Chapter 12

SOPHIA

"Apex." I grinned. "Triple word, double letter. Add it up."

Max crossed his arms over his chest. "After you take your drink."

Fuck, if I had much more, I'd be spilling my secrets. That is, if Max hadn't made me alternate water and bourbon. I narrowed my eyes, because, if I didn't know better, my bourbon did taste a little more water and ice than smooth, distract me from the hot, grumpy man of my fantasies kinda deal.

"Are you trying to tell me apex is dirty?"

The bare chested shrug triggered the kind of thoughts that were most definitely dirty. His pointed glance at the spot I was probably far more ready to ride his hockey stick in the candle light felt like his damn hands were pointing there instead.

Sitting cross-legged on the floor, I pretty much exposed myself to his scrutiny. His eyes burned me in places I refused to acknowledge. Kinda. Ok, fine, I acknowledged. I over acknowledged. But denial and lying became my M.O. where Max Vaughn was concerned.

"Are you trying to tell me it's…not?"

The gravel in his voice warmed by the bourbon weaseled its way into my lower belly, and I gripped my glass harder in effort to keep my hands to myself.

Ignore your damn pussy. It does not need Max Vaughn's cock anywhere near it, no matter how many times it begs.

"I think you're watering down my drink when I'm not looking, Coach Grumpy Pants," I grumbled, but drank anyway. Apex was definitely a dirty word when Max looked at…mine.

The storm outside raged a little louder, but it was nothing compared to the storm inside me. Max stared at the tiles in front of him, concentration furrowed his brow. It was sexy, intense, and making me more and more uncomfortable.

Uncomfortable like I needed to ride his cock to get comfortable. Stupid bourbon.

Stupid pecs. Stupid fucking dragon tattoo that I couldn't stop wanting to run my tongue over, tracing the lines. I moaned, imagining the taste of his skin. The salt, his scent…God, I needed…something.

Max.

Fuck.

The something I craved, wanted…was Max. Shirtless, grumpy, sexy as hell, older, player I had a crush on for years. My best friend's brother…even if I promised I'd never need anyone. Ever again.

The kitten attacked my toe, and I squealed at the unexpected tickle his little paws delivered like a tiny attack animal that was way too cute for any real harm.

"Storm!"

"It's not your turn, Sunrise."

"I know." I crossed my eyes narrowed, and I just grinned.

Storm, the newest member of my household, mewed then began purring loudly as I held to my chest and scratched behind his ears. "His name is Storm."

Max stared at me, one side of his mouth turning up. He nodded, then placed his tiles on the Scrabble board.

"Mine? Seriously? Of all the words you could probably spell," my hand flung and fluttered at his unused letters, that's the word?"

His brow cocked, and without breaking eye contact, he took a long drink. "Absofuckinglutely. In fact, it has become one of my favorite words."

"Max-" I started, breathless. Storm, the stinker, mewed and tried to get out of my arms. Thank God. I'd much rather focus on the little traitor than the overwhelming masculine man whose body knew mine intimately. And the dangerous word game we were playing.

"Your turn."

His phone pinged with a notification, and he gave me one last pointed look, all growly and demanding, before he checked it.

"Everything ok?"

He nodded. "Just a few player profiles I asked for if Montreal advances. It's not anything life-altering, but it never hurts to know the enemy." A hand scrubbed along his jaw. "Shaw is going to be an issue."

A sharp pang, duller than it had been in a long while, hit my chest. All the memories came flooding back, and I drained the glass. Definitely watered down, I thought. Enemy indeed. I snorted before I could stop myself, and my heart felt a phantom pain that I wished would just fucking disappear after all this time.

"Not a fan?" Dark eyes watched me curiously.

Rejection and foolishness washed over me, and not for the first time, I wondered how long it would be until I heard his name and felt nothing. I cleared my throat. "Those pink houses I complained about?"

"The song?"

"That's the one."

Realization dawned on his face. "And he's the brother's best friend."

"The one and only." My heart pounded, but maybe it was the bourbon, or Storm purring adorably as his little eyes did that open and close because sleep chased him. Or maybe part of me needed to tell someone. Say it out loud. Jules didn't even know, though she knew I swore off catching feels. But not the why. Once I opened my mouth, the words wouldn't stop. "Liam Shaw and my big brother went to college together, and were both drafted by the local farm team for Vancouver. And of course, being the silly teenage little sister, the crush I had on him? Massive." A smile I didn't feel all the way ghosted on my lips. "Not as much as my favorite defenseman, but, Levi was the first of my brother's friends that didn't treat me like I either wasn't there or like I was a sixteen year old nuisance. Fast forward five years. Naive twenty-one year old junior in college and only three towns over from the farm team. Where I interned as a part of my communications degree requirement. I was so excited to be around my big brother again. Their second season playing for Abbotsford, they were both called up, and then when the whole ‘Pink Houses' thing started. Right before summer break, Liam started texting me, leaving me messages."

I could still smell how the sun made his skin warm, feel the cool water when we hung out at the lake the few times we snuck away. The things he said to me, about how he was where he wanted to be, and how I was made for him because no one understood him like I did. Memories and unwanted playback like a movie you knew the ending was going to suck replayed over and over, until I relived it all, and Max sat there, silent. His dark eyes watched me, absorbing every word. Every detail.

Heartache.

How he told me I was the only one. He loved me. That I was the reason he could do what he was doing. It was so intense, and felt so real. The sexting. The confessions. The hours spent messaging or on the phone when he went to training camp.

How he convinced me that keeping it a secret was our only option because he didn't want the distraction for him or Mason.

The weekend he convinced me to sneak away for the night with him. Afterward, the excuses started. He was busy. Or something happened, like he missed his alarm and barely made it to practice. One thing after another, an excuse why he couldn't talk or text me back. And at the time, I believed them.

"My dad played until he started coaching, so it wasn't like I didn't get it. I knew the rigors. Training. The schedule, especially with a new team. All my brothers played or were involved somehow." I swallowed the lump in my throat, remembering how the self doubt crept in. I wasn't enough. Or pretty enough. Or maybe I was being too needy. "But, the messages, the good mornings? All of it. Unless I initiated a conversation, if you could even call it that, since I was the only one talking, stopped. I fooled myself into thinking he was just too busy. He had to have loved me, to say all those things. I still messaged him, like a fool. I kept telling myself I was keeping him centered. The pressure, being on a new team." I laughed, watery and hollow. "It was all lies. A game. Anyway," I sucked in a breath, the old familiar ache in my chest alive and well despite the fact he was no longer in my life, and hadn't been for almost a year. "School started, and low and behold, Pink Houses herself had too much to drink and all of it came out right before holiday break. He started talking to her right before he fucked me. Literally and figuratively." My voice cracked. The glass, now empty of its contents, blurred as tears fell in silent racks down my cheeks. I shut my eyes, embarrassed to admit how stupid and foolish I had been. "And the really fucked up thing was he sent her the same pictures, words, promises. It was all a lie, but a part of me still wanted to believe I was the special one, that somehow, she was the one lying." I opened my eyes when he touched my cheek, wiping away the tears. The gentle touch in utter juxtaposition to the expression on his face.

"My heart shattered, and it's never been the same. I can't," my voice broke again as the tears threatened to fall once again, "I won't let myself be hurt like that ever again. To be lost, and hurt, and to feel like I was nothing when I thought it was everything."

I looked away, because the shame at being so easily fooled when it was all lies was too painful. To admit how easily I'd been fooled. How I'd given away pieces of myself I could never get back.

"The moment I realized I really wasn't special to him hurt more than it should have. I always knew in the back of my mind there were others. But when the truth hits after someone promises you things…"

The air was too thick and heavy, and it was like I couldn't catch my breath. Reliving every tortured moment.

"It's death by a thousand cuts. It nearly killed me. Made me wish I was inside, lost. So, I vowed no one would ever reopen those cuts. Never again."

The rain continued to pour down outside in a never ending onslaught. The heart I built walls around drowning, gasping for air. Begging for someone to make the pain stop.

"Sophia," he said, low and insistent. Warmth enveloped my skin as he cupped my face with both hands. "Look at me, Sunrise."

When my eyes found his, the breath sucked out of my lungs at his words.

"He never lost you. You were never lost. Because if he ever really had you, he would have never let you go. A real man would recognized how fucking amazing you are and do every fucking thing in his power to keep you, no matter how long it takes."