Page 16 of Unrivaled Love (D.C. Renegades #2)

Jo

“You’re the one cock blocking me.”

“Oh shit.” Bryson says quietly behind me and I spin slowly on a heel and glare at my nemesis.

“What the fuck just happened?” I demand again because the way his eyes have been darting around tells me he knows something about this.

“It looks like a tree fell and knocked down the power line and it landed on your car.” He mansplains with a hand at the back of his neck and my blood boils.

“No shit, Bryson!”

“I wonder,” he continues, looking a little too calm for the situation. “If a tree falls in the forest and no one is around to hear it, does it still make noise?”

I literally just stare at him, speechless. When nothing comes out of my mouth he asks me, totally dumbfounded, “What should we do?”.

“My phone is dead so you have to call the electric company and report this. You should call your parents, too.”

“Kay,” he says slowly and then he walks towards the house. His eyes stay glued to the damage until he reaches the stairs and walks up to the patio. I’m following closely behind. I don’t have words for this.

But it feels good to have my anger back. I’m much more comfortable with that emotion than the sadness I was dealing with .

I turn and look out at the woods when we reach the patio and Bryson continues over to the little seating area where just a short while ago I was ready to settle in and relax with my book.

Oh, how the tides have turned.

“What’s the number for the electric company?” He asks as he picks up his phone.

“The fuck if I know!” I yell. “Google it!”

“What’s the name of the electric company?”

“Sweet mother of Michelle Obama.” I mutter as I pinch the bridge of my nose.

“Oprah?”

“What?”

“Isn’t Oprah Michelle Obama’s mother?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Kay.” He says as his thumbs start to key in something. I watch him scroll up with his thumb before he freezes. “Ummm.”

“What?”

“My phone is dead too.”

“Then plug it in!” I yell at him.

I watch him duck and weave through the fucking yarn to get to his bedroom. I can physically feel my stress hormones rising inside and I try to calm myself with deep breaths while I hear rummaging from his room.

“Jo?” He calls.

“What Bryson?” I holler back.

“One problem. Well, another, I suppose.” He mumbles.

“Spit it out Bryson!” I yell.

He appears at the opening of the hallway to the living room with the charger in one hand and his phone in the other.

“Power’s out. ”

My vision goes blurry as his words sink in. I blink and look at the clock on the oven. Nothing. Blank.

“Are you fucking kidding me!”

“I’m sorry!” He yells back from across the room.

“Sorry? Saying sorry would mean you have something to apologize for.” I throw accusingly across the room with venom dripping from my words.

Things were bad. The suspension, the surprise roommate. Then, things got worse. The lack of clothes to change into, the pranks. And my life deteriorated into ultimate despair with the spoil of my story.

So now that the power is out, neither of us have working phones, and my car is a pancake, I’m not even sure what to call the state of my life.

There are no words.

Rage fills my bloodstream as Bryson pulls his lips between his teeth.

“I feel like I should admit something but I know you’re already upset and I don’t want to make it worse.” He says.

“Try me.” I grit out through my teeth.

“The tree falling was supposed to be a prank.”

“What!”

“I never thought it would crash into the power line though. Or total your car!”

“You fucking asshole!” I yell as I start to tear through the yarn. I’m met with resistance when a thread catches on my leg. I try to free myself by lifting my leg as the pendant light over the island swings and shatters against the granite countertop.

Glass fragments litter the floor and I freeze.

“Jo!” Bryson cries and then he comes barreling into the yarn too. He’s not even trying to avoid the string; he's hulking his way to me like Shrek through a queue. A side table drags across the floor and a lamp in the living room crashes to the ground.

The yarn even snaps in a few places.

When he reaches me, his breathing is ragged and his eyes are wild.

He bends and untangles my foot. The slight brush of his fingers on my ankle sends shivers up my leg and they ripple out to each limb.

The little hairs on my arms and legs stand on end.

“There,” he whispers from his knees.

“Thanks,” I whisper back.

I study his face as he stands. Our chests are heaving and we’re inches from each other.

He slowly, reverently, lifts his fingers.

He brushes the tips along my hair line and trails them down behind my ear to where my neck meets my shoulder.

His brown eyes following the path he traces.

As he caresses my collar bone through my jersey, I have to bite my tongue to avoid shivering.

“I think you’re okay.” Bryson says with a smile and our eyes meet.

I forgot how dark his are and I am drawn to them like a moth to the flame.

Visions of a time I could see past his eyes and into his soul hit me out of nowhere and I suck in a breath, to compensate for the shock.

“What?” He asks as his head darts back to try and figure out where I might be hurt.

Except, I’m not hurt physically.

It’s deeper than that.

Years ago Bryson was a person I would share my emotions with.

Now, I don’t know if I should open up to Bryson, or if I even can.

We used to be friends.

We used to be more than friends.

But we haven’t been in a very long time.

“Jo? What’s going on?” Bryson asks gently and the resistance drains from my body.

I slump forward into his chest and he wraps his arms around me. My body can’t fight it anymore and the tears start to fall.

“Shh, it’s okay,” Bryson whispers and he presses a kiss to my temple as one hand moves up to cradle my head against his shoulder. He might not be my friend but he’s all I’ve got right now.

I open my mouth to explain but I don’t know where to start. Bryson senses my hesitation and helps me walk over the broken glass. When we’re clear he bends down and swoops me into a bridal carry.

A surprised, watery laugh tumbles out as I wrap my arms around his neck and I can see him swipe away a smile with his tongue as he carries me down the hall.

In the corner of his bedroom is an overstuffed chair. He sits and pulls me closer into his lap.

“I’m not a sit-on-a-lap kind of girl.” I joke as I try to stand.

Bryson clasps onto my waist. “Sit with me, Josie. Please.”

Josie.

No one calls me that anymore. My dad, once in a while, after he’s had a few drinks at Christmas.

It brings me back to a time when life was easier.

Clearer.

Back to a time when Bryson and I were friends.

I lower myself back down and attempt to decipher the look in his eyes.

The opportunity to study his expression disappears as he closes his eyes and starts talking.

“Jo, I don’t know what’s going on in your life right now. And I don’t know what I did seven years ago to drive you away from me. But,” he looks out the window and then back to me. “I want to know.”

“Bry,” I say as I look down at my hands folded in my lap. “It’s fine. I’ll be fine.”

“No, you aren’t fine.”

“Don’t tell me how I feel.” I fire back as I leap off his lap. Seriously? The balls on this guy .

“That’s it.” He smirks.

“What’s it?” I cross my arms.

“The fire. The fight. The scariest thing was when you got sad.” He reaches forward, untangles my arms, and his thumb traces the sensitive spots on the inside of my wrists as he leans forward in the chair.

“It felt like you’d given up or resigned or something.

But when you’re pissed. I know you still have it in you to battle. ”

Tears well in my eyes again.

Bryson waits quietly and I’m not sure what to do with the space he’s giving me.

Several times I start and stop speaking. My train of thought wanders as he continues his caresses. It’s soothing and my mind is ping ponging between opening the floodgates to my emotional state and focusing on the tingles his touch provides.

“I don’t know why this is so hard.” I admit with a sniffle as I realize the tears have begun to fall again.

“Well, that’s what she said.” Bryson delivers flatly and I can’t help it. I giggle.

It’s so stupid.

Like, so stupid.

But the moment of levity is exactly what my soul needed.

“Seriously, what’s so hard to admit, Jo?”

I blink down at him and his face shows concern but also strength.

Could it be safe to open up to Bryson?

He might be the exact person I need at this moment.

We have similar pressures with our professional careers.

And we grew up together so we knew each other before we rose to fame. My next inhale feels like an expansion. Like the line to the past that was holding me back has gone slack.

“I’m…I’m tired.”

“Oh,” Bryson’s face falls and he shifts back. “I can leave you alone to rest then.”

“No, not like I-need-a-nap tired.” I reach out to pick at the non-existent lint on his shoulder just so I have something to distract me from looking into his eyes.

I don’t want to see his disappointment. “I’m exhausted, I think.

Tired from having to be on all the time.

Everything caught up with me. The schedule, the demands, the expectations.

I hate the off-the-field shit.” There, the truth without the details of my breakdown.

“Oh. Yeah. I get that.”

“You do?”

“Yeah. I love playing but I dunno. I kinda feel like, what’s the point?”

“Really? But you just won The Stanley Cup.” I remind him.

“Yeah, we did. But now what? Like I put myself through hell to get there. My entire life built up to that championship. It was difficult, impossible at times. I’m supposed to just buckle up and do it all over again?”

“Yes. That’s exactly what you’re supposed to do.” He is making no sense right now. “The entire point is to be the best there is. To play your heart out. Winning is the point. I wake up every morning sore from training and get dressed to do it again because the game is all there is.”

“You don’t get it, Jo.”

“Oh, because I’ve never won a championship.” I sass at him, barely masking my bitterness. We’re all aware he’s the more successful athlete, he doesn’t need to rub it in.

“No, that’s not it.”

“Sure.” I grumble sarcastically and I stand back, breaking our physical connection. My irritated march out of the room is cut short when Bryson grabs my arm.

I spin out of control but he catches me and pulls me to his chest. His hands move to my ribcage and he holds me upright. I don’t dare move a muscle. I feel every wild beat of my heart as I wait for what happens next .

“I want to do it differently this time.” He says with frustration.

He steals the follow up questions from my mouth with a kiss that feels like riding a shooting star. My soul soars from my chest and my knees wobble in the aftermath. His grip tightens and his thumbs brush the underside of my braless chest. My hands travel up into his hair and my body takes over.

His lips travel over mine firmly but with enough give that I can take what I need too. I feel like I’m falling and being caught all at once.

My body warms under his attention and my arousal surges with each press of his lips against mine. His tongue sweeps in like he is desperate to be inside me and with a small shift of my feet I feel his erection against my thigh.

The full body signal to open my legs for Bryson startles me.

“Bryson, stop.” I breathe and force space between us with a long stride backwards.

“I don’t want to stop. I want to kiss you.

” He says with a step forward. And, yeah, I hear you, body, you don’t want to stop either.

But my brain has finally caught up. The last thing I need to do is make myself feel better by sleeping with Bryson.

Where could this possibly go? We both have lives outside of this bubble. Commitments. Obligations.

I’m not so hard off that I need to climb my childhood best friend like a tree.

Well, I am. But still.

What happens when we leave?

“We still need to figure out the power company situation and how to get my car out from under an electric pole and no one knows we’re here so unless we hike several miles to town we’re stranded. And the ice in that damn cooler has probably melted so our food is rotting.”

“I’ve got protein powder, we can survive on that.” Bryson smirks like he saved the day .

“No, you don’t.”

“What?”

“You don’t have protein powder because I switched it for flour.”

“That’s why it tasted like ass.”

“You know what ass tastes like?”

“I would if you’d let me get closer instead of pushing me away.”

I scoff at him. “Seriously, dude?” But also, he wants to do what now?

“Dude? I just had my tongue down your throat and am clearly interested in more with you.” He gestures to the tent in his gym shorts. The unabashed ownership of his erection makes me feel powerful. He wants me. Clearly. “You’re the one cock blocking me.”

“Shut up, Bryson.”

“No, you shut up.”

“UGH!” I toss my hands up into the air and let them fall to my sides. “Why are you pushing this?”

“Because you’re what's missing from my life!”