Off the Record

  I don't know yet how deep my feelings run, because I had just decided to accept them last night. But I figure that time will give me the answers. I only hope the answers I receive benefit both me and Linc in the long run.

  Just as I open a bottle of Piesporter, I hear Linc come through the front door. I smile to myself in giddy anticipation that in about two seconds, I'm going to see him.

  Yea, me!

  When he enters the kitchen, my mouth turns dry at the sight of his yumminess. I don't realize I'm just staring until he looks down at himself, then back at me again.

  "See something you like?" he teases.

  I involuntarily lick my lips and my words sound strangled when I say, "Yes."

  His eyes flash but his words remain light. "Something smells good."

  "I made chicken."

  Lame!

  Linc stalks toward me, a devious smile on his face. He reaches out and grabs the hair at the base of my neck, tilting my head to the side. Leaning in to me, he does nothing more than graze his nose at that sensitive place behind my ear. "I was talking about you. You smell good. My strawberry girl."

  My common sense is destroyed. "Much better than chicken, I hope."

  His lips flutter over the shell of my ear, and goose bumps break out on my arms while my body tightens.

  "Way better than chicken," he murmurs.

  Linc moves across my face, laying light kisses along the way. His stubble scrapes my skin in the most pleasurable way. When he reaches my mouth, he presses his lips against mine and slides his tongue in. I cannot help the groan that rumbles up from my belly. His kisses alone are hot enough to burn.

  Linc breaks the kiss, rubbing his nose against mine. "Dinner can wait, don't you think?"

  I nod my head, unable to form words. Linc looks at me...I mean really looks at me hard, and I can tell he's searching for some measure of my feelings. I have no clue what my gaze says back to him but eventually he just picks me up and carries me into his bedroom.

  Linc lays me on the bed and says, "Tell me what you want me to do."

  I don't know what to say at first. Normally, Linc is in charge and I've always been happy to cede control to him. But now he wants me directing, and the power feels heady.

  I seize the opportunity and I tell him with words all of the hot and dirty things I want him to do to me. And he does...over and over again. There is no part of my body he leaves untouched, every sensation rocketing through me with a force that leaves me breathless.

  Linc makes me mindless, a frantic body searching for some type of desperate relief. But when he finally enters me, I command him to go slow. His eyes go soft at my directive, and he gives me the gentlest kiss I have ever known. Then he lays his cheek against mine, and proceeds to make love to me.

  And for the first time, I feel something different. I'm not just a mass of quivering nerves searching for eruptive relief. I feel a peacefulness in my heart, almost like someone covering me with a warm blanket when I'm cold. At first the feeling startles me, and for a split second, I almost command Linc to go hard and rough. But then I realize that the feeling makes me happy and carefree, like the first day of Spring weather after a cold Winter.

  I revel in the feeling. I use my hands to glide over his skin, trying to show him how much this feeling warms me. I cup his cheeks, I run my fingers lightly over his collar bone. I whisper sweet and sexy words into his ear, just before I bite at the lobe.

  We finally both come together and there are no harsh shouts of abandon or groans of satisfaction. Both of our bodies just ripple with ecstasy that seems to go on and on.

  When it's over and our hearts have calmed, I am speechless. I am afraid if I talk, then I may openly confess some deep feelings to him that I am still too afraid to fully admit. For the first time, since my father left, I want to cry. I mean...I want to let the tears fall. But I'm not talking about tears of abandonment and pain. I want to let loose tears of overwhelming emotion brought on by a connection that runs so deep, I'm not sure the root can ever be uncovered.

  But the tears never fall because I guess old habits die hard.

  We are both quiet, lost in thought. And then finally, Linc gets out of bed and makes up dinner plates for us. He brings them back into the bedroom and we eat while sitting in his bed.

  And then we do it all over again.

  We are lying naked on his bed, our legs twisted around each other. Our empty dinner plates are on the nightstand tables. Even though the chicken was cold, we both managed to wolf down our meals, apparently famished by the sexual marathon we just had.

  Linc is stroking my arm, back and forth, and the action is making me feel sleepy and content.

  Linc shifts on the bed and I scoot up a bit so my head rests on his chest.

  "Ever?"

  "Yeah?"

  "Something's changed, hasn't it?"

  I pull my head off of his chest and meet his eyes. They are hopeful and fearful of my answer.

  "Yes. Everything has changed."

  He just smiles at me and pulls my head back down, and we doze.

  Something awakens me, but I'm not sure what it is. I glance at the alarm clock and I see we've been asleep for a few hours.

  Then my brain starts to register and I realize it's my cell phone. I reach to the bedroom floor and flail about for my pants. Finding them, I pull the phone out and see it's my father calling. I don't answer, but watch as it rings twice more then goes to voice mail.

  For a split second, I thought about answering. I'm not sure if it's because Linc has inspired the warm and fuzzies in me, or because I'm tired of avoiding him, but it did flash through my mind to answer. But then the ringing stopped and the choice was taken out of my hands. I stare at the phone and several seconds later, a voice mail appears.

  Linc runs his hand down my back. He's groggy. "Who was that?"

  "My dad."

  I can feel Linc sit up beside me and then he turns on the lamp beside the bed. I turn around to glance at him. His hair is sticking up all over the place and he looks adorably gorgeous. I want to throw my phone aside and climb on top of him.

  Instead, I say, "He left a voice mail."

  "Are you going to listen to it?"

  I shrug my shoulders.

  Linc reaches to me and pulls me back against his chest. He lays his chin on top of my head. "Maybe you should see what he has to say." His voice is hesitant and I'm sure he doesn't want to anger me.

  But for the life of me, I can't pull forth the anger that normally comes when I think of my the man who sired me. I feel a sort of numbness, and strangely, curiosity. What would my father say to me? How could he justify his actions?

  Before I can change my mind, I hit the voice mail button and then switch it to speaker phone so Linc can listen. There's no sense in hiding it from him as I'd just tell him anyway what the message said.

  Ever...I wish you would talk to me. I can hear him sigh into the phone. There are so many things I need to tell you. I just wish you'd give me a chance. Hear me out. Please...just call me. I'll come to New York if you'll agree to see me. He hesitates. I love you very much.

  Normally, I wouldn't even bother to listen to his voice mails. Part of me wants to hit the delete button, but part of me wants to listen to it again.

  The part where he said he loved me...that sounded genuine. But, then again...this is the man that abandoned his cancer stricken wife and teenage daughter. What does he know of love?

  I hit the delete button.

  "Are you okay?" Linc asks, his hands massaging my shoulders.

  "Sure," I say with a half-hearted voice.

  "Want to talk about it?"

  My mind screams at me to say, "No" but for once, I decide to listen to my heart. "I don't know if I should talk to him or not. I just can't imagine him saying anything that would justify what he did."

  "Maybe he doesn't want to justify it. Maybe he just wants to say he's sorry."

  Sorry? That word seems trite to me. Would sorry be enou
gh?

  "I honestly don't think an apology would change my feelings," I whisper. Then I sit up from Linc and turn to look at him. "There's nothing that can make it better."

  "Why?" Linc challenges me. "Why can't he do something to make it better?"

  I have no clue. Why can't I get past the pain he caused me? Why can't I reconcile that maybe he was just a weak person? That maybe...just maybe...he wasn't good enough for me and my mother at that time in our lives.

  And then it hits me all at once. It's like the light got turned on in a pitch black room. Linc is looking at me with gentle eyes and I rear back slightly from the sympathy. "Because...I'm afraid he left because we weren't good enough for him."

  There's a long pause of silence, at least it seems long to me. I think my words are too shocking at first for either of us to comprehend, and then Linc is pulling me face first into his chest. "No, Ever! Don't you think that. Don't you fucking think that. This is all on your dad. His leaving had nothing to do with you and everything to do with his own shortcomings."

  Linc's words are sweet. They are caring and protective. But they bounce off of me. I know, without a doubt, the reason I cannot let go and truly open my heart up, is because I believe I am the one that is unworthy. Why else would a father leave his daughter?

  Linc rocks me back and forth. He holds me for what seems like forever, but we don't talk any further. Finally, he lays back on the bed and takes me with him.

  He kisses me and it's chaste. A kiss to say goodnight. But I need a connection. I need some type of lifeline thrown to me that shows me that I'm desirable in some way. I need him to show me that he wants me, even if it's only sexually and for the here and now.

  I turn the kiss hotter, reaching my hands down to grip his ass. I move my hand around and grab his hard flesh, and his hips pump forward into my soft grasp.

  There...he needs me. I'm needed.

  I know, at least for this moment, Linc isn't going anywhere.

  My heart is aching for Ever. She seems lost.

  Last night, Ever proceeded to shower my body with the most sinfully erotic touches I've ever had. Her hands, her lips, hell...even the way her hair moved across my body about had me coming all over the place.

  She was merciless when she took me into her mouth, and I know...deep down...she was trying to prove to herself that she was worth something.

  I didn't need her to blow me to prove that. I tried to pull her off of me, intent on making love to her again, but she was having none of it. Finally, I succumbed to her lips and tongue, groaning out her name when she finished me off.

  She then crawled into my arms, kissed my chest and fell asleep.

  I didn't follow her until several hours later, thinking about how my girl was hurting and I didn't think there was a damn thing I could do about it.

  And that's when I realized...I was in love with Ever. There was no choir of angels singing the epiphany, and it didn't come to me when I was dazed by lust. It was just a general understanding in my heart that this girl was made for me.

  Ever is in the shower as we have just come back from our run. She was unusually quiet today but I decided not to push her. Ever isn't the type of person that can be forced to see the light. She has to find it on her own.

  My phone rings and I look down at it. It's my agent. I sigh, because I know this phone call is probably going to change my life radically.

  Ever and I are lying in bed, watching TV. Well...I'm watching TV and she's reading her book. She has her glasses on and she looks smart, adorable and edible. I want to rip the book out of her hand and strip her naked.

  But instead, I need to have a serious talk with her and I've been sitting here for forty-five minutes trying to work up the courage to start.

  "Why are you staring at me?" she says with a mischievous look.

  "Because you're beautiful."

  She sits the book down and takes her glasses off. "Nice try. Something is on your mind. So tell me what it is."

  She's too fucking perceptive about me, a thought that pleases me as much as dismays me. "You are beautiful," I grumble. "But...there is something I wanted to talk to you about."

  She sits up and turns toward me, crossing her legs. She's wearing one of my t-shirts to sleep in and the move causes the edges to expose all of her leg. I'm in danger of getting side tracked so I try to maintain eye contact with her.

  Clasping her hands in her lap, she says, "Shoot."

  "My agent called today. I've been traded."

  Ever sucks in a breath of air and her eyes show disappointment. This gives me hope, because that means she is sad I'll be leaving.

  "I'll have to move in a few weeks so I can get settled into a new place before training camp starts."

  Ever chews on her bottom lip and picks at her nails. "I'm sorry. I know that's not what you wanted."

  I run my hand through my hair. "No, it's not what I wanted."

  We are silent, and it's taking all of my guts to say what's truly in my heart. I decide to just take the plunge. "I want you to go with me. I want you to move to Phoenix with me."

  Her eyes snap to mine, and now they are bewildered. In fact, she looks close to full blown panic. I press ahead. "Ever...I love you. I am insanely, madly, head-over-ass in love with you. I want you to come with me because I don't want to be without you. You're like the very air I breathe...I need you to survive."

  I had hoped those words would cause her to melt. To throw herself into my arms and proclaim her undying love for me. Instead, the look of panic intensifies.

  "I can't," she blurts.

  "Can't or won't?" I ask, my anger starting to rise. She's withdrawing from me, and it's because of her shit of a father.

  "Won't," she clarifies with a whisper. "I won't blindly follow someone again."

  "Blindly?" I ask sharply. "How are you blindly doing anything? You know me, Ever. You know who I am and what I am. It's not like I'm asking you to walk off of a cliff without a parachute for me. It's just fucking Phoenix."

  She starts shaking her head, back and forth, denying my words. Her eyes are on the bed and I can tell she's too chicken shit to meet mine.

  So I force her. I grab her face with my hands and tilt it up to look at me. "Ever. Don't do this. Don't back away from this. Open yourself up to the chance that we have something fucking amazing here."

  She looks at me and for a second, a brief shining second, I think she'll relent. Then she just says, "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

  Pulling from my grasp, she shoots off the bed and runs into the bathroom.

  I lay back against my pillows and curse to myself. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

  My mind is racing. How can I get her to see reason? How can I get her to admit she loves me? And then it rolls over me like a tidal wave.

  I can't make her do anything.

  She either loves me or she doesn't. And apparently, she doesn't.

  My body feels like it has been split in two and half of me is lost. The physical pain in my chest is immense. I throw my hand back and punch the headboard. It hurts, but not as much as my chest. I punch it again. And again.

  After the fourth punch, I pull my hand back and it's bleeding. I just stare at it, strangely fascinated by the shredded flesh across my knuckles and the dribble of blood that falls to the sheets. I know I should be concerned over my rash actions, because my hands are my living. If I screw up my hands, my hockey career is over.

  And yet...I can't muster up the strength to even give a shit at this point.

  The bathroom door opens, and Ever comes out. She's dressed and I know she's leaving me. For good.

  I panic and try one last attempt. Jumping from the bed, I cross the room to her. "Please don't go."

  She won't look at me, her eyes cast downward and I take in the thick lashes that lay against her cheek. The soft cheek that I won't be able to kiss anymore.

  "Ever...don't go. Please talk to me."

  She finally drags her gaze up, and there is a sheet of tears in her
eyes. It hits me...I've never seen her cry before. I wonder if she does it alone in private. But then I wonder no more, because with a few hasty blinks of her eyes, the tears are gone.

  "Linc...I don't deserve your goodness. And you don't deserve my badness. I am damaged goods. And I tried...I really did. I wanted to be able to let you in so bad. But I'm just not emotionally able to."

  Rage surges through me. I want to hurt her as bad as she's hurting me right now. "That's fucking bullshit, Ever and you know it. You see...I got you figured out. You are just like your father. The man that you constantly vilify for his actions. Well, you're no better than he is. You're a coward, just like your old man. Plain and simple. At least your dad admitted it."

  Ever gasps at my words. Although I immediately regret them to some degree, my hurt and pain are still driving me.

  I go ahead and put the nail in the coffin. "You're right, Ever...you don't deserve my goodness. You're too addicted to your own misery and I'm not going to let it drag me down."

  I turn away from her and head into the bathroom, softly shutting the door behind me.

  Standing at the bathroom sink, I look at myself in the mirror. The man staring back at me has just been broken. I feel almost completely numb from head to toe. Except for that nagging ache, right in the center of my chest.

  Reaching into the bottom cabinet, I pull out some peroxide and bandages. I methodically clean my hand, gingerly poking at the bones and I don't think it's broken. I apply the bandage, flexing my hand a few times to make sure the tape is gripping hard enough to stay on.

  I walk out of the bathroom and wander through the condo. It's quiet.

  I know before I even get to her room that it will be empty.

  I stare at the empty closet and blessedly, the numbness remains. Walking into the kitchen, I see she has left my house key on the counter. There's no note, but then again, I didn't expect one. She was gone too quickly.

  Anger continues to course through me. I know Ever may not have been ready to return the depth of feeling that I have for her, but she should have been strong enough to see this through. I know, deep down, that she feels something very strong for me. It may not be love, or hell, maybe it is but she's too afraid to say it. But when it boils down to it, that really has nothing to do with me asking her to go to Phoenix. I was really asking her to just continue down this path with me.