Page 46 of Knot Your Pucking Secret

I deserve none of it.

Dominic and Holden had said that she had been having spikes these past few weeks. But this isn’t a spike. Or if it is, it’s a fucking strong one.

“What are you doing here?” she demands, her voice icy cold and harder than stone. Every word slices clean through me.

Gods help me.

“I… I wanted to talk.”

“Then talk.”

Her eyebrows are raised, as if me being here is a major inconvenience, and this is my chance to leave. My chance to hang onto whatever is left of my pride and hightail it out of here. I can’t move. I am nailed to this spot because I know if I leave, there’s no chance I’ll get the courage to come back again another time.

I need to do this.

“I wanted to apologize—” I begin, but stop at the snort that escapes her.

“Apologize? Really? After all this time?” She rolls her eyes, stepping back so she can close the door. “Fuck off, Volkov.”

“Wait!” I slam my hand against the door, stopping it before it clicks shut. Lennon’s eyes widen in surprise, even though she is still pissed off, that much is evident. “Please just,” I sigh. “Please, I only want to talk. To explain everything. I know you don’t owe me anything. But…please, Lennon.”

She stares at me for a few long moments. I see the war written across her features. She doesn’t want to let me in. I get it. I wouldn’t want to let me in, either. But she’s better than me because she steps back, opening the door, giving me a small, unimpressed nod, inviting me in.

I follow her into her lounge room, taking a cautious seat on her couch as she gestures for me to sit. It’s strange being in here while she is awake, which is an absolutely insane thing to think considering I’m on the chopping block right now. Still, I never claimed to be a good person, even if I am trying to be better. There will always be something about my moral compass that is off-kilter when it comes to the ones I love.Fuck, don’t go there idiot.

She deserves better than me. She doesn’t need me spilling that kind of truth. Not after she walked away that first time.

Lennon stares at me expectantly, even as she remains quiet. Okay then. Taking a deep breath, I prepare myself to spill my guts out to her.

“I wanted to talk.”

“Yeah, I kinda gathered that when you told me,” she replies, and I curse myself for ever being born because I can’t seem to string a fucking coherent sentence together.

“I wanted to explain. To…get things off my chest. I don’t expect you to give me anything. I don’t deserve that, I know…”

She sighs, walking over and sitting beside me on the couch. Her scent is fucking paralyzing. Her body emanates pure fucking heat and I swallow. Deciding to just go for it before I lose my nerve.

“When I was about three, my father was given an offer to move over to the States. He was signed by the Cardinals. For my family, it was a huge deal. We didn’t live with any kind of riches in Russia. We had a large family to support there who clung to my father for his success. For money. For a better life. A life he’d left behind to help support the ones back home. For the first few seasons, everything was great. What I remember of it, at least. We found a home that had more bedrooms than I could count. My father was happy and so was my mother. That was until his last game against the Vikings.”

“The Vadena Vikings?”

“Yes.”

I can see her mind racing at the mention of one of our rival teams. I fiddle with my fingers, keeping my eyes lowered. I may have had the courage to come here, but that does not mean I have the courage to look at her as I tell this particular story. It’s a shit story.

“They were on the home stretch for the finals. Tensions were high between the two teams. There was a breakaway from one of the forwards. Both Patrick and my father had stepped in to stop the play, only the other guy was going too fast. At the last minute, Patrick dipped, leaving my father in the line of fire.”

I have to give myself a second to swallow. To calm myself down from the anger that still spikes inside of me.

“The Viking slammed my father up against the glass before turning feral. It was a brutal collision. He suffered a severe head injury that led to post-concussion syndrome, along with a plethora of back issues that had him bed ridden for months after surgery.”

Lennon gasps quietly, but I still don’t look up at her.

“He was…different after the accident. He turned angry. Violent. At first, that anger was directed at my mom. She took the brunt of it until that no longer served him. I was next.”

Lennon gasps again. “Oh.”

“I was only four years old the first time he hit me. It got worse as I got older. And older. He found new ways to express his anger when I went into elementary school. He had to hide the fact that he was a monster to the world. And for those who noticed, they said nothing.”