Tough to Love: Saving Avery (6 page)

“Get the cops, get the cops,” someone yelled out. I didn’t know how to step in and break it up
, I was frozen. I didn’t want Steel to get hurt, and yet watching him beat the shit out of my step-brother felt just in its own weird way. I hated my step-brother, he hurt me, and he was getting his due, but this was Neanderthal justice and not the way to solve life’s tough moments.

I heard it all, the cracking of someone’s nose, and yet heard nothing as all the sounds whirred in my brain to create a silent moment watching it happen. It was confusion, everything happening so fast, my insides shaking with me like a great quake, and a cool numbness spreading through my limbs. I was sucking air, terrified for Steel, but he was holding his own.

When the cops showed up they finally tore them apart. I stood emotionless and shutting down; blood was streaming down the faces of the two men now in handcuffs. This was going to get ugly with the police involved, and I was damning our choice to try to date, try to go out, because my life wasn’t meant for this stuff anymore.

Steel’s eyes flicked with rage
as his nostrils flared, and if the cops hadn’t shown up he would have finished the job. He was protecting me, it was all he could do – and there was no time to think, only react. It was a flashback of his sister’s situation all over again.

“Fuck you, I’m pressing charges,” my step-brother spat out.

“You’re a fucking rapist,” Steel shouted. I cringed, wanted to fade away, horrified at hearing the words out loud. I felt shame and anger washing through me as people turned to stare.

“She wanted it, and there’s no proof,” he shot back. “She’s a fucking liar, a damn drama queen.”

I didn’t know what to say, what to do, and with fear in my eyes I watched them bring Steel to one of the police cars. They gave me his car keys so I could meet him at the station. My breathing was deep, ragged, and I was stunned and in shock, not only watching it unfold in front of me, but seeing how protective he was of me already.

A piece of me was numb after seeing my step-brother in person again, and ice ran through my veins. Would I ever forget the night that ruined my life? One night and my life
changed forever.

He told me who to contact, and a team lawyer showed up paying his bail. He’d get his stern warning and suspension not long after. The Red Hawks didn’t need this kind of publicity, and the offense cost him a hefty fine. He didn’t lose his contract, it was iron clad, but any more outbursts and that contract could break.

We drove from the police station in silence. I didn’t know what to say, and he was still harnessing his anger.

Pulling up to Phil’s, I started to get out. “Wait,” he said, before I could leave. “Can I stay with you for a little bit? Or will you come home with me. I’m not pressuring you, I don’t expect sex, but I want to hold you, really need to hold you for a while.”

I sensed it was more for him than me, but he couldn’t say it. I nodded, “Come on.”

Turning the key to the off position, he followed me upstairs. My bed wasn’t large, but if we pressed together tightly we’d both fit. I kicked off my shoes and took his hand. Walking to the bed, I sat down. Waiting for him to join me, I watched his face. He was raw.

Together we curled up, his arms wrapping around me and pulling me to him. No words were spoken as we clung to one another, trying to forget what just happened. His hands pulled my head to his chest, and burrowing in I closed my eyes. I felt safe, secure, and protected.

I couldn’t see his tears and didn’t realize he cried until I saw his cheeks were wet.

“Are you okay?” I asked, not wanting to pick at the scab.

“Yeah,” was all he could offer.

“I’m sorry,” I said, knowing it was my fault.

“For what,” he
looked at me with confusion.

“It wouldn’t have happened
, we shouldn’t have gone out.”

“You’re not responsible for my actions. I need to learn to control my anger.”

I didn’t know what to say. I wanted to thank him for having my back, wanting to take my step-brother down a notch, wanting to save me, but silence was better than any of it. I tucked my head back into his chest, realizing he was my new hero.

When he kissed me, I knew it was a reaction. He wasn’t here for sex; he wasn’t taking advantage of me. We were expressing words that couldn’t be spoken. We’d talk later, but not now.

H
is body was amazingly serene, peaceful and warm. I craved his manliness, ached to be in his clutches, wanted to be his. There was no shock in the desire, no question in my mind; I just hoped I wouldn’t freeze up before we could get there.

Steel pulled me on top of him
. My leg draped down between his thighs, and even in our clothes it felt insanely sexy touching him in this manner. Our lips were back together, kissing, consuming, and tasting one another.

His hands
moved down my back and then slid to the curve of my ass, coming to a rest. Cupping a cheek through my denim, he secured me in place as if I was going somewhere. I wanted to grind against him, feeling his hardness between my legs, but knew it wasn’t time. My raw determination felt amazing wanting somebody this way, but in his arms I knew nothing could touch me.

Hunger and desire kept us ratcheted tightly to one another, tangled and clinging. His hands groped me gently, and with each touch I felt the dampness grow between my legs.

“I don’t want to press you,” he said quietly.

“I know, but I want it too,” I admitted.

It didn’t matter that we were on a dirty, old mattress
with cheap sheets. It didn’t matter that we were in a crappy room with walls as thin as paper, and that the only light in the room was a bare bulb with no shade. It didn’t matter that the bathroom was down the hall and rusted and worn. It didn’t matter that people fell into the walls stumbling down the hallway, because the only thing we could see or hear in that moment was each other.

His fingers slid below the edge of my shirt, and as his big hands touched my skin, gently caressing me tenderly, I froze. I wanted him, needed him, and yet that single contact shut it all do
wn for me. Mentally I collapsed, and just as I was pulling away he kept me close.

“Shh, we don’t have to.” He sensed my fear, allowed for it, and just held me against him. I was safe to stay, I didn’t have to run, and he wouldn’t push me. I thought I was ready, but I was wrong.

I fell asleep against him at some point, drifting off. We woke to a large crash in the hallway. “We need to get you out of here,” was all he said.

I was tired and groggy, but his words woke me. “Come on,” he whispered. “You can stay at my place for a while. I have extra space.”

I couldn’t just up and leave, but he wasn’t taking no for an answer. “We’ll come back tomorrow to gather your stuff.”

I didn’t protest, didn’t have anything left in me to say. I followed him blindly and climbed into his car. The large SUV roared to life as he turned the ignition, and driving out of the crappy part of my town, we went to a nicer section. Pulling into the covered parking, I
followed him into the rented home the team set up for him on arriving in Pennsylvania.

He brought me to bed and tucked me in. “I’ll sleep in the other room,” he said quietly.

“Don’t leave,” I whispered. With that he pulled his shirt and shoes off and climbed into bed beside me, leaving his jeans on. It was out of respect and not knowing how I’d feel.

On seeing his bare chest, my heart pulsed. He was as built as he felt, and the visual wasn’t disappointing. He was a wall of muscle.

Climbing beside me, he draped the covers over us, letting me rest in the nook of his arm and chest. I slept better that night than I had in ages. By the time I woke up, he was already in the kitchen. I found him with a bowl of cereal and a cup of coffee.

“How did you sleep?” He said sipping from his mug.

“Good, thanks,” I felt out of place. I didn’t belong here. He didn’t have to rescue me, but I was glad that he did.

“Here, sit down, I’ll make you some coffee.”

“Thanks,” I said while watching him. He moved comfortably in the kitchen, not afraid to use appliances.

“I don’t think you’re room is safe,” he started. “You should stay with me for a bit, just until we find you something else.”

I was embarrassed. “I can’t afford anything else. It has to be okay.”

“Don’t let your pride get in the way of your safety,” it was more of statement than anything, bringing home his point. “How much do you pay for the space?”

I didn’t want to answer.

“You can rent out one of my rooms if it’s a matter of pride. You’ll stay here,” he finished, as if I had little to say.

“I’m my own person, and I can take care of myself,” I started.

“I want to take care of you, and I know you’ve done fine so far, but
just give it a shot. Stick around for a week or two, like a change of pace, and see if it works. I’m not pressuring you, but it’s a genuine offer. I don’t want anything from you, and I’m not hitting on you. I have extra space and you need somewhere better to stay.”

I didn’t know what to say. He seemed to answer for me.

“We’ll go get your things after we get cleaned up.”

I watched his face as he spoke. It’s not that he was asking my approval, he was simply telling me how it was going to be.

As much as my ego was in a twisted, weird place, it would be a relief to sleep well and have a clean bathroom to use.

“Go pick one of the back rooms, take whichever you want. I mean it, no pressure. I’m not putting the moves on
you; I just want you to be safe.”

I finally found my words, “Thank you.” What else could I say? It was a crappy room and a scary place to live time to time, and the idea of waking up in a safe environment was a relief. I just didn’t expect his kindness, his genuine desire to want better things for me. I wasn’t used to someone being so good to me.

We sat talking over breakfast, little bits of his life slipping out, trying to change the topic. He told me about the odd jobs he took growing up, throwing newspapers onto people’s driveways and cutting lawns. He told me about his neighborhood and growing up with his sister and the silly things they would do to pass the time. It was the most he’d ever said at one time, but it was wonderful to see him laugh and smile and tell tales of his past.

When he asked me for stories of my past, I had none. I couldn’t find one single memory I wanted to share that would make him smile and laugh. It’s not that I didn’t have good memories somewhere in my
youth; I just couldn’t pull them up on demand in the moment.

His face showed swelling where my step-brother’s fist had connected. His nose was fine, so I assumed it was the monster’s nose that crushed under the blow Steel delivered. I heard bone crunching, maybe it was his cheek. I didn’t take time to look at him, only my own guy.

“Thank you,” I whispered again, this time tears pouring out.

“Avery, it’s going to be okay. Every day gets a little better. I’m sorry you had to see him, and sorry I couldn’t control my reactions, but time heals so much.”

“I know, I’m crying out of gratitude, not of pain.”

He looked at me with curiosity.

“I’m not used to somebody being so good to me.”

He stood and pulled me into his arms. “It’
s okay, baby, let it out.”

His arms were strong and held me fast. I’m not sure how it happened, one thing leading to another, but soon we were in his room and our clothes were coming off. His lifted my shirt over my head, and as I stood before him, watching him take my body in, I could barely breathe. My breath was shallow, and my heart was lodged in my throat. Melting, I realized I was ready for his touch.

Steel’s
gaze locked on me, his intensity strong, almost smothering. It’s not that it was a bad thing; it’s just that he owned the room – his movements, his words, everything about him felt bigger than life. Would I be who he wanted me to be?

Reaching
around, he unhooked my bra, tenderly removing it. I stood frozen, looking at him, wanting him, but not knowing how to move forward. I didn’t want to be trapped in this state forever. I wanted to love again, to feel things, to share intimacy – it’s just that something in me was guarded. I watched his eyes drink me in.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he whispered, sensing my fear. He was in charge, but letting me know he wouldn’t lead me astray.

I nodded, silent but confused. I wanted him, desperately wanted to be with him, but I couldn’t move and felt stiff. He’d need to help me by going slowly.

His fingers found my flesh, and as he slid them from my neck to my shoulder and down my arm, he stopped to squeeze my hand. Slowly his fingers traced up my skin, etching ever closer to
my chest. His hand moved closer and drew small lazy circles around my breast. Watching me breath, he saw me melt before him. A finger teased my nipple - I thought I might collapse right there on the spot.

Closing my eyes, I allowed him to continue. He took his time with me, moving slowly and making me feel special. There was no mad rush of intoxicated
lovers; this was a man trying to help a woman feel pleasure once again.