Page 10 of Scoring Zone
His fingers lightly coast over my cheekbone and eye socket. Gloves are a mandatory part of his job, but I hate the barrier between us. It’s irrational, but his gloves add to the distance in our relationship. He has me complete the standard eye test.
“In my professional medical opinion, you’re gonna have one beauty of a shiner.” He grins at me.
“That’s how the professionals talk now?” My shoulders drop inches with the familiarity of his teasing.
“Yupper. That’s gotta hurt, eh?” He’s looking into my eyes, not at my injury, as his thumb caresses the swollen area.
I blow out a long breath. We rarely slip into Canadian expressions, but I need that connection with him. We grew up together, and whatever is happening won’t tear us apart.
“For sure. What’s the verdict? Can I keep playing?” I can’t let my team down.
“As long as the swelling doesn’t affect your vision.” He steps away to get an icepack, and I miss his nearness. “Keep this on until the start of the next period. I’ll have new ice ready every time your shift is over, and I’ll examine it. But you should be fine.”
Grayson pauses and the scar on his lip twitches. “You can fight back. It’s okay,” he says quietly.
“I can’t,” I say, harsher than I mean. “You remember why.” I hang my head to avoid looking at him. The day still haunts me.
He lifts my chin with his fingers. “One, keep your head elevated for the swelling. Two, that was a long time ago and has nothing to do with a pro hockey fight.”
His brown eyes bore into me as if he could either erase the memory or change my mind. Grayson was there, so it’s mindboggling how he can say that.
When we were kids, I was aggressive and would fight at the smallest slight. After my twelfth birthday, we went to an away tournament, and a bigger kid kept shoving me into the boards. He blocked one of my shots, and I saw red and attacked him. I must’ve blacked out for a minute because the next thing I remember is being pulled off him as he screamed and cried. I broke one of his ribs, and he never played hockey again. For the second time in my life, the darkness in me took over and caused serious bodily harm.
The first time was with my sister, and I should’ve known I’m dangerous. Too violent for Grayson.
“Hey.” Grayson removes the latex gloves and places his warm hands on my shoulder. “What happened back then wasn’t your fault.” I glare at him, but he doesn’t relent. “That kid took that hit into the boards and had trouble breathing five minutes before your fight. It might not have been you.”
“No twelve-year-old can play with a broken rib.” I resist the urge to pull away because his hands on me are an indulgence I can’t deny myself.
“If you’re going to ignore facts, I’ll remind you of his rabid father screaming at him. That kid wouldn’t come off the ice unless it was on a stretcher.” He flinches at his words because that’s exactly what happened. “At least his father shut the hell up.”
“You always see the good side of things.” I lean forward to rest my forehead on his chest, and his hands curve around my back. Touch is part of his job, and he gives and receives it easily. For me, touch is more of a forbidden fruit. Once I have a little, I’m afraid I’ll need it—rely on it.
“And that kid became an oncologist. He makes a ton of money and doesn’t put his body at risk. He’s fine. If he knew you felt bad, he’d probably send you a basket of syrup andmaple cookies.” He rubs my sweaty head, and I relish his hands threading through my hair.
“Don’t stereotype our people,” I grumble. Grayson’s right. The guy’s a doctor and probably doesn’t have to worry about what his father thinks about his career. Any father should be proud of their doctor son.
All the residual tension leaves my body, and I’m ready to play. He always knows how to get me in the right headspace when my mind veers off track.
“Back to my original point. You can participate in a fight and not worry about something bad happening. These guys are tough. They can take it. Just like I can take your aggressive side. You don’t need to hide it.”
He’s being sincere and honest. But he’s wrong. New Year’s Eve was proof that I can’t be trusted. He shouldn’t endure pain for my pleasure. That’s despicable. He’s also forgetting I’m the reason his hockey career ended. I refuse to take more from him with my selfishness. I’ve done enough harm in his life.
“If you hurry, you can show off your pretty eye to the team before the second period.” Gray’s crooked smile freezes the air in my lungs, and his thumb stroking my eyebrow while he cups my jaw causes my stomach to flip-flop.
It’s a simple gesture from a friend who isn’t afraid to touch people.
But for me, it’s so much more—an off-limits physical connection with a man I’m desperate for. I’m not safe for him, and I won’t harm him again. What I want doesn’t matter.
I smack my head, hoping to regain my senses.
“Careful with the precious merchandise.” Gray gathers icepacks and other things he’ll need for the rest of the game.
I lean into his body, soaking him in as I vow to protect him from me.
Chapter 6
Grayson
