Holding On To Love (11 page)

"Nice place," Brody said.

"Ah-Shit," I said.

"What?" He asked.

"I forgot to get Zac some beer. Damn it. See this is what you do to me. I forget things when I'm around you."

Oh no. What the hell did I just say?

Brody chuckled. I could tell he was getting a kick out of my awkwardness.

"I do that to you?" He asked.

I hung my keys back on their hook and dropped my purse on the floor next to the door.

"Yeah, yeah. Don't let it go to your head or anything. I wouldn't want to inflate your already ginormous ego," I said, rolling my eyes.

"Ginormous, huh—that's a new one," he said shrugging his shoulders.

I turned to face him. He smiled and reached out, tucking the loose hairs behind my ear, letting his fingers trail down my neck. I closed my eyes and let out a sigh.

Oh God, that felt good.

The tiny hairs pricked on the back of my neck and sent electricity all the way down to my toes.

"You're pretty fuckin' beautiful when you're not runnin' your mouth, Allyson." He whispered and dropped his hand from my face.

His touch had the most amazing affect on my body, there was no way I could stop my heart from racing or my thighs from clenching. I needed to snap out of it.

He's an egotistical jerk, Ally!

That's what I tried to convince myself he was, but I prayed that somewhere beyond his asshole exterior, there was actually a decent guy who'd been hiding behind it all along.

My eyelids fluttered open and it felt like I'd been standing in the same spot for hours rather than seconds.

"You promised," I reminded him.

He lifted both hands on either side of him. "Keeping my hands to myself from now on. Sorry for that, I just couldn't resist," he pouted.

"Try," I paused as I fought the urge to kiss his pouty lip, "Come on. They're in the living room." I said as I slipped my sandals off and made my way into the living room. Still glued to the TV; Zac and Kennedy sat on the couch, neither bothering to look up at us as we walked in.

"Oh! I love this one," Kennedy said smacking Zac on the arm.

"Me too," Brody chimed in from behind me.

Zac jumped from his spot and jogged over to Brody. Kennedy's head whipped around and the look on her face was priceless. Her eyes widened and her jaw hung open. 

"Hey man. What the fuck are you doing here? I mean, it's cool you're here, but I..." Zac stammered before Brody interjected.

"Ran into Allyson at Barry's. I'm here to help her with her interview questions."

Kennedy peeked out from behind Zac, glaring at me before she mouthed. "Allyson?"

I shrugged. Not sure how to explain this mess to my best friend just yet.

"It's cool. Come, have a seat," Zac said pointing at the empty seat on the couch.

I held the bags of food and cleared my throat.

"Oh, right. Thanks, sis. You rock. I'm fucking starved," he said taking them from my hands and plopping them onto the coffee table.

"I'm sorry, Zac. I forgot to get beer," I said.

"It's cool. I'll go in a sec."

Kennedy stood quickly and made her way toward me. I stood still, watching Brody and my brother unwrap the greasy burgers.

Why did I find it such a turn on to watch him eat his food?

A dab of mustard dripped down his chin and I watched as his tongue darted out to lick it off.

I'm fantasizing about licking mustard off this man. Mustard for goodness sakes. Ugh.

Kennedy gripped my arm, quickly snapping me out of my fantasy and pulled me into the hall bathroom.

"What the fuck is going on, Ally?"

I shook my head. "I don't know, Ken. I can't even explain what the hell just happened."

She took both of my arms and turned me to face her. "I'll tell his punk ass to get the fuck out right now, if that's what you want," she snapped.

I shook my head. "No. It's okay. I swear," I said, still in a daze, "and Brody's right, I
do
need his help. Those guys on the team are gonna eat me alive tomorrow. I'm so not prepared for this. What was I thinking when I took this on?" 

"You're sure?" She asked.

"I'm sure."

"If that motherfucker even tries to lay a hand on you, I'll cut his balls off with a rusty pair of scissors."

I laughed and pulled her in for a tight hug. "I love you, Kennedy. This is why we're best friends."

"You better love me, I have to put up with your shit."

I released her and quickly recapped my encounter with Brody at the burger place.

"I think that man is stalking you. He probably put a GPS locater in your purse or something. And this would be the third time you've 'accidentally' run into him. Don't you think that's a little strange? He's got it bad. I saw the way he looks at you. Like you're an all-you-can-eat buffet. "

I smacked her arm. "Shut up. He does not look at me like that and it's purely coincidental," I lied. But I too had seen his eyes when he looked 'hungry' and I had to admit, it was a little odd that we'd run into each other a lot the last few days. "He promised to behave himself."

"Ha! Yeah, right. I'll believe it when I see it," she said. 

"Come on. Let's go eat, I'm starving," I said, opening the bathroom door.

Kennedy and Zac decided a trip to the pool would make it easier for us to 'concentrate', leaving Brody and I alone to work on the interview questions. I sat in the plush recliner across from Brody with my laptop resting on the chair's built-in table, which was more like an airplane tray table. I pulled up the email from my boss with Marissa's questions.

"So, this is what Marissa has so far," I said as I scrolled down to the first question, took a deep breath in order to attempt to maintain my professionalism. "Question number one, when did you get started in hockey and what inspired you to play?"

"That's good, but I really think you need to start out telling the guys about yourself. Ah—you know...make it a little more personal," Brody said as he leaned back against the couch and crossed his feet on the coffee table.

"Honestly, I don't think they'll give a crap about getting to know me."

He smiled, showing his perfectly straight white teeth, which I still assumed were false considering he'd played hockey for so many years.

"Actually, are your teeth real?" I blurted out.

He chuckled and leaned forward, still smiling. "These ones are," he said pointing to his bottom two front teeth, "and so are most of my molars...but all of my top front teeth are implants."

As he spoke I took the opportunity to transcribe his answers, thinking it might be a nice cover piece later on or if worst came to worse, I'd just use Brody's answers in my article.

"Do you mind me taking notes?" I asked.

"Of course not, Allyson. That's why I'm here. Remember?"

I felt my cheeks flare again.

What was it with this man saying my name? His voice was so rough when he spoke, but when he said my name, it was like it was being wrapped in Italian silk with a chocolate flavored bow.

Get a grip, Ally!

I cleared my throat and continued. I couldn't let my hormones get the best of me now, no matter how much I wanted them to take over and put me out of my non-existent-sex-life misery.

"Have you broken any bones playing?" I asked.

"Ha!" He laughed. "Almost all of them as a kid, but most recently it was my nose...for the seventh time. And I've had two concussions, three broken fingers, and a partridge in a pear tree."

I giggled and for the first time, I noticed his nose was slightly askew. I suddenly felt bad for asking, noting he probably had a few other scars beneath his clothes.

Jesus, Ally! Don't think about him naked. Shit!

"A partridge in a pear tree, huh? Seems to me like you're accident prone," I said quickly to keep my mind off seeing his naked body over me.

He shook his head. "Not exactly, sweetheart. I play, I fight, I drink. Lets just say, I have a temper."

"I could see that," I agreed. "Not that it's any of my business, but did you have a good childhood?"

He looked uncomfortable and scratched his head as if he were unsure how to answer my question. I immediately regretted asking it.

"Sorry, you don't have to answer that. I was just curious to know where you grew up is all."

Great save, Ally!

His eyes softened and he relaxed. "It's fine. I just don't think my childhood is worth talking about, but since I can't seem to keep my damn mouth shut around you, I'll tell you about it. Off the record of course."

I nodded. I had stopped taking notes anyway. "Off the record. I promise."

He scooted forward onto the couch and rested his elbows on his knees. He still looked uncomfortable, so I closed my laptop, set it on the coffee and sat Indian-style in the recliner.

"Well, here goes nothing," he said and cursed under his breath. "I was born in Vancouver or at least that's what my birth certificate says. I grew up in North Dakota with my adoptive parents— I've never met my biological parents." I could see the pain and confusion in his eyes.

"North Dakota, huh? That explains your hideous belt buckle," I said pointing, attempting to hold back the inevitable giggle that would escape at any moment.

"What's wrong with it?" He asked.

"Nothin', I guess. I've just never known a hockey playin' cowboy before," I said in my best southern accent, which sounded more like a dying seal.

He laughed, "Is it because I don't wear a cowboy hat or those nut hugging tight jeans?"

I giggled. "What? No. I guess I just didn't peg you for being much of a country boy, that's all."

"I assure you, I'm not. I grew up in a small-ass town in North Dakota that's about as far as my country roots run, as far as the belt buckle goes, it was a gift from my dad."

I nodded, scribbled a few notes and he must have sensed I was watching him closely, because his gaze fell to the floor and he continued, "My parents...they adopted me when I was just a baby because they were told they'd never be able to have children of their own. But three years later...surprise! My brother, Ian was born. When I was seven, Ian was killed by a drunk driver— He was only four when he died— My parents didn't take his death very well. They split up a few months later...I chose to stay with my dad, who turned into a raging alcoholic and eventually lost his job as a rough neck because of it— That's when I took up hockey. A bunch of kids in the shitty neighborhood we lived in taught me how to play street hockey. It cleared my mind and gave me somewhere to go after school everyday, so I didn't have to fight with my dad—" He paused and clasped his hands together. "He killed himself two days before my 10th birthday."

"Oh, my god. Brody, I'm so sorry," I said.

Tears began to sting the corners of my eyes as Brody recalled his horrendous childhood. I rose from my seat and sat next to him on the couch with my hands folded loosely in my lap.

"Don't be. He was an asshole and a dead beat," he said as he straightened his back and ran his fingers through his thick brown hair. "So, I was sent back to live with my mom, Yvonne, who lived in Colorado at the time. She married a rich guy who was only nine years older than me. He owned a luxury car dealership chain in Denver and moved her into his mansion in Highland's Ranch. Pete, my stepdad, hated me from day one. Told me I was the reason she left in the first place and I shouldn't expect either of them to treat me like a son. They cut me out of their lives and the next day, Pete handed me a check and called it a 'write off', that was the last I spoke to either of them. They put me up in the guest house and hired Esmeralda, to cook, clean and basically take care of me. They didn't give a shit what I did and I guess I didn't either."

"I continued my ritual of going to school everyday and playing hockey at night. I put Pete's money in a savings account and swore I'd never touch it, but as with all things in life, I needed to pay for stuff like equipment, training and club dues for hockey. Esmeralda helped me study for tests and fill out college applications. My senior year in high school, I was offered a full ride scholarship to play for the University of Denver. So, I moved out of the house and into the dorms. That was the last time I saw Yvonne or Pete."

"I still talk to Essie as much as I can, but she's an old lady now and doesn't remember me like she use to...she has Alzheimer's." He paused for a moment. "I got a call from the Rattlesnakes my junior year in college. I tried out for the team and a couple weeks later, I dropped out of college, packed my shit up and moved here," he said.

I sat quietly with my hand over my mouth trying to wrap my head around the story he'd just told me. And all I wanted to do was hold him close to me...close to my heart. I couldn't believe someone would do that to a child. Their own child no less, adopted or not.

"Jesus, Brody. How could they do that to you? I mean, you were so young...and all alone. How?" I asked quietly.

He leaned back and shrugged. "She didn't want me anymore. And if I'd known that I could've filed emancipation when I turned sixteen, I probably would have. I just didn't want to leave Essie. Plus, Allyson, I wasn't alone, I had Essie. I also fell into a bad crowd in high school. I did things I'm not proud of. But I can't take them back. I just knew I had to get out of there or I'd end up in jail or dead."

I reached over and gripped his hand tightly. He didn't move it away or hold mine, he just sat quietly.

"God. I'm so sorry I brought it up, Brody. If I'd known..." I began.

"Stop apologizing, Ally. You wouldn't have known unless you asked. I've spent a good portion of my adult life in therapy, so honestly, I don't mind talking about it. I've made my peace with Yvonne and Pete and the fucked up path I chose for myself. But I'm happy now. I get to do what I love, play hockey; and since the pub opened I haven't had much time to dwell on the old bullshit. I try to keep busy," he said as he reached down with his other hand and placed it over mine.

My heart raced and my stomach filled with butterflies. 

"Can I tell you something?" I asked, unsure why I suddenly felt compelled to share my rocky past with him. 

"Is this off the record?"

"Yeah, sure," I said.

"Sure, I'm all ears."

I moved my hand from underneath his and balled my fists at my side.

You can do this, Ally. You owe him an explanation for being such a bitch earlier.  

"First of all, I want to apologize for being so short with you earlier. I've just had a lot on my mind lately," I said.

"I've been there. I know exactly how you feel and if you want to talk about it, I'm all ears," he said. 

"Three years ago, my fiancé was killed in a car crash," I blurted out. "His name is...was Andrew. We had the most amazing life planned out together. We promised to spend every minute of our lives remembering how lucky were to have found each other. The night of the accident, he proposed to me and I said yes. We were on our way home and we were t-boned by a drunk driver who ran a red light. I don't remember much. Just that it was snowing really bad and I was distracting him 'cause I'd had too much champagne. I remember seeing the headlights and waking up to the sound of a man's voice telling me to keep my eyes closed because there was glass everywhere. I went in and out of consciousness several times." I recalled as tears threatened to fall.  "And—Um...A-Andrew died a few hours later. I-I couldn't do anything to help him a-and I didn't get to s-say goodbye," I choked out, tears now streaming down my face. I closed my eyes tightly and Andrew's face flashed in my mind.

I felt Brody's hand on my back rubbing small circles across my shoulder blades. Instinctively, I tensed and backed away from him. He removed his hand from my back while I continued to sob uncontrollably. I'd balled myself up into the corner of the couch and covered my face with my hands.

"I'm so sorry, I didn't mean for this to happen," he said softly. I felt him shift his weight on the couch and I knew I needed to get it together.

Stop crying. Get it together, Ally. Stop crying, now.

But I couldn't. The memory was fresh in my mind as if it were yesterday and my heart literally hurt when I recalled the accident. I let out a few more chokes and sniffs, wiped my eyes with the back of my hand and opened them to find Brody had gone.

I shot up off the couch and sprinted to the door only to catch a glimpse of Brody's shiny red motorcycle roar down the street.

Damn it, Ally. What have you done?