The Wall of Winnipeg and Me

by Mariana Zapata

I’ve seen it for a while, Van.

It was midshake that he looked down at his giant hand swallowing mine, and the most disgusted expression came over that perfectly stoic face. “What the hell happened to your wrist?”

“Vanessa,” Aiden growled, literally growled, as he softly tugged the sleeve further up my forearm to display the five-inch bruise just above my wrist.

“You kneeing him isn’t doing it for me.”

“You’ve lost your mind, big guy.”

“No. That asshole lost his mind. Your family lost their mind. I know what I’m doing.”

“If someone messes with you, they’re going to mess with me, Van. I don’t want to hurt your feelings. I might not be good with this friend crap, but I’m not about to let somebody get away with hurting you. Ever. Do you understand me?”

My heart. My poor, weak pathetic heart.

“Don’t presume you know anything, because you don’t. You don’t know anything about me, or Vanessa. And if she is pregnant, don’t make that fucking face unless you’re ready for the consequences.”

“She’s my wife, and all she’s ever done was watch out for me. Don’t go there, Trevor. You don’t want to go there, understand me?”

Some part of me recognized that Aiden did care about me… now… in his own way.

“I’m going to punch you in the cooch.”

With a shake of his head, he unzipped his duffel, which was sitting on his lap, and pulled out that infamous off-black hoodie he always wore. Then he held it out. All I could do was stare at it for a second. His beloved, no-name brand, extra-extra-large hoodie. He was offering it to me.

“For me?”

“Yes for you. Put it on before you get sick. I would rather not have to take care of you if you get pneumonia.”

His chest started puffing against my back as if his breathing was difficult. “She did nothing to your sisters?”

And it was right then, not being plunged in the dark, that I finally witnessed with my own two eyes the sight of me sitting on Aiden. Two long, muscular legs circled me, so long that the knees jutted out way passed where mine ended. Two heavily muscled triceps popped on either side of my arms, playing my bodyguards. But it was the big hands on me, the wrists propped up so effortlessly on my thighs, that made something in me react. He was hugging me. For all intents and purposes, Aiden was hugging me. Surrounding me.

I looked like a fifteen-year-old hoochie mama in a giant-sized sweater that made it seem as if I didn’t have any clothes on underneath.

Those underused corners of his mouth tipped up just a little—just a freaking little—but it was what it was. He’d smiled. He’d fucking smiled at me. Again. And it was just as magnificent as it had been the first time.

I slipped my hand into Aiden’s and gave it a faint squeeze. He squeezed mine right back.

“He doesn’t notice stuff that’s not football related unless it smacks him in the face.”

“Like you.”

“Aiden?” “Huh?” “Why didn’t you tell me there weren’t little kids here?”

“You looked excited. I didn’t want to ruin it for you,”

“I don’t have time to bother trying to have a relationship, and I don’t like most people. Women included. ” I wrung my hands, which were still between our two bodies. “You like me a little.” “A little,” he repeated with only a small curve to the corners of his mouth.

“Eh.” God help me, he’d gone Canadian on me.

“I thought they were going to eat me.”

“This is the last time that I come over to save you from the boogeyman.”

and his other arm, the one who’s biceps I was using as a pillow, was wrapped around my neck.

“And your door was wide open,” he continued. I slammed my mouth closed. “Noticed you weren’t alone, darlin’.”

“Whatever you want, Mrs. Graves.”

His eyes had kind of glazed over and he seemed to daze off, looking at something over my shoulder. “Yoo-hoo. Zac?” His eyes strayed back to look at me, focusing, a real smile finally reappearing on his mouth. “Sorry.”

I got out of the shower that night and found something in the team’s colors wrapped in clear plastic on my bed, I stared at it. And when I ripped off the packaging and shook it out to see that it was a brand new Three Hundreds jersey with GRAVES written on the back, I smiled so hard my cheeks hurt.

“Vanessa?” “It’s Muffin.” He made a noise I couldn’t distinguish. “Come in.”

And it was right then that I realized he was only wearing that little piece of gold resting right by his collarbones and boxer briefs. Gray, form-fitting, made with some kind of spandex, boxer briefs.

Submissive and Breedable

I glanced at his butt one more time for a second. I was weak. Then I glanced again. So freaking weak.

“It’s the only one I’ve ever asked for. They had to give it to me,”

In the middle of me taking in the soft fragrance coming off of him, he put his arms around me. Gently, gently, gently. One arm went around the top of my shoulders and the other one directly below it. He tightened his embrace and brought me in an inch closer into the cocoon of his massive body. I tried not to freeze. He was hugging me. He was hugging me. Something settled at the top of my head and I knew, I just freaking knew, it was his chin.

“I can work anywhere, and anyway, I’m here for you, not the team. Do whatever you need to do.”

“You need to make sure you’re eating enough with all the running,”

“If it makes you happy, it wouldn’t bother me.”

“Shut up.” I used his line on him, earning me a head shake and a flash of a tiny grin in return from the man whose face was about four inches away from mine. Just as he started to pull away, I tugged on his hoodie sleeve so he could come closer.

If I really strained and stood up straight, I was almost, almost five eight.

It’s confirmed me and Vanessa are the same person

Aiden blinked. “I think I want my jersey back.” I blinked back. “Tough shit, sunshine. It’s mine now.”

Just as I started to glance around to see what idiot was yelling, Aiden’s index finger touched my chin. I stopped. “Don’t bother.”

“Do you think I suck?” he asked me, seriously, in a voice low enough for only me to hear.

“No,”

“Then why would I care what someone else thinks?”

“Even when you used to flip me off?” “Just because you’ve made me mad doesn’t mean I ever stopped caring about you, dummy,”

I might have just waited until the last minute to push you out of oncoming traffic, but I’d still push you out of the way.”