16. Tom

Chapter 16

Tom

S aint led me into the office, where a television hung on the wall. The screen displayed NHL Tonight , and there was Nick, seated in an elegant suit that emphasized his athletic build. His face, a younger reflection of my own, appeared under the bright studio lights. His dark hair, perfectly styled, contrasted with the sharpness of his jawline.

Holly, the host, leaned in slightly, her expression eager. “Nick, your father just received a prestigious coaching award. Any thoughts on that?”

Nick’s lips curled into a tight smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Yeah, it’s... something,” he said, his voice laced with thinly veiled sarcasm.

Holly pressed on, not picking up on his tone or maybe choosing to ignore it. “He’s had quite the career, both as a player and a coach. What do you think contributed to his success?”

Nick adjusted his tie, taking a moment as if he were considering his words carefully. “Well,” he began slowly, “I guess you could say he’s good at pushing people to their limits. Not everyone can handle that. And definitely dedicating his life to it. Putting it above everything else."

Saint glanced at me out of the corner of his eye, but remained silent.

Holly’s enthusiasm never wavered. “And how about your relationship with him? Do you think his coaching style influenced your own career in any way?”

Nick let out a short laugh that carried no warmth. “Influence? Sure. Let’s just say I learned what not to do.” He leaned back in his chair, crossing one leg over the other in a gesture that spoke volumes about his disdain.

“Could you elaborate on that?” Holly probed further.

Nick shrugged as if the answer were obvious. “He’s all about control and perfectionism. Not much room for mistakes or being human.”

I felt a tightening in my chest, but kept my face impassive.

“Any advice for aspiring players who might look up to both you and your father?” she asked, her voice unwaveringly positive.

Nick’s eyes flicked towards the camera with an intensity that could cut through steel. “Just remember that being great at something doesn’t mean you’re great at everything else.” He paused for effect before adding, “Especially not relationships.”

Saint shifted uncomfortably beside me but said nothing.

“Thank you for your honesty,” Holly replied smoothly, wrapping up the segment. “It’s always great to hear from one of the league’s rising stars.”

The screen switched to a commercial break as I stood there, feeling every inch of distance between my son and me.

"Your son's a dick," Saint said, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Tell me something I don't know," I muttered, running a hand through my hair. The greys at my temples felt like physical manifestations of the stress Nick put me through. Disappointment gnawed at my gut, but it wasn't new. Just another layer added to the endless stack of missed opportunities and unspoken words between us.

I stared at the blank TV screen, the echo of Nick’s last words ringing in my ears. Being great at something doesn’t mean you’re great at everything else. He wasn’t wrong. We could have had a strong relationship, Nick and I. But that opportunity was taken from me long before he ever held a hockey stick.

And honestly? It hadn't helped when Nick found out about me and Ally. Not that things were on their way to get better anyway, but it hadn't helped.

A sigh escaped me as I slumped into the nearest chair. That night with Ally was supposed to be nothing more than a brief escape from my own screwed-up life. Instead, it became another wedge driven between my son and me.

And it became everything to me.

Nick's face flashed in my mind, twisted in anger and betrayal when he found out. The image felt like a knife twisting deeper into an already raw wound. His mother had been quick to fan those flames, making sure Nick saw me as nothing more than a selfish bastard who couldn't keep his hands off his ex-girlfriend.

I couldn’t blame him for hating me for it; hell, sometimes I hated myself for it too.

Saint’s voice cut through my thoughts. "You think there's any way to fix this?"

"I don't know," I admitted, feeling the weight of those words sink into me. It wasn’t just about Ally or Nick or even my career anymore. It was about years of mistakes and regrets piled so high I could barely see over them. "I don't even know if I want to."

Saint nodded as if he'd expected that answer all along.

I appreciated the sentiment, but doubted there was anything left to salvage. The gap between Nick and me felt like an unbridgeable chasm, one that no amount of apologies or explanations could ever span.

I closed my eyes, trying to shut out the noise from the television and the chaotic thoughts in my mind. The image of Ally, her auburn hair framing her delicate face, filled the darkness behind my eyelids. Being with her was the only thing that made sense anymore. She was my first priority—something I never thought I'd have—ever.

The way she looked at me, with those expressive blue eyes, made me feel like I was worth something more than just my past mistakes. Yet, there was a shadow lurking in those eyes, a barrier she wouldn't let me cross. Something was going on with her, and the fact that she didn't trust me enough to share it gnawed at my insides.

How bad could it be? What kind of weight was she carrying alone?

My thoughts drifted back to the night we met. She had been raw and real, her vulnerability laid bare before me. But now, that openness had vanished, replaced by walls I couldn’t seem to breach.

She tried to act like everything was fine when we were together, but I could see through it. Her smiles didn’t reach her eyes anymore, and sometimes, when she thought I wasn’t looking, her expression would cloud over with something heavy and painful.

I wanted to help her carry whatever burden she bore, but she kept me at arm’s length. It felt like watching someone drown while being tied to the shore—helpless and infuriating.

I exhaled slowly, feeling the tension in my shoulders refuse to ease up. Ally meant everything to me now. I never thought I'd feel this way about anyone again. Not after all the crap I'd been through—the injury, the failed relationship, the strained relationship with Nick.

But with Ally? It felt different. It felt real in a way nothing else had for a long time.

Yet this secret of hers threatened to put a wedge between us. How could we move forward if she couldn’t trust me enough to let me in?

The uncertainty gnawed at me every day, making it harder to focus on anything else. Coaching? My career? None of it mattered as much as being there for her did.

I opened my eyes again and stared blankly at the TV screen, its flickering images now just background noise. Ally was what mattered now. Whatever it took, I needed to find a way to get through to her—to let her know that she didn’t have to carry whatever it was alone.

But first, she had to let me in.

I woke to the gentle patter of a light spring drizzle against the roof. The soft sound was a stark contrast to the whirlwind of emotions swirling in my head. I lay there for a moment, taking in the familiar surroundings of my townhouse, trying to ground myself.

Ally slept next to me, her auburn hair splayed across the pillow like a halo. She looked peaceful; her face relaxed and devoid of the tension. Her freckles stood out against her pale skin, adding a touch of innocence that belied the strength she carried within. Her lips, slightly parted, seemed softer in sleep, free from the burdens she tried so hard to hide during the day.

Careful not to disturb her, I slowly pulled away, ensuring she remained wrapped snugly in the blankets. She murmured something unintelligible but didn’t wake as I slipped out of bed.

I found my sweats on the floor and pulled them on quietly. The room felt cool and damp from the drizzle outside, but it was a welcome contrast to the warmth of Ally’s body heat that lingered on my skin.

The house was silent as I made my way to the kitchen. It had a modern charm to it—sleek but cozy. The wooden floors creaked slightly under my weight, but it was a comforting sound in its own way. It reminded me of simpler times before life became so damn complicated.

I reached the kitchen and found myself staring out of the window for a moment. The world outside looked fresh and new under the soft autumn rain. I needed this moment of calm before facing whatever came next.

The kitchen smelled faintly of coffee from yesterday, and I moved on autopilot, reaching for a mug and filling it with water before setting it on to boil. As I waited for it to heat up, my thoughts drifted back to Ally sleeping peacefully in the other room.

Seeing her like that—so vulnerable and unguarded—stirred something deep within me. A protective instinct I hadn’t felt in years. It wasn’t just about wanting her; it was about needing to be there for her in ways no one else could be.

But first things first: coffee.

The kettle whistled softly, snapping me back to reality.

I poured the steaming water over the coffee grounds, the rich aroma filling the kitchen and mingling with the cool morning air. It was a small comfort, something normal in a life that had become anything but. I watched as the dark liquid dripped into the pot, feeling a strange sense of satisfaction at such a simple task.

Setting the coffee to brew, I rummaged through the fridge, pulling out eggs and bacon. A proper breakfast seemed like a good idea—something to start the day right. A surprise for her, to show her I could. To show her I cared.

I cracked the eggs into a bowl and whisked them with practiced ease. Cooking wasn’t my forte, but how hard could scrambled eggs be?

The bacon sizzled in the pan, curling up at the edges as it cooked. I turned my attention to the eggs, pouring them into another pan and stirring them slowly. Everything seemed to be going well until I got distracted by a text.

I glanced at the name. Fucking Janet. It was too damn early for her bullshit. What the fuck could she want from me this damn early?

My hand slipped, knocking over the salt shaker and sending grains scattering across the counter.

“Damn it,” I muttered, trying to scoop up the mess while keeping an eye on both pans.

The bacon started smoking first. I grabbed a spatula and flipped it hurriedly, only to find half of it charred black. The eggs followed suit, sticking to the bottom of the pan and refusing to cooperate no matter how much I scraped.

A thick plume of smoke rose from the stove, triggering the smoke detector above. The shrill alarm pierced through the calm morning air, echoing off every wall.

“Shit!” I fumbled with a dishtowel, waving it under the detector in a futile attempt to silence it.

The sound of hurried footsteps thudding down the stairs made me look up just as Ally burst into the kitchen. She wore nothing but my shirt, her eyes wide with alarm and her hair a tousled mess.

“Thomas! What’s happening?” she exclaimed, scanning the room for any sign of danger.

“Just... breakfast gone wrong,” I admitted sheepishly, still flailing at the smoke detector with one hand while trying to turn off both burners with the other.

Ally rushed over, grabbing another towel and joining in my efforts to clear out the smoke. Her presence was both a relief and an embarrassment—I hadn’t intended to wake her like this.

We finally managed to clear enough smoke for the alarm to cease its relentless screeching. We stood there for a moment, catching our breath amidst ruined breakfast remnants scattered across the stove.

She glanced at me, her expression shifting from concern to amusement. “Well,” she said with a slight grin, “maybe we should just stick with coffee.” She burst into laughter, and it was the sweetest sound I had ever heard. It was like a melody cutting through the morning's chaos, making everything else fade away.

Without thinking, I pulled her into a passionate kiss. Her lips were warm and soft against mine, a perfect contrast to the lingering smoke and ruined breakfast. Her laughter subsided as she melted into the kiss, her arms wrapping around my neck.

In one swift motion, I picked her up and set her on the dining table. The clatter of dishes momentarily broke our connection, but I didn't care. All that mattered was the feel of her beneath my hands.

"I have another meal I'd like," I murmured, spreading her legs gently. Her breath hitched at my words, a delicious tension filling the space between us.

"Oh, yeah?" she asked, her voice husky with anticipation.

I didn't answer. Instead, I slid her underwear down slowly, savoring the way she shivered at my touch. Her skin was warm and inviting, drawing me in like a magnet.

Dropping to my knees, I placed gentle kisses along her inner thighs before diving in. The taste of her drove me wild, and I lost myself in the moment, devouring every inch of her with a hunger that had been building for far too long.

Her fingers tangled in my hair as she gasped and moaned above me, each sound fueling my desire to bring her even more pleasure.

She came undone beneath me, her body arching and trembling as she climaxed. Her fingers tightened in my hair, pulling me closer as her breathless moans filled the kitchen. The sound of her release was intoxicating, a symphony of pleasure that resonated deep within me.

As she rode the waves of her orgasm, I rose to my feet, my lips still tingling from the taste of her. Ally's eyes were half-lidded, a satisfied smile playing on her lips as she pulled me in for a kiss. Her mouth was hot and eager against mine, and she moaned softly at the taste of herself on my lips.

"Thomas," she breathed against my mouth, her voice a sultry whisper that sent a shiver down my spine.

I didn't need any more encouragement. With one swift motion, I positioned myself between her legs and slid my cock into her wet folds. She gasped, her nails digging into my shoulders as I filled her completely. The sensation was overwhelming, the heat and tightness of her body wrapping around me like a vise.

I began to move, thrusting into her with a steady rhythm that quickly grew more urgent. Each stroke sent jolts of pleasure through both of us, our bodies moving in perfect sync. The table creaked beneath us, adding to the sounds that filled the room—the slap of skin against skin, the ragged breaths we shared, the low groans that escaped my lips.

Ally's hands roamed over my back, clutching at me desperately, as if trying to pull me even closer. Her hips met each thrust with equal fervor, driving me deeper into her warmth. The intensity of our connection was almost too much to bear, a raw and primal need that consumed us both.

"God, you feel so good," I growled against her ear, my voice rough with desire.

She responded with a breathless moan, arching into me and tilting her head back in ecstasy. Her eyes locked onto mine, and in that moment, nothing else mattered—no past regrets or future uncertainties. All that existed was the here and now, the two of us lost in each other.

As I moved inside her, our rhythm grew more frantic, each thrust pushing us closer to the edge. Ally’s breath came in short, ragged gasps, her nails digging into my back as she held on tight. The world narrowed down to the feel of her around me, the way our bodies fit together perfectly.

“Thomas,” she gasped, her voice a blend of desperation and ecstasy.

I couldn’t hold back any longer. With one final thrust, we both shattered together, a wave of pleasure crashing over us that seemed to last an eternity. Her body convulsed beneath me, and I buried my face in the crook of her neck, muffling my own groan of release. Our climaxes intertwined, binding us in a moment that felt almost sacred.

As the tremors subsided, I held her close, both of us catching our breath. The kitchen was filled with the sounds of our heavy breathing and the faint sizzle of forgotten bacon still smoking on the stove.

I pulled back slightly to look at her. Her face was flushed, a satisfied smile playing on her lips as she gazed up at me with those expressive eyes. A laugh bubbled up from my chest, and I couldn’t help but let it out.

“Well,” I said, trying to catch my breath, “that wasn’t exactly the breakfast I had in mind.”

She laughed too, a soft sound that warmed me from the inside out. “I think it turned out better than expected,” she teased back.

We disentangled ourselves slowly, still chuckling at our ruined breakfast and impromptu kitchen escapade. I couldn’t help but feel a strange sense of contentment wash over me. This morning had been chaotic and imperfect but also incredibly real and grounding.

Standing there with Ally in my arms, laughing about burnt bacon and scrambled eggs that had turned into something much more intimate, I realized something unsettling. I could get used to this—waking up next to her, sharing these small moments of joy and connection.

The thought scared me more than I wanted to admit. But for now, I pushed that fear aside and focused on the here and now. There would be time for worries later; right now, it was just us.

“Let’s go make some actual coffee,” Ally suggested with a grin.

“Agreed,” I replied, feeling lighter than I had in years as we moved towards the coffee maker together.