Iron Cross: The Dartmouth Cobras #6 (43 page)

Debra shot her a sideways glance. “So you don’t want to talk about your man?”

“He’s not ‘my man.’”

“So he’s just Chicklet’s boy toy?”

“
Mom
!” Laura felt herself blushing as Debra arched a brow. “He’s…it’s complicated. He’s loud and obnoxious. He rarely does what he’s told. You know about BDSM? Well, he’s a mess of a sub.” Thinking about her phone conversation with Tyler, Laura smiled. “But he’s loyal, and he’s an amazing friend. Half the time I don’t know whether to strangle him or hug him. If he wasn’t so young, and wild, and out of control…”

“Bless his heart, you love him, don’t you?” Debra gazed out at the ocean, breathing in the fresh air, her eyes drifting shut. “I know Chicklet does, and that bothered me because I don’t quite understand how these relationships with so many people work, but she is as devoted to you as ever. I don’t see him being a problem, except that he isn’t following all the rules, is he? You need love to be that straightforward, and you don’t know what to do when it’s not.”

“What do you mean?”

“You didn’t follow the rules, Laura. You didn’t marry a Southern boy and have a few babies. You dated women and became a cop.”

“Being a lesbian and being a cop are—”

“Not what’s expected. You think about that.” Debra took Laura’s hand, leading her back toward the house. “I’d like a tea, and I do think I want Chicklet to make it for me while I catch up with my daughter. Do you think she’ll mind?”

Chicklet wouldn’t, but it was Laura’s place to… Ugh, Debra knew her too well. She’d make Laura sit there and watch her Mistress prepare them both a tea to prove a point. And if Laura called Chicklet “Mistress,” Debra would wait for Chicklet’s reaction and then…then she’d see that Chicklet didn’t want their relationship to be limited to Dominance and submission. Something Laura had been ignoring.

There’d been no discussion about Tyler coming into their relationship, and maybe there should have been, but was that really so different than Laura becoming a slave when her Mistress wanted a sub? She didn’t doubt that Chicklet loved her, and yet…things were different. They weren’t as close anymore.

She hadn’t discussed any of the things with Chicklet that she’d spoken of so easily with Tyler. And
he
was the one Laura had decided didn’t fit with them anymore. If it wasn’t him, and it certainly wasn’t Chicklet, then…

Then maybe it was Laura. Maybe because she’d stopped trying. She’d decided things should be one way, and hadn’t considered what anyone else might need or want. Debra said she would have loved Laura even if she hadn’t been perfect. And Laura didn’t doubt that.

But she’d tried to be perfect for Chicklet. And Tyler didn’t fit into her plans, so she’d made him expendable.

Only to her. Chicklet loved him. Despite his flaws, or maybe because of them.

She told Debra to go ahead and stood outside, alone, trying to make sense of everything. But all she could see was the last day she’d spent in her birth parents’ home. Her dress was one of Mother’s favorites. The one Laura wore to church every Sunday. Mother was out on the porch, gossiping with her friends over Beth-Anne’s shotgun wedding. Beth-Anne was seventeen, had gotten knocked up, but the boy was the mayor’s son, and wouldn’t she make a beautiful bride?

Laura waited for Mother in the parlor. She was afraid to look at her. Why couldn’t she just be pregnant by a boy her mother could brag about being a good catch? Laura was only thirteen, but girls her age had babies. She saw it on TV all the time.

All her friends had crushes, and some had gotten their first kiss like her, stolen behind their daddy’s barn or under the bleachers at school. Laura had been seeing the son of the town sheriff, but she wouldn’t let him kiss her. His older sister was the one she kissed. And it was wrong, and she knew that, but when she’d gone to church, the preacher had been nice and told her to talk to her mommy. He said young people went through phases, and she would find her way with proper guidance.

“Why aren’t you at the game, Laura? Wasn’t Bobby supposed to bring you?” Her mother walked by her, going to the kitchen and putting on the kettle. She came back when Laura didn’t follow her. “Are you ill?”

“I don’t know. I…I read a book and they said people can’t help who they love.” Laura folded her hands on her lap. “I don’t love Bobby.”

“He’s a good boy! Don’t be silly. If you had a little fight, you’ll get over it.”

“I don’t like boys.” Laura pressed her eyes shut, not sure why she’d blurted it out like that.

But her mother didn’t understand, so it didn’t matter. “Did you see him kissing another girl? These things happen. He’s young and he will run wild, but you have to show him you are worth coming home to.”

Laura’s lips parted. Her mother expected her to grow up and become some man’s wife. She’d be less disappointed if she understood her daughter wasn’t like her friends’ daughters. But only if Laura was very, very clear. “Mother, I think…I think I’m a lesbian.”

Disgust twisted her mother’s lips as she strode up to Laura and grabbed her arm. “I knew there was something wrong with you. The preacher’s wife said you were in her prayers. I’ve been waiting, but I didn’t expect…” She dragged Laura to the door. “You sicken me. No one can help you, not even God.”

Her mother was angry, Laura had expected that, but as she stumbled down the front steps, she couldn’t quite make sense of what her mother was saying. “I’ll keep dating Bobby. I’ll go meet him at the game and I’ll be good to him.”

“You will pretend to be normal? How can you when I could see you weren’t? And you had to tell the preacher how disgusting you are. Soon everyone will know and I won’t have you here to shame me.” Her mother slammed the door.

Why had she told anyone? Why couldn’t she have kept it to herself? In the books she read, people learned to accept everything. But this was her life, not a book with a happy ending. And she was standing outside, alone as darkness fell, with nowhere to go. She didn’t dare go to her father; he’d made it clear he wanted a son and she was worse than a daughter, she was…not normal.

A long walk and she found herself at Bobby’s door. His sister, Elise, brought her inside, hugging her and saying everything would be all right. But when Elise spoke to her parents, she didn’t admit she was different too. She told them Laura had “come out” and her parents didn’t want her.

Days later, Laura found herself in a group home with other children no one wanted or could care for. And she accepted that she’d be there forever.

“Laura?” Chicklet came out of the guest house,
descending the stairs quickly, the concern in her voice tearing Laura from her memories. She cupped Laura’s face in her hand. “Please talk to me. I can’t help you if you don’t talk to me.”

“I was…I was thinking about my mother.” Laura leaned into Chicklet, resting her head on her chest. “It’s silly, I know. It was such a long time ago, but sometimes… Debra loves me despite everything. I don’t get how she could when the people who should have didn’t.”

“Life’s funny that way, but that’s how love is supposed to be.”

Laura nodded slowly. “I guess.”

“You guess? If you don’t
know
,
I’ve done something wrong.” Chicklet rested her forehead against Laura’s. “What do I have to do to make you believe it?”

“Forgive me?” Laura wasn’t sure what she was asking forgiveness for—all the things she’d done that she could be sorry for, Chicklet didn’t know about. But…maybe that was it. Maybe she just needed to know Chicklet
could
forgive her.

Chicklet’s expression didn’t show the confusion Laura had expected. Instead, a tense smile curved her lips. “Is there something I need to forgive you for?”

Does she know?
Laura studied Chicklet’s face and… No, if Chicklet had any idea what Laura had tried to do, she’d be furious. Instead, she was waiting patiently for Laura to talk to her. And Laura had no idea how much she should say. She inhaled and shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess I’m just afraid I’ll disappoint you one day.”

“You might, but it really depends how bad whatever you do is. I don’t want you to be perfect. I just want you. And sometimes I wonder if I’m losing you.” Chicklet’s smile brightened a little. “I like this though, we’re talking again and I missed that.”

“When did we ever stop?”

“You only speak to your ‘Mistress’ lately, Laura.” Chicklet gathered Laura’s hair in her hands, not tugging, just loosely holding on as though she wasn’t ready to let go and was afraid Laura might slip away. “I thought I was more than that.”

There was pain in Chicklet’s tone, and Laura hated that she was the cause. She curved her hands around Chicklet’s forearms and met her eyes. “You
are
more. So much more and I’m sorry if I made it seem like… Damn it, why didn’t you say something?”

“I was trying to be what you needed. But I guess we’ve both gotta work on our communication.” Chicklet kissed Laura, a soft, undemanding kiss unlike any they’d shared in a very long time. Tender and loving and proving the damage done to their relationship could be repaired. The screen door creaked and Chicklet sighed. “But first, I have to go make tea. I love your mom, but I swear whenever she’s around, I’m put to work.”

“I heard that.” Debra called from the porch.

Chicklet snorted and turned, reaching back to take Laura’s hand. “You were meant to, Mrs. Hamilton.”

Debra winked at Laura, then headed back inside, calling out, “One sugar and a splash of milk, Chicklet dear. Laura, come sit with me in the sunroom. Roland was just about to show me pictures of Kelsey as a little girl. He said she wore dresses, but I don’t believe him.”

“
Chicklet
looks beautiful in a dress.” Laura squeezed Chicklet’s hand, all too aware of how much she hated most people using her “legal name.” She’d been Chicklet since she’d started playing hockey and lost her first tooth to a slash to the face. Even as a little girl, she’d always had gum because it was a special treat from her father. She’d tried to use a piece of gum to hide the hole and her father had laughed and given her the new nickname.

Laura loved the story, and she also knew Chicklet’s mother had chosen the name Kelsey, so she never used it. She didn’t mind her father or her stepmother doing so on occasion, but otherwise…

Not much got by Debra. She inclined her head to Laura as Chicklet came into the room, then spoke quietly. “Chicklet is beautiful in many ways. You must be proud of her, Roland.”

“I am.” Roland smiled fondly at his daughter as Chicklet came over to hug him. He chuckled as he sat back. “But tea sounds mighty good right now.”

“I’m going!” Chicklet shook her head, her grin contradicting the irritation in her tone. “Slave drivers here, the lot of you!”

Laughter filled the room as Chicklet went to fix the tea. Debra patted the spot beside her on the sofa, and Laura went to sit beside her and look at the pictures she’d seen many times before. Things were so comfortable, there was a true sense of family and Laura loved how included she felt. Except…something was missing. She remembered the last time they came, just before Christmas. Tyler and Roland had been joking around the whole time, stopping only when Tyler went outside to get wood for the fireplace. He’d sat with Laura on the floor while they watched old movies. She’d fallen asleep with her head on his lap.

If Tyler ended up with Raif, this was how visits would be from now on. The idea bothered her, but…well, she didn’t really need to worry, did she? Chicklet had no intention of letting him go. And Raif wasn’t serious about him.

Even if he was…
Laura nodded at something Debra said without really hearing her. Fisted one hand against her knee. Tyler was family, whether or not he fit what anyone considered normal.
And Raif can’t have him.

A
knock at the door of Scott’s hotel room. Then a louder one. He lifted the pillow off his face just long enough to shout, “Go away!” before wincing and hiding from the light. He hadn’t closed the blinds properly, and sunlight cut like a glaring blade straight across the bed.

Too much tequila at night, followed by too much sun in the morning
, was a very bad mix. Top all that with a black eye and there was no way he was dragging his ass out of bed. Not for anyone who was currently in New York anyway.

As if Zach will
show. He’s probably…

From what Scott had seen last night, Zach wasn’t with Zovko. Unless Tyler was okay with his bed getting pretty fucking crowded. Of course, the kid usually shared his bed with two women, and now he was banging Zovko, so who knew?

You goddamn well know Tyler wouldn’t do that to you.

He did know, but he couldn’t quite get over seeing Tyler throwing himself at his worst enemy. Actually, everyone seemed cool with Raif now. Things hadn’t been so bad when the bastard was shunned by every man in the locker room, but that had changed quick. He understood the game had to come first, and yet… How was he supposed to focus on playing when he had to see Zach’s first love almost every fucking day? To have to face the fact that things weren’t over between him and Zovko?

There was more knocking, followed by shouting. “Damn it, Demyan, it’s Hunt! You alive in there?”

“Yes! Now…
ugh
.” Talking loud made Scott’s head pound. A wince made his eyes hurt. He was in bad shape. And the rookie goalie was partially to blame.

“Open the door, man! I’m not going anywhere until I make sure I didn’t fuck you up too bad.” Hunt banged on the door again. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to fucking hit you. I was aiming for Carter.”

Great, now Scott felt guilty for making the kid feel guilty. He tossed the pillow, crawling out of bed, feeling like he was about a hundred years old. His lips still tasted like lemon and salt. He made his way to the door, opened it, then trudged across the room to grab a bottle of water from the mini-fridge. The floor next to the fridge looked like the perfect place to land, so he plunked his ass down right there.

Coming over to crouch in front of Scott, Hunt whistled. And noisily dropped a bucket of ice on the ground. The boy really wanted to die. But he didn’t seem to realize he was cracking Scott’s skull open with every sound.

“Nice shiner.” The idiot didn’t even talk quietly. He had no mercy. “Brought you some ice for it. And I’ll order room service while you take a shower. You’ll feel better after you eat.”

“I got a better idea. You go away and I’ll get back in bed.” The bed was too far. Scott leaned his head against the wall.
The floor it is
. “Thanks for the ice.”

Hunt, being the annoying little—okay, not
little
but whatever—shit that he was, ignored Scott and went to the phone, still talking way too loud as he ordered enough breakfast for half the team. Except most of the team wouldn’t eat the crap Hunt ordered. Scott wasn’t even sure what buckwheat bread was, he wasn’t touching the grapefruit, and who the hell asked for chicken breast
and
boiled eggs?

When he heard Hunt asking if they had any Fiber One, he forgot about his pounding headache and fell over laughing. And groaning because that made his head hurt even worse. He lay on the floor on his back. “I hope that stuff was for you. I’ve never been
less
hungry in my life.”

Hunt hung up the phone and sat cross-legged beside Scott. “You might feel that way now, but you’ll thank me later.” He leaned over and poked under Scott’s eye, frowning and ignoring Scott’s curse. “Did you ice it at all?”

“I’m fine, Hunt. Be a good boy and find someone else to torture. Doesn’t Richards need you to feed him?”

“He’s hanging out with White again.” Hunt scowled and pushed to his feet. He walked away and Scott rolled over, annoyed with himself for being a jerk to the kid when he was just trying to help. He attempted to stand, but before he could, Hunt was back with a face cloth. And still scowling as he sat back down to dump some ice into the cloth. “He’s not in much better shape than you are. He was drinking beer all night in White’s room and I couldn’t get him out of bed this morning. So I came here.”

Lucky me.
But Scott would prefer Hunt in here chatting with him—no matter how painful sound was—than out around the hotel, possibly running into Rangers’ fans and getting in a fight because he was in a bad mood. After the fight with Luke, Hunt needed to keep his head down. A skill he hadn’t quite mastered yet.

“Not up to you to babysit the rookie anyway.” Scott closed his eyes and patted Hunt’s forearm. “White will keep him out of trouble.”

“Sure he will. Guess the ankle monitor will make sure they can both be found anyway.”

“He can’t leave the hotel. What are you worried about?”

The cloth full of ice was pressed over Scott’s eye. A little too hard. Scott took it before Hunt did permanent damage and pushed back into a sitting position out of reach.

Hunt put his hands on his knees. “I like
d White, but he brought Richards to see some asshole cop and…fuck, I don’t know. The kid’s confused. I was trying to help him.”

Well, looked like there was plenty of drama to go around. Scott would much rather focus on someone else’s, rather than his own, so he cocked his head. Gestured impatiently when Hunt didn’t continue. “Trying to help him…?”

“Explore his options I guess. He had his pick of some really hot chicks, but he wasn’t interested.” Hunt stared at the floor. “I just don’t want things to be hard for him, but…I don’t think there’s anything I can do, ’cept be his friend. And kick anyone’s ass that starts shit with him.”

All right, that was clear as mud. Scott carefully tried to place the disjointed bit
s of info. “Is he dating the cop’s daughter? Because kicking a cop’s ass is never a good idea.”

“No, he’s—” Hunt rubbed a hand over his face. “I really can’t tell you.”

“Okay, I got it. But you gotta know you’re right about just being his friend. If he knows you’re there, things will be easier for him, no matter what the issue is.” Scott glanced over at the door at a knock. “Let’s eat. And then I should probably give you shit about groping half-naked bunnies in front of my daughter.”

“Umm…yeah. Sorry about that.” Hunt shot him a sheepish smile on the way to the door. He returned a minute later with two covered trays of food which he set on the floor between them. He lifted the covers even as he finished his lame apology. “I tried to explain to her about the girls.”

“Yes. I heard.” Scott sighed as he looked over the trays. No coffee. He settled on one of the glasses of orange juice. “Next time…okay, no next time. But if you ever feel like explaining anything to her again, come ask me first.”

“Will do.” Hunt fixed up one of the plates with some of everything and handed it to Scott. “Eat up.”

Just to make Hunt happy, Scott took a few bites. Then distracted the younger man with speculations about whether Bower was hurt badly and if they had a chance against Philly. Hunt insisted Bower would be fine, but “just in case” he was doing extra work with the goalie coach. And spending a few more hours at the gym tonight if Scott wanted to join him.

The very idea of keeping up with Hunt at the gym made Scott tired. But it would be a good distraction. After a nice long nap.

He gave up on the pleasant idea of more sleep at another knock at the door. Sighed and rose to his feet. “I don’t suppose you’ll go away if I ask?”

Silence, then Zach, speaking barely loud enough to be heard through the door. “No. I think it’s time that we talk.”

“He’s right.” Hunt sidled past Scott with his plate and bowl of cereal on one of the trays before Scott could stop him. He opened the door, stepping aside so Zach could pass. “Make sure he eats. Work this shit out. You piss him off and I’ll find you. We clear?”

Zach arched a brow, then looked at Scott.

Scott rolled his eyes and nudged Hunt the rest of the way out of the room. “Threatening teammates is on our new list of you not acting like a crazy person. I’ll give you a call later, kid. We’ll hit the gym.”

“Sounds good.” Hunt shot one last warning glare at Zach, then headed off to his room.

The door was still open. Scott moved his hand as Zach faced him and gently pushed the door shut behind them. This was the first time they’d been alone in a long time, and Scott wasn’t sure what hurt worse. How much he missed this, or the fact that he wasn’t sure he wanted Zach here at all. He couldn’t think with the man so close, so he went back into the main room, straight past the bed to the only chair, a stiff black office chair by the desk.

Zach stood in the middle of the room, hands in the pockets of his faded blue jeans, his gaze on the tray still on the floor. He cleared his throat, bending down to pick up the tray, putting it on the desk as though he had to do something.

Rocking idly back and forth on the chair, Scott folded his arms over his chest, simply waiting for Zach to say whatever he’d come to say. The man wasn’t stupid, so he wasn’t going to tell Scott to eat like Hunt had suggested.

Finally, Zach sighed and went to stand by the window. “We…we can’t go on like this, Scott.”

And…?
Scott waited for more, but Zach remained silent. Rolling his eyes, Scott laughed and leaned his head on the back of the chair. “That it?”

“What do you want me to say?”

Is he fucking serious?
Scott shoved the chair back, letting it hit the desk as he strode up to Zach and fisted his hand in Zach’s wrinkled, plain white T-shirt. He opened his mouth, but nothing came out. The dark circles under Zach’s eyes, the fact that he clearly hadn’t shaved or showered, had concern smothering Scott’s rage. This wasn’t the first time Zach looked like he’d slept in his clothes.

“What is wrong with you? Damn it, Zach, I don’t know why this is happening! We had a good life, and all of a sudden
he
shows up and you’re ready to throw it all away. I believed you when you told me things were over between you, but you’ve done
nothing
but lie to me since!” He shook Zach. Let him go and backed away before he gave in to the urge to punch him because even though he looked utterly drained, he was still so fucking calm. There could be bombs going off outside and his expression probably wouldn’t change and it was driving Scott insane. “Is it me? If it is, just tell me! You’re hurting Becky and Casey now, and I’d rather you tell me I’m not who you want than see them dealing with this anymore.”

Quickly shaking his head, Zach stepped forward, his hands out like he wanted to grab Scott. But he stopped out of arm’s reach. “You’ve done nothing wrong. Please just…just give me time to fix this. You have to trust me to—”

“
Trust
you?” Scott threw his arms up in the air, then latched his fingers behind his neck. He paced away from Zach. Came back. “You tell me that you’d trust me if I was pulling even half the shit you have.”

“I don’t know.”

“Bullshit! I’m the one who was a fucking whore! I’m the one who was so messed up I still don’t know why anyone would put up with me!” That had to be it. Scott could see Zovko being an easier choice. He was calm like Zach. Stable. He didn’t have all the disgusting baggage.

Zach moved so fast Scott didn’t have a chance to react. Suddenly he was trapped against the wall with Zach’s hands on his face. So close he could feel the heat of Zach’s breath. “I can’t tell you why this is happening, Scott. All I can tell you is I need time, and I love you so fucking much it kills me to know how much I’m hurting you.”

“Then stop!” Scott wrapped his arms around the back of Zach’s neck, kissing him, knowing it was pathetic but needing to remind the man he loved that they’d once had something—that they still could. Maybe he hadn’t fought hard enough. Maybe he should have done this when he’d first felt Zach slipping away.

A groan escaped Zach’s lips, full of a desperation that Scott couldn’t understand. His fingers delved into Scott’s hair, tugging enough to make his scalp ache. Their dicks rubbed through their jeans, and he shuddered when Scott reached between them to rub him, not even caring how stupid this was. He should stay mad and ignore how good it felt to touch Zach. To know Zach wouldn’t stop him.

He unzipped Zach’s jeans, stroking him, scraping his teeth down Zach’s throat as he tipped his head back. Precum beaded at the slit of Zach’s cock, and Scott slid his thumb through the moisture, surprised at the painful hiss of need so close to his ear. If Zach had been fucking Raif, he wouldn’t be this on edge from a simple touch.

“It’s been a long time.” Scott stroked slowly, his arousal dwindling away at Zach’s nod. He withdrew his hand and rested his head on Zach’s shoulder. “Please tell me the truth. You know I think you’re cheating on me, but…if I keep jerking you off, you’ll come and that’s not like you. You’re a Dom, and you pride yourself on your control. If it’s something else, we can—”

Zach went still. Lifted his head and looked Scott straight in the eye. “Maybe it’s just you, Scott. It
has
been a long time.”