Page 108 of False Play
I nodded as my fingers brushed the soft strandsof his hair. “There are not enough words in the world I can use to properly express how angry I am that you experienced something so horrible.” My thumb caressed his jaw. “What you’re doing to help people is something you should be proud of. Why don’t you share this with your friends? Your family? Theworld? They’d be so proud, and they would love to help, too. You know this.”
He shook his head. “I stay anonymous for a reason. And it’s why we make volunteers sign NDAs so the word doesn’t get out. I don’t want the spotlight, the bad things I’ve done in my career, to overshadow the great place Willow House is, because you know how the media works. It’s not a risk I’m willing to take. We do many great things already without my name being attached to it.”
I nodded in understanding, but there was a question nagging at me. The air was thick with tension, but honesty was important to me. “So why do you act the way you do in front of the media? It’s clear to me that’s not who you are.”
His laugh was short and bitter. “That is a whole other topic I’m not sure you’re ready to hear.”
I cradled his face in the palms of my hands, forcing him to look at me. He was so…goddamn beautiful, but his eyes looked so sad, and lost, it broke my heart into a million pieces. “There’s nothing you can say that can scare me off. I promise.”
He let out a long sigh, relaxing his shoulders. “I’ve always struggled with my anger, but I didn’t want to be like my father and take it out on the people I care about. So fighting on the ice, putting it all out there, seemed like the best way to cope at the time.” He cringed, pursing his lips to the side. “I was young and stupid, and that bad boy persona stuck with me, so I rolled with it until it became the norm. A mask I could easily slip into when shit got too real or when people wanted to see that part of me. When I got traded to the Strikers, I vowed totake a step away from it, because it was—is—a toxic coping mechanism. But then Holt happened and…” His fingertips started to brush my legs, ever so softly. “Well, you know the rest. And I promise you, Kenny, when you handed me my ass in that locker room the night I got ejected, I was ready to take responsibility for everything.” His eyes shifted, darkening into a stormy blue. “But my father has this fucked-up cosmic timing, and he texted me before the interview, and the pent-up anger I’ve tried to work through for years came rushing back tenfold. It was like I was a useless twelve-year-old boy all over again.” He let out a hollow laugh, the kind that held more pain than amusement. “It sounds like a lame excuse, I know. But it’s something I couldn’t control. I wish my father had no power over me, but in a way, he still does, and I beat myself up about it every single day.”
Wow. I was breathless;speechless. Words were hard to form, so all I managed to say was, “I’m sorry.”
His eyes met mine with confusion.
“I always thought you were this cocky, hot-headed hockey player for no reason. I was quick to judge you without knowing the whole story, and for that, I’m sorry.”
“You have nothing to be sorry about. You saw what I wanted to show you, but now…” His voice lowered to a whisper. “Things have changed.”
“Yeah?” I croaked. My body lit up from the inside out with hope. Because I wished, with all my heart, he was talking about us.
I didn’t know how or when it happened, but somehow I went from not being able to stand being near him to searching for him the moment we were in the same room, like there was this gravitational pull that pushed us together.
Funny how life works, isn’t it? It’s fickle. One day, you’re not even thinking about that person, and thenext, you can’t remember what it felt like before they made you feel everything.
He nodded. “I want to be honest with you. I’m far from perfect, but I am trying every fucking day of my life to be better. Just be patient with me, okay?”
I rested the palm of my hand on his jaw, caressing it with my thumb back and forth ever so lightly. “I think you’ve been doing a pretty good job.”
He shot me a half-smile. “It’s all because of you.”
I let out a disbelieving laugh. “Me?”
His intense blue-gray eyes met mine, and they were earnest and shone so brightly when he said, “There’s this sunshine you radiate that makes my rainy days better. I don’t know how you do it, but please”—his voice cracked, barely more than a whisper—“don’t ever stop.”
My eyes welled with involuntary tears, and my heart tightened like I’d just been handed something fragile and terrifying, but beautiful.
I’m… I’m his sunshine?
I’d never been anyone’s source of goodness. I’d never been anyone’s light. For most of my life, people only wanted me on their terms, and I became compliant with it. Became a doll they could rebuild to their liking, over and over again. Afraid that if I didn’t allow it, they would never stay. That they would always leave me.
When I thought back about how much I let people walk all over me, I got angry. It was a stupid, useless thing to do. Because with Henry, I’d only been myself. Unapologetically and without doubt. Hesawme. Better yet, heappreciatedme despite all of my flaws.
“I don’t know what to say.” My voice was tight, and it hurt to talk due to the lump that was lodged in my throat.
“You don’t need to say anything.”
“I promise every word you told me will stay between us,” I said, wanting to make sure he understood he could wholeheartedly trust me.
“I trust you.”
I let out a wistful sigh. “Good.” I patted his face playfully. “I’m going to go, you have morning skate tomorrow, and you need to rest.”
He gripped my thighs, keeping me in place. “Can you stay? Please. I just?—”
I interrupted him. “Absolutely.”
He didn’t need to explain anything. He needed the company, and honestly? I was hoping he’d ask.
