Rushing the Goal
Page 70

When it was just them, alone, with nothing from the outside world in the way, she was good. Walls down, she was happy. It was the thought of everyone knowing that she liked him, Angie knowing, and ultimately Rick, that had her sick to her stomach. Angie would handle it like she did everything else—head on, fast, and with zero cares—unless Lucy was upset and then she would be upset. Lucy couldn’t have that. She couldn’t stress her baby out. Her family would get too excited way too quickly. Knowing her mother, she’d want to have a double wedding, and Lucy could handle that, but she couldn’t handle Rick. Knowing her luck, he’d run Benji off, and in the end, break Lucy’s heart all over again.
And Angie’s.
And she could never let that happen.
But in his tub, Benji’s arms around her, nothing could touch them.
No. She was good, real good.
“All I need is a glass of wine, maybe some chocolate-covered strawberries,” she said with a giggle, and he chuckled against the back of her head. “Do you have any wine? We should pop open a bottle, drink it like queens and kings.”
He chuckled against her ear, kissing the spot below it. “No, I don’t.”
“That’s a travesty. We’ll need to get some for next time.”
He didn’t say anything right away, but then he cleared his throat. “About that…”
She opened her eyes, leaning over so she could look up at him. “What? No next time?”
He scoffed. “Oh, Lucy, if I had my way, this water would stay hot and we wouldn’t leave. But it’s not that.”
“Then what?”
He paused and sucked in a deep breath before meeting her gaze. He was unsure, something was holding him back, and that made her concerned.
But nothing prepared her for what he said next.
“I’m an alcoholic.”
Whoa. What?
Her face must have given her away before he looked away. “I’ve been sober for twelve years, though.”
“Oh. Okay, wow, yeah. No, it’s fine. I just… I’m gonna shut up,” she said quickly and he smiled. “Sorry, I wasn’t expecting that.”
“No, it’s cool,” he said simply, nuzzling his nose against her neck, apparently done talking about it.
But she was not.
“You feel so good,” he whispered, kissing her neck, and she almost let him move on.
Almost.
“Okay, Mr. Change the Subject, I kinda wanna go back a bit,” she said, moving so she could see his face.
Repositioning her legs over his so she was almost straddling him, he cleared his throat. “Using my words against me.”
“Yeah,” she said, eyeing him. “Like, I need more there. Not that it changes anything, but I kind of need to know.”
He looked down at the water, taking a deep breath. “No, I know.”
He wouldn’t look at her, and his shoulders fell. Shit, she was messing this all up. “I’m not looking at you differently, I promise.” He gave her a look, and she stressed, “I’m not!”
“You are.”
“No! It’s just crazy. You don’t seem the type to do that.”
“I was a different person then,” he said simply and she shook her head.
“I’m sorry I can’t wrap my head around it. You seem like such a stand-up guy.”
“But I wasn’t back in the day, I was shit,” he said, his voice breaking a bit. She reached for him, holding his hands.
“Whoa, I don’t want to upset you. You don’t owe me anything; you don’t have to tell me anything that is uncomfortable,” she said quickly. She was surprised how upset she got for him. She didn’t want to hurt him, she didn’t want him to relieve a shitty past, she didn’t like the look on his face. The look of pure defeat and regret. She couldn’t handle that. No, this wasn’t her Benji.
Her Benji.
Okay. She’d come back to that.
Looking at their hands, he sucked in a deep breath. “No, it’s a part of who I am now. I want you to know because you worry about me not liking part of your past. Well, there is a damn good chance you won’t like mine.”
Her heart sank as she watched him—the way his jaw was taut, the way he wouldn’t look her in the eye. This wasn’t how he was. Yeah, it had only been a week with him, but Benji was all about eye contact.
Shit, she was scared. “Okay.”
Moving his tongue along his lip, he swallowed hard. “I got swept up in the rookie life. I was with a young team, and they liked to party. I had grown up drinking with my family. Started young, really.” As he took another bracing breath in, his nerves vibrated Lucy’s soul and made her anxious.
Her nerves getting the better of her, she started talking. “Everyone drank early, at least, my family did. My mom and dad, as soon as each of us turned sixteen, made us drink with them. They’d get us trashed to where we would wake up, sick as dogs. It worked on me as a deterrent—I wasn’t much of a drinker. But it had the reverse effect on the boys, and they can still drink. I’m rambling. Why am I nervous? Okay, I’m shutting up.”
She snapped her mouth closed, and he smiled. Leaning to her, he pressed his lips to hers. “I really like when you ramble.”
She smiled sheepishly. “You’re making me nervous ’cause you’re so nervous.”
He shrugged. “Sorry, I really don’t like talking about it, but I want you to know.” She didn’t know what to say, so she just kept locked in his gaze as he cleared his throat. “But yeah, I came from a drinking family, lots of functioning alcoholics. Then I was drafted early, hit the NHL quick, and everything went downhill. I was a nasty drunk and I hurt a lot of people, almost lost my career, I, ugh—” He paused, letting out a long breath and shaking his head. Her heart was breaking.