Gavin

23

O nce, at a teammate's wedding reception, Isla told me that she gave Cillian a second chance because if she didn't, she was certain of misery, whereas getting back with him held a chance of happiness, despite the risk of it all falling apart again.

It seemed horrifically fucking sad, at the time. I understand it now, because I think that's what Odette feels. She has so little faith in me. Why should she have it? I've only been able to offer her words, which mean fuckall.

My only option is to show her that I'm loyal to her, which takes time. At least she's giving me that now. I'll use it to earn back every damn piece of her heart that I crushed before. Her behavior with men? That's my fault. Solely.

I broke something real inside her and I own it. I have to.

I'm not sure what prompted the change in her the other night, but I'm grateful for the opportunity to show her it can be different this time. That I can be different.

"You're it for me, Ode." She softens but I can still see the tinge of fear. It breaks me. The only chink in her armor is because of me. I could crumble under the thought. Except Odette doesn't deserve that, she deserves a man that can be strong in the one place she can't be. One that will help prop her up, love her without condition, and fight for her every motherfucking day.

And that's exactly what I'm going to be. Even if it takes me the rest of my life to prove it to her.

"I like the sound of that," she whispers as if she's afraid to send the words out into the world.

"I'll tell you every day," I say before leaning down to kiss her. Starting at her lips, then her cheeks, her jaw, her neck, I traverse her body. Teasing her senses, feeling every twitch of anticipation as I travel down until I'm on my knees, ready to worship her like the goddess she is. "Rest your foot on my shoulder. I'm going to devour this cunt like it's my last meal."

"Well, I hope it isn't that…Oh fuck…" Her words stop as soon as I shove my tongue in her as far as it will go. ", fuck, that's…fuck."

I grin as my fingers glide over the globes of her ass. Spending her whole adult life in the fuck-me heels has given her the most amazing lower body; firm and toned but not hard. She's still soft, womanly, fucking mind-blowing.

Wedging my index finger inside her, I slide it up, playing with the pucker of her ass. She hums the most pleasurable sound I've heard. I apply a little more pressure, bit by bit, until I'm in and she's pulling my hair like it's the only thing keeping her standing while I work her clit with my mouth.

Her hips start to keep pace with me but, before long, she's grinding faster. Fucking my face as she tries to find her first release. A moment later, she does, her heel sliding down my back and her fingers tightening.

I love that she pulls my hair, that I'm the one she's anchoring herself to while she falls to pieces. In this instance, she trusts me completely. I want this feeling always.

When the ecstasy of the moment has washed over her, I lower her leg and stand. I'm painfully hard, stroking my dick to help ease some of the need. It doesn't do shit.

"Will your windows hold if I fuck you up against them?"

"I think there's only one way to find out," she says, her eyes gleaming.

"You're not afraid someone might see?"

"Let them." She slowly backs up until her back is against the large windows that overlook her yard and the lake beyond. Her eyes follow my palm. "You going to put that inside me, , or just play with it yourself?"

Prowling toward her, I lift her up, and she immediately wraps those legs around my hips, letting me ease her down onto my cock. Her warmth sends a shiver down my spine.

"This is my favorite place."

"My living room?"

"Inside you, Ode. It feels like home after a long road trip. Like I'm finally able to sleep in my own bed after endless shitty hotel beds. I never want to leave."

"Don't then. Don't ever leave me again," she says, a tear spilling out of one eye.

"Never, pumpkin."

Then I fuck her. Staring at those brilliant eyes the same color as the barely lit lake behind her, the sun quickly setting. I fuck her to the soundtrack she makes with moans and sighs. I fuck her until she comes all over my cock, and then I fuck her some more. We have so much time to make up for.

When she starts to get a chill from her back against the cold window, I move her to a blanket in front of her fireplace and let her ride me until she comes again, her face upturned and her dark waves trailing down her back. I'll never forget how she looks, her tits bouncing, one arm braced behind her on my thigh, the other playing with her own pussy as she calls my name.

Then I cover her spent body with mine, taking over all the work, rolling my hips into hers, our hands entwined on either side of her flushed face. She's so wet but there's enough friction to send us both into a frenzy when I steadily build pace and intensity. I watch for every clue, making sure she never has a second where she isn't as worked up as me.

Odette pulls my face to hers by my hair, crashing her lips to mine as we both lose control, her cunt clenching around me like a vise, holding me in as I fill her up.

Emotion the likes I've never felt rush through me. It's a combination of elation and utter regret. Like I've just won the Stanley Cup but somehow lost it, too. I finally have the only woman I've ever been truly in love with, and I regret all the things we never had, never shared. She's in my arms, heaving with me and yet, I miss her.

We roll to our sides, her head buried under my chin, my leg hitching over her hip where I can cocoon her in my arms, keep her warm. Make her stay.

"Did you ever want children?"

"Maybe when I was little and everyone talked to us about growing up and finding a husband so you could raise a family," she says. "But no. I don't think it's what I'm here for, if that makes sense. That's not my purpose."

"Are you sure?" I ask when she looks up through her lashes at me. I brush her hair off of her face, tucking it behind her ear.

"I'm sure. Why? Do you want more?"

"It's not anything that ever crossed my mind."

"Until now?"

"I wouldn't deny you anything, Ode. Whatever else you want in life, I want to help you get."

"That's sweet of you," she says, pressing a kiss to the underside of my chin. "But I think we can check that one off the list."

"What is on your list?"

"I'm not so sure, anymore. I expected to move here, do this for a few years, then have a huge desire to go back to New York, or maybe Los Angeles. I love it more than I thought I would, though. Maybe mentoring fashion students is my purpose. Or maybe it will lead to something else exciting and new," she says. "What about you? What are your plans after this season?"

I've been thinking about that a lot. When I made the decision to retire initially, I was terrified. Worried that I would become some irrelevant man with nothing to do every day. Nobody to take care of, nobody to talk to, I'd end up lonely and grumpy, yelling at the clouds all day or some shit.

Then I thought about what I love most about hockey. Winning is great, but it's really being part of a team that is what I'm going to miss the most. It's something I can still have in a different way.

"The way you talk about your students has inspired me. I'd like to coach. Not in The Show or anything. Maybe peewee hockey, start with the youngest group, where it isn't so serious and doesn't require a rigorous travel schedule. You know?" She nods in understanding. "Maybe dote on my girlfriend. Perfect my gluten-free baked goods and learn how to cook more vegetarian meals for her."

"She sounds like a lucky lady."

"Nah, I'm the lucky one."

"Maybe we both are," she says, snuggling back into my chest, where she falls silent and eventually into sleep, a soft smile on her face.

"You guys played amazing last night," Tori says before she shoves a heaping fork of omelet in her mouth. I haven't seen her in a few days, so I asked if she'd come over for a late breakfast and to hang out with her old man. She's not an early riser, which works out well for me when I have to be at the arena for an early morning skate.

She probably only rolled out of bed an hour ago, whereas I've been up for hours now. I'll catch a nap later, though, before heading to the arena for tonight's matchup.

Tori's right, we played great last night. Cohesive and like a team of guys that love each other. We do, sometimes it just doesn't translate to the ice. But we have a winning record and I have high hopes of keeping it.

"Glad you could make it to another game. I always love it when you're in the stands."

"I know you do. I might not get to another one for a while, though."

"You're a busy kid, I get it."

"You're busier these days," she says, side-eyeing me as I take a seat next to her at the breakfast bar.

"You could say that," I say, shrugging as if there is nothing to talk about.

"Dad! Oh my god, spill. What's going on with you and Odette?"

"What do you think about her? Now that you know her and not just of her?" I ask.

"She's fucking fantastic. Like, literally. She's inspiring and inspires all of us to be better but stay authentically us. Do you know what I mean? I guess you probably do. It's a lot like Coach Cole. He wants you to improve your skill but not lose your style," she starts rambling, her hands moving a mile a minute. "We all totally love her. If she really likes something we're working on, she'll say she'd wear it. We live for that, like those people on that baking show hoping for a handshake, you know? She's told me that twice already. I marked those days on my calendar, I'm keeping count. And I don't think she has favorites, she sees the strengths we all have so we aren't competitive with each other, just ourselves. I think we all want to make her really proud. Which is kinda funny because she's not a professor who is grading us or anything. But we want her high opinion more than any of our teachers. She's like a best friend and is always honest and encouraging. I can't say enough nice stuff about her."

"Jesus, inhale some air, kid."

"Sorry! I could talk about her for a while. I'm not trying to hero worship her or anything, she's just really great, is all." She takes a bite of the cranberry orange scone. "Dad, holy shit. This is good."

"I'm getting better."

"For her," she states. "You're getting better for Odette."

"I mean, I have always been somewhat of a perfectionist, you know?"

"Yeah, but this is more than that," she says, propping her chin on her fist and studying me. "Do you love her?"

"Is it weird if I tell you I don't think I ever stopped? I don't know how that's possible, but I think I never stopped."

"Not weird," she says, her voice watery. I throw my arm over her shoulders and bring her in for a hug. "Not weird, Dad. Romantic as fuck."

"Where did you get such a foul mouth?" I ask, kissing the top of her head. She smells the same as she always has, like the day we brought her home from the hospital.

"All my real-life role models are hockey players," she says. "Sometimes I spit, too."

"You do fucking not." I laugh.

"No, it's not that bad," she says. "I don't want to influence your choices by how much I adore her, but I think you two would be good together. In a profound way because you're both similar in so many ways. I can see how you'd both quietly support each other."

"Quietly?" I ask.

"Yeah, you know, not making her desires about you. No one taking over the other's dreams and making decisions because you think you can do it better. Letting the other person be the loudest person in their own decision making."

"This doesn't make you sad? Because of the divorce and everything."

"It does, but maybe not the way you'd expect. I've talked to Mom about your marriage, since you told me why you got married. I understand. So, I guess it makes me sad for all three of you. None of you really got a fair chance."

"I don't think I tell you enough how glad I am you moved back here," I say. She's a smart kid.

When we announced the divorce, she was understandably distraught. Then she got mad and directed most of that at me, probably because I was the one gone for so much of her life. It fucking sucked having the one person you love most in the world run away from you.

When I put it in that perspective, I get exactly how Odette felt.

"I don't think I tell you enough that I'm sorry for how I acted," she says. She hasn't ever apologized. I'd never expect her to, anyway. "I acted like a brat."

"You were processing a lot of feelings," I tell her.

"That doesn't mean I should have used you as my punching bag."

"You're wiser than your years, Victoria Vaughn. But I'll be your punching bag anytime you need one. Sometimes we just need a place to focus our frustrations."

"I appreciate that more than I can say," she says. "Now. Are you dating Odette or not?"

"You're a nosy little shit."

"You're an avoidant butthead," she says, causing me to laugh.

"We're trying ."

"Trying what?"

"Trying to see if we can have a relationship. Trying to see if she can trust me again."

"Is that like dating without definitions or something?"

"It's like I hurt her and I'm working on making it up to her," I say. "As far as definitions go, I did throw out the word girlfriend and she didn't take off running."

"Ah, that's a good start." She smiles and pats me on the back.

"I thought so."

"You're a good man, Dad. Loyal and strong, I'm sure she sees that. She's brilliant."

"You're brilliant," I mimic.

"No, you're brilliant."

"No, you are brilliant," I repeat, wrinkling my nose.

"You're a dork," she says, laughing. "I love you, Dad."

"Love you, too, kid."