5. Brady

5

Brady

M y heart jumps into my throat and for a quick minute I can't even fill my lungs. My thoughts race back to my childhood, to the small town I grew up in, and how my life changed drastically after my father died. I became the man of the house, immediately charged with taking care of my mother, who was debilitated with…well, she never did get a proper diagnosis. Or if she did, it was not my business. I was there for her always, and I still am. What must it have been like for Melanie to have no one to rely on?

I set my fork down and it clinks against my plate. "I'm sorry."

Eyes wide, horror crosses her face, and she gives a fast shake of her head as she sets her fork down too. "I'm sorry," she begins, shaking her head hard as she clasps her hands together. "I'm not looking for sympathy." Her voice is rushed, hurried as she continues with, "I don't even know why I told you that."

My heart drops to my stomach, pushing the fish I'd just eaten back up into my throat. "Right. I understand." What I understand is that I'm a guy she only wants to have a good time with. Not a guy she could ever open her heart to. Honestly, it seems to be the curse of our team. I'm not the only one known for a good time.

The stricken look on her face at having said too much is a reminder of what I am to her and what's going on here. Hell, I could easily tell her I'm not that guy. But then what? What if she wanted more? Shit, she just told me she was basically neglected and never had anyone who was there for her. Christ, I can't be there for her. I'm not the guy to take that on. I have far too many people counting on me. Every time I hand over money, I'm reminded of that and the fact that Dad's life insurance paid for my hockey instead of buying things my mother needed. It's always there, lingering in every conversation I have with my mother.

I'm also reminded of that one time, right after I got my license at sixteen and decided to have some fun, for once in my life. I ended up in the hospital and couldn't be there for anyone…and then my mother…she had a fall. Bile punches into my throat and a hard quiver goes through me at that horrible reminder, and the painful aftermath. That's when I realized I need to be on high alert at all times. I don't ever want to let anyone down again. Not my mother, my family, my team…or this woman. Jesus, I never should have slept with Lanie. I like her too much to let her down, and I just can't be responsible for even one more person.

"Brady?"

I pull myself out of my stupor and focus on the beautiful woman beside me. She just told me something private and personal, and even though she's regretting it, that doesn't mean I didn't hear it or that she doesn't need some kind of response. "If you want to talk about it..."

She gives a wave of her hand to brush it off, but she just put painful parts of her past out there and it's hard for me to unhear them—not that I'd want to, but it does give me a bit of insight into her, and will always remind me I'm not the guy she needs in her life. "No, what I'm trying to say is you don't need to hear my problems."

I shift on the sofa until I'm facing her, and cup the side of her face. Despite the lecture I'd just given myself, and knowing better than to get in deeper, I ask, "Do you want to open your own practice, or do you want to work in a school, or maybe a hospital?"

Her eyes soften, the former panic somewhat dissipating, but she's still a bit guarded. "I'd actually like to work in a school. I think a less clinical environment can help kids open up."

"What grades are you thinking?"

"All, really. It wasn't until my senior year that I managed to talk to someone. I guess I'd still been holding out hope until then."

She spent all those years holding out hope that someone would be there for her. Jesus. What the fuck was wrong with her parents?

I wait for her to continue, but instead she stifles a yawn. I give her a reassuring smile, understanding she's ready to call it a night, and maybe this conversation has gone as far as she wants to take it. "You're going to be great, Lanie."

"Did you always want to play hockey?" she asks quietly, her voice less harsh and accusatory this time, and I pull her to me, resting her head on my shoulder.

"Dad always wanted me to play hockey. He loved watching the games and I think he secretly wanted to be in the NHL. The opportunity was never there for him growing up, though." A beat of silence and then, "He died on the fishing boats when I was only eight. It was just Mom and me after that." Fuck, what is going on with the two of us? I lean forward to look out the window. Must be a full moon or something. I don't talk about my past and I'm pretty damn sure Melanie doesn't either. She wouldn't have acted like she just spilled military secrets if she had.

Her head lifts and concerned eyes meet mine. "I'm sorry, Brady."

"Thanks. It was a long time ago." I yawn, and lightly run my fingers through her hair. "I still miss him."

I guide her head back to my shoulders. "Of course, you do. Is your…"

"Yeah, Mom is alive. Still in Paradise, a small coastal town in Newfoundland. That's where I grew up."

"Paradise, sounds nice."

I snort at that and when she tries to lift her head, I gently hold it down, worried that my eyes hold too much pain. "Yeah, tourists seem to like the icebergs."

"Wow, I'd love to see one someday. Paradise…" she murmurs under her breath.

I laugh and without thinking, say, "Our sign says ‘population four hundred'. I can't tell you how many times the kids would mess with the sign and spray paint, ‘A nice place to visit, wouldn't want to live there.'"

"That's awful." She looks at me. "Wait, you did that, didn't you?"

I lift my chin an inch. "I admit to nothing."

"Is your family still there?"

"Lots of aunts, uncles, and cousins. All in the fishing industry. I'm the only one who ever left."

"You must miss them." I don't answer. I stay quiet and she continues, "Fishing. That's big business in Newfoundland, right?"

"Used to be. Lots of overfishing and new government regulations make it hard now."

"I had no idea."

"There is a processing plant in the next city over, though. Good steady work there. If you're fit and able," I add.

She eyes me, a careful assessment and I try not to shift, because yeah, I think I've said too much. I'm not sure why. There's no full moon out there. Could it be because I'm comfortable with her? If that's the case, I'd better watch myself. This can't go anywhere.

"It's so weird," she admits.

"What is?" I touch her cheek as she continues to study me, as if seeing me in a different light all of a sudden. "Do I have ketchup on my face or something?"

"No, it's just… I guess I just pictured you having a different upbringing. I mean you played for Scotia Academy, in Halifax, Nova Scotia, right?"

I nod. "How did you know that?"

"Brighton told me."

"Talking about me, were you?" I tease.

She rolls her eyes and makes a pfft, sound, but it does little to crush my ego, considering I don't have one. She'd probably be surprised to learn that. "Yeah, now that I think about it, I overheard it."

I grin. "Okay, let's get back to your point. I went to Scotia Academy, so what?"

"I don't know. I guess it was kind of wrong of me to make assumptions, but a private school for hockey, then the NHL."

"Ah, I get it. You think I was born with a silver spoon." She shrugs, but the answer is in her eyes. "I was born with silver all right, but it was a fishing lure, and you'd find it in a cod's mouth, not mine."

She chuckles at that and before she can ask any more questions, I stretch out my arms. "I should get you to bed and get back to my own. I refuse to be the reason you're too tired to study tomorrow."

She chuckles lightly. "If you were, I wouldn't be mad."

My cock instantly thickens at the warm neediness in her voice. Dammit, I'm suddenly needy too and I can't help but think we're both in need of touch because of those painful memories we revisited.

I shift to see her and she lifts her head. "Are you saying what I think you're saying?"

Her grin is warm and seductive. "If you think I'm saying the fish you bought was good, but I'd rather taste my ‘Coddy,' then yes."

Leave, Brady.

One working brain cell kicks in. "Wait." I pinch the bridge of my nose before that braincell can find its way out. "You said, we probably shouldn't do this again."

She crinkles up her nose, and her hand lands on my thigh. Every muscle in my body reacts to her soft touch. "I did, didn't I?" She turns contemplative. "I said probably , and probably means in all likelihood, but I think there's a little wiggle room there, right?"

"Are you trying to say you're going to wiggle for me, Lanie?"

"Would you like that?"

"Fuck yeah."

She laughs and there's a new kind of warmth about her this evening. Perhaps it's because we're tired, everything about us less frenzied. "How about one more for the road, Coddy?"

Before I can answer—and obviously I'm going to agree, because hey, I'm a man, and I like this woman—she pushes to her feet, and gives an exaggerated swish of her hips as she saunters away. While nearly every bone in my body is encouraging me to run the other way, there is only one bone in charge at the moment, and it's honing its coordinates in on the sexy woman luring me back to her bed.

I stand, leaving our plates on the coffee table to clean later, flick off the TV and follow her down the hall. I find her standing beside the bed, her lingerie on the floor. Her shoulders are tight, like she's remembering the seductress in that bed earlier and thinking that's how I like my women. Goddammit, she's so fucking wrong.

"Hey."

She spins to face me, and my heart tightens at the uncertainty on her face as shaky fingers work to smooth out her hair. Fuck, she's the most desirable woman I've ever met, and never has to feel uncertain around me.

"You are so fucking sexy." Her gaze drops to the discarded lingerie again. "Look at me." Her head jerks up and I close the distance between us, sliding my hand around her hips and tugging her body to mine. Her pelvis presses against my cock and this time I wiggle to show her exactly what she does to me, especially when she's dressed in her frayed shorts and T-shirt. I love the realness about her, but I don't tell her that. She wants to live a fantasy with me—that's what I am to all girls—and I like her, so I plan to give it to her.

I find her mouth and my kisses are less hurried this time. Her moan is soft, and the warmth in her tone wraps around me, tugging tight. Jesus, I like this woman, and to think I nearly poked her earlier. Well, I kind of did poke her and plan to do it again.

I slide my hands under her shirt and she lifts her arms, making it easier for me to discard it. I drop to my knees and tug down her shorts, pressing soft kisses to her quivering flesh. Once I have her naked, I drink her in, and lift my gaze to hers, to find her staring intently, her eyes brimming with need.

I stand back up, strip off my clothes and take her hand in mine as I lead her to the bed. We both look at our linked hands, and something about it makes us chuckle.

"The last time I held a man's hand was…" She thinks for a second and adds, "…never."

"The last time I held a man's hand was never, too." I love this new warmth and tenderness about us…even though I should just be fucking her and bailing, like I normally do.

"The last time you held a girl's hand?" she asks.

"Two days ago." She swallows and smiles, but it doesn't reach her eyes. I cup her cheek, press my lips to hers and whisper, "It was Camryn's. I took her to the playground to give Noah and Brighton a few minutes alone."

"Fun."

"Oh, it was fun, until she wanted me to push her on the swing and then kicked me in the nuts." This time Lanie laughs out loud and the sound trickles through me, making me forget about the pressures weighing me down. "You think that's funny."

She pouts and climbs onto the bed, staying on her knees as I stand beside the mattress. She puts her hands between my legs and cups my nuts. "No, Coddy, but how about I kiss them all better?"