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CHAPTER SEVEN: HOUSEWARMING

OWEN

The day weighs heavily on my shoulders, but I’m glad to return to my minimalist, modern apartment, with its dark hardwood floors and single leather couch. Moving boxes are stacked in the empty dining area just off the kitchen, waiting to be sorted and emptied. It’s the opposite of the ridiculous penthouse Gerald tried to push on me. He thought it was a better fit with our “family image,” all for the sake of the brand he’s crafted around us. I couldn’t stand the thought of it. Every damn detail of my life has already been carefully managed and orchestrated by my stepfather, and the penthouse would’ve been just one more piece on his meticulously controlled chessboard.

No, I wanted something that felt like mine, even if it’s a lonely little one-bedroom on the quieter side of the city, far from the spotlight he always tries to force on me.

I toss my keys on the kitchen counter and let the emotions of the day wash over me. Holy shit… I can’t believe she’s here in Denver. Stacey. My Stacey. The moment I laid eyes on her, everything came rushing back—the feel of her skin against mine, the sound of her laugh, the warmth of her smile. She was beautiful when we were teenagers, but seeing her today… she’s blossomed. When we were younger, she was slender and delicate-looking. Now, she’s gained luscious curves and there was a worldliness in her gaze that hadn’t been there before. What kind of life has she lived since I last saw her?

I sink onto the couch, raking a hand through my hair, and close my eyes as memories resurface. In high school, Stacey and I had been inseparable. I’d envisioned my whole future with her.

Gerald had other plans.

He’d just announced out of nowhere that he and Mom were getting married, and we were all moving to Canada. No discussion. No consideration for the life he was ripping me away from, or the love he was forcing me to leave behind.

I’d fought, of course. Demanded that they let me stay behind, if nothing else.

“ It’s decided. You’re going to Canada to train with the best. Cut ties with every distraction here.”

I knew Stacy was the “distraction.” When I’d pushed back on that exact issue, he didn’t even blink. My mom had stepped between us in tears and begged me to be reasonable, saying Gerald could give us a good life. I hadn’t been able to tell her no, no matter how badly I’d wanted to. In the end, I’d given in and stormed upstairs to pack and call Stacey… only to realize I’d left my phone downstairs.

Gerald had snatched it from the counter, and by the time I returned to get it, it was too late. He never gave it back, even when I saw the screen light up his palm with a missed call from Stacey. When I confronted him on this, asking for a chance to tell her, he was cold and final.

“New life, new number,” he’d said, and that was that.

I was a kid. What could I do? Gerald was determined to have his perfect little family that he could throw in his brothers’ faces. He’d been married before my mom, but wasn’t able to have children himself. That fact, and his divorce, hadn’t dulled his ambitions any. He’d just readjusted his plans so he could get what he ultimately wanted—an heir to maintain his control and succession of power, and now he wants a grandchild to do the same.

When I got to Canada, I put all my feelings into a letter for Stacey, every damn word I wished I’d had the chance to say before I left. I poured everything into that letter, and then I sealed it up and tossed it in the outgoing mail.

She never wrote back. I never heard from her again. And by the time I got a phone, her number was disconnected.

My chest tightens as I picture her today, her face impassive, her gaze steady and unyielding. She acted like I was just some new guy on the team. Part of me feels betrayed. I’d rather she scream at me and call me a bastard for leaving than have her act like I meant nothing to her at all.

I sink deeper into the couch, the ache in my chest mingling with a different kind of heat, a pull that’s half-memories, half-longing. She looked incredible. More confident, more beautiful than I remembered. My body reacts just thinking again about the curve of her hips, and the fullness of her breasts. She didn’t have those in high school. She wasn’t quite so… womanly.

I shift uncomfortably, trying to push the thought away, but it lingers, stubborn and insistent. My cock twitches as I imagine all the things I’d do to her delicious little body…

My phone suddenly rings. I glance at it and see Mom flashing across the screen. I was expecting this, of course. Mom was never thrilled with the idea of me coming to Denver, and I know Gerald’s also going to try and maintain his control over me even from afar. He’ll attempt to do so through her. With a heavy sigh, I answer.

“Hey, Mom.”

“Owen! How’s Denver?” Her voice is warm and soothing.

“You know, it’s different. Warmer than Canada, for sure.”

“Oh, I’m sure you’ll adjust. It’s a great city, Owen, and I think you made the right choice. You deserve to try something new before you settle down.”

Huh, I wasn’t expecting that. Her apparent acceptance of the move makes me a little suspicious. Before I can try and dig a little more into her response, I hear Gerald’s demanding voice in the background.

“Give me the phone.”

Mom sighs. I tense up, bracing myself. Gerald’s voice barrels through the line.

“Getting settled?” His tone is all business, and I know this isn’t a friendly check-in.

“Yes,” I say, keeping my answer short.

“Good. You’re there for one season, Owen. You’ve got until then to get whatever this is out of your system and return to Vancouver.”

I clench my jaw, forcing myself to stay calm. “Right. Whatever you say.”

“This trade? I never agreed to this. You belong in Canada. Where you’re accessible. I had plans for you to settle back home, play where you’re supposed to be, and keep the family image intact.”

I take a deep breath, my grip on the phone tightening. “I needed this move, Gerald. I requested the trade because I needed some space… even before you tried to force that engagement on me.”

“I don’t care what you think you need. At the end of this season, you’re coming back. You have responsibilities here, and you’ll be marrying Elise. No more of this nonsense, and no more arguing.”

I roll my eyes. He refuses to let the engagement go, no matter how many times I tell him it’s not happening. I’m over a thousand miles away now. He can’t force me to do anything I don’t want to do… not while I’m here.

“Make sure you don’t do anything to embarrass us or cause your mother grief while you’re there,” Gerald orders. “I’ll be checking in.”

“Fine by—” Before I can finish, the phone clicks and the call ends. Well, I guess he’s done with me for the time being.

Frustrated, I walk toward the stacked moving boxes. Maybe doing some unpacking will distract me from all this.

I grab a box off the top of the pile and start tearing the tape off. Unpacking feels strangely therapeutic as I pull my clothes out of the box and sort them into piles on the floor. Removing an old hockey jersey from the box, I pause, clutching it in my hands. This jersey used to be my dad’s.

Suddenly, I’m a junior in high school, standing next to my dad’s hospital bed, holding his hand, feeling the roughness of his bone-thin fingers in mine. He looked at me with such sadness in his eyes, and it tore me up because, even then, I could see that he was already slipping away. That day, he made me promise to look after Mom, not to cause her any trouble, and to always be the one she could rely on.

I’ve kept that promise, even when it meant bending myself backward to make her happy. Even when it meant putting aside my own needs just to keep her from being disappointed. She was devastated when he passed, and I did whatever I could to be her rock. To be the person who never let her down.

Then she met Gerald, and everything changed.

Gerald has used me for his own PR schemes for years, parading me around to show off how “supportive” he is of my hockey career. It’s like he thinks my whole existence is a vehicle for his own success. If he could market me as “Gerald Weston’s All-Star Son” without it looking tacky, I know he would. Christ, I’m not even his fucking son, but he says calling me his “stepson” makes the “Weston” name look bad. Fuck the Weston name. Gerald’s not even in charge of the company… yet. He sits on the company board and makes public appearances to show off his “Golden Boy” persona, but he has no real power in the company. Maybe that’s why he’s so intent on having total control over my life… because he doesn’t have any real control in his.

Mom has no idea how unhappy I am. She thinks I’m thriving under Gerald’s influence, that he’s helping me succeed in ways I never could on my own. She even thinks I’m happy about the idea of marrying Elise. She’s seen us at family gatherings, talking politely, laughing even, and she thinks that means I want a future with her. There’s nothing there. Not the way there was with Stacey. Not even close.

Shaking my head, I push all those thoughts aside. I should focus on unpacking and not worry about my mom or Gerald right now. It’ll just stress me out. Huffing out a breath, I grab another box and rip it open. Inside, I find a few items from my collection. Padded cuffs, a sleeping mask, silky ropes…

I shut the box and pick it up to move it into the bedroom. Better to put these things away somewhere secure so no one else stumbles upon them. Reaching the room, I kneel down next to my custom-ordered bed and reach underneath, feeling around for the latch I know is there. When my fingers brush over it, I pull it and a hidden compartment drops down. I carefully store the contents of the box inside, then lock it up.

As I make my way back out to the living room, there’s a knock on my apartment’s front door. I jump, my heart slamming against my chest, feeling like whoever is at the door caught me with my kinky collection. It’s late, so I don’t know who could be showing up unannounced. I leave the bedroom, tossing the now-flattened cardboard back into the dining area, and cross to open the door. To my surprise, I find Carson, Jensen, Jayce, Zander, and Wilder standing in the hallway, all grinning.

“Thought we’d properly welcome you to Denver.” He holds up two cases of beer.

I stare at him, totally caught off guard. “Um… what?”

“I didn’t figure you’d really want to go out and make a fool of yourself,” Carson explains. “Not until you got to know the guys better. You’ve got that reputation to maintain, after all. So, I’m bringing the welcome party to you!”

I chuckle and step back to let them in, shutting the door behind them..

“This feels like one of those initiation surprises college teams do for new players.”

“Consider it a housewarming,” Wilder says in his rumbling baritone, grabbing two beers from the pack. He cracks open a can and tosses the second one to me.

“Don’t tell Coach,” Zander grins. “If he finds out we brought you beer on your first day, at the start of the season, he’ll have our asses.”

Jensen nods. “Yeah, the old man is a real stickler about staying healthy and fit at the beginning of the season. He’ll jump down your throat if he catches you with a candy bar.”

“Don’t worry, though,” Zander continues with a wink. “He eases up once we’re a few games in and prove to him that we aren’t all fat, beer-guzzling slobs. Then he just worries about us all catching syphilis or some shit because we have so many manwhores on the team. Like Wilder.”

“Get fucked, Zander,” Wilder rumbles, and it isn’t clear if he’s joking.

Releasing a dramatic sigh, Zander replies, “If I could, I would, big guy. If I could, I would.”

We settle in, beers in hand, the guys making themselves comfortable on my couch and the floor. I don’t really have any other furniture yet, but they don’t seem to mind.

“How’d you know where I live?” I ask.

“It’s in the team directory,” Jensen explains. “Phone numbers and addresses are listed in case of emergency.”

“And this was an emergency?”

Jensen gives me a solemn nod. “Team bonding is a vital part of building trust, Owen. As captain, I take my responsibilities in facilitating such bonding seriously.”

There’s a beat of silence before we all burst out laughing.

Carson settles next to me on the couch and leans back, giving me a curious smile. “So, Owen, what’ve you been up to since you left Wisconsin? Feels like you just vanished.”

I take a slow sip of my beer, choosing my words carefully.

“My stepdad wanted to relocate us for ‘family business reasons,’” I say, rolling my eyes a bit. “He’s big on keeping up appearances, so he dragged us to Canada, where his family and their business are located. Whole new life, new city, new everything.”

Jayce, who hasn’t really said anything yet, asks, “What’s your stepdad’s name?”

“Gerald Weston.”

To my surprise, a look of recognition crosses Jayce’s face. “Oh, yeah, I’ve heard of the Westons. Big name in real estate up there, right? Have a hand in half the development in Vancouver.”

“Uh, yeah. How do you know that?”

Jayce shrugs. “My family’s the same. Vaughn Real Estate.”

“Holy shit!” I exclaim. “Your family’s company has been around since the 1800s. Didn’t they help build all of Denver’s biggest buildings?”

“Unfortunately.” Jayce irritably swigs his beer.

“So… you get it, don’t you?” I ask. “The pressure of meeting your family’s expectations, even if you don’t want to?”

“It’s rough when everything you do feels like it’s to make someone else look good,” Jayce nods, his tone laced with a bitterness I recognize on a deep level. “Jensen can relate too. His dad is a rich control freak just like ours are.”

Jensen salutes us with his beer. “Finally stuck it to the old man when I found Grace. She gave me the backbone I needed to fully break free.”

Realizing that Jayce and I have been dominating the conversation for quite a bit now, I turn back to Carson, “So, you and Skyler, huh? That’s a surprise.”

Carson laughs and smiles, a tender expression softening his features. “Yeah, it’s still a shock to me too, man. She’s amazing. The perfect mix of sweet and fierce. Brilliant. She designs video games now. Total nerd, and I fucking love her for it.”

Jensen nudges him, shaking his head, “Oh, here he goes again, bragging about his girl.”

“Like you’re any better,” Carson shoots back, grinning.

Jensen raises his beer. “Fair point. I’m a lucky bastard. Grace is… she’s everything. We’re getting married next year, actually. Miami. It’s where we met.”

“Congrats,” I say. “Grace was always a sweetheart. She deserves a good guy. I’m a little surprised you actually let a teammate be with your sister, Carson. I remember our high school team receiving not-so-subtle threats that she was off-limits.”

Thinking of Grace makes me think of Stacey. Is she with anyone? Looking at Wilder, Zander, and Jayce, I can’t help but wonder if any of them are interested in her. The thought makes jealousy burn through me but I tamp it down. I’m jumping to conclusions and I don’t know a damn thing about her anymore.

“What about Stacey?” I ask, my heartbeat quickening.

Carson gives me a cautious look. “What about her? I thought you came to Denver because she was here.”

“No,” I shake my head. “I had no idea she was here, let alone working for the team.”

Carson looks stunned. “Oh, shit, for real? I didn’t think it could be that big of a coincidence.”

It’s definitely wild that I would be traded to the team and the city where Stacey has set up her life. After leaving Wisconsin, I never had any idea where she ended up.

“She’s doing good,” Carson continues with a shrug. “She’s doing her PT residency with the team. She’s killing it so far.”

“I forgot you all went to high school together,” Zander says. “You two, Grace, Skyler, and now Stacey… geez, you all are taking over around here.”

“Yeah, I guess we’re all just drawn to this place,” I say with a forced laugh before I push to my feet. “Anyone else need another beer?”

Several of the guys raise their hands and Carson’s hops next to me.

“I’ll give you a hand,” he says.

We make our way over to the kitchen together, and as the rest of the guys continue talking and laughing, I lower my voice so no one can overhear me as I ask Carson, “Do you know what happened to Stacey after I left Wisconsin?”

It’s not the question I really meant to ask, but it slips out before I can stop it. I’ve always wondered, but when my attempts went unanswered, I lost hope. We were so young back then, and I know what I had to do hurt her. More so, the shame of leaving school, leaving my friends and team, had me avoiding reaching out to anyone else.

There’s a beat of silence, and finally, Carson speaks up, his voice also low.

“Yeah, Stacey… she took it hard when you left, man. She didn’t even stick around for graduation. Left right before. Transferred. Guess she didn’t want to be around anymore, you know?”

She left? Does that mean she didn’t get my letter?

“She moved? Where too? Why?”

Carson shrugs. “She moved here, I think, but I don’t know why.”

“Does Grace?”

He looks hesitant, and I can tell he doesn’t want to answer that question.

“Maybe… but she never told me,” he murmurs, but before he can say more, Jensen’s voice cuts through the apartment.

“How are you feeling about the team, Owen?” he suddenly asks, drawing my attention back to him and the other guys.

I blink, caught off guard by the abrupt change in topic. “Oh, um… I’m feeling really good…”

Carson darts past me to return to the living room and I slowly follow after, beers in hand. We proceed to talk about the team, hockey, and our upcoming schedule, and though I’m desperate to ask more about Stacey and whatever life she’s built for herself here, I keep my questions to myself. The last thing I need is everyone but Carson to start drilling me for information about my past with her, especially when I’m the one who left her abandoned and broken hearted.

Later that night, I lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling. I can’t sleep. I can’t stop thinking about Stacey.

I think about what Carson said—that she left before graduation and no one really knows why, and I feel a surge of guilt. She left because of me. That has to be the reason. I broke her heart and then I couldn’t call her to explain. We’d had plans. We were going to go to college and build a life together. We were in love, and not the immature puppy love most teenagers experience. Our love was the real thing, and finding her after all this time has only reaffirmed that I’ve never felt anything close to what I felt for her for anyone else.

God, seeing her again… it’s stirred up a lot of emotions I’ve been trying to keep at bay for seven years. I never really got over her, and have always wondered where she was and… and who she was with. Now, she’s here, back in my life, and she still makes my heart race and my blood heat.

I can’t believe how amazing she looked after all this time. So soft and beautiful. My cock twitches and I imagine what it would be like to run my hands over her generous curves. With a groan, I lower my hand down into my boxer shorts. As I wrap my fingers around my shaft, I think back to the last time she and I were together. It was a few weeks before I left. I’d driven us deep into the woods, to a little clearing that we’d discovered together and would often sneak away to when we could. I’d been so busy with hockey I hadn’t been able to spend a lot of time with her, and I was hungry for her.

Practically feral.

She’d been wearing a pretty green sundress. Closing my eyes, I let the memory of that night unfurl as I slowly stroke my hardening cock. My hand on her bare thigh, slipping up her skirt… her eager kiss and soft moans as I stroked her wet little pussy…

Fuck, she’d been so warm and soft. I fingered her until she was soaking and she’d worked my cock with her small, soft hand. I imagine it's her hand wrapped around me now, stroking me as she stares up at me with those bright green eyes.

Except, in my imagination, it’s not the eighteen-year-old girl I’d eagerly fucked in the front seat of my car looking up at me. It’s Stacey now. With her soft curves and matured features. She brings my cock to her lips and sucks me deep into her mouth. I groan, jerking myself harder as I fantasize about her taking my cock deep into her throat.

With a long groan, I come, pumping into my fist, wishing it was her mouth I was pouring myself into. Fuck… it’s good, but it’s not enough. I know, even before my orgasm has subsided, that this has only wetted my appetite. I want more.

A heavy exhaustion settles over me. The image of long red hair and bright green eyes continues to float through my mind. I can’t ignore the feelings I still have for her… the desire that still burns through me. I need to talk to her again. To apologize. I’ve gone too long without her in my life, and this could be the second chance I always dreamed we could have.