Page 42 of Actions and Reactions (All It Takes #5)

Ivan

When I stop shaking from the tsunami of an orgasm I just experienced, my eyes focus on Si again. Breathing hard with his arms still stretched up and tied to the bedframe, he’s the sexiest man on the planet.

No competition.

And he’s with me. He was begging me to fuck him, to make him come. He trusts me to tie him up and have my way with him.

Every feeling imaginable builds up inside me at once, and a sob bursts out of me before fall onto him and bury my face against his chest.

He’s really here.

He’s going to stay .

He loves me.

He loves me.

I can’t fucking lose him again.

I don’t know exactly how we’re going to deal with the whole hockey thing, but I’m going to demand we put our heads together and figure it the fuck out as soon as I can stop sobbing on him.

“Vinny,” he snaps, and the sharp tone has me looking up, alarmed, and honestly, if I hadn’t known him since I was born, I’d probably be embarrassed that I just cried all over him after coming my brains out.

But this is Silas, this is us—there’s no room for embarrassment here.

“Wh-what?” I ask between sobs and wipe at my nose.

“Untie me so I can hug you.” He says it like it’s not the first time he’s said it, and I guess I was kinda lost in my head there for a minute, but I reach up—still crying—and undo the knot quickly, then I lose all my strength and crumble next to him.

He only makes it worse when he wraps his arms around me and pulls me in tight.

“Shh. It’s okay, Vinny. I’ve got you.”

This is so fucking stupid.

He’s the one who was tied to the bed seconds ago. I should be taking care of him .

“Are your hands o-okay?” I manage to ask through sniffles.

“They’re fine. Don’t worry.” He combs his fingers through my slightly longer hair and keeps whispering nonsense while he holds me. “Do you want to talk about it?” he asks a few minutes later when my breaths are almost even.

“It just hit me right now,” I start to explain. “It was just so fucking cathartic, realizing we can build something real and good and healthy. That we actually have a shot. But I’m still worried, Si,” I confess and look up at him.

“Worried about what?” he asks, voice low. He brings his hand up and traces the line of my jaw with his finger.

“You seemed good today, at the rink.” I think it’s important to let him know I see that.

“You were smiling, and I feel like an idiot for not realizing during the summer that you never smiled when you were at work, but today you smiled. You joked around with the guys and you’re coming back to work soon. ”

“Okay,” he says slowly, and I know he’s hoping I’ll say more—which means he’s not getting my point. I don’t blame him.

“What happens when I’m late for practice again?

Or when I don’t score in a game? What happens when I do score?

When I get a hat trick? How will you react then, Si?

” My desperation grows with every question.

“I love you so much, but I can’t go through all that again.

How will you cope with still working for a hockey team? ”

An understanding sort of softness comes into his eyes.

“I think I need to tell you more about everything I figured out over the past three months. I think that might help.”

“I read your letter?—”

“That’s only a fraction of it.” He interrupts me, then scoots back a bit so we can see each other better. “PTSD is weird. First, because there’s no recipe for how it presents itself or what causes it. The definition of trauma is different for everyone.”

I take advantage when he pauses to take a breath, and reach for his hand. I need to stay connected to him somehow.

“So basically, what happened back in September happened because I’ve been repressing my trauma and minimizing it.

I’ve been dismissing it and avoiding actually dealing with the loss all these years.

Coming to work for the Pirates and starting our relationship brought it all to the surface, but neither of those things caused the PTSD, does that make sense? ”

“It does,” I murmur, following along easily up until now.

“Okay, so what actually caused the PTSD is losing what I thought was my reason for existing.”

“Wh-what?” I stumble over the word, shocked to my core. I know he loved playing hockey, but his reason for existing?

That’s beyond fucked up.

“Si, you’re more than?—”

“I know that now,” he hurries to interrupt me.

“But I didn’t know it back then, and I think I didn’t know it three months ago.

Hell, two months ago. That belief comes from a lot of places—my ego, my subconscious, my parents.

I’ve worked through it, though, and while I was dealing with the trauma, I was also building my identity.

Figuring out what I want to do, who I want to be.

The problem wasn’t my job or you, Vinny.

” He cups my cheek and smiles softly. “The problem was that I was a shell of a man, not whole. Now I am. Or at least, I’m getting there.

“I’m going to continue going to therapy here with a guy my old therapist recommended, and I have an appointment booked for the day after tomorrow.

I didn’t tell you I’d come back lightly, Vinny.

You’re also not my reason for existing, but you are essential to me.

To my happiness. I also want to build something real and good and healthy, I swear.

“And the work isn’t done. It probably never will be, but I know how to cope now. I know what happened to me and how to deal with it if I’m ever triggered?—”

“And you don’t have to go through any of it alone,” I interrupt, my voice fierce.

I don’t think I can process the relief I’m feeling all at once, it’s that big, that life-changing, but knowing he’s not going to be suffering every day just to be here with me, just talking to me, is more than I thought was possible.

“And neither do you,” he stresses. “Like I said earlier, I want you to be yourself and to never feel like you have to hold back. You’re an amazing hockey player, and you love it as much as I do. If we were to spend twenty-four straight hours talking about a game, I’d consider that a perfect day.”

I watery laugh bursts out of me.

“We can take breaks to trade BJs, though,” I tease.

“Of course we can.”

Finally, he comes closer and kisses me softly .

“I’m not perfect, Vinny, and I don’t think any relationship ever is, but I want us to go back to being best friends who tell each other everything while also building our lives together. I want you forever.”

“I want that too.” A tear slips out of the corner of my eye and down to the pillow under my head.

“Okay then, I feel I need to tell you that you’re better than your stats reflect this season. What the fuck?”

I burst out laughing then, loudly, joyously, incredulously.

“My boyfriend was away,” I cry out, the excuse coming out without any conscious thought. A burst of panic begins to grow, but it vanishes when Si rolls his eyes dramatically at me.

“You can’t blame everything on me, you know?”

“I know,” I breathe out with the smile firmly on my face. “It’s been so weird leading the team,” I confess, trying out this not-holding-back thing. “I know now that everyone expected it to happen eventually, but I just didn’t see it coming.”

“Well, that’s dumb,” he counters, deadpan.

I snort again and shake my head as much as I can, then I raise my hand to cover the one he’s cupping my cheek with and turn my head to kiss his palm.

“I’m a dumbass sometimes.”

“That’s fine. We can be dumbasses together.”

How is that the most romantic thing I’ve ever heard ?

Ten Days Later

“Ex-fucking- cuse me?” Silas shouts at the screen of his tablet.

“Well, I guess it wouldn’t be a normal Christmas without a screaming match,” Mom sighs, mock disappointment on her face.

Elle hides her smirk behind her glass. I guess she knew about this.

“You can’t date Colin,” Silas continues shouting at Lottie over FaceTime.

“Look, Silas, you need to calm the fuck down, okay?” she snaps right back, as is her right.

I’ve heard great things about Colin from Silas in the last week, so I don’t know what has him so worked up. An ex-marine, won some medals for saving some people, good guy who’s gone to therapy, works in security, has a good sense of humor... what’s not to like?

“Lottie, I just don’t?—”

“I’m gonna stop you,” she interrupts him. “Colin is the only man I’ve ever met who has more balls than me, and that’s a nice change of pace. I like that in a guy.” My boyfriend only grumbles at that, he has no comeback. “We’re going to the team dinner together, and the guys love him.”

“They’ve already met him?” Si demands, his voice pitched high enough to make me wince.

“Yes, last week. He was a big hit. ”

I feel the need to interrupt, some stupid part of my brain demanding I side with Silas at least initially.

“I wouldn’t trust those assholes from the Deep.”

“Shut up, Ivan,” she snaps at me.

Well, I tried.

Si stares at her for a long moment then drops his head between his shoulders. When he looks up again he’s smiling.

“I’m so happy you’ve found someone you care about, Lottie.” The smile and tone aren’t super genuine, but I can see from her responding smile as well as Mom’s that it’s appreciated. “How’s Colin doing?”

With the crisis under control, I turn and go get my one measly beer.

I suddenly don’t care about that when I see Dad and Mich laughing by the bar. It’s been a long time since we’ve all been together for the holidays, and never this many people.

Dad, Ally, Colby, Aunt Elle, and Uncle Paul came from LA. Mom, Mich, and Eli from New York, and Lex from Canada.

Mich organized for us to have a whole freaking floor at the Certon hotel to ourselves—apparently he knows the owner of the chain, because of course he does—and it’s a pretty sick setup. They all have suites, and we have a big-ass events room to ourselves for the two weeks they’ll spend here.

Annie was invited, but she declined after I told her my cousins wouldn’t be here, and instead she’s spending a quieter few days at Gab’s place with her daughters—and Twocox.

I have a game tomorrow afternoon, but it’s a home game, so we’ve had a few days here to spend time with our families who all decided to come to Vegas for the holidays.

I wasn’t surprised, after Si told me his plan about a podcast for our dads, that they readily agreed. It’s all in the works to start one week before the playoffs begin.

And the Pirates are definitely going to be playing.

No, we’re not as dominant as we were last year, but we’re still pretty fucking good, and I have no doubt we’ll have a shot at another Stanley Cup.

The weight of leading the team is less heavy every day, but it’s still a lot.

Jules has taken me under his wing, and Mater told me just two days ago I’d be alternate captain next season if he had anything to say about it.

Si helped me process that hours after it happened because in the moment I didn’t react at all. I just stared at Mater for like a minute until he walked away with a huge smile on his face.

It was a big moment for us, returning to our old ways where he’s cool, calm, and collected, and I’m a mess.

It was nice.

All in all, things are going great.

Sure, it’s been less than two weeks, but already I can see how Si is building a life he’s happy with .

“Hey,” Si murmurs as he slides up to me.

I throw an arm around his shoulders and kiss his temple. It’s so natural and unknown at the same time, acting this way in front of our whole families, but it feels so damn right.

“Why were you such an asshole to Lottie?” I ask, calling him on his bullshit.

“Colin is my friend,” he whines.

“So text him and tell him he should’ve told you, then threaten him a little like Lottie threatened me, and then move on.”

“That sounds . . . simple.”

“Because it is, Si.” I shake him a little. “She looks happy, and from everything you told me, he’s a good guy.”

“He is,” he grumbles.

“Stop pouting and drink a beer with me. Then we need to go make fun of our dads and Mich for putting on those ridiculous clothes.”

I get him to smile and he even chuckles. Sure, he’s shaking his head at me, but I get a kiss.

“You’re a dumbass,” he whispers right against my lips.

“I’m your dumbass.” I press my lips to his for a long moment then trail a finger down his tie. “And I’m gonna use this later.” I wink at him then reach for our beers.

He pats my ass and leans in to speak against my ear. “Why do you think I wore it?” Then he kisses my neck and runs away.

“Dad, the seventeen hundreds called, they want their blouse back. ”

I see his cocky smile bloom as Uncle Paul sputters and points at Aunt Elle accusingly.

That right there is my Silas.