Van2, page 11
He can’t give this up.
Driving his hips against me, he hits something that only Van has ever been able to reach. Oh, I’m sure it’s a physical thing but it’s mostly emotional. When Van loses control while inside me, it’s a primal claiming of my soul and that turns me on more than anything he could ever do. His moans and grunts telling me just how good—no, how perfect—I feel to him sends me into that free fall of ecstasy. An intense orgasm rips through me and it comes on so unexpectedly that I cry out my husband’s name. It sounds like a prayer of worship.
Van groans and thrusts into me faster.
My body is still shuddering through the last vestiges of my own release when I take note that my husband is on the verge of tipping. I know all the signs… how he holds his breath and all sounds of pleasure go utterly silent. It’s as if he’s bracing himself to get wrecked and I know he’s only seconds away from joining me—
“Fuck,” he roars, pulling out of me so fast, I don’t know what’s happening. Van leans over me, planting a palm beside my head on the table and uses his other hand to jack his cock. I stare wide-eyed with confusion as he curses through his release, jetting all over my stomach. Van’s face screws up and I’m not sure if it’s pleasure or pain I’m seeing.
“Fuck,” he huffs out, his favorite word to use that could mean any number of emotions. His hand twists on his cock, wringing out a few more drops of semen before falling away.
“Why did you pull out?” I ask with a frown as he straightens up, his chest rising and falling from the exertion of what we just did. Don’t get me wrong… my husband has marked me many times over the years, but this wasn’t that.
“Don’t want you to get pregnant,” he says flatly and once again I’m in the cold, dark world of Van Turner. His head drops, refusing to look me in the eye as he tucks himself back into his pants and zips up.
Van turns to the kitchen sink to wash his hands while I lie like a useless lump, splayed out on the kitchen table. His semen puddled on my belly seems wrong and I realize, that was the most unsatisfying sex I believe I’ve ever had, despite the fact I got off. Those moments of pleasure that wracked my body just moments ago seem so very wrong.
I push up off the table and Van twists to look over his shoulder at me. I bend over to grab his T-shirt from the floor and wipe the fluid from my stomach. I drop it just as quickly and run out of the kitchen, through the living room and up the stairs into the guest bathroom. I turn the shower on and when the water’s hot enough, I step in and wash myself clean. I put my face under the spray and let it take my tears down the drain. I’m despondent because the one thing I thought could still bond us seems broken too.
When I’m cried out, I wrap my hair in a towel, another around my body and cross the hall to the spare bedroom. I’ll pull on warm pajamas and go to bed. I don’t even have it in me to go sleep in the living room, just so I can have Van’s attention. In fact, I think I decidedly don’t want it tonight.
I pull up short, though, when I see Van sitting on the edge of my bed, waiting for me. His forearms are resting on his thighs and his head is hanging. It lifts when he hears me enter. “Are you okay?” he asks.
And God, does that make me so sad because I can hear so much love in his tone. It hurts the most to know he’s leaving this marriage while still loving me to the depths of his soul.
“Yeah… I’m fine.” Lie. “Just going to get dressed and go to bed.”
Turning for my suitcase, I expect him to leave, but instead he says, “I didn’t mean for that to happen.”
“I know.” I know while sex felt good for him, it was a line he didn’t want to cross.
“I didn’t mean to disrespect you,” he says, punctuating the words so that I know he’s clarifying something to me.
I turn to face him, gripping my towel tight around me like it’s armor. I don’t even know what to say.
“I’m tired of fighting, Simone.” Van scrubs his hands over his face and I’ve never heard him sound more defeated. Even when all the shit went down three years ago with his dad, he never sounded this beaten down. “I’m tired of worrying about you. I’m tired of people asking me about my father. I’m tired of everything.”
It occurs to me at this moment that ever since the book came out, Van and I have done nothing but fight. Heated arguments, yelling bouts and periods of cold silence. I’m not sure if we ever actually had a calm discussion.
I move to sit beside him on the bed and I take one of his hands in mine. “Tell me everything that’s in your heart right now and I’ll only listen. No fighting.”
Van looks at me and I see all the love there. It’s not something he has to prove to me. “I can’t begin to describe to you what this is like for me. You know the facts, but you don’t know the feelings. The things he wrote in that book…”
“You read it?” I ask in horror. Why would he do that to himself?
Van nods, gaze going down to the carpet. “I read enough and I want to vomit when I think about every person who read that book, and they’re wondering… did I stick my hand in that nest and crush those eggs? Was I a little killer in the making? Did I kill the neighborhood cats and was I really a chip off the old block?”
“No one would ever believe that, Van. That book comes across as nothing but lies. You have a successful career, a family who loves you and a network of friends who know the real you.”
“There are many who will want to believe it, baby. Many do believe it and wonder if I’m a monster hiding in plain sight. We live in a world where people want to believe the worst about others. Reporters are always going to ask me about this and it’s never going away.”
Van rises from the bed, but not to leave the room. He turns to face me, tucking his hands in his pockets. “I’ve got this recurring waking nightmare… I think about it all the time. I imagine we have a kid… a daughter, because that’s what I want first. And she comes home from her first day of school, and you and I are waiting for her to get off the bus. But instead of her running toward us with smiles, she’s crying, because some kid at school told her that her grandpa was a serial killer.” Van’s voice cracks and he shakes his head. “I just can’t do it. I suffered through it myself as a kid, but I was lucky. Etta took me away and gave me a new name, a new life. Our kids can’t escape it, so I have to do the next best thing and refuse to bring children into this freak show. And I know you’ve said you can do without children to stay with me, but I can’t do that to you, Simone. You are built to love and there are some lucky souls out there just waiting to be born so you can be their mother. I can’t let you give that up. I won’t let you give that up.”
This is the point where I normally would argue with him, but for once, I’m not going to. I want him to know I hear him. That I understand.
I push up from the bed and move to my husband. I don’t care if he likes it or not, but I press into his body and wrap my arms around him for a hug. I turn my cheek and press it to his chest. “I’m sorry, baby. I wish I could make that all better for you and I know I can’t.”
And for the first time since we separated, Van touches me with care and tenderness. He accepts my empathy. He wraps his arms around me and reciprocates the hug.
It doesn’t last long… only seconds, but it makes up for that shitty sex we just had. And it gives me hope.
But he does pull away and when he does, I don’t like the look on his face. “I’m going to move into a hotel.”
“Why?” I exclaim, panic taking over.
“Because I can’t be near you and stay true to my convictions. You’re too much of a temptation and I’m not talking about sex. I’m talking about the fact that you represent too much hope and honestly, babe… it hurts to have it right now. I just want to be done with this.” Van turns for the door but before he walks out, he says, “You know I love you, right?”
“I know.”
“It’s because I love you so much that I’m doing this.”
“It’s a mistake,” I whisper.
He glances back at me. “It’s a risk I’m willing to take.”
Van slips out the door and I sit on the bed. My mind is already spinning… processing everything that happened tonight. Surely there is something I’m missing… some logical piece of information that will help me change his mind.
I know that Van thinks he just laid down the law, but I can’t give up yet. There has to be a way to save my marriage.
Or the alternative, I need to let him go and hope he can figure it out on his own.
CHAPTER 14
Van
The Cold Fury are already on the ice for pregame warmups when the Titans step out. I follow Boone, skating in a clockwise circle on our half of the arena. Rob Zombie’s “Dragula” blares and fans line up at the glass behind the net with signs that say “Drake… I want to have your baby” and “Titans Don’t Puck Around.”
I skate slowly, my legs already limber and warm from riding a stationary bike and doing stretches a bit ago. Eventually, our team lines up for two-on-one drills, lobbing easy pucks at Drake to get him in the zone.
As I stand at the rear of the left-hand line near center ice, someone bumps me hard in the back. I turn to see Lucas standing there.
Even though I was with his sister for three years, two of which we’ve been married, Lucas is the one brother who never fully warmed up to me. He’s genial enough at family gatherings but I don’t know that he’s ever forgiven me for the fact that I started seeing his baby sister right under his nose while we lived in the same house. This, despite the fact that his sister is the one who relentlessly came on to me.
From the very start, she was unrelenting in her flirting. She made comments about the way I looked or how I acted that threw me off because there was nothing coy about how she did it. She called it like she saw it.
“Hmmm,” she said on the very first day we met, her tone suggesting she was trying to figure me out since I’d been pretty standoffish. “I’m going to go with brooding. It’s a better fit for the hotness you exude.”
What the fuck was she even talking about?
“Hotness?” I was at a loss as to how to deal with a woman who said things I didn’t understand.
“Oh, come on.” She let her gaze roam brazenly up and down my body before smirking at me. “Just look at all you got going on. All big and muscley. And those deep, sensitive eyes filled with mystery. Total hotness and totally broody.”
I tried to pay her no mind. Ignored her, actually. And yet deep down, I knew that I was going to be in trouble where she was concerned.
Lucas jolts me out of my memories. “Going to kill you tonight,” he says in a low voice, and he’s not joking. The words are stone cold and laced with malice.
“Good thing we’re not on the same lines, then,” I mutter before turning away. No way am I going to fight her brother, especially not during an important game that has playoff-standing ramifications.
Lucas sneers. “On or off the ice, doesn’t matter when.”
“Whatever.” I skate away from my brother-in-law and join the line on the opposite side. I scan the crowd. I don’t know where she is, but there’s no doubt Simone is here watching. She wouldn’t miss a chance to see Lucas and Max play.
I don’t think she’d be here to see me, not after the way I left her last night. There was a finality to our encounter and I know that because she listened to me. Heard how I felt.
Chose not to contradict me, fight for me or attempt to offer hope.
I told her I was moving out and she let me. I packed a bag and when I walked out the door, Simone was nowhere to be seen. Presumably up in the guest room, going to sleep.
She let me go.
I know I’m supposed to be glad it’s over. Simone is free to get a new life. To have the happiness she deserves. It’s everything I’ve reached for since that book came out.
And yet… there’s not one part of me that has any relief from this overwhelming sensation of doom. If anything, I feel worse.
Simone told me I was making a mistake.
Did I?
“You good, man?” I glance over my shoulder and see Boone. “Saw you talking to Fournier.”
“Yeah, all good.” Boone knows I want a divorce from Simone, and everyone knows she’s the little sister to Max and Lucas Fournier.
Boone taps his stick against the side of my leg. “Got your back, anyway.”
I lift my chin, acknowledging the offer. Not the first time he’s told me that, and there’s not a doubt in my mind if Lucas somehow ends up on the ice at the same time as me and comes after me, my teammates will be right there. Hell, they all know about my troubles with Simone as word travels through the grapevine and most of them were privy to her attacking that fan at Mario’s. But I haven’t divulged details to any of them, nor do they know the reasons for us separating. It’s obvious the stress of Arco’s biography is a weight on me but no one really knows how that led to me leaving Simone.
I move along with the line, lost in my thoughts. I run a drill and when I’m finished, I search for Lucas on his side of the ice before choosing the next line. I’ll keep distance between us. I’d already hurt his sister once. Like many couples do, we had a make-or-break moment when it first hit the news that Arco was my father. Simone wanted to stand by my side, but our relationship was too fucking new and I was too unsure of myself to accept what she was so freely giving to me. I had no confidence in what we had.
A freelance reporter who recognized me that one time I visited Arco in prison wrote a sensationalized article revealing my true identity to the world, just as the Cold Fury were starting their championship run. The article was entitled “The Unknown Madness of Van Turner,” and it was the third-most horrific thing that had ever happened to me. The first, learning my dad was a serial killer, and the second, finding my mother’s body after she died by suicide.
Simone was in California with me for the game and she immediately kicked into caregiver mode. She knew about Arco and she was my stalwart champion. Except when she asked, “What are we going to do?” my response was to immediately push her away.
“We?” I scoffed. “Why is this a we thing? Last I heard, your dad was a prominent doctor, not a serial killer.” That didn’t anger her. I had her empathy and it made me feel even worse. “I need you to stay out of this. It’s hard enough to deal with the fallout of all this shit, but I don’t need to worry about you at the same time.”
Simone didn’t back down. “You don’t need to worry about me.”
“You see, but I will. And fuck… it’s hard work just letting you in. I’m constantly judging my actions and trying to figure out if they measure up to what I think are acceptable standards for you. And while I’m worrying about that shit with you, I’ve now got to deal with the entire world knowing about my shame.”
Simone frowned. “Your shame?”
“Yes, my fucking shame,” I yelled at her. “Do you know how dirty and disgusting this shit makes me feel? I’m swept up into his sickness just by association. How many people are looking at me and wondering is he like his father?”
In hindsight, I’m sure it wasn’t what I thought, but at that moment, I thought she looked at me with pity and I couldn’t take it. I tried to leave… put space between us.
She begged me not to push her away. “I’ve got your back.”
I snarled at her. “You’ve got my back? You’ve got my back?”
She lifted her chin and stood her ground. “I do.”
Disdain was evident in the scathing timbre of my tone. “And just how do you have my back, Simone? Just how are you going to support me through this?”
“By standing beside you. By defending you. By telling and showing the world that you’re kind and generous and loving and—”
“I fuck you, Simone.” My tone was flat and without any tenderness. “I give you orgasms. I laugh at your silliness. But I am not kind nor generous nor loving. So you’d essentially be lying on my behalf. Is that how you’ll support me?”
“You’re more than that,” she whispered.
“You know I’m not. And besides that, do you think people are going to accept what you’re saying? I give a little interview with the media and proclaim I’m a good guy, but instead the media shows highlights of all my fights to speculate that I’m a violent person. I know how this shit plays out. It’s why it’s easier to keep people out.”
And still, she would not give up. She would not abandon me. Relentless brat that she was. “Van… I get you’re angry, and maybe the natural thing is to drive away those that care about you—”
“You’re wrong. I don’t intend to drive Etta away at all.” The implication was crystal clear that only Etta was welcome in my life. I’m not sure I really meant that but I was spiraling so quickly. I said the words even though they felt wrong. “I made a mistake. I should have never gotten in this deep with you. Should have never opened myself up like I did.”
“Sounds like you’re blaming me for some reporter who wrote an article about you,” she said, showing the first sign of anger.
“No, not blaming you. Just angry for taking myself off the radar to begin with.”
Ultimately, that day ended with us parting ways. I told her I needed time and maybe later… after I got through the playoffs, we could… I’m not sure what.
Simone was having none of it. A backbone of solid steel, she wasn’t going to let me string her along. “That’s not how this works. There is no later. It’s either now—when you need me the most in your life—or not fucking ever.”
The dumbest words I’d ever issued in my life came tumbling out. “Then it’s not fucking ever.”
She left California and we were done.
Not forever, though. I realized how stupid I had been and there was a hell of a lot of apologizing for the way I hurt her. I was a lucky man she gave me another shot.
I force those memories away, but it’s not lost on me that I’m repeating history. I’ve once again pushed her away and with any luck, she’ll be heading back to Vermont sooner rather than later now that I’ve moved out of the house. The only difference between now and then is I have no intention of going after her to grovel.
