Page 26 of Room Twenty-Eight: Her Beautiful Surrender

“It's okay.”It really isn’t.“I’ve made peace with how our relationship is. Leon and I have also talked in length about things, and he’s finally recognizing the hurt our father’s treatment has caused me. In fact…” I jump to my feet, excited to show them what Cecily made for me. I don’t know how she did it so quickly, but I was amazed and thrilled. Grabbing the hanger from the wardrobe in the corner with the new jersey on it, I slip it on over my tank top and spin around to show them the back.

“Shit.”

“Damn.”

“Fucking hell.”

The growled curses have my thighs rubbing together to stem the flow of desire. “Do you like it?”

The jersey is made of the same colors as the Louisiana Black Bears, with each of their last names and numbers stacked on top of each other, and the bottom strip is in Leon’s team color with his name and number.

“Fucking love it,” Major says first, and I feel the heat of his body at my back.

“I can even get over the fact you have your brother on there ‘cause I know what you’re doing,” Colton comments as he circles around to my front.

“What am I doing?” I breathe out the question.

“Loving the men who love you. Supporting the men who support you,” Diesel acknowledges.

I’m not sure why, but their understanding brings tears to the corners of my eyes. Sobbing in their arms isn’t how I pictured this night going, but here we are…them holding me, loving on me as I come undone between them. For the first time, I feel like I can truly be myself with someone, and there won’t be consequences because I’m not following orders or marching in a straight line, causing a stir.

From the moment these men came into my life, drugged me, tied me up, and forcefully took my virginity, they’ve done nothing but care for me. Even when doing those questionable acts, they always had my comfort and safety in mind. Never have I felt any need to fear from them.

It’s in this moment that I realize they’re meant to be mine, and I’m meant to be theirs. We spend the rest of the night talking and learning as much as we can about one another before they make love to me again in the early hours before the sun rises. It’s not frenzied, we’re not in a rush; it feels like it lasts for hours, and when they finally leave to prepare for their game against my brother’s team tonight, I know precisely what I’ll do to prove to them how much I love them and want everything they’ve been promising me.

TEN

Diesel

I don’t like that she’s not behind the bench where we can see her. After her breakdown last night, crying for too damn long, in my opinion, Asta told us she was going to sit in the box her brother reserved for her family every home game. We didn’t like it, but we’re determined to treat the woman better than her own damn family.

These past few days have been tremendously good for the four of us. We got to know each other and learned about quirks that never would have come up if we weren’t in such close quarters. At first, Asta had been worried about the scant size of her apartment, mainly because all she had for furniture was a two-seater dining room table and her makeshift daybed that she turns into a couch when she’s not sleeping.

Once she realized all we wanted was to be in her presence, she calmed down and stopped fussing. We enjoyed spoiling her by taking her and her friend to restaurants they’d never been to. Skating in the park, hot dogs from street vendors, and enough hot cocoa to give her a cavity.

Now more than ever, we’re confident that she’s ours, but she’s still hesitant to take it further, not wanting us to regret settling for her. As if that were a fucking issue. We aren’t settling for her, we’re choosing her. Something she can’t seem to wrap her head around.

“I hate that we can’t see her,” Colt mutters next to me as we sit on the bench, glancing up at the box Leon told us she was in.

“Yeah, me too,” I say as I follow his stare. “One more period.” There are three minutes left in the second, the game is tied at zero goals, and so far, it’s looking to remain that way.

As the third line comes back on the bench, we jump out, and the first thing I do is steal the puck from Chad Baker, follow it up with a hip check so he hits the boards, and when I feel a tug on my ankle, I know he’s hooked me. There’s no preventing the impact as I hit the ice in slow motion, my helmet flying free and my face smacking off the cool surface.

Immediately, blood sprays from my nose and mouth. The swelling and my determination transform into rage as I get to my feet and turn to find the asshole with a slick smile on his face. It’s what he says that sets me on fire, though. “Not so pretty for your girl now, are you? Maybe my teammates and I will get a chance to comfort her after this.”

“You dirty son of a bitch.” Dropping my stick, I’m on him before a ref can get between us. Throwing punches to his head and gut, alternating between the two until Colt and Hudson drag me off the bastard. I’m still cursing when I’m sent to the locker room, and he gets a penalty for tripping.

I hear the buzzer as the period ends, and it only angers me further because I know I’ve still got one more period to go before we can see our girl. Sitting in the medical room, a trainer checks to see if my nose is broken and whether my busted lip needs stitches as I hear the team coming in.

Coach glares at me as he starts yelling, giving a ‘pep talk’ as he likes to call them. I’d like to see this fucker on the ice, taking hits, making shots, playing the fucking game. “Gluing this,” Jeff mumbles as he pulls at my lip, and someone else pushes gauze up my nostrils to stem the blood flow.

“Can I get back out again tonight?” It’s all I care about. Baker is going down. That son of a bitch should have kept his fucking mouth shut.

“Yeah, you’ll play,” Coach responds, wiping my mouth clean of blood and cleansing where I was just glued together. The bruising and swelling are already starting, and I know the second I kiss Asta tonight, it’s going to burn like a bitch. Worth every ounce of pain, though.

Entering the locker room, I sit next to Major and Colt as the coach carries on about the lack of goals and us needing to get our heads in the game. “You good?” Colt grimaces when he gets a look at my face. I give a nod.

“I think you rearranged Baker’s organs,” Major chuckles, drawing the ire of our coach. We ignore his censure.

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