Page 79 of Whirlwind
20
Kit
Tyson’s words play repeatedly in my head during the drive to the event venue. If someone had asked me months ago if I ever thought about a man spanking my ass, I’d have laughed in their face. The way he said it, though, with that sexy, authoritative growl, it went straight to my pussy and pulled me out of my chaotic thoughts.
For the first ten minutes of the drive, I kept taking surreptitious looks at him. I’ve seen him in suits—since they wear them before every game. Tonight, though, he’s wearing a more formal version. Smooth black over crisp white, his broad shoulders and thick thighs only looking larger under the fabric.
After he catches me staring the fourth time, he tells me to quit hiding it.
“I hope you always look at me like this,” he says.
“Sometimes I watch you while you sleep,” I say. He laughs, but I’m not teasing. I really have watched him a few times.
“Okay, Cullen.”
“I’m kind of sparkly like a Cullen tonight,” I say. “Also, how do you knowTwilight?”
“I’m more than a meathead jock; I’ll have you know.”
“I do know that,” I say. “I still wouldn’t peg you for a Twihard.”
“You want to peg me, Kit?” he asks, feigning shock.
“Oh my God.” I hide my face in my hands.
“Lottie loves all things vampires,” he finally says after he’s done laughing.
“Me too—maybe that’s why I like it when you bite me,” I say. “It’s sweet that you embrace the things she loves.”
“She’s always been my best friend. It’s easy to do what she wants when I just want to be around her,” he says. “When she got into reading, I did, too. We’d lounge in complete silence right next to each other and just read. But it was still valuable time, you know?”
“I can understand that,” I say. Only because that’s how I’ve always felt with Willa.
“So much of our childhood centered around my life and hockey. Often, I felt guilty about that. She deserved more but was always happy to make sacrifices for me.”
I imagine that’s what you do for the people you love. It would be easy to fall into my childhood sadness for not having that. Fighting isn’t as easy, but I try to push it away. Pulling my phone out, I send my grandmother a text. Tyson and I took a selfie before we left my house, and I attach that for her.
Me:
This is the guy I was telling you about.
The last time I spoke with her, Tyson and I had only begun talking about dating. She was excited for me, though—happy and hopeful. She’ll enjoy seeing me all dolled up, too, since that isn’t something I ever had the opportunity to do as a kid.
She won’t see my text until tomorrow, as I’m sure she’s long asleep, by now. After Tyson and I talked about my mother on our date, I’ve thought about my family dynamics a lot. Every day I grow closer to wanting to find my mom. I’m keeping my expectations low and in check. If she wanted to know me, she knew where I was for so long, after all. Yet, I can’t deny thatI’m missing something in my life. Roots, maybe. A sense of grounding. History, for sure.
Who knows how much family I have in the world. What if it’s not too late to get some of what I always wanted? Or some of what Willa has, or Tyson has. I shouldn’t continue to let my fear stop me from finding out if something good can come of it. That’s easier to say when I know I have Tyson standing beside me.
“You ready?” he asks. I look out the window to see we’re parked. I hadn’t even noticed we’d arrived.
“Yeah, sorry. Zoned out there, for a minute.”
“You want to talk about it?”
“Not necessary,” I say, not wanting to bring down the mood for tonight—well, any more than I already did with my micro-freakout earlier. I’m so embarrassing.
“If you say so,” he says. “Let me go show you off, then.”
Tyson holds my hand as we walk inside. The event is being held inside a warehouse basement that’s been renovated to look like an old wine cellar. Tonight it’s dressed up with soft pink linens and twinkling white lights. Every year, the team’s charity foundation picks a charity for the gala to raise money for. There will be a silent auction, with proceeds going to a local domestic violence shelter.
