my hands on my knees and bent to catch my breath. “What are you doing here? I thought you only worked nights.”
“A day-shift spot finally opened up. You remember Bernie, the guy with the weird, red goatee but has white hair?”
“Yeah, I know Bernie.”
“He got a job in operations. Took over Otto’s gig.” He shook his head. “Such a shame about that guy, huh?”
“Shame about who?”
“Otto. I figured you knew. They sent out an email to the team.”
“I’m not on the team anymore. What happened to Otto?”
“Had a cough that started last week. A few days later, he was in the hospital with pneumonia. Yesterday they had to put him on a ventilator. Antibiotics aren’t working, and his immune system is shot from the cancer treatments.”
Shit. “You know what hospital he’s in?”
“St. Luke’s.”
“Thanks. I gotta go. It was good seeing you, Glenn. Take care.”
• • •
“Hi. I’m looking for Otto Wolfman.”
The nurse pointed to one of the glass rooms on her left. “He’s in bed four.”
The intensive care unit was one big space with a nurses’ station in the middle and small, individual, fishbowl glass rooms located around the perimeter. The sliding door to Otto’s was open, and a woman sat at his bedside. When she saw me, she stood and walked out.
