Bound (13 page)

***

Kirk practically flew into the meeting room, tossing his bag on the floor and taking the empty seat next to me.

“Sorry I’m late, guys,” he said breathlessly. “My last appointment ran late.”

He smelled of fresh cigarette smoke, but I figured if anyone deserved a smoke break before one of these meetings, it was him.

Ryke sat on the other side of the circle of chairs, but I couldn’t bring myself to look his way.
I had my arms wrapped around myself protectively. Emotions swirled inside me, and I couldn’t seem to grab ahold of any one. I was happy that Ryke cared about me on some level, angry over just the idea of him going out with another woman and furious over how exposed I’d been this afternoon. Now he knew that he made me hope, and want . . . And that was the other thing. In addition to being pissed off and slightly giddy, I was now turned on. It was like he’d flipped on a switch by holding me in his unnaturally large arms and now I couldn’t turn it off.

“So.” Kirk rubbed a hand over his shiny scalp and looked around at the faces in the circle. “Anyone new tonight?”

A graying woman raised her hand almost imperceptibly and Kirk went through his spiel about the rules of the group. He looked at me when he was done and I blew out a breath.

“Hi, I’m Kate, and I lost a baby last year at 18 weeks into the pregnancy.” I chewed my lip a little as I considered. “And I’ve been thinking about things lately. I don’t know if it’s wrong to feel this way, but
I think I might be completely done with crying all the time and not wanting to get out of bed.”

I waited for that to sink in. Kirk tapped an ink pen on the end of his clipboard as he stared at me.

“Why would that be wrong?” he asked.

“Because moving on seems . . . wrong. Like I’ve just forgotten and everything’s fine again.”

“Do you think you’ve clung to grief because you felt like you were supposed to do that to honor your baby?” Kirk asked. I’d never thought about it that way.

“Maybe,” I said, nodding. “And I’m not the same. It changed me. But I’m starting to want things again.”

I’d turned toward Kirk and was looking down so my hair hung loosely, concealing my face from Ryke’s side of the circle.

“What things?” Kirk asked. I resented him asking about something so personal in such a flippant tone. Part of me wanted to say ‘
Sweaty sex with multiple orgasms, Kirk’
, just to see him squirm.

“Uh, you know . . . I can’t . . .” I blew out another breath and Rose, who sat on my other side, patted my knee a few times. “I’m really scared of getting pregnant again.”

God, this was awkward. I was desperate for a reprieve. Kathy, who I didn’t know well, piped up from a few chairs over.

“The first time I had sex after my Rober
t died, I cried the entire time!” she said, the words spilling out of her. Looking at her lined face and spiky salt and pepper hair, I realized I’d only ever considered her the grandma type, not the having sex type.

I
wanted to break the stretching silence, but I couldn’t make myself say anything. I was wondering what kind of a man had managed to have sex with a woman who was crying.

“And how did you feel afterward, Kathy?” Kirk asked. She shrugged.

“I was glad I tried. I didn’t think I’d be able to do it.”

“But did you want to do it?” I asked. “And what an asshole, by the way. Why didn’t he stop if you were crying?”

“Oh, I told him not to stop,” she said, waving her heavily-jeweled hand. “Because I did want to. For a long time after Robert died, I was sad. And when I stopped feeling so sad, I felt guilty. And then one day, one of my daughters sat me down and told me that even though he was gone, I wasn’t. That it was time to find a new life for myself.”

“And you did?” I asked, a kinship with her building inside me.

“I did. And you know what, sweetie? I thought losing Robert was the hardest thing I’d ever been through. But it wasn’t. Moving on from it was.”

Rose murmured her agreement and I sat back in my chair, processing Kathy’s words. I didn’t tune back in until it was Ryke’s turn. When I looked at him for the first time since arriving, I saw that Tara was next to him, her face aglow as she gazed at him.

But he was oblivious, leaning on the edge of his folding chair, elbows on his knees. He rested his face in his hands for a few seconds and I realized he was nervous. That was unlike him.

“I’m Ryke,” he said. “I lost my wife two years ago. And . . .” He sighed deeply and I could see he was having an inner debate about whether he wanted to continue. “I can really identify with what Kate and Kathy were saying. I’ve recently started thinking about moving on, and . . . it’s hard. There’s still guilt there, and the ghosts of the past, you know?”

“Do you mean you worry that no other woman will measure up to your late wife?” Kirk asked, squinting across the circle at Ryke.

“No, not that. I worry that I wasn’t a good husband, because hockey’s really demanding.
I don’t want to hurt someone who wants more than I can give.”

“More what?” Kirk asked, his voice rising and making me feel like he already knew the answer to the question.

“More time. I’m not sure it’s fair to ask a woman to be in a relationship with me. I travel so much.”

Tara reached for his knee and squeezed. “The right woman will understand,” she said earnestly. Once again, she looked like she was planning to go clubbing after the meeting, with dramatic makeup and a low-cut top.

Ryke shifted his leg so her hand fell away. “I guess my problem isn’t about grief,” he said. “But I know what it’s like to want something but be . . .” He looked at the ground and considered. “. . . apprehensive about it.”

Kirk leaned forward in his seat and I got another whiff of nicotine. “If I’m hearing you right, you’re saying your career caused tension between you and your late wife, and you’re worried that will happen again,” he said.

My heart twisted with sympathy as I watched Ryke slightly nod his agreement. I knew things had been tense with him and Maggie, but I didn’t know it still bothered him this way. His eyes flicked to mine and we stared at each other for a second before he looked away.

“Tara?” Kirk asked
, moving on. “How are you doing?”

“Good,” she said, grinning.

“How can we help you cope with the loss of your sister?” Kirk asked. Tara wrinkled her brows as she considered.

“Oh, just being here is a huge help,” she said, still smiling.

Kirk crossed a leg over his knee and the tapping of his pen on his clipboard got faster and louder.

“I’m just curious, because I know your sister Laura works here at the hospital in HR, and she said she only has one sister, and it’s you,” he said. All heads in the room swiveled Tara’s way. The smile was gone now.

“Oh. Uh . . . did I say it was my sister who died? It was just a friend who was like a sister to me.” Her face had darkened several shades and I glanced at Kirk, confused.

“I take the confidence and the sharing we do here very seriously,” Kirk said, his gaze fixed on Tara. “If I were to find out an employee of the hospital was sharing names of my group members with others, and if I found out someone was attending these meetings strictly for social purposes, I’d most certainly rectify it.”

All the eyes looking at Tara widened. There were a few gasps but other than that, the room was silent.

“You came here to meet Ryke!” Carlos cried, his face twisted in disbelief.
“This isn’t a damn singles group, lady!”

“No!” Tara said, looking around the circle. “
I didn’t . . .”

It all made sense now. The hoochie outfits, the constant hanging o
n Ryke – her total lack of sadness. Indignation rose within me. Of all the ways to meet a man, crashing a grief support group wasn’t one I’d have dreamed of.

“Don’t lie about it
now,” I muttered. “We all know, so you might as well be honest.”

“You’re just jealous.” She narrowed her eyes at me and I stared at her in disbelief.

“Jealous of what, exactly?” I said. “Your hooker wardrobe or your complete lack of class?”

Tara rose from the chair in an instant and all hell broke loose. People were yelling, Ryke was holding her back from jumping me and Kirk was trying – to no avail – to restore order.

“Everyone sit down!” Ryke roared, his deep voice making my bladder constrict. “Everyone!”

Sile
nce fell on the room as people scrambled for their chairs.

“You,” Ryke
said, glaring at Tara, “Get out.”

She grabbed her purse from beneath the chair and fled. Ryke flopped back into his chair and glanced at Kirk.

“I think we’ll call it a night if that’s okay,” Kirk said, loosening his tie.

I was glad the meeting was over. Between my encounter with Ryke in the parking garage earlier, our emotional night of sharing and my near throw-down with Tara, I was exhausted. I needed a good night of slee
p before I could really process what Ryke had said tonight

When I’d almo
st made it to the door, I glanced his way and our eyes met. And in that moment, my fatigue was forgotten. We were exposed to each other; vulnerable, and a heady, intimate sensation ran through me. I wanted him so intensely my entire core warmed in eager anticipation.

S
ighing deeply, he looked away. No, it wasn’t meant to be tonight. We both needed time alone to think about things. Reluctantly, I walked to the door, willing myself not to look back.

***

November 2010 -- Ryke

The green-eyed beauty at the bar smiled at me and I couldn’t help grinning back. She’d been sneaking glances at me since we walked into the restaurant. My gaze stayed on her as she played with one of her bright red shoulder length curls.

No need to point it out, sweetheart. I know your hair’s sexy.

In my single days, I wouldn’t have even finished my dinner once I knew this woman was ready and willing. I would’ve taken her back to my room and quickly given her a view of the ceiling above the bed.

But here I was, about to finish my steak and head out with the guys I’d come here with. I sighed as the waiter returned with my credit card.

“Have a nice night, Mr. Ryker,” he said.

“Thanks.” I scrawled some numbers on my ticket and got up from the table.

“Wanna try that bar down the street?” my teammate Leon Richter asked, raising his brows.

I shook my head. “I’m tired.”

“No, you’re whipped,” Leon said, adding sound effects.

“Fuck you, Richter. If you played as many minutes as I did, you might be tired, too.”

His eyes narrowed and I laughed. The other guys got up and we were heading for the door when I felt a light touch on my arm. I turned and saw the redhead.

“Hey,” she said, a light pink flush coloring her pale cheeks. “Are you . . . an athlete?”

“Why, do we look like meatheads?” I grinned at her and her face darkened another shade. “I’m teasing. Yeah, we play hockey. Nice to meet you . . . ?”

“Stella.”

“Stella,” I said, reaching out to shake her hand. As soon as I let go, her fingers were twining around one of those curls again.

“Can you stay for a drink?” she asked. The other guys headed for the door. They’d leave without me. I could spend the night with this woman and no one would ever know.

I looked at her huge eyes, my smile fading. “I wish I could. But I need to go call my wife.”

“Oh.” She looked down, embarrassed. Should I tell her that in another time, I’d have loved to get to know her better? Probably not. She might take it the wrong way.

“It was great to meet you,” I said, leaving. “Have a good night.”

She turned away silently.
Walking out of the restaurant to hail a cab, I dug my phone out of my pocket. I dialed and Mag answered, her voice muffled and sleepy.

“Ryke?”

“Hi, baby. Sorry I woke you up.”

“I waited for you to call, but it got so late . . .”

“I know.” A cab cruised to the curb and I opened it and slid in, giving the driver the address to the hotel. “Sorry. We were late getting out of the game, and—”

“Are you leaving a bar? Did you go out after the game?” By the edge in her tone, I knew she was wide awake now.
This first season as a married man wasn’t what I’d expected. I didn’t know Mag and I would rehash the same fucking fight over and over every time I was out of town for a game.

“I had dinner with some of the guys.”

“And I’m sure you’re on the way to the bars now.” Her voice was cold, and I reminded myself not to fire back and get into a huge fight with her. Once we argued, she’d keep me up half the night with texts and phone calls.

“I’m going back to my hotel,” I said lightly. “Wish you were there.”

“Right,” she said sarcastically.