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“Hey.” Everest wraps his hands around my waist perfectly and dips his head low for a deep.
He’s warm and wet and tastes like the lemonade he was drinking a few minutes ago. He kisses me hard, moving his mouth against mine, and sucking my bottom lip into his mouth. He kisses me until we both have to break apart to get air.
“I love you so much,” he whispers. “Every day and,” he takes my hand in his, “I’ll never get enough of this.” He gives me a quick kiss on my lips. “Of you.”
I can feel the tears building up in my throat, but just swallow them down. “I love you to Everest. Thank you for loving me.”
II
PIKE
The first three chapters of PIKE, my dark ice hockey romance.
Chapter 1: RHYS
Then
They’re fighting again. I sit in the darkness of my room listening as our parents go at it. They’ve always been toxic to each other. But tonight is bad. It’s worse than any other night we’ve ever had to deal with.
There’s a knock on my door and I know who it is before she even slips inside.Pike.
She’s climbing onto my bed and curls up right next to me, invading my senses with that strong fruity scent of hers.
I press my forehead against her cheek as my sister fists her fingers in my T-shirt. I can feel the warm tears on her skin, so I wrap my arm around her and hold her closer.
“Rhys.” Her voice is soft, but I can hear the shakiness. “Do you think it’ll be okay tomorrow? I don’t want us all to break apart.”
There’s a loud thumping sound coming from downstairs. Mom is screaming and Dad is too. I’ve never heard him get this angry before. He’s screaming so loud that my own heart starts pounding hard against my chest.
What do I tell Pike, when I’m afraid too? Do I give her hope for a better tomorrow? I’d just be lying if I did because, after tonight, I know deep down in my heart that things will never be the same again. But I lie to her anyway, because I can’t tell her the bitter truth. I won’t. That’s what I’ve always done. Protected Pike from the ugly, while I absorbed the bad.
“Yeah. They’re just fighting like always,” I say. “They’ll get over it in the morning. Don’t worry about them, Rabbit.”
Pike relaxes against me, but she’s not stupid. She’s just trying to make herself feel better, rather than face the inevitable truth.
“That’s not my son sleeping up there!” I hear Dad yell downstairs. “You’re just a fucking whore, Michelle. You should take your filthy fucking bastard son and leave my house.”
He’s talking about me. Why would he say that? A lump wedges itself in my throat.
I grow still next to Pike and thankfully she’s not listening to the fight anymore, because she’s tucked into my side and falling asleep.
Mom says something unintelligible and then I hear something else getting thrashed. I should go down there. What if he’s hitting her again? It won’t be anything new.
“No!” Dad screams. “Don’t bring my daughter into this. Pike will stay here. She has me. She doesn’t need a whore bringing her up.”
The house is silent after that. I hear a door slamming and then the sound of an engine roaring. That’s probably Dad leaving.
I’m never usually scared when they have fights but tonight I’m afraid.
I try to move so that I can go and check on Mom, but Pike grabs my T-shirt as if she can sense what I want to do.
So I stay there with her in the dark, holding her until she’s softly snoring. I grab a pillow from behind me with my free hand and replace my arm that is wrapped around Pike’s neck with it before I climb out of bed.
I wait a few seconds and when Pike turns away from me to face the other side of the room, I quickly slip out and shut the door behind me.
Mom is downstairs sitting on the floor next to the couch with a bottle of vodka in her hands. Everything is a mess. Pillows are strewn. Pike’s awards from school for her volleyball competitions are thrown on the floor. My first hockey game that was framed is on the floor too. A shattered bottle of red wine sits at Mom’s feet. The blood red is sitting in a dark puddle. Her head is down as I step into the living room, but the floorboards creak underneath me and she looks up.
The black stains from her mascara left dark trails down her rosy cheeks, probably from when she was crying. Her eyes are bloodshot and her lips quiver before she gives me a quick smile. I can tell it’s forced because it doesn’t reach her eyes.
