Chapter 14

I’m getting dressed at the training facility after my shower Friday afternoon.

“You coming to the Sin Bin?” Rupper calls to me.

“Nope. I’m getting on a plane in, like, two hours.”

“Oh, yeah? Where are you off to?”

“New York. Just for the weekend.”

“Hey, cool. What’s up there?”

“Not much. Visiting a…friend.” The hesitation is so slight I don’t think anyone will notice, but no.

“A ‘friend.’ ” Austin smirks. “Right.”

I can’t help but grin. “Right.”

“Well, this is interesting. You having some kind of long-distance affair, Hallsy?”

I shrug. “I guess that’s what it is. Not serious.”

“Well, don’t wear yourself out. We’re back here Monday morning.”

“He’ll be spending most of the weekend in bed, I bet,” Ben says.

“Yeah, but he’s old.” Jacob grins.

“Fuck you, punk.” I throw a towel at him. “I’ve got more stamina than you’ll ever have.”

Jacob laughs “I get no complaints from Skylar.”

I haven’t met his girlfriend but he talks about her all the time. He and Ben seem awfully young to be in such serious relationships, but they’re both pretty mature kids, with good heads on their shoulders.

I already packed a bag and left it in my SUV, so I’m heading straight to the airport. “Take it easy, ladies,” I call as I leave.

Once I’m at my gate at O’Hare I have time to kill, so I wander the concourse and look in some of the shops. I spot the game Loaded Question that we were playing at the lake last weekend, and impulsively buy it. Maybe Kendra and I can play the strip version of it. I add a stuffed beagle dog that looks amazingly like Ace, remembering how much Kendra loved the dog. Then I find some Chicago mix popcorn, so I buy a big bag of that for her.

A few hours later my taxi pulls up in front of her building on West 23rd. It’s an older building, well kept. I buzz up and she greets me and lets me in. I walk up to the second floor of the four-story building and find her apartment. She throws open the door and when I see her face, I’m filled with a rush of…something. Happiness, I guess. Her smile fills my chest with a fizzy warmth. It makes me feel good to see her.

She looks amazing, though she’s totally casual, her hair in a messy knot on top of her head, and she’s wearing a long gray tank top over cropped black leggings.

I slide a hand around the back of her neck and kiss her, drawing out the touch of our mouths while I enjoy the velvety feel of her lips and the flick of her tongue against mine. She pulls back and murmurs, “Keep it G-rated. We have company.”

Right. I look over her shoulder and see a cute little girl standing there holding what appears to be an elephant. A blue elephant. Her big eyes meet mine, and she shoves a thumb into her mouth.

“This is Zyana.” Kendra stands aside so I can come farther into her apartment and shuts and locks the door behind me.

“Hey, Zyana. Nice to meet you.”

I get nothing.

“She’s a little shy,” Kendra whispers to me. “Especially with men. Come on in.”

I drop my bag in the small foyer and follow her as she scoops up the curly-haired girl and carries her into the living room.

“Who’s that?” I ask, pointing to Zyana’s elephant.

“Dis is Wooby.” She holds the elephant so I can see it.

I look at Kendra.

“Ruby’s an elephant,” she says.

I smile. “Ruby’s a nice elephant.”

“Okay, cupcake, back to bed.”

“Don’t wanna go to seep.”

Kendra makes a face at me and sighs. “Her mom’ll be here in less than an hour and she’ll wake up anyway.” She looks back at Zyana. “But if you’re a grouchy bear tomorrow, your mom will be mad at me.”

“I won’t be gwouchy.” She gazes back at Kendra with big eyes and a smile.

She’s adorable.

“Would you like a drink?” Kendra looks at me.

“Sure…just water.”

She smiles as she moves to the kitchen. “I should have known. Want some apple juice, cupcake?”

“Yes. Pweeze.”

Cute and well mannered.

I look around Kendra’s apartment. It’s not big but has a cozy feel, and it’s clearly been recently remodeled, with shiny dark hardwood floors, a white brick fireplace centered between two deep windows and pristine white baseboards and door casings. The tiny kitchen is separated from the living room by a granite counter and has stainless-steel appliances, although they’re all tucked in together along the back wall with a couple of dark wood cabinets. The stove is small and there’s just a single sink.

I follow Zyana to a beige leather couch, where she hops up and cuddles her elephant. There’s a fluffy beige throw lying on the couch.

Kendra carries over a plastic cup for Zyana and a bottle of water for me. “You want to lie down on the couch?” she asks the little girl. “Here. I’ll sit here and you can put your head on my lap.” After Zyana drinks some juice, Kendra arranges a cushion on her lap and covers Zyana with the blanket. I sit at the far end of the couch.

“I hear you were sick,” I say to Zyana. “Are you feeling better?”

She nods, but her eyes are heavy as she snuggles in with Ruby, and it’s not long before her eyelids droop on her round cheeks.

Kendra tenderly smooths her dark brown curls off her face, then looks up at me. “She’s still not herself.”

“She’s a sweetheart,” I say softly.

She nods. “Yep. So how was your flight?”

“Fine.”

“How’s your butt?”

I choke a little on my water. “Maybe you should check it out.”

“I’d love to. In a little while.”

She rests her hand gently on Zyana’s head.

“How old is she?”

“Two. She’s a big girl.”

We talk softly for a while, catching up on things we haven’t texted or talked about over the past two weeks until Kendra’s phone pings where it sits on her coffee table. She picks it up and peers at it. “That’s Jodie. She’s here.” She slips carefully out from beneath the sleeping girl and goes over to buzz her friend in, then opens the door a crack.

A moment later a woman walks in, pretty, dark-haired with big black glasses, wearing a short, flippy white skirt, a loose, lacy white top, and beige suede sandal booties, the kind of shoes that I don’t understand because boots are meant to cover your feet up. Her face wears a slightly anxious expression. “How’s she doing?”

Kendra motions to Zyana, asleep on the couch. “She’s fine. Still a little lethargic but fine.”

Jodie’s face softens. “Oh, good.” She bites her lip. “Probably can’t get her home without waking her up. Cab’s waiting for me downstairs.”

“You should just let her sleep over,” Kendra says.

“Next time,” Jodie agrees.

“Her bag’s all packed.”

I stand. “Can I carry her down for you?”

“Jodie, this is Max. Max, Jodie.”

Jodie moves toward me and extends her hand, which I shake. She’s giving me a hard assessment and I don’t know what she’s thinking. “Nice to meet you.” She slings a big backpack over her shoulder. “Sure, I’ll accept your offer.”

I gather up the sleeping girl and lead the way down the stairs. Jodie slides into the taxi and I lower Zyana onto her lap. She almost wakes up, wrapping her arms around her mom. “There you go.”

“Thank you! Wish I had more time to visit a bit.”

“Yeah. Maybe another time.”

Kendra came down, too, and waits on the sidewalk to wave goodbye to her friend. We climb back up to her apartment.

“Okay, now I can put my hands all over you.” I reach for her as soon as she locks the door behind her.

She smiles and loops her arms around my neck. “Lech.”

“Yeah.” I nuzzle the side of her neck where she smells so good. “Because you’re so goddamn sexy.”

She shivers in my arms. “Mmm.” Her head goes back and I kiss her throat, then lick my way up to her mouth where she opens for me and our tongues slide together in a scorching kiss that makes my dick instantly hard.

I wanted to kiss her like this the minute I walked into her apartment.

My entire body is electrified with pleasure. We’ve sexted and had video sex but nothing, nothing, is like having her in my arms, her soft curves pressed to me, her mouth open to me so I can slide my tongue inside and taste her sweetness. Our bodies press together like we’re starved for each other and we kiss until we both have to break apart, panting. I lean my forehead against hers. “Now, that’s a better hello,” I murmur against her lips. “Wanted to do that the minute I saw you.” Her head tips back and I lick her throat.

“Oh, me, too. God…”

I take her hand and lead her back to her couch and we sit again, this time with her cuddled up against me, her legs hooked over mine. “So that’s Jodie and Zyana.”

“Yes. She had a date tonight. She didn’t want to go, but I convinced her Zyana would be fine.”

“Single mom?”

“Yep.”

“That’s hard.”

“It is at times, but it was her choice. She had in vitro because she wanted a baby but she didn’t want a man.”

“Oh.” I blink. “Is she a lesbian?”

“No.” She smiles. “She likes men, she just hadn’t found a guy she wanted to father her children. So she went ahead and had a child on her own.”

“Wow. That takes guts.”

“She’s definitely got guts. And she’s got me,” she adds modestly. “She knows I’m there for her no matter what. We actually considered moving in together so I could help more, but considering that we’re friends and business partners, we thought spending every minute of every day together might be a bit much. We need our space. But she only lives a few blocks away and I do what I can. Having our own business means there’s flexibility—she can vary her hours and work from home sometimes.”

“Cool. It looks like Zyana loves you.”

“Aw. Yeah, she does. I love her, too.” Her bottom lip actually quivers.

Since I met Kendra—wow, a month ago—I haven’t seen her look like this…soft and emotional. Not that she’s cold…but she comes across as strong and composed…confident. And I really like that about her. But at this moment I feel a fiercely protective instinct to hold her and be strong for her. Because even strong people need someone to be there for them, sometimes.

So I do it. I lift her onto my lap, wrap my hands in her long hair like I’ve wanted to for weeks, and I kiss her again, this time slower, with lingering licks and gentle nips at her lips.

I slide a hand up under the long tank top to find skin…warm, smooth skin…and give her another long, deep, wet, drugging kiss. She melts into me with a soft sound in her throat that turns me on powerfully.

My hands caress her back while hers slip into my hair. My scalp tingles and sparks slide down my spine to my low back, which is aching, or maybe that’s my balls, I don’t know; my whole body is on fire for her. “I have something for you.”

“I know.” She shifts on my lap. “I can feel it.”

I choke on a laugh and tighten my arms around her. “Besides that.”

“Ooh, like a present?”

“Yeah. Like a present. A few presents. Don’t get too excited, they’re not much.”

“I love presents.”

I go get the gifts I brought her. Her eyes light up with delight at the popcorn and she laughs when she sees the game. But when I give her the stuffed dog, her eyes get all shiny and her lip quivers again. She hugs it to her chest and closes her eyes, and I can see she’s trying not to cry.

“Um…you like it?” I’m not sure what’s happening.

“I love it.” Her voice is thick. She opens her eyes and gives me a wobbly smile. “It’s almost like one I had when I was a little girl. His name was Buster.” She swallows. “I loved that dog. I slept with him for years. He got a little worn out. So my mom threw him out.”

My head jerks back and I stare at her. “She threw out the dog you loved?”

Her smile goes crooked. “Yeah. She did things like that. It was part of her issues with boundaries.” She shakes her head. “I could tell you all kinds of stories. She gave away my memory box…where I kept cards and ticket stubs and my old diaries. In high school when I was getting an award of recognition for the work I did with the Bee Buzz, she decided at the last minute to take my brothers to the mall, and she took the car. I ended up having to take the bus and I got there late and missed when they called my name.”

“Jesus Christ. That’s fucked up, baby.” My insides tighten and rage rises hot inside me that someone would do that to her.

“Yes. It is.” She looks down at the stuffed dog I bought her on a whim. “Thank you. I love him.”

“You can name him Buster.”

“I think I will.” She meets my eyes and her smile is easier now, happier.

And even though she has some messed-up shit in her past, and I inadvertently brought back some sad memories, I’m glad I made her happy. I lean down and kiss her softly. It doesn’t take long for the heat to build again, though. My hands wander over her, and she releases Buster to let me explore. I cup her breast and squeeze. Christ. She’s not wearing a bra.

She covers my hand on her breast with hers. “I love that.”

“Mmm. Me, too. Missed these beauties.” I whisk her top over her head to reveal them. “Damn, Kendra.” I cover both tits with my hands, rubbing, squeezing, then pinching her nipples between thumb and forefinger.

“You know what that does to me.” She lets out a little moan. “You’re making me so hot.”

I bend my head to suck on her and she goes molten against me. I end with a scrape of my teeth over a tight bud and she gives a soft cry.

“Time for the bedroom.”

“Okay.” She doesn’t move, though, just shoves her face into the side of my neck, breathing hard.

“You okay, baby?”

She whimpers. “I missed you.”

“Missed you, too. Come on.” I lever my arms under her and stand, picking her up, and I carry her into her bedroom.

Much later I go get the tin of popcorn and bring it to Kendra in bed. Buster is sitting on the nightstand. Her hands go grabby for the popcorn. “Gimme that.”

I grin and hand it over as I slide back under the covers.

She leans over and gives me a big smooch on the lips. “Thank you so much. You’re awesome.” Then she looks at the tin holding the popcorn. “A Chicago Aces tin?”

“Of course.”

“I guess we never debated whether the hockey’s better in New York or Chicago.”

“Come on.” I try for a wounded look. “You can’t even seriously debate that.”

She laughs. “I’m not enough of a hockey expert to weigh in.”

“Take my word for it. The Aces win.”

She munches a piece of caramel popcorn. “Thank you again.”

“You can show me how thankful you are.”

“Oh, yeah? How?” She gives me an innocent look as she eats more popcorn.

“By sharing that popcorn.”

Saturday afternoon, following a late, lazy start to our day, Kendra takes me to the High Line, close to her place.

“This is pretty cool.” I look around as we walk the elevated pathway that used to be a railroad trestle. The views are awesome, and there’s lots of greenery and flowers and places to sit.

“Something New York has on Chicago.”

I chuckle. “Are we keeping score?”

“I thought it was a competition.”

“Hmm. I am competitive…”

“Somehow I knew that.” She links her arm with mine. “This is often where I come to run. It’s not Lake Michigan, but it’s pretty good. Sometimes I just come up here to walk or sit and enjoy the sun.”

We pause at a grouping of chairs and sit with our Starbucks coffees. I lean back and absorb the warmth of the sun. “Yeah. It’s good.”

“Glad you admit it.” She nudges my arm.

I open one eye. “I haven’t admitted New York is better than Chicago.”

“You will.”

“Not gonna happen. However, I am willing to enjoy what New York has to offer for the weekend.”

“Pizza?”

“Well, actually I was thinking about you.” I smirk. “But sure. You know the saying about pizza.”

“What?”

“It’s like sex. When it’s good, it’s really good. When it’s bad, it’s still pretty good.”

She laughs. “Can’t argue with that.”

After, we go to Chelsea Market and have lunch, devouring a couple of Reuben sandwiches. Or I should say, I devour mine, Kendra eats half and has the other half packaged up to take home, because they are definitely huge sandwiches. It’s my cheat day, so I enjoy the pastrami along with a delicious craft beer.

Then we wander around and check out some shops. The day is getting super-hot, heat shimmering off the pavement and making both of us sweat, so we stop for another beer on an outdoor patio, sitting in the shade of some trees, before continuing on our shopping trip where Kendra picks up a pair of shoes that she apparently can’t live without. After that we buy a bottle of wine to take back to her place for later.

She takes me to a wood-fired pizza restaurant that I have to admit is pretty fucking good, and after we eat, we walk back to her place. The temperature is cooling off, the sun lower now. The streets are really nice, lined with old buildings and canopied with trees.

In her apartment, I like how it feels like home. I drop the shopping bags with her new shoes, the wine and her leftover lunch on the counter and throw myself down on her couch. “My feet are killing me. We must have walked a hundred miles.”

She laughs and brings me a bottle of water, with one for herself. She drops down beside me, kicks off her sandals and rests her bare feet on the coffee table. “Probably, yeah. You’re supposed to be in great shape, hockey dude. What’s all the training for if you can’t walk a hundred miles?”

I guzzle back the water. “I am in great shape. Or getting there, anyway.”

“You’re in more than great shape. You’re an elite athlete. And I’m very appreciative of it.” She trails her hand from my chest down over my abs.

I like that.

“How do you stay motivated?” she asks, reminding me of one of our text conversations. “There must be days you don’t feel like working out.”

“Sure.” I ponder her question. “But it’s not about how I feel. It’s about what my goal is.”

“So it’s important to have a goal.”

“Well, yeah. But it’s more than that. When you first set a goal, of course you’re motivated to achieve it. But that doesn’t last forever. It just doesn’t. You have to make decisions about what to do every day, no matter how you feel. Sure, there are days I’m tired and don’t feel like going to the gym. And times I want to scarf down an entire pizza. But I have to decide what to do not based on how I feel but what I want to achieve. What’s important to me. And making the team is important to me.” I pause. “It’s everything to me.”

She nods slowly. “I think that’s true of most successful people. And you will be successful.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence. I guess it’s a mind-set. It’s going to hurt but I know it’s going to be worthwhile. The Dalai Lama says pain is inevitable, but suffering is optional.”

She gives me a long look. “I can’t believe a jock just quoted the Dalai Lama to me.”

I catch the teasing glint in her eyes. “Hey. I’m not just a hard body, you know.”

She leans in and says, “I know,” before closing her eyes and kissing me.

“Tell me why you stopped doing counseling.”

Kendra doesn’t answer immediately. Then she sighs and shifts against me, her naked curves soft and warm against me in her bed later that night. “It’s a long, ugly story.”

My gut tightens as I stroke her shoulder. “You don’t want to talk about it?”

“Nah, it’s okay. I can. I struggled as a therapist a bit. I always wanted to help people. That’s what drove me to want to do counseling work. I like the feeling of helping people be better. Helping fix things. I did it my whole life because of my mom.”

“Huh. That messed-up bitch.” I pause. “Uh, sorry.”

“It’s okay. I’ve thought worse. Before I understood there was actually something wrong with her. Narcissistic personality disorder. It made my childhood tough. She never loved anyone as much as she loved herself.”

“Ugh.”

“Yeah. It definitely impacted me and my sense of self-worth, but I found a way to make myself feel better, and that was by looking after everyone else—my dad, my brothers.”

“I can understand that. I have three little sisters.”

“Holy crap.”

“Yeah. I mean, it’s not like my parents had issues like yours—they were great. But even so, I felt responsible for those girls. I had to look out for them at school and keep them safe.”

“I’m picturing that,” she says softly and I feel her smile. “So, I’d cook meals when my mom couldn’t be bothered. Do laundry when they ran out of clean clothes. Help my brothers with homework. I always hoped that Mom would notice what I was doing and say thank you. But she never did.”

My heart contracts sharply and my arms tighten around her.

“How did your dad handle it?”

She sighs. “He loves her a lot. He still does. He thinks she’s perfect. Or…he pretends he does. I’m not actually sure. He’d always be telling us how wonderful she was, how beautiful, how generous, how caring. And it was so weird, because that didn’t really match up with what I knew. I remember feeling…I guess, sort of betrayed by him. Left out. I didn’t really understand it as a kid, other than I felt like there was no room for me and my brothers in their relationship.”

“Christ.” Hearing more about her shitty childhood is ripping my insides apart. I fucking hate that she went through that. And I’m understanding more about that tattoo on the back of her neck. From struggle comes strength.

“One of the good things that came of it was that my brothers and I are all really close. Even though we don’t live close together anymore.”

“Where are they?”

“Jason is still in Madison. He has a tech business there that develops software for healthcare facilities. And Ryan lives in Minneapolis. He’s a business development specialist for the city.”

“Cool.”

“They’re smart guys.”

I can hear the pride in her voice when she talks about them.

“Anyway, I guess that’s what led me to psychology and a desire to help people. And for a couple years I did feel I was doing that. But it takes a huge emotional toll on you, listening to people’s problems day after day.”

I can only imagine. I’ve seen how soft her heart is even though she’s all confident and casual on the outside.

“And then…” She pauses and I feel the tension in her body. “I had a patient who committed suicide.”

“Oh, no.” My heart clenches.

“Yeah. I felt guilty. I was beating myself up over not being able to help her, trying to figure out what I missed, what more I could have done. And yet, as a professional I know there often are no signs at all that someone intends to take their life. I counseled family members who felt guilty after losing a loved one to suicide, trying to figure out what they could have done. I told them all that, and assured them that someone’s decision to end their own life is their decision and nobody else’s fault. And yet I couldn’t get myself through it.”

“Did you get help?” I ask quietly.

“I did. Thankfully, I was aware enough to know I needed it. But I came to the realization that I wasn’t happy and I needed to find another purpose for my life. I also came to the realization that I can’t fix everyone, much as I’ve tried over the years. I felt so completely powerless…which is exactly how I felt as a kid, trying to make my mother love me, when she really wasn’t able to.”

“Shit.” My chest burns at hearing this. I smooth my hand up and down her arm, her back, the only way I know to show her that I feel for her.

“You know the rest,” she says in a lighter tone. “I found a new purpose in my life. Orgasms.”

“You’ve done great, Kendra.” Truly, I’m blown away by the things she’s overcome.

“Thanks. We all have our challenges, right? You’ve been through hard times, too.”

“Yeah.” I swallow. Not to minimize my own problems, but I feel a little guilty for being so absorbed in my own shit when she’s had so much to deal with, too. But she understands. She’s been through pain and sorrow and grief and guilt, just like I have. I admire her persistence and her commitment to what she believes in, because I’ve felt those things, too.

And it makes me feel connected to her. An intense connection to something so deep inside me. It makes me feel like I’m not alone.