Blurred Lines (Darby U Hockey Boys, #2)

by Andi Jaxon

I stumble back, hitting a solid surface and slide down into a ball on the floor. Wrapping my arms around my knees, I bury my face in my legs and rock back and forth. You’re okay. Breathe. “Brendon.” That’s Paul. Paul won’t hurt you.

“I don’t—” My words are cracked and pitiful, but he hears them. “I don’t want to stop.”

“You’re mine. No one touches you but me. Do you understand?” Paul’s voice is warm but hard like he’s trying to keep himself under control.

“Brendon,” I breathe his name like a plea. “Can I touch you?” Not being able to touch him is killing me. It’s so weird for him to not want it. It scares me. I barely hear the whimpered “Please,”

I hold his hand against my face, nuzzling his palm as he lifts his head. A tear trails down his face, and when I brush it away with my thumb, he breaks. Brendon lets out a sob and crashes into me, wrapping his arms and legs around me, and burying his face in my neck while he cries. My best friend, the love of my fucking life, is in pain and fighting himself. I hold him against me while he lets out the emotions threatening to choke him. I don’t say anything, I don’t have to. Not right now. He’s falling apart, and I’ll be here to pick up the pieces when he’s ready.

“You’re okay. I’ve got you.” I kiss his hair, his neck, all the parts of him I can reach. “Can you lay with me?” His voice is so small, like a child who’s afraid of being rejected. “Of course.” I smile at the request. I will never turn him down when he needs me.

Brendon reaches for my shirt and pulls it up. I lift my arms so he can get it off and do the same to him. Being skin to skin is so fucking intimate. It’s comfort and love and peace.

He shakes his head and drags his stubbly face against my skin. “I’m sorry.” His words are so quiet I almost think I imagined them. “Sorry? For what?” “I’m not easy to deal with. I know that. I’m sorry.” My hand tightens in his hair, and I pull his head back until I can see him. “No.” My tone is harsh, but I don’t care. “You are not hard to deal with. Whatever the fuck that means.” A tear slides down his face, and I hate whoever made him feel like he’s too much. “You’re my favorite person. You’re my person. There’s nothing about you I would change. You hear me?” I

“What’s this about?” “Nothing,” he whispers against my chest. “Bullshit.” I run my fingers through his hair again. “If you don’t want to talk about it, say that, but don’t lie to me.” He doesn’t respond for a long time, and I don’t try to force him to talk. My boy has a busy mind, and sometimes it takes him a while to work through all the thoughts.

Brendon shudders, then kisses me softly. I follow his lead, letting him take this where he needs it to go, but he doesn’t deepen it. Just takes comfort from me. It makes my heart soar to know he reaches for me when he needs something. It’s everything because he is everything. My everything.

I lay back against my pillow and stare at his bed, wishing he was here. Is he hurting again and too embarrassed to show me? Is he mad I saw him break down? Why can’t he let me love him?

I just want to curl up in his lap and let him hold me. Tell me he loves me and won’t get tired of me being a space cadet. But acknowledging that I’m annoying, pointing out my flaws, is not in my best interest.

I’m fucking this thing up, and it’s barely started. Why am I pushing so hard against the thing I want the most? I love him so much it hurts, but why am I so afraid of him? Why do I keep hurting him?

“You’re avoiding me.” He’s not pulling any punches today. Not letting me hide. I both love it and hate it when he does this. It means I’ve been too in my head lately, and he’s going to make me face at least some of it.

Maybe the heat of the water will wash away some of the fucked-up parts of me. Make me normal. Make me easier to love. Love. My head snaps up right as the word hits my brain. Paul said he loves me.

I’m so damn tired of holding it all in, of carrying it around with me everywhere I go, never able to get a lungful of air. Faking smiles and laughs so no one looks too closely while on the inside I’m falling apart. I hate that I hide it all so well that no one knows, but all I want is for someone to notice, but at the same time, if anyone did notice, I would tell them I’m fine because I don’t want to be a burden.

The last thing I should do is touch him. I know that. I’m going to give him whiplash with this back-and-forth bullshit, but I fucking need him. It makes me weak to need him as badly as I do. It’s definitely not fair to him. I get him, but what does he get? A fucked-up friend who uses him.

“We’re going to talk about this after, got it?” His voice leaves no room for misunderstanding or argument. “Fine, just make me stop thinking first.” My words are a needy whimper. Reaching for him, I cup the back of his head and slam my mouth against his, then lean a knee on the bed. I can’t have nice and slow. It gives me too much time to think. I need to get lost in him.

Nothing in this moment matters but him. There’s no world outside of this bed.

His scent surrounds me, comforting and sexy. He’s taken on that commanding presence that I can’t take my eyes off of. I’ve never been drawn to dominant guys before, but it’s different with Paul. I’m safe with him.

“Tell me you love me,” I beg, lost in the sensations where the mental walls I keep up are nothing but dust. There’s a pause before I feel Paul’s breath on my cheek. The hand on my arm moves to grip the back of my neck. “I love you, Brendon.” His words sound off, but my lust-addled brain doesn’t know why.

The urge to cry is so damn strong because I love him so much it hurts. It aches.

Something in his head is twisted, and every part of me wants to fix it, but I don’t know how. I don’t know what happened or how to put the pieces of him back together. It’s like someone handed me a puzzle but put a blindfold over my eyes. I can feel the edges but can’t see how they fit together. It hurts to know he’s in so much pain. Does he not trust me with the truth? All I want is for him to be okay. We need to talk. I can’t keep living like this. Never knowing what version of him will walk into our room or if he’s coming back at all. It’s exhausting.

Brendon normally has a big personality, he takes up space in the room, and loves life. The fact that he’s shut down right now is physically painful. I reach for his chin and lift his face so I can see him. “I don’t know what’s going on with you right now, but stop shutting me out.” I drag my thumb along his bottom lip. “I’m supposed to be the one you aren’t afraid to come to when you need something.” A tear falls from the corner of his eye, and I brush it away. “I don’t know how to do this,” Brendon whispers. “Do what? Lean on me?” This feels like so much more than just friendship. I want everything with him, but I don’t think he does. Brendon closes his eyes and sighs. “I’ve never had a real relationship before.” “What do you mean?” I brush my thumb across his cheek and watch him struggle to find the words. Tell me what you want and it’s yours. I’ll give you everything.

“I love you,” I whisper against his mouth. A sob tears from Brendon, and he wraps his arms around my neck, leans back, and pulls me down on top of him. He breaks the kiss and leans his forehead against my cheek while I hold him. How many times have people put an exception on their love? How many people have told him he would be easier to love if he changed something? I hate all of them. “I love you too.” His words are packed with emotion, both sorrow and joy. My throat tightens too with the happiness of hearing the words I never expected to. For years I’ve been hoping but never thought it would actually happen. I never thought it would be true.

I shift a little, getting comfortable, and he rolls into me to keep his entire body against mine. He’s so needy for physical comfort, and I will never complain about it. I need to be needed. I need to know I’m enough. “I don’t want to change who you are. Ever. Be loud, do weird shit, flirt, get excited about things,” I tell him as I rub his back. “Okay.” His voice is breathy, and I smile.

Brendon moves behind me and wraps his arms around my waist. His breath on my neck sends shivers down my spine. “Thank you.” His whispered words are so quiet I almost don’t hear them. I reach over my shoulder to cup the back of his head and turn my face toward him to press a kiss to his lips. “I’ve got you.” Always and forever.

“Someone likes being restrained.” I nip at his ear, and he groans. It’s so much hotter than I expected it to be. There’s something enticing about having this strong, athletic man whimpering under me that is going to quickly become addictive. “Only by you.” Brendon’s breathy, sleep-rough words are a shot of adrenaline to my system.

He threads his fingers through the hand I have on the bed. It makes my heart lurch. I can’t keep my emotions out of this. If he pulls away and puts me back in the friend zone, it’ll break my heart.

“It’s a horrible idea. Why do you want this?” The smile drops from his face, and it turns serious. “Because you’re my person.” I huff but nod. “Fine, if you really want to do this, I’ll do it.” A huge smile brightens his face, and it’s everything I’ve wanted to see for days.

“I don’t know who bit you, but they need to do it again. This has faded too fast. Unless you want me to just wing it.” “No!” I snap, but when everyone turns to look at me, my face heats. Fuck. That was possessive as fuck. Take a chill pill, caveman.

My eyes are unfocused as I brush my finger over the raised scab on my neck. It’s possessive and comforting to have a permanent mark on me from him. Even if he was hesitant to do it, I needed it. I still do.

“What do you want me to tell the team when they ask?” We both know they will ask. “Whatever you want.” I can feel Paul shrug behind me, so I turn to face him. “You don’t care if I tell them it's you?” I lift an eyebrow at him. “No, I don’t care.” He shakes his head and lifts my chin to turn my head. Paul leans in and softly kisses the tender spot on my neck, making me shiver. “You’re my person, remember?” His lips against my ear have goose bumps breaking out along my skin. “Are we together? In an exclusive relationship, or are you just figuring your shit out?” I hate how small my voice is, how needy I am for assurance. Paul rests his head on my pillow, watching me. “An exclusive relationship?” He smirks at me. “Is that a fancy way of saying boyfriends?” I can’t help the little smile that turns up the corners of my lips. “Maybe.”

“You’re an idiot.” Paul huffs and shakes his head. Once we get out of the building, he lets go of me, and we walk normally toward the dining hall. “Well, you’re the one who loves me, so what does that say about you?” I pinch his cheek, and he jabs his fingers into my armpit, making me scream. “Asshole.” Paul chuckles but grabs my arm and wraps it around his shoulders. I try to hide my smile but fail miserably since he mutters, “Shut up.”

Brendon is one of those people who came into my life and changed it. We connected immediately like kindred spirits. In a matter of weeks, I couldn’t imagine my life without him. In less than six months, I knew I loved him. I tried to ignore it, pretend it wasn’t true, but there’s no one else for me. He’s my sun, and I revolve around him.

“I love you,” I whisper in the silence, watching his brown eyes shimmer. “I . . . have an idea.” Mischief brightens his face, and uncertainty tightens my gut. This is not going to go well. “What?” “Let’s get married.” My head blanks out with white noise, and I blink at him. “What?” I ask again. There’s no way I heard him correctly. “Let’s get married.” A huge smile splits his face, and when it’s directed at me like this, it’s so damn hard to think straight. “We’re in Vegas. We can go down to one of the hundreds of chapels and get married. We don’t have to tell anyone if you don’t want to, but then you’ll be mine and I’ll be yours. Officially.”

Brendon’s face lights up like a kid on Christmas. He jumps up and wraps his legs around me with a huge smile on his lips. I lift my face to him, and he kisses me with my hands on his ass and his entire body wrapped around me. For the first time in a long fucking time, I’m at peace and just fucking happy. This is my boy, my man, mine. Even if we have to keep it a secret for a while, he’s still mine.

“It’s okay if you don’t want to do this. It was a crazy idea.” I shrug and try to keep the hurt from my voice. I want him to be mine. Only mine. Is that too much to ask? He’s said he loves me the way I am, that I’m not annoying or too much.

Paul grabs my chin and turns me to face him, cupping my cheeks in his palms. “I want nothing more than to make you mine in every way I possibly can,” he breathes, pressing our foreheads together. “But I don’t want you to look back and regret the way we did it. I can wait if you want to do it the traditional way.” A painful knot is in my throat, and no amount of clearing my throat will get rid of it. “What part of me is traditional?” A tear falls down my cheek that he brushes away, and I give him a shy smile. He laughs and kisses me quickly. “You do have my teeth marks tattooed on your neck.” “It was really my way of proposing.” I chuckle and wrap my arm around his waist, glad to have the tension broken. “Surprised you didn’t realize that.”

Our relationship has moved really fast, I know that, but at the same time it’s been so slow. We’ve known each other for years, have been roommates for months. We know all the bad and good parts of each other and love each other anyway. Despite it all. And I have his teeth tattooed on my neck. If that doesn’t say I’m committed to this, I don’t know what does.

I would give anything to be in a private room right now with him, let him take everything he needs from me until he’s weak and sated. He can have every part of me. I have no walls anymore, nothing to hide. Not from him. Never from him, never again.

He waves toward the front of the room where there’s a raised step and an arch with very fake, old flowers I think are supposed to be roses. Maybe. And white Christmas lights, to give it that romantic vibe. I think. It doesn’t matter. It’s terrible, and I love it.

The man could not sound any more bored, but I don’t give a shit. Paul is mine. Legally. Officially. No one can take him from me. I jump on him, wrapping my legs around his waist and my arms around his neck, and kiss the fuck out of him. “You’re mine,” he says quietly against my lips. “Forever and ever, amen.” I beam at him.

I’m giddy. I’ve never associated that word with myself before and it’s . . . amazing. I’m married. Brendon is officially mine, and I want everyone in the entire world to know. Right. Now.

Tasting every inch, every millimeter, of him. I need him branded into my brain, into my flesh, into me. He’s mine. Forever.

I’m lost in him. In this second of time that’s standing still. Wrapped around the man I’ve loved for years and never thought I could actually have, I’ve found peace. The part of me that has been broken since my mom died heals. The scar still shiny and fragile, but it’s there, knitting me back together. The urge to cry hits the back of my throat and burns my eyes, so I lean my forehead against Brendon and just breathe. Wrapping my arms around his neck to keep him as close as possible, we just exist in this together.

“You okay, P Man?” “I love you,” I whisper, opening my eyes to meet his. “So much it scares me.” Even in the dim light, I can see his brown eyes sparkle at me and the freckles dotting his cheeks. “We’ll be okay. Come hell or hot water.” The sincerity in his voice almost has me miss what he said. “Hot water?” My face scrunches up in confusion. “Yeah, hell or hot water. It’s a saying.” I can’t stop the laugh or the smile that turns up my lips. “It’s hell or high water, babe.” I give him a quick kiss, then step back. “I don’t think so.” Brendon shakes his head. “It’s hell, the water would be hot.” I sigh and grab his hand so we can find food before having to be back in the hotel. “Whatever you say.”

He turns his head to look at me, and it warms my heart. Brendon is such a good man. I got lucky having him as my best friend but even more so to have him love me.

It makes me happy to see him being his goofy self. I love all the parts of him, all the different versions that exist in him, but this one reminds me to laugh and have fun.

This carefree, laughing side of him is everything. I would do anything to make him happy. Does he know that?