After months on end of vacillating between feeling like shit and feeling worse than shit, I couldn’t get enough of this new reality. There were still plenty of moments where I felt awful. Plenty of times when the grief, the guilt, and the shame caught up with me and beat me down until I could barely move.
But my therapists were helping me see that those were never forever. There was a light at the end of the tunnel, even if it still seemed far away, and the closer I got to it, the brighter everything seemed. As painfully slow as the process was turning out to be, it was forward motion. It was hope. It was more moments of almost feeling like myself again.
And it was also tumbling into bed with the sweetest, most amazing man I’d ever met. He could make me forget about everything except for him, and when we were together—whether we were fooling around or just watching a game on the couch—I feltgood. That, more than anything, gave me hope for the future that was waiting for me at the end of this long, dark tunnel.
Today, Peyton had practiced with the team, then did some light two-on-two with me, Eminem, and Baddy. Afterward, we’d come back to my place where he’d drilled me into the mattress twice. That was followed by a long shower that involved a lot of making out, after which we’d returned to the rumpled bed, which was where we were now. He had his head on my chest, his scruff brushing my skin as we just lay there, basking in this comfortable closeness. I was still drowsy from two orgasms and a shower, but I wasn’t falling asleep—I was just completely chill and happy. My body ached from both skating and sex, and that, too, felt good.
I absently carded my fingers through Peyton’s hair, which was still damp and spiky from the shower. “I think I like this post-practice two-on-two.”
“Yeah?” He lifted his head to meet my gaze. “Why’s that?”
I smirked. “Mostly because the three of you are tired and I have an advantage.”
He snorted and rolled his eyes, bumping me playfully with his knee. “Yeah, well, enjoy it while it lasts. When you come back to practice, we’re going to bring you down a peg.”
“Ha. You think.”
“Uh-huh.” He lifted his chin to kiss me softly, then shifted so he was partway on top of me. “Behave, or I’ll tell them you’ve been talking shit.”
“Oh. Yeah.That’llbe a revelation.” I draped my arms around his neck. “They’ll just ask you what the fuck else is new.”
Peyton laughed, then came down for a longer kiss. Not enough to get either of us spun up, just something gentle and languid. It had been so long since I’d dated or even hooked up, I’d forgotten how much I loved kissing lazily likethis. And lucky me—I’d met a man who apparently loved it as much as I did.
After a little while, he broke the kiss and settled onto the pillow beside me. He was on his side, so I mirrored him, and that was when I noticed the slight furrow in his brow. An unspoken thought, if I had to guess.
I trailed my fingertips down his arm. “What’s on your mind?”
“Well…” He held my gaze as he rested his hand on my waist. “There’s something I want to ask you about, but… if you don’t want to talk about, I’ll understand.”
Okay, now I was definitely curious. I found his other hand between us and laced our fingers together. “Sure. What’s on your mind?”
He studied me, then swiped his tongue across his lips. “I’m curious about Leif.”
My stomach somersaulted, but I tried not to let it show. “What about him?”
Peyton half-shrugged. “Anything, really. I know about him as a hockey player. Everyone does. But I never knew him, you know? As a person?”
“Oh.” I chewed my lip.
“If you don’t want to talk about him—right now or ever—that’s fine. I’m just curious.”
“No, no, it’s okay.” I breathed a soft laugh. “Just… trying to figure out where to start.”
Peyton swallowed. “You guys met in major juniors, right?”
I nodded. “Yeah. He was a year ahead of me, and our billet families were across the street from each other. They traded off driving us to practices and stuff, so we spent a lot of time together right off the bat.” I exhaled. “It was great, having someone there who knew the ropes. Like, I knewhockey, but major juniors, living away from home, a new city—it was a lot.”
“I remember. It was overwhelming.”
“Seriously. And we clicked pretty quickly anyway, on and off the ice.”
“Were you guys linemates back then?”
“Not at first.” I watched my thumb running along the back of his. “But five or six games into the season, his winger went down with the flu, so they bumped me up to the top line. The coaches liked the way we played together, so even after the winger came back, they kept me with Leif.”
Peyton grimaced. “How did his winger feel about that?”
I half-shrugged. “Honestly, we kind of had a 1A and 1B situation instead of a first and second line, so it wasn’t much of a demotion, you know?”
