“I don’t know what is in that file.” I start while I look straight into her eyes. “I have no doubt any of it is good. I was a young stupid kid.” I close my eyes, thinking back to the way I just let loose once I was out of my house. “My whole life I pretended to be happy.”
She looks at me, confused.
“Don’t get me wrong, I had a great childhood. My mother made sure we were always her priority. But my father, he”—I shake my head—“he couldn’t care less who he hurt or what he did. When they divorced, I used to listen to my mom cry at night.” The memories are etched into my heart. “I vowed to never be the one to make her cry,” I continue while Karrie puts a hand over my shoulder and comes in for a hug, her face going into the nook of my neck. She fits into my body as if she were made for me.
“I’m sorry,” she whispers, another thing that draws me to her. Her heart is soft and even if she didn’t want to care she does.
“So I just pretended nothing bothered me. I pretended I was happy when all I wanted to do was yell at the top of my lungs, wanted to get into his face and yell ‘Why?’ but I did the only thing I could. I took care of my mom and sister. It was easier than having a meltdown and seeing my mother add another thing to worry about to her shoulders. Then she met Cooper and I slowly started coming out. I was way more aggressive on the ice.” Her face comes out of my nook. I move her hair off her shoulder while I kiss her neck. “My first NHL game, I dropped the gloves. It was stupid. I got benched for two games after that. I got my ass chewed by everyone that I knew. So then I took it out when we went out. I would get into fights with anyone, just for the fuck of it, because I was The Matthew Grant. There were even a couple of lawsuits that they buried. The partying took over my life also. I was just happy to not be perfect Matthew.”
“You don’t have to continue,” she tells me.
“I don’t have to, but I want to. I want to give you all of me. I don’t want to hide who I am from you. That past is a piece of me, just like what we are doing is a piece of me, just like my childhood is a piece of me.” I take a deep breath. “There were lots of women.” The minute the words come out of my mouth her body stills, she gets stiff, and tries to get up.
“Okay, I think we have had enough talking for one night.” But I block her with my arm around her waist.
“No, we are doing this because once I get in there, I’m not fucking leaving. So we do this now.”
“Once you get in there?” Her head cocks to the side.
“Yeah,” I say, pointing to her heart. “Once I get in there, I’m never leaving.”
“Okay, I get it you had women. You weren’t a boy scout. You had orgies, I get it.” She starts babbling. “I don’t really need to hear the details.”
“I didn’t have orgies,” I tell her. “Seriously, I wasn’t that bad.”
“You have a number?” she asks, now crossing her arms, the look almost like she wants to shank me.
“I don’t, do you?” I feel like throwing up. I might be sick. The steak that I just ate is sitting like a clump of coal in my stomach.
“Do I what, have a number? Um.” Her head drops. “One,” she whispers, “Ish.”
I look at the vein in her neck moving fast. My finger goes to it so I can feel her heartbeat. “Ish?” I ask her.
“I really don’t want to do this,” she says to me.
“In this room, in this house, anywhere we are, when it’s me and you, it’s a safe place. I will never ever throw anything you tell me in your face. I will never treat you without the respect you deserve. I will never put your feelings in the back of mine. I will always make you feel safe, because that’s the man I want to be, but more importantly that’s the only thing you deserve.”
She looks right through me, her blue eyes shining bluer than I have ever seen. “I’ve never really done it.”
“What do you mean? You don’t think you did it?” The blue eyes now glare.
“It was our first time for both,” she hisses. “You happy now, Mr. My Penis is the social butterfly?” She pushes and gets up because she catches me off guard. “He finished early, okay?”