16. Rory

Chapter sixteen

Rory

A s I climbed the steps to Brooks' front porch, each step felt heavier than the last. I carried the burden of wasted days and unspoken words. It was time to own up to a massive mistake.

My knuckles had barely touched the door when it swung wide open. I braced myself, expecting to see a dejected Brooks with the toll taken by our separation creasing his face.

Instead, one corner of his mouth turned up in a shy smile. His eyes were bright and open. I saw excitement there, and it was hard to understand.

"Rory!" He reached out and folded me into a hug. It was the same muscular body, but where was the man who usually inhabited it?

I spoke softly into his ear. "We need to talk… I think."

He pulled back and nodded eagerly, with a full smile taking over his face. "Yes, we do, and what better time than now?" He stepped aside to let me in.

Brooks' demeanor threw me off balance. Was he that excited about moving to New York? Or was there something else going on that I didn't know about?

We settled on opposite ends of his sectional sofa. Despite the good mood, the distance between us was still as wide as an ocean to me. I took a deep breath, preparing myself for the words I needed to speak.

"Brooks, I—" It was a beginning, but my voice quickly faltered. The words stuck in my throat.

Swallowing hard, I started over. "I'm so sorry. Count it as temporary insanity. I was an absolute idiot."

Brooks pulled one leg up on the sofa and leaned on the knee, listening intently. He was ready to let me have my full say.

"Pushing you away like that was so unfair. I don't only mean it was unfair to you. I was cheating us, too." I reached up and nervously ran my fingers through my hair. "I let my fear take over, and that meant I hurt you in the process. I hope you have it in your heart to forgive me."

"Rory—" Brooks began, but I held up a hand. I wasn't finished.

"No, please, I'm not done. The last several days, I've been moping around with all of this guilt and regret, and I need to tell you about it."

I stared deeply into his green eyes. "I jumped way ahead when I heard about the offer from the Islanders. I always feared it would happen, and I assumed you'd take an offer like that and leave. You chose your career over ten years ago, and I didn't understand why you would do that again."

I stopped briefly to take a breath. "Now, instead of talking to you like a rational person, I pushed you away from me. My pride told me to decide before you had a chance to hurt me again. That wasn't right, and it wasn't fair. You deserve better than that kind of treatment. Our relationship deserves better than that."

My voice started to crack. I could no longer hold back the intense emotion I'd experienced over the past few days. "I'm so, so sorry. I can't believe I did something like that, but I did. It was ridiculous." I hung my head.

Brooks moved even closer to me and placed a hand on my thigh. "I turned the Islanders down."

I blinked. Did I hear him wrong? "You… what?"

He repeated the statement. "I turned them down. Well, I told my agent I would. Tomorrow, I'm calling the team to make it official."

My mind reeled as I tried to process what Brooks told me. "But… why? It was such an incredible opportunity. You would be back in the NHL, and you—"

He cut me off. "Yes, it was an opportunity, but it wasn't the right one. It wasn't right for me, not anymore. I decided to follow my heart."

I stared into his eyes, searching for any signs of regret. I saw nothing but a happy smile. "Are you sure? This is a huge decision. What about your career?"

Brooks interrupted again. "I've focused on my career for long enough. I almost forgot what really matters in my life." He reached out to take my hand. The warmth of his touch spread throughout my body. "Being back here in Whistleport with you was what I needed to help me sort out what I want… what I need."

My heart pounded as a tiny flame of hope sparked inside my heart. "What is that? What do you need?"

Brooks smiled, and I suddenly realized he looked younger somehow, more like the boy I'd fallen for so many years ago. "I need a life here. I wanted to give myself the chance to genuinely make a difference. It's an opportunity to build a meaningful life, and…" He rubbed the back of my hand. "I want a future with you if you'll have me."

Tears burned in the corners of my eyes. "Brooks, I—"

"Wait." He squeezed my hand. "There's something else. It's a plan for a project. I think you're going to like it."

He pulled a folder out of the drawer in the side table. I asked, "What's all that?" while he spread papers over the coffee table.

"Well, I've got this idea for a summer youth hockey league here in Whistleport. Actually, I really should make sure I give credit where it's due. Ziggy first came up with the bare bones."

"Ziggy? As in Ziggy Knickerbocker?"

"He's the one. He came by yesterday to offer lawn-mowing services. We started talking, and this idea came to him. He blurted it out, and I thought a summer hockey program sounded fantastic. The kid's got a good head on his shoulders, Ror. We had a great talk about it. I hope we can make it come true."

I pictured Ziggy's enthusiasm in my head. "Sounds like him. Do you have any more details?"

He pointed to a chart. "We were thinking about four age divisions: 8-10, 11-13, 14-16, and then a senior division for late high school and college-age kids. Ziggy wanted to make sure that everybody got to play with their peers. He thought it was likely to keep kids of similar skill levels together.

"That is smart." They'd put a lot of thought into the idea. "And how many games? When would they happen?"

"Ziggy suggested three practices a week." He flipped to another page where they'd sketched out schedules. "One game each Saturday."

I could see it all—kids flooding the new arena on summer afternoons to practice. The sounds of skates and sticks hitting pucks would echo through the building. I liked what I was hearing.

"The league would need coaches… and equipment."

Brooks gathered the papers together and inhaled deeply. His brow wrinkled as he appeared more serious. "I want to share something else with you. I'm not just planning to invest my time and effort into this idea. I'm ready to put my money into it, too."

"What do you mean?"

He reached out to take my hand. "I mean, I'm willing to use a significant chunk of what I've saved up from my years in the NHL to get this plan going. I've got the resources that can make it all happen."

My jaw dropped. "Brooks, that's a huge commitment. Are you sure about this? It's money you saved up for the future—your future."

He nodded. "Oh, I've run it over and over in my mind, and I talked to Dad about it. I've been fortunate enough to earn more money than I'll ever need. This is a good way to use it. It's an investment in the kids and the town. I'm excited about the project."

"But what about your long-term plans? You need money for retirement. You shouldn't let this jeopardize how comfortable you'll be when you get older."

Brooks smiled. "I'm not planning to be reckless about this. I have more than enough money to start this league and remain financially stable. I'm not jumping into this on a whim. It's the first thing I can sink money into that moves my heart."

"It's a big step."

"And it moves us all forward. I've never been more committed to something in my life. Well, except for our relationship. I know I want that, too." He grabbed my other hand. "So, tell me, Rory. Are you ready to help me build an incredible life right here in Whistleport?"

I exhaled, long and slow. "I've been so scared. The thought of you leaving me behind again terrified me. Somehow, pushing you away seemed safer than risking you walking out again."

Brooks squeezed my hands and traced small circles on my skin with his thumbs. "This all scares me, too. I'd be stupid not to admit that. I'm scared that I might not be enough for you and for the town. I worry that I'll mess everything up. Still, I can't run anymore. I want to face those fears head-on with you at my side. What do you say?"

Suddenly, all the defensive walls I'd carefully constructed during the years I missed Brooks crumbled to dust. I pushed forward, wrapped a hand around the back of his neck, and pulled him to me for a kiss.

Our lips met with the desperation of drowning men finding air. Years of longing, missed opportunities, and unspoken desires poured into that kiss. Gradually, the frantic energy softened into something deeper, a promise of home and belonging.

When we finally broke apart, both gasping for air, I took a deep breath. The familiar scent of Brooks—a mix of soap, shampoo, and clean sweat—filled my senses. "I love you," I whispered, the words feeling both monumental and utterly inadequate. "I never stopped, not really."

"I love you too," Brooks replied, his voice rough with emotion. "God, Rory, I've missed you so much."

He led me upstairs to his bedroom, closing the door behind us with a soft click. In the privacy of his room, surrounded by reminders of our shared past and the promise of our future, we came together again.

"We've got the house to ourselves," Brooks announced. "Dad's next door canoodling with your mom."

"Canoodling? Really?"

"Would you rather have me talk about the specifics of what they're doing?"

I held a finger to his lips and grinned. "No, not at all."

"I think it's my turn now," Brooks informed me and bit his lip. "No other man has ever been inside me. I want you to know that."

The admission sent an electric sensation up my spine. "I've always loved that about us. You inside me or me inside you. It's all about our love."

"But don't be too easy or too mushy with flowers around the edges. Fuck, I had to laugh when Ziggy talked about romance movies. Show me how a man fucks a man, Rory."

It was the same old Brooks. He expertly used words to help guide me into being the animal I became behind closed doors, and his actions did the same.

"It's how this man fucks you. No need to tear down anybody else's method for making love."

"I'm not talking about love now. I'm talking about sex." Brooks gripped the fabric of my shirt and tore it open. Buttons skittered across the hardwood floor into the corners of the room.

"Fuck, you had to do that, didn't you? I kinda liked that shirt."

"It was in the fucking way, Ror. I'll buy you a new one and five more like it."

I pulled his face against my right pec to shut him up. "Yeah, give it a lick and tug on that nip."

Nothing turned my crank quite like nip play. Brooks was an expert. He slid his long tongue in a circle around my stiffening nub as I threw my head back. Then he tugged, and I gritted my teeth. I never could tell the difference between a bit of pain and a whole lot of pleasure.

Brooks suddenly lifted me and tossed me back onto the bed. "Get that cock ready for my ass."

I was going to top him, but whether I was in charge was an open question. I unzipped my jeans, kicked off my sneakers, and in seconds, I was naked. He stripped off his clothes and beckoned me to join him on the bed.

While he rolled the condom down over my cock, Brooks lightly squeezed my balls with his other hand. I gritted my teeth while he closed his fingers tighter. When he released me, a dull throb pounded between my legs and in my head. "So fucking good," I muttered.

He straddled me and lined my cock head up to his hole. "Some fucking way, I got the body of a perfect bottom and the personality of a sneering top." Brooks rolled his head back and laughed while he lowered his ass onto me.

"Lucky me?" I asked and then moaned loudly.

Seconds later, he was rocking his body on my cock and leaning back to show off his tightly muscled torso. His biceps flexed while he braced against the bed, pushing himself up slowly before he would he would quickly slide down to take my entire cock.

I'd never done it before with Brooks while on top, but I decided I wanted to take more control. "Roll over," I insisted. "All fours."

"Fuck… what?"

"You heard me."

"Damn, Rory. Have you learned a few things through the years?"

"Maybe."

There he was—an NHL star on all fours in the middle of my bed. I climbed up behind him and suddenly plunged up.

"OH, fuckin' a… maybe you should warn a guy!"

I chuckled and started to push balls deep into my man's sweet ass.

"Damn, Rory, can we do this every damn day… forever?"

"Shh… don't make me think. I only want to feel… my cock in you."

I slammed harder and deeper until I reached the point of no return. "Gonna shoot, Brooks. Fuck, I'm…" I came a few seconds before I expected it, and my whole body shook, my thighs quivering with my cock buried deep inside Brooks.

"Damn, yeah! Fill me, Ror! FUCK!"

I swatted his ass hard until the left cheek had a rosy glow before I pulled out. Collapsing onto the bed, I pulled him over close to me and wrapped my hand around his still rock-hard cock.

He grinned at me. "You gonna help me out?"

"Got a good reason I should?"

"'Cause I'm the stud that loves you." Brooks kissed the side of my neck, and I started to stroke.

While I stroked faster, he moaned deeply. I rubbed the thick cock against my thigh.

"I'm gonna blow," he mumbled. "Can't hold it."

"Shoot it for me, Brooks!"

He exploded with a powerful thrust, shooting cum across my thighs and my balls. I kissed him hard, sucking on his tongue until the shudders rocking his body subsided.

While we lay back on the bed, Brooks' fingers traced idle patterns on my shoulder. I focused on the sensation, the slight calluses on his fingertips—a reminder of the countless hours he'd spent gripping a hockey stick.

"I'd forgotten how your eyes change color in different lights," Brooks murmured, his gaze fixed on my face. "They're almost slate-gray right now."

I smiled, warmed by his attention to detail. "I didn't forget what an incredible body you have. I think it's even better now."

"Aww, that's how to charm your way into the heart of a guy past thirty."

"Honestly, I think I was already there."

He nodded, catching my hand and pressing a kiss to my palm. "You taste so damn good… all over. How do you do that?"

"Good skin regimen?" I chuckled.

We fell silent, the only sound being our synchronizing breaths. I marveled at how quickly we'd relearned each other's bodies and how easily we'd fallen back into our intimate dance.

"So," I said, tracing a finger along Brooks' collarbone, "about this summer league. Got room for another volunteer coach?"

He laughed, the sound rumbling through his chest and into mine, where our bodies pressed together. "I thought you'd never ask."

As we lay there, discussing plans for the league and tentatively sketching out our future, I felt a sense of rightness settle over me. The road ahead would have its challenges, but we'd face them as one.