Page 71 of The Slapshot and the Single Mom
“Yeah, man. That’d be fun. I’m sure Maggie’d be happy to hang out with Marissa again. Let me talk to Maggie, and we’ll pick a night when we’re all free.”
But I have a date with Maggie tonight, so I plan on us celebrating now. I’m not opposed to spreading out the celebrating as much as possible, though. She deserves it.
I hurry through my shower and call her on my way home. She picks up on the second ring.
“I knew you’d have that job on lock!” I shout as soon as she answers. “Congratulations! I’m so proud of you!”
“Thank you,” she says, sounding near tears.
“Whoa, whoa, what’s wrong?”
She lets out a watery laugh. “Nothing. I’m just … relieved. And overwhelmed. And I’m so happy, and then you said you’re proud of me, and I just—” She cuts off with a funny noise, then shesniffs. “Sorry,” she says, her voice hoarse. “It just hit me in the feels, you know?”
“Aww, sweetheart. Iamproud of you. I think you’re amazing and strong and funny and sweet and smart. I’m so happy I met you.”
Another watery laugh. “Even if it was only because of Brock Savage?”
That gives me pause for a second. “I don’t think I’ll ever be grateful for what he did with that interview, but I am grateful I got to meet you. We can give him a tiny amount of credit for that, I guess. Maybe I’ll go alittleeasier on him in the law suit.”
“Will you really?” she asks, the skepticism in her voice now outweighing the tears.
“Nah,” I respond with a laugh. “He doesn’t deserve it. It’s not like he brought us together on purpose. It was the one happy byproduct of that shitshow of an interview.”
“Well, I’m glad he brought you on the show, if only because meeting you has changed my life.”
That statement warms me through. “I know I’m supposed to pick you up at six. But I don’t want to wait that long. Can I just come over now?”
She laughs. “Please come. I can’t wait to see you.”
I turn right at the next intersection, heading toward her place and away from mine. “I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
When I get to her place, I don’t even have to knock. She’s standing in the open doorway when I get to the top of the steps,and she launches herself into my arms, burying her face in my chest, her shoulders shaking.
I stay still, holding her on the landing in front of her door, rubbing her back and letting her get out all the crazy emotions she must’ve been holding in for days. After a moment, she calms and lifts her head, wiping her face with her hands. “Sorry,” she murmurs, voice hoarse. “I just …”
“It’s okay. I can take it. We can go in, and I’ll just sit on your couch and hold you if you need to cry some more.”
She laughs a little through her sniffles. “Letting you hold me on the couch sounds good. I don’t want to cry more, though. Hell, I didn’t want to cry now!”
“You’ve been through a lot.” I follow her inside, closing the door behind me.
“Right. And I didn’t shed a single tear through any of that. But now that I have a job—a good job—and I don’t have to worry about getting fired for not feeding my asshole boss gossip about my boyfriend,nowI start crying?”
I shrug, taking a seat on the couch and holding my arms out for her. She climbs next to me, tucking herself against my side, her legs folded up beneath her. I wrap my arms around her and shift her all the way into my lap. She lets out a surprised squawk, but settles against me, letting out a big sigh that sounds like a mix of contentment and relief.
“It’s not as much of a thing now, but when I was a kid, I used to be super focused before and during a game. I had tons of nervous energy, but it was all tapping and bouncing and raring to go once the puck hit the ice, you know? But after the game was over …” I shake my head. “I was a wreck. No matter if we wonor lost, I’d be shaky and exhausted. When I was real young, I’d cry, especially if I made any mistakes.” My jaw clenches at the memory of my dad yelling at me, both for messing up—even if we won—and for crying.
Her hand on my cheek pulls me back to the present, and she kisses my jaw. Bending, I kiss her lips. “Poor little Jack. That must’ve been hard.”
I chuckle softly at her comment. “The point is, I get how sometimes you can hold it together through the hard thing, but then afterward, all the emotions come crashing over you. You’ve been holding it together for a long time. It’s okay to let it out now that you feel safer.”
She sighs again. “Yeah. I know you’re right. I do feel better now, though.” She smiles up at me. “I’m glad you’re here.”
“Me too.” I kiss her again, and she shifts in my lap, turning so she can face me better, and the kiss grows more passionate. Soon she’s straddling me, grinding against my hard cock while my hands roam her back, slipping under her shirt so I can feel her bare skin.
“Should we go to your bedroom?” I whisper against her skin.
She lets out a soft moan, nodding. Gathering her against me, I stand. While we haven’t made love here before, I’ve been over enough times that I know where her bedroom is.
