Page 20 of Famous Last Words (New York Thunder #1)

CHAPTER 20

FRAN

A m I having some sort of codeine-induced hallucination, or is Robbie Mason actually standing beside me at the sink in my bathroom brushing his teeth? I blink hard, glancing up at the hulking hunk of a man who seems almost too big for the tiny room. His eyes smile down at me, one eyebrow cocked as he continues brushing.

I finish first, spitting into the sink before rinsing my mouth out, fully realizing that I’ve invited Robbie Mason, my once-was nemesis, and the man I almost drunkenly kissed a week ago, to stay the night in my bed. If anyone asks, I’m blaming the pain pills.

When I unexpectedly came down with a flare up today, I did what I always do; I hopped myself up on pain relief and dragged my sorry ass to bed, in the hope of passing out until the agony subsided. I didn’t mean to sleep as long as I did. And when Robbie showed up at my door, I was shocked, confused and a little touched, if I’m honest.

I lead the way back to my bed, Robbie following close behind me. Hi s spicy, chocolatey scent wraps around me, and I almost feel like I’m floating. Jesus, I must be high.

“I hope you don’t mind that I sleep naked.”

“I hope you don’t mind waking up with one less testicle.”

He chuckles, but as I climb into bed and shuffle up against the wall, I still momentarily when he lifts his hoodie up over his head in one fell swoop, his New York Thunder t-shirt climbing up with it, giving me a glimpse of his defined abs and the V that disappears into his sweatpants. I allow myself to breathe again when he tugs the t-shirt back down, leaving it on. Thankfully, the pants remain firmly in place, too, as he climbs into the bed next to me, pulling the sheets up to just beneath his chin.

This is weird. I’m not going to lie. Robbie Mason is in my bed, under my covers, his firm body pressed up next to mine due to the limited space. I swear, it feels like my heart is about to thump right out of my chest. Even over the sound of the pouring rain, I’m sure he can probably hear it. Thaddum. Thaddum. Thaddum .

All I can do is stare up at the ceiling, the only light coming from the occasional flicker of lightning flashing outside.

“Does this happen often?”

I turn, looking at Robbie, barely making out the silhouette of his profile.

“What?” My brows knit together. “The storm?”

He snorts, and I see his head turn to face me. As my eyes adjust to the darkness, I make out the flicker of gold in his irises as they bore into mine.

“The… pain.” He clears his throat and then continues, “Period pain, yeah?”

I know we’re both adults, but I’ve honestly never spoken candidly about periods before with a man, especially not in my bed. But he’s so casual about it. Not in the slightest bit uncomfortable. And I don’t know if it’s just my hormones running amok inside of me, but that’s kind of hot.

“Um, yeah. Well, not usually this bad.” I tuck a hand behind my hea d, looking back up to the ceiling because the weight of Robbie’s gaze is almost too much, even in the dark.

“I have PCOS.” When he doesn’t say anything, I continue. “Polycystic ovarian syndrome. For the most part, I have it under control, but occasionally I’ll get a flare up which is kind of like period pain but a million times worse. Like a heavyweight boxer punching me over and over again.”

“What causes a flare up?”

Frankly, I’m shocked that he’s asking these kinds of questions. I remember I once had a flare up when I was with Tadd, and he didn’t want to know about it. In fact, he abandoned me and told me to call him when it was over. After that, I assumed all men were the same when it came to this sort of stuff.

“All different things. Lack of sleep, stress, too much alcohol, trash food…” I add, sheepishly, “I haven’t really been taking care of myself lately.”

The mattress dips as Robbie rolls onto his side, facing me. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

I’m taken aback by his offer, and I can’t stop my own snort. “Okay, who are you and where is Robbie asshat Mason?”

Robbie laughs quietly, but then he speaks and his words shock me. “My mom has cancer. Cervical.”

I gasp at his unexpected admission, turning to look at him, finding his eyes through the darkness.

“She’s… end of life.”

“Oh my God, Robbie.” This time it’s me who rolls onto my side despite my uterus objecting at the sudden movement.

“She was first diagnosed when I was twelve. I used to look after her when the chemo was really tough. So periods and gross stuff are nothing to me,” he jokes. “Trust me, I’ve seen it all.”

“What about your dad?” My heart breaks at the thought of a twelve-year-old boy having to take care of his mom in ways no child should have to.

Robbie scoffs. “He was an addict who used to beat on my mom. He took off when I was eight. Haven’t heard from him since. Probably dead. He must be, considering he hasn’t crawled out of some gutter to ask me for money.”

I puff air from my cheeks, but I say nothing.

“Mom went into remission, and she was good for a long time. But then when I was seventeen, she had a recurrence. She didn’t tell me because I was away at Belmont at the time, and she knew how important hockey was, so she kept it to herself because she didn’t want me to lose focus.”

I think back to Robbie Mason when we were at Belmont Prep together. He was such an arrogant jerk. At least that’s what I thought at the time. And for many years after. But now, with the added benefit of hindsight, I’m starting to see that Robbie was just a kid who’d been through way too much at his age, was trying to fit in, trying to make it, with the weight of the world secretly resting upon his shoulders.

“Mom beat it again the second time. But then it came back just last year. And it’s… everywhere. And it makes me so fucking angry.” He exhales heavily. “She spent all her time and all her money on me when I was growing up because I wanted to play hockey, and I had to have the newest skates and the best gear, even though sometimes at night I’d eat dinner and she wouldn’t. She’d tell me it was because she wasn’t hungry, or she’d had a big lunch, but I knew the truth. And I chose to ignore it and eat my dinner like a spoiled fucking brat.” He scoffs again, only this time it’s self-deprecating.

“Robbie, you were just a kid,” I interject, trying to reassure him.

“I promised myself that as soon as I made it big, as soon as I got some money, I’d take care of her. But then hockey took over and now it’s too late.”

“I’m so sorry, Robbie,” I say sincerely, my heart breaking for him.

“It all happened so fast this time. Once the chemo stopped working, the doctors basically told us there’s not a lot they can do. I looked into trials and programs all over the world, but Ma said s he didn’t want to do any of that. Said she’s been through so much, and now it’s just about keeping her comfortable.”

Thank God it’s dark because the last thing I want is for Robbie to see the tears brimming in my eyes, threatening to spill over.I clear my throat. “Is she, um, still in Boston?”

“Yeah, she’s still there. Still in the shitty house I grew up in because she refused to let me buy her a new one. She’s always been like that, my ma. She’s the most selfless person I know.” I can hear the fondness in his tone, and my heart swells. “I’ve arranged for a nurse to live with her, to keep her safe and comfortable. And I try to get there as much as I can to see her. I’d love for her to come here to New York, stay with me for a while, but travel is hard for her, and I know she’s comfortable at home.”

An obvious heaviness settles between us, and it’s at that moment I realize just how close we are. I can feel Robbie’s breath fan against my cheek, feel his warmth, feel his sadness.

“Thanks for coming here tonight to check on me,” I say after a moment.

“Are you still in pain?” he asks, his voice dangerously low and right there.

“Yeah,” I whisper. “But I’ll be okay, I’m?—”

“Lie back,” he interjects.

“Huh?”

“Roll onto your back.”

Confused, I slowly roll over so that I’m facing the ceiling again, but just as I’m about to ask what the heck he’s doing, Robbie shifts even closer, one of his muscular thighs coming to rest over mine. His hand trails tentatively down my hoodie from just underneath my breasts, over my stomach before dipping underneath and stopping at my bare skin. When his fingers toy with the waistband of my sweatpants, I can’t help but suck in a tremulous breath. What is happening?

“It’s okay,” he whispers so close I’m sure I can feel a brush of his lips against my ear. “I got you. ”

Again… What. The. Fuck. Is. Happening?

I’m about to remind him that it’s really not a great time for him to delve any further south, but he stops, and his palm rests flat against my lower belly before his strong fingers start to move with the perfect amount of pressure, massaging away the painful ache beneath the surface. It’s so good, I almost moan, but I manage to keep my sounds in, sighing instead, and allowing my head to sink deeper into my pillows.

“Is this okay?” Robbie asks, his voice barely a whisper.

“Mmm... yeah.” I stifle another moan, feeling my body become lax beneath the totally non-sexual ministrations of his fingers.

This is something I’ve never experienced before, and I can’t say I hate it.

“Go to sleep, Keller,” he whispers again, those lips and the stubble lining his jaw brushing against my skin.

I make a sound. At least, I think I make a sound. And I’m pretty sure whatever sound it was, was met with a low chuckle. But my eyelids are too heavy, and before I know it, I’m swallowed up by a cloud of bliss.

When I wake in the morning, to the sound of the city alive outside, I’m still in pain, but it’s a dull pain, misty with the morning-after fog of one of the best night’s sleep I’ve had in as long as I can remember.

I stretch languorously with a loud groan, which is when I notice the bed beside me is empty. Heaving myself to sit up, my hazy gaze scans the apartment for any hint of Robbie, but nothing more than the long-forgotten hint of his spicy scent remains. I pull back the curtains to find it’s still raining out and at least mid-morning, and I reach for my phone sitting on the nightstand, my heart doing a ridiculous hop, skip, and jump when I see a text message waiting for me. Pathetic.

Asshat: I had to leave so I could make my PT. Didn’t want to wake you. I hope you feel a little better.

Before I do anything, I change his contact in my phone, because if Robbie did anything last night, he proved that he’s no longer the asshat I thought he was.

For a moment, I stare at his words on the screen. I hope you feel a little better. Suddenly, all I keep thinking about is the feel of his fingers on my skin, massaging me until I drifted off to sleep.

Biting back my smile, I tap out a reply.

Me: Hey. I just woke up. I’m feeling much better. Thank you for last night. For everything.

I bury my head in my hand when I realize I’m actually giddy. Giddy . What the hell is wrong with me? I’m giddy texting Robbie Mason. What the fuck happened between us last night?

My phone vibrates in my hand, interrupting my internal freakout.

Robbie: Anytime, Keller x

I stare at his words, at the kiss. And… oh God.

Flopping back against my pillows, I release a loud sigh.

I think I might be in trouble.