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“This was your first love?”
“I was so young and stupid,” I said, sighing. “I thought…well, it doesn’t matter. But I’ve been trying to get away from him for so damn long, and he still scares me. Sometimes it feels like I’ll never be free of him.”
“You are safe in your apartment?”
“I think so. He showed up at work yesterday but—”
“Work? He came to your office?”
“He was outside but—”
“This is not okay!” He started to sit up, but I put a gentle hand on his chest.
“Hey. Everything is okay. He can’t get inside the building and I’d walked to work, so he caught me at a vulnerable moment, but nothing happened.” I didn’t dare tell him Hugh had grabbed my arm.
“Why didn’t you tell me? I could have come after the morning skate.”
I smiled to myself because that was as sweet as it was ridiculous. “You’ve had a lot going on and I was worried about you,” I reminded him. “Keegan and that stupid article.”
He made a sound that was a cross between a sigh and a grunt. “He’s such a fucking asshole. None of those things he said about my teammates were true.”
“And what about what he said about you?” I asked gently, since he hadn’t mentioned it yet tonight.
“I don’t…know. Do you think I am…autistic?”
“I’m in no way qualified to answer that,” I admitted. “But does it matter?”
“To me, yes.”
“Why? It doesn’t change who you are. It certainly doesn’t change who you are to me. You’re the biggest, strongest guy I’ve ever known and I’m not even a little bit afraid of you.”
“But I am weird, right?”
“What does that even mean? We’re all weird in our own way.”
“You know exactly what I mean.” He was staring up at the ceiling now and I lifted my head so I could see him better. “You see it. Everyone sees it. Even I fucking see it. I just did not know it had a name.”
“Lars. Look at me.”
He shifted slightly, his eyes meeting mine in the semidarkness.
“When I’m with you, I feel safe. Not because you’re physically strong, but because of the man you are. I could hire a bodyguard your size if that was the only thing I needed, but that’s not what’s happening between us. When you touch me, I don’t flinch, waiting to see if you’re going to hurt me. When you look at me, I’m not instantly worried that you’re going to criticize how I look or what I’m wearing. You’re a good man. A strong, sexy, athletic one, but also kind and gentle, which means so much to a woman like me. You have no idea how many people have tried to hurt me—both physically and emotionally—because of my size, my job, my looks.”
“Never.” He shook his head slowly. “I am far from perfect, but I will never purposely hurt you.” He paused. “Maybe sometimes you have to tell me things, like not to leave in the morning, because I don’t know so much about relationships.”
“Is that what this is?” I whispered. My breath practically stuck in my throat as I struggled to say the words.
“I think so. Yes. If you want this. With me.” He reached out one of his big hands, putting it on the side of my face. “You are special, Sheridan. When I’m with you, I feel almost…normal.”
“You are normal.”
He narrowed his eyes a little, as if he were thinking about something serious, but then he kissed me. Except this kiss wasn’t filled with passion and hunger like the kisses we’d shared earlier had been. This kiss was something new, something I hadn’t ever experienced with anyone else, and my gut told me he hadn’t either. This was the beginning of an emotional bond, of something that went beyond the amazing sex we’d been having.
I was nervous, because there were so many things I still needed to tell him, but I just wanted to bask in his attention, his body, everything that made him the man he was and how it felt when we were together. Later, after we’d had time to get used to this new stage of our relationship and there was less chaos surrounding us, I’d tell him the rest.
Chapter Sixteen
Lars
* * *
Mavericks Group Text
Nash: Who the fuck put up those pictures of me in the locker room?
Wes: What pictures?
Nash: It’s a picture of me and that old lady from the Golden Girls and it looks like she’s holding a whip.
Wes: Can you send us a pic?
Nash: Can you kiss my ass?
Drew: Nash, I just want you to know I’m completely on your side. This is ridiculous.
Nash: Thank you.
Drew: No, thank you.
Nash: For what?
Drew: For being a friend.
* * *
“And how did you feel about spending last Christmas alone?”
I shrugged and glanced around the office of psychiatrist Dr. David Chiou, only eleven minutes into our first session and already bored out of my mind. How would I manage to sit here and talk to him for an entire hour?
