Last Defense, page 7
Why wouldn’t a widower cry with his husband’s family?
I was a voyeur; the worst kind of watcher, seeing this naked grief I understood but couldn’t handle. Instead, I lined up the coffee on the side, took mine, and left the room, following the corridor to where I knew the pups were.
Standing watching them, all curled up together in a heap of fur, I attempted to find some kind of peace, or understanding, or hell, compassion that I could give Ben with this.
How the hell had this uncomplicated thing we had between us become so complex with need and, hell, grief?
I didn’t have time for this. I had enough of my own grief banked behind a wall in my head, and I wasn’t pulling that out to examine it any time soon.
“I’m taking DK back to my place,” Ben said from behind me. I could see his reflection in the glass, and he hovered there, not coming close to me.
“So that’s your husband’s…” I left it open, waiting for Ben to elaborate, although I hadn’t really earned the right to know everything.
“Yeah. My husband, Liam, his brother has three sons. DK is the youngest. Poor kid got caught up in the family reaction when Liam decided to marry me. Then when Liam changed his will and left me everything, the dislike for me turned to hate. Hell, he wasn’t even happy for DK to visit, even though DK used to work weekends here as his part-time job.”
“But you are letting him stay with you now.” I needed to know that was real, for the kid with the tears and the bruises.
I’d hurt people worse than the marks I’d seen on DK’s skin, but never off the ice. Never in a temper so great I could hurt a kid, or my own son. I hated that doubt about what Ben would do crept into my tone, and I saw my words hurt a little from the way he stiffened.
“He’ll always have a place with me.” His voice was clipped, and I knew I’d fucked up.
“I didn’t mean anything by that. I know you.”
He turned to leave, but I swear I heard him mutter that I didn’t know him at all.
Great, now I was the one feeling hurt. I caught up with him and grabbed his sleeve, pulled him to a stop, and kissed him, soft and insistent, until, with a sigh, he linked his hands around my neck.
“You don’t need to be worrying about this,” he said, his dark eyes brimming with emotion.
“I didn’t before,” I admitted. Honesty was one of my strong points, after all. “But this is a vulnerable young adult, here, and hell, you make it damn hard for me to walk away and not care.”
He rested his head on my shoulder, and I heard that sigh again, as if the weight of the world sat on him, heavily. I was a big guy, and I had the space to take some of the worry away from him. It’s kind of my thing. Protection. Being the brick wall.
“But you want the worry now? After…what? A couple hookups?”
I tried for lightness in my reply. “I have nothing else to do outside of hockey.”
“You’re an idiot.”
I tapped my head then, “Been hit in the head too many times.”
I was joking. It was what any hockey player would say.
But the truth of it was acid inside me.
I did what I do best. I ignored the twist of blood vessels in my brain and carried on.
Chapter Seven
Ben
Harboring DK was making me a nervous wreck. I loved him, and his brothers, but knowing DK’s dad, Rolf, was going to roll up at any given time, bubbling with vitriol, had me on edge. He’d never approved of me marrying Liam. He’d boycotted the wedding and taken half the family with him. Of course, he’d turned up at the small reception with its open bar, causing chaos with his prejudiced views. I’d wanted him gone, but the sadness in Liam’s eyes had made me hold my tongue.
I hated him, and I didn’t have the capacity to hate anyone, so I didn’t know where it came from.
Mostly he scared me.
Added to that we had the vandalism, and I’d told the staff at the shelter that no one was to be alone on the premises at any time. We double-checked all locks before leaving for the night.
Home was…well, home was a nest of porcupines.
Glenna and Carol had had to be informed of the situation because Rolf knew where we lived.
My great-aunts had gone off the deep end when they’d seen the bruises on DK’s pale skin. It had taken all my persuasive powers to get them not to call the police. Firstly, the cops would likely not send out a patrol car to sit outside our place and protect us. That probably only worked on TV shows and in neighborhoods far more affluent than ours. Secondly, DK—or David Kenneth as Liam liked to teasingly call him, since the kid hated his first name for some reason—was legally an adult. Sure, he could press assault charges, but he refused to do so. And it would be his word against Rolf’s, and who would believe a kid with some red on his ledger? Small potatoes. Teen stuff. Tagging old houses, mostly. Stealing a candy bar at a corner store. Same kind of thing that any inner-city kid does—trust me, he could have been doing much worse—but DK never could avoid getting caught.
When the offer to attend the fifth game against Washington came from Max, I hesitated.
“Max, I really appreciate these,” I said as I gazed at the tickets he’d just placed in my hand, right in the middle of my office.
“But?”
“But I’m not sure I should leave the house. What if Rolf shows up?”
Max studied me closely. “Ben, you can’t hide the kid in the house forever. And in all honesty, you look like hammered shit.”
“Thanks.” I scowled, then ran a hand over my face. “I feel like hammered shit.”
I hadn’t slept well since DK had shown up, and my stomach was an acidic mess. Stress did not sit well on me.
“Come to the game. Bring DK. You need to unwind.” He slapped a big hand to the nape of my neck, rubbing and pulling me closer. I let him do both because I really needed a neck rub and the feel of his arms around me. Max was slowly becoming a staple in my life, that thing you awaken and look for, or find yourself reaching for in the night. We hadn’t yet even had a true date or spent the night with each other. I longed for those things. Maybe I needed to stop waiting for the things I wanted. God knows life can be short. Horribly short at times. Eyes slipping shut as his fingers worked the hard muscles of my neck, I let the words slip out.
“Bet Washington win.”
Max laughed softly. “What kind of bet you have in mind?”
“If they win tonight, you come home with me after the game and spend the night.”
The neck rubbing stalled. My breathing stopped as well.
“Hey, I need you to look at me.” I opened my eyes and found myself staring into gold-brown eyes that burned with emotion. “Is this something you really want from me?”
“Yeah.”
“Can I spend the night if we win?”
The Railers had charbroiled my team the game before. I mean, they’d burned Washington as if they were cheap chicken legs on an open flame.
“You want to?”
“Yeah. I do.”
I sucked in a deep breath before I fainted. “Okay then. I’ll find an extra toothbrush and put it next to mine.”
Max kissed me so hard and for so long, the fainting thing became a worry again.
DK and I were smashed between two of the biggest Railers fans God ever put breath into. Both men looked like linebackers, and they were rabid. Faces painted that smoky blue the Railers jerseys were, bare chests with a steam engine that looked drawn on with a Sharpie, were proudly displayed for all to see. Oh, and they were drunk. Not just pleasantly tipsy, either. I mean drunk off their respective asses. DK thought it was all kinds of funny how the only person in East River Arena who was cheering the team from Washington was sandwiched between two huge men.
Every time Washington did something good—and that was a lot of times—I cheered and was immediately glowered at. Nothing derogatory had been said yet, but it was just a matter of time, I was sure. Still, I wasn’t about to be cowed in front of DK, so I rooted as boldly as a man could root.
“Man, they look like a different team,” DK yelled after our big Russian forward took out Tennant Rowe. And I mean he took him out. Clean shoulder check that caught Rowe in the chest as he was moving the puck down the boards. The wunderkind went down hard, his shoulder taking the brunt of the impact with the boards. As Rowe lay on the ice, stunned and in some intense pain judging by his face, my team stole the puck and raced at the Railers goalie, the shot from point from our star sailing over Stan’s left shoulder and shaking the twine. I leaped to my feet as the red light flared to life.
Mr. Mountain on my right bent down to stare at me, his nose nearly pressed flat to mine.
“You need to…go back home little man.” His breath was horrendous. A sickening mixture of stale beer and nacho cheese.
DK leaped to his sneakers. “It’s cool. He’s dating Max van Hellren.”
Okay, then. I guessed Max and I were out. As soon as he’d said it, DK’s face fell as the reality of what he’d spouted sank in.
This was interesting. I had a flash of the upcoming beating I’d get for being black, gay, and a Washington fan.
The face-painted man breathing in my face stared at me dully for a minute. I fisted my fingers in preparation. They might beat me like a rug, but I planned to get at least one punch in before I went down.
Never in a million years did I expect him to scoop me up into a crushing bear hug and kiss me right on the lips.
When my feet were back on the cold cement, I stumbled back into DK, my eyes wide.
“My husband and I love the Heller!” He patted the head of the small man on his left, who smiled and waved around the burly blue-faced fan.
“Oh. Well, cool, then!” I grinned and gave him a thumbs-up, then sat down and tried my best not to get kissed by another man during the rest of the game. I came close again later when Tennant Rowe executed this amazing play right by our blue line. He managed to lift the stick of one of our defenseman and then, in this wild slick move, skipped around him, gathered the puck, and sped at our goalie. He took this blistering shot that somehow went through the four inches of space between our goalie’s blocker and the pipe. Mr. Mountain only pounded on my back when Rowe scored, thank the Good Lord.
That goal energized the Railers, but they never could get the next goal needed to tie the game. Washington had won this game and were heading back home.
“Tell the Heller I love him,” Mr. Mountain yelled as DK and I moved into the crowd, exiting the arena.
“Will do,” I shouted over my shoulder.
It was a beautiful night. Warm and clear, low humidity. DK and I lingered around the players’ exit, talking with fans while we waited for the players to emerge.
Max walked out wearing a gray suit that hugged his broad shoulders and meaty thighs perfectly. He was talking with Stan when he saw us. His lips curled into a smile. A rush of affection moved through me seeing him move among the fans, signing caps and programs. He really was a good man. And I really was tumbling for him faster than I should, I knew it. Yet I craved it despite being scared by the knowledge.
“Hello, Benton Dog Man!” Stan clapped me on the shoulder. I winced into a smile. “I am yet looking for good dog. Big one. Long teeths with burning red eyes. You have such dog yet?”
“Ah, no, sorry. No dogs with red eyes, but I’ll call as soon as I get one in.”
“Da. Good. And when call, talk to me only. Not talk with Erik. He wishes friendly dog with curly tail. Pah. I say bad men not scare of happy dog. Bad men scare of wolfhound. You have wolfhound at shelter?”
“No, none of those either. I do have some nice lab mixes. I can have one of the volunteers bring one in for the next Adopt a Pet game break.”
Stan mulled that over as Max stepped up beside me, his fingers brushing mine.
“Okay, yes, lab mix is okay good until wolfhound with long teeths come.” He nodded, ruffled DK’s hair, and went off to find his Erik waiting for him by the players’ cars.
“Would it look weird if I kissed the only person in Harrisburg wearing a Washington T-shirt?” Max softly asked as we made our way to our car, which was parked around the front with the rest of the commoners.
“Not sure about that. I think we’re already out thanks to someone who shall remain nameless,” I teasingly said, giving DK an exaggerated dark look.
“I’m sorry Uncle Ben, I honestly thought that guy was going to pound you into pudding.”
I threw an arm around his neck and pulled Liam’s nephew in to my side.
“Ah well, not like two guys kissing on this team is anything new,” Max stated, then tugged open the door of my car. “I’ll meet you at your place in about thirty minutes. I need to run home and pack some stuff.”
“Sounds good.” I stole a fast kiss, then slid behind the wheel. Max slapped the roof and backed away as we pulled out.
DK and I exchanged glances and he smiled at me.
“Oh, uh, I forgot to tell you I was going to spend the night with Skipper,” he said, with no trace that he was lying so he could give me and Max space.
“Oh yeah?” I suspected this was something he was making up, but I ran with it. “You want me to drop you off at his house, then?”
“Yep, yeah, cool.” He never looked up from the texts he was sending. Probably to Skipper to inform him he was crashing at his place.
We made the ride to DK’s neighborhood, a nice middle-class one, and I followed his direction to Skipper’s place.
“You need me to pick you up tomorrow?” I asked as the porch light on the house we’d parked in front of came on. A gangly kid ambled out onto the porch and waved.
“Nah, I’ll get Skipper to drop me off. Have a nice night, Uncle Ben.”
He ran up to his buddy, exchanged a fist bump, then went inside. The light went off. I raced home, eager to get there before Max and maybe set up something romantic. Or at least change the sheets.
I never did get to change the sheets. Max was waiting for me when I pulled up. I was parking, when my Aunt Glenna toddled out of her row house, slid behind the wheel of her old Lincoln, and pulled away in a cloud of burning oil.
“You come right on in and park quickly, Benton!” Aunt Carol bellowed. “We see you got an overnight man come to call.”
“Lord Almighty, give me strength,” I prayed as her shout bounced down the street and into every open window.
“Sorry. I thought I was being discreet,” Max said when I ambled up to him, his bag draped over his shoulder. “I even asked the cabbie to douse the headlights so as not to alarm anyone.”
“They have ears like a dog,” I mumbled before Aunt Carol arrived to give Max a once-over. “Why aren’t you old women in bed?”
“We’re planning the resistance movement for the weekend. Hmm, hmm, he’s a beefy one, Benton.” She pinched Max’s thick biceps and nodded approvingly. “Always did like my men big and brawny.”
“Carol! Stop pinching that man,” Aunt Glenna shouted as she waddled down the sidewalk in her robe and slippers. “He’s come to pinch Benton!”
“Okay, we’re going in now.” I pulled Max inside and shut the door on the two old women smiling dirty smiles.
“Your aunts are funny.” Max tossed his bag onto the couch, then I moved into his arms.
“Oh yeah, they’re hilarious.”
I slid my fingers up over his cheeks, enjoying the soft bristles of his beard on my palms. He didn’t need to say anything. I was feeling it too. The snap of want mixed with the subtle glow of right. This thing here…this was feeling all kinds of right.
“You look like you need kisses.” He cupped my ass, yanking me flush to him. “Or do you need something else?”
“You’re reading it right. I need kisses and I need something else.”
The kiss was hot, wet perfection. The something else was even better. Max and I had this top-notch sexual compatibility. We seemed to sense what the other needed or wanted. We found our way upstairs, his bag in tow, and fell into my bed. Bucky circled the bed, whining, anxious about something.
“I’m not hurting him,” Max told the dog.
“Let me put him out and then crate him.”
I rushed to do both, eager to get back to Max. Bucky ran into his crate in the living room, the same one he’d had since he was a pup. He loved his crate. He felt safe in there. I handed him a dog treat and locked the door, smiling at him as he settled right down after a big pet.
Jogging back up to Max, I was already peeling my shirt off when I hit the bedroom doorway and heard the soft snores.
There he was, spread across my bed, hand on his dick, sound asleep.
I couldn’t really be mad at him. Smiling, I threw the lightweight summer blanket over his legs and hips, stripped down to my briefs, and turned off the light. He was a big man. Heavy, too. Gaining any room to sleep took some nudging and shoving, but I eventually got him over to his side and curled up behind him. The night air rustled the curtains, moving over us, cooling the room, and me. I wriggled closer, fully spooning him , and sighed at the radiant warmth seeping into me. Sleep rolled gently over me.
When I woke, it was to the soft song of a robin and warm rays of sunshine. Also, I had a man who weighed the same as a silo lying on me. It was nice, and fluffy, but highly uncomfortable. Still, I lay there for as long as I could, then wriggled out from under him. Max never moved. Didn’t sniffle or snuffle or even grunt. The man was a sound sleeper. Probably from all those years spent sleeping in hotel rooms with other guys sawing wood.
I snuck into the bathroom, showered, shaved, and pulled on lounge pants and a tank top. Down to the kitchen I went, eager to get the coffee on and some breakfast ready. Since it was Sunday, I had the day off. Hopefully. Unless we had new intakes arrive. City this big, it was rare not to have a new animal come in every day of the week. I let Bucky out of his crate, then opened the back door for him. He bounded out into the yard. I closed the screen door and let him do his thing in my fenced-in little patch of green.
