Blurred Lines (Darby U Hockey Boys, #2)

by Andi Jaxon

I don’t know when I took on the role of fun police with Jeremy and Brendon, but it feels like it’s just always been that way. They decide to do dumb shit, and I follow along to make sure they don’t get hurt or kicked off the hockey team.

It’s agony, being disposable. Especially when you love someone with everything you are.

“Can I sleep with you?” I sound pathetic, but I don’t care. I don’t feel good, and I just want the comfort of him next to me. We sleep together most nights, but tonight, I need him to tell me it's okay. I need him to tell me he doesn’t hate me, he isn’t mad at me, he isn’t tired of me. “Of course.” He kisses the top of my head and leads me to his bed.

My entire body slumps. Resigned and heartbroken. It’s stupid, right? Weak? To be this hurt that someone is mad at me. Paul is my person. He has been for a long time.

But I’m scared. Scared to allow myself to love him as deeply as I want to. Scared to admit just how obsessed with him I am. Scared I’ll lose him.

And being angry is easier, so I’ve funneled the fear into anger. When I look pissed, people leave me alone. Someone may ask what’s wrong, but I just tell them to fuck off and they do.

“I’m fully aware that I’m a shitshow, that you could do a lot fucking better than my pathetic ass, but I love you, and the last thing I want to do is hurt you.” Brendon holds my gaze while his turns glassy. I grab the back of his neck and pull his forehead to mine, close my eyes, and take a deep breath. “I want you.” I press my lips to his in a soft kiss and align our bodies. Brendon opens the blanket and wraps it around us. “But I’m fucking scared of how much I love you.” He shakes his head and shoves his face into my neck. “I want more.” My heart sings at his muffled words. “More what?” “Of you.”

I wrap my arms around him and smile. “You’re mine, understand? Only mine.” Brendon nods into my neck, his unshaved cheeks scratching against my skin. “I’m yours, you’re mine. I want all of you. Don’t hold back.”

I sigh but let the words out instead of keeping them in. He deserves my honesty. If I want this to work, really fucking work for the long term, I have to talk to him even if it hurts.

“Has someone told you you’re hard to love?” My words are quiet in the dark of our room, and Brendon tenses against me. I don’t push him for an answer. His reluctance to respond is a resounding yes. “Yeah.” He takes a deep, shuddering breath. “Hey.” I reach into the blanket and lift his chin so he’s looking at me. “Whatever was said to you is not true.” Tears spring to Brendon’s eyes, and he chokes on a sob. I wrap my arms around him as he cries, his body shaking from the emotional release, and I run my hands up and down his back while I murmur to him. I love this guy more than I thought was possible. He fills the holes in my heart that my parents left, completes a part of me that I didn’t know was incomplete. “I love you,” I murmur into his hair, and he falls asleep wrapped around me.

I love being his firsts. While I wasn’t sleeping with everyone who offered, I definitely got around for a while there, but Paul’s innocence reminds me of the butterflies and excitement. I like showing him new things.

“Tell me you love me,” he begs, and my heart aches for him. I hate that he needs that reassurance during this. He must feel vulnerable like this. “Look at me.” I wait until his eyes open. “I love you, Brendon. You are mine, always.” A tear trails from the corner of his eye into his hair, but I don’t take my gaze from his. In this moment, we are sharing the same air, finding pleasure and comfort in each other, and solidly in this second of time. Nothing matters but us, right here, right now.

I love this boy, this man, with everything I am. It’s terrifying, but I can’t stop it. Putting distance between us only hurts both of us. I have to embrace it, embrace him, and hope he isn’t taken from me. It would destroy me, but not having him at all would be worse.

“I’ve loved you for a long time,” I tell him quietly, looking at my feet. In the steamy shower, it feels safer to tell him this. “I was afraid you would see it and stop coming to me when you needed to cuddle or whatever.” Brendon cups my cheeks and lifts my face to his. “How long?” I sigh and close my eyes. He’s your husband, you can be vulnerable with him. “Basically, since you joined the Lumberjacks.” I hold my breath and wait for his reaction. Wait for him to be angry or disgusted or something. It’s stupid and logically I know that, but it doesn’t stop the fear. “Paul.” My name is sad on his lips. “Why didn’t you ever say anything? I thought you were straight up until a few months ago.” I chuckle and look at him. “Definitely not straight.” I wrap my arms around his lower back, comforting myself with him. “I was scared you didn’t see me the same way, that you would stop talking to me.” I shrug and lay my head on his shoulder. Normally this position is reversed and he’s leaning on me, but I like that I can rely on him to be strong for me sometimes. That’s what relationships are all about, right? Switching who is strong.

I pull Brendon into a tight hug and just hold him. I can’t imagine what he’s lived through, and I’m so glad Jeremy and I found him. “Your quirks don’t bother me. I like that you’re you. You make me smile; it’s impossible not to have fun with you around, and some of my favorite memories involve you.” Brendon lets out a quiet sob and grips me hard, digging his fingers into my back as he fights with the demons in his head. “And if I ever hear anyone say anything like that to you, I’ll knock them out. You hear me?” I say into his ear. He nods and relaxes some, letting go of the ghosts that haunt him from his childhood. “I love you the way you are.” Brendon presses his lips to mine. It’s salty with tears but healing. “I can’t imagine my life without you,” he says, his voice rough. “You’re it for me.”

“You guys going to be ready for finals?” Carp asks, and everyone groans. “Shhh, we don’t use those types of words.” Brendon throws a cherry tomato at him. “What words?” Nick smirks. “Finals, tests, midterms, lima beans, burpees, Brussels sprouts, surprise anal.” Brendon ticks them off on his fingers.

“Dude, this team has more than its fair share of queers.” Brendon shoves another bite into his mouth. “We should start a queer league in the off season.” “Do you have to be queer to join, or can we just be supportive?” Willis asks. “I guess that would depend on how many people sign up.” Brendon shrugs.

It drives me nuts when people think he can’t handle things or take anything seriously. Is he a goofball? Yes. But that doesn’t mean he can’t focus when he needs to. I love how his brain works. He’s quick-witted and makes me laugh, thinks outside the box, and finds solutions to problems other people can’t figure out.

“I’m afraid of what will happen to me if I lose you.” The words are quiet in the dark of our room, a place where secrets can be told.

“Why wasn’t I enough?” Brendon wraps his body around me, arms and legs, to hold me as tight as he can. “You are enough,” he says into my hair. My chest heaves with the emotions that I’ve kept locked up in a cardboard box in my heart. But it's been ripped open, and no amount of tape will put it back together. For the first time since my dad left me in the ER on my fourteenth birthday, I mourn the loss of my father. I let myself purge the fear of being in love, the fear of turning into my dad, the fear of never being enough. “Don’t leave me, okay?” I lift my face into the crook of Brendon’s neck while my chest heaves and my skin feels too tight. “I don’t know if you want to do the kid thing or have twelve dogs, but if you die, I promise I won’t abandon them. You have to promise too.” “I promise not to abandon our hypothetical children if you die before me.” I know it’s stupid, but his words make me feel better. They ease the pressure cinching around my ribs so I can suck in a full breath.

Brendon may have been the one to need touch first, but he’s made me crave his nearness. Nothing calms me like he does, like his skin against mine, his heart beating with mine. The raging, turbulent emotions ease into a calm, flat sea.

“Why are you so fucking beautiful?” Paul blurts out much louder than necessary since my face is two feet from his. “You’re high.” “Does that change your bone structure?” Now he looks confused, which makes me laugh at him. “Only you would be high as fuck and talking about bone structure.” I shake my head, but he reaches for my chin and pulls me into a kiss.

I take a deep breath and sit back in my chair, staring at the man that has taken my heart and run away with it. He’s my life, my air, the reason my heart beats.

I’m left mentally drained while anxious at the same time. I want to pace, demand an update that doesn’t exist, yell, and crawl into bed with the man who anchors me. I don’t know how to do this. How to be an adult. Paul is the adult, the comfort, the level-headed one. I’m a fuckup. A clown. No one takes me seriously.

Tears clog my throat at the weakness. I’m supposed to be a grown man, but I still can’t handle anything on my own. I need reassurance that my friends don’t hate me, that my husband still loves me, that I’m not too much.

I grab my shirt and button it up while Jeremy leans into Preston. Honestly, I’m glad they found each other. Jeremy deserves to be loved completely, and while I don’t know all the details, I know Preston needed to be shown how to love. There was no one else that could have gotten through to him like Jeremy did.

I follow the numbers on the doors until I find the right one and stop just outside of it. Nerves flutter in my stomach. What if he doesn’t want to see me? I roll my wrists and crack my fingers while I stare at his door, working up the nerve to open it. I hate that I question everything. He fucking married me, but I still don’t know if he wants to see me. Just do it. Go in. Maybe he’s asleep anyway.

Paul brushes the tears away with his thumbs and places a gentle kiss on my lips. “You’re okay. I’m okay. We’re okay.” “I love you.” He smiles at me again and kisses my forehead. “I love you too. I’ll be back tomorrow, okay?”

“Hey,” he says as he lifts my face to his again. “Thank you for taking care of me.” I pull my eyebrows together and look at him as sternly as I can. “Don’t ever make me be the adult again. That shit sucks.” He laughs and kisses me again. “I’ll do my best.”

I lean my head back on the headrest and sigh. I’m so fucking tired. Today has sucked, and all I want is to be wrapped around Paul in bed, watching TV until I pass out, but I can’t. I have to just fucking manage.

“Hey, husband.” His voice is softer this time. It’s intimate and quiet. The tone warms my heart. Seeing him last night was exactly what I needed, and he obviously needed it too since he was a mess. That’s it. I can’t hide him anymore. From the moment I opened my eyes after surgery, I’ve only wanted him with me. It’s killing me not to be with him. I’m done hiding. “Hello, husband.” I close my eyes and picture him in my mind. “Come get me?” “Seriously?! They’re letting you out?” I can feel his excitement through the phone. It’s so pure, almost childlike, and it’s infectious. I love that he still gets excited over things, doesn’t try to be cool or fit in. He wasn’t meant to fit in. “Yeah, come get me, baby.” He moans, and I wish I could see his face. “I love when you call me that.” I will definitely remember that . . .

“Okay, untie me.” He pulls the strings on the back of the gown and pushes it down my shoulders. “Is it weird that this is turning me on?” Brendon asks, and I smirk as I look up at him. “Which part? Me being injured or undressing me?” “The undressing of a hospital gown so . . . both?” He thinks about it as he hands me a shirt. “I guess I have a doctor-patient fantasy?”

“I don’t like having to be the adult here, but right now I’m desperate to touch you.” His words are quiet, like he’s afraid of being overheard, but so full of need it hurts. “Please don’t make me adult anymore.” “I’ll do my best.” I kiss him again,

Brendon grabs my hand and leads us back to my car. I don’t pull my hand away even though a nagging voice in the back of my head says I should. Someone could see us, and the news could spread through the team in a heartbeat, but I just don’t care right now. I need the comfort of his touch more than I need the secret.

“I love you,” I say between chuckling and holding my stomach. “I love you too, obviously.” Brendon lifts my hand from his lap and kisses my palm, then bites the fleshy part between my index finger and thumb. “Hey, we don’t bite!” He lets go but has a devious smile on his face. “You do too bite. I have it tattooed on my neck.”

“Do you know how to tell the sex of it?” I roll my eyes and lift the puppy up to look. “Boy.” “My little buddy.” Brendon scratches the puppy’s chin. “You can’t keep him. You know that, right?” The puppy puts his head on my shoulder and settles against me. Damn it. That’s cute as fuck. “You don’t have dog food or toys or bowls or a leash or⁠—” “But I can get it.” He shrugs. “He’s a baby. I’ll figure it out.”

I reach for his hand and thread our fingers together, holding his hand against my thigh while I turn back to the game. It takes me a few minutes to realize he’s quiet. Too. Damn. Quiet. When I look at him, he’s smiling at me, but I have no idea why. “What?” “You’re holding my hand.” I look down at our hands and smile at it. It was so natural that I didn’t pause to think about it. He’s it for me, and I’m done keeping him a secret. With our eyes locked together, I speak my truth. “I love you, Brendon, and I’m done hiding it.” I don’t know how, but his smile gets bigger, brighter. “You’re my husband, and I don’t care who knows it.”

“I don’t deserve you,” he says with a gravelly voice. “But I’m selfish enough to not let you get away either.” It’s a stab in the heart to hear him think he’s unworthy, but I’ll spend the rest of my life proving him wrong. He is the most worthy. “Look at me.” I wait until his eyes meet mine again. “Your past doesn’t determine your worth. No one is a better fit for me than you, and I will spend the rest of my life proving that to you.” A tear escapes his eye, and he swipes it away, leaning in for a kiss that I don’t deny him. It’s a quick kiss, a brush of lips, but it’s comfort. It’s home. Brendon is my home. And as much as that scares me, I won’t let it stop me from loving him out loud. He rests his forehead on mine with his eyes closed. “Thank you,” he whispers.

“What are you going to name him?” I scratch under the puppy’s chin. “Me? Don’t you mean we? He’s our dog. Or do you expect me to name all the children too?” The hoity tone is so amusing. I love that he assumes we’ll have kids because, why wouldn’t we? “Letting you name the children by yourself is slightly terrifying. They would end up with initials that spell something weird.” Brendon throws his head back and laughs hard. “You’re not wrong.”

Somehow, I managed to trick this guy into putting up with my shit for the rest of my life. Or his. He’s told me I can’t name the kids by myself, which is probably best for everyone. He keeps me grounded but lets me fly. He’s the Batman to my Robin. The peanut butter to my jelly. “You’re a dork and I love you.”

Something about this moment reminds me of the years I spent jumping at shadows. I almost gave up hockey just to get away from Chad, but if I had, I wouldn’t have Paul. I no longer jump at loud noises or flinch when someone touches me. I’m able to smile and sleep and be me. I’m sure I’ll still have setbacks, things that trigger a memory that I wasn’t expecting and send me spiraling, but I know that Paul will love me through those times. He’ll hold me while I break down and not judge me for it, close the cabinet doors that I leave open, and only grumble a little when he finds the milk warm on the counter.

My insecurities try to tell me that I’m not worthy of his attention, of his care, of his love, but the way he loves me proves to me that Paul thinks I am. That’s what matters.

“You know, I wasn’t so sure about this tattoo,” he says as he traces it with his tongue, “but it does something to that Neanderthal part of my brain that wants to claim you.” I smile against my arms. “I am yours. Even before this started, I was yours. I just didn’t know it yet.”

“I love you, Brendon, until my heart stops beating.” “Then I’ll make sure it never does.”

I open the trunk of my car and grab our bags while Brendon picks up Grandma and swings her around carefully while she laughs. Seymour jumps around and barks happily. The scene makes my heart happy. These little moments will be permanently branded into my heart. He puts his arm around her shoulders and walks her back to the house with the puppy, letting me carry his shit. It’s so damn cute that I don’t argue or give him shit.

I drop the bags on the floor and reach for his hands to wrap his arms around my waist. Even though we spend so much time together, I don’t get tired of him. He’s my air.

His touch turns from comfort to arousal. In the blink of an eye he’s damn near desperate for me. It’s a high I never expected to experience. It’s romance movie shit, but it’s my life, and I love to tease him, work him up, and leave him hanging.

“Any good parent figure just wants their kids to be happy. Who you are happy with shouldn’t matter.”

“But I have to thank you.” My voice breaks. “I learned I will never give up. I’m a fighter, and no matter what life takes from me, I will keep going. Should I ever be blessed to have a child, I will spend every day of my life making sure they know I love them more than life itself. I will no longer be afraid of love because, what has that gotten you?”

A sob rips from my throat, and I mourn the loss of the parent that still breathes. I never let myself grieve him. Instead I wrapped my anger around me and used my fear of being him to keep people at arm’s length. Until a smart-mouthed redhead came into my life and made me fall in love with him. Brendon pulls me against him and holds me tight as I finally let the pain out. It’s been years since I saw my dad, and I’ve never been bold enough to call him out on his shit. I was scared it would push him further away, make me harder for him to accept. But thanks to Brendon, to his unending love, I don’t need him like I used to. “I love you,” Brendon says against my temple. “You are more than enough.” I wrap my arms around him and let the rapid waves of sobs ease into a stream. Seymour’s cold nose touches my underarm, and I open up enough for him to burrow in between us. “We’re a fam-damn-ily,” Brendon says, petting the pup. “No getting away from us now.”