Leveled (Saints of Denver #0.5)(25)
My new normal was starting to revolve around him and having him in my life. “I couldn’t have done any of it without you. You know that.”
The car slipped through the downtown streets in a much more elegant and subdued way than my big truck attacked them. I wondered what he did when there was snow and ice on the ground. Sports cars were pretty and fun but totally impractical for four to five months out of the year in Denver.
“You have more determination than anyone I’ve ever met. You would have found your way to your new normal with or without me, Dom. I’m glad your journey brought us together, but you could have walked the path to recovery with anyone and ended up right where you want to be. Your fight to reach your destination has never wavered.”
I cleared my throat a little and looked out the window as the Pepsi Center and all the maroon and blue lights that lit it up for the game came into view.
“The destination may have stayed the same throughout but the path I’ve taken on my way there has plenty of room for detours and alternate routes.” I shifted my attention to the big domed building. “I’ve never seen a hockey game live before. I’m gonna have to force myself to stay in my seat and not jump on the ice to break up all those fights.” I grinned at him to let him know I was kidding, but he didn’t grin back. Instead, he ran his hands through his hair and I saw him having some kind of internal conversation with himself. Whatever he was saying must have worked, because he gave his head a shake and reached for the driver’s side door while looking at me over his shoulder.
“Are you a sports guy? I mean I assumed you were since you’re in such good shape and you accepted my offer to come to the game so fast, but you’ve never mentioned anything about any of the athletes that come in and out of the clinic.”
We walked towards the entrance shoulder to shoulder, my leather jacket rubbing against the arm of his wool peacoat as I contemplated his question. “I like sports. I played baseball when I was in high school, but that was more about my mom telling me I needed an activity than any real passion for the sport. I watch the Broncos play because my dad was a fan and I like football enough that I try and catch a game at the stadium at least once a year. Hockey is cool, but I don’t know enough to tell you players’ stats and rankings.” I shrugged. “I stay in shape because bad guys will take whatever advantage they have and use it against you. I try to stay smarter, stronger, and faster than most of the people running the streets.” I looked over at him. “What about you? You have an office filled with memorabilia and you said your dad was a recruiter but no pictures of you in a uniform.”
He shrugged, which rubbed our arms together. I wondered how that little, unintentional touch could fire up my blood more effectively than a full-on hand on my dick. It was him. There was just something about Orlando Frederick that did it for me on every single level.
“I was always a sports guy. Growing up in a house with my dad, I didn’t have much of a choice. But I loved it. I played soccer; I swam competitively, and I played lacrosse in college.” He laughed a little and turned to look at me with humor stamped all across his face. “I even tried rugby for a while, but I wasn’t built for it. You, on the other hand”—he lifted an eyebrow at me with a smirk—“you look like you were born to be in a scrum. If the whole law-enforcement thing doesn’t work out, that can be your backup plan.”
I think he was kidding but considering I knew how he felt about my job I wasn’t so sure. The image of that snapshot of him with his arm around the beautiful dark-haired boy dressed in a football uniform flashed behind my eyes.
“What about football? That not your cup of tea?” We sidestepped a couple arguing after I gave the guy a “watch yourself” look and lined up in the shortest line for the VIP ticket holders.
“I used to love football. It was my favorite sport. Right before I started college I had big plans to go into this field with the idea that I could be a team trainer. I had the connections thanks to my dad but …” He trailed off as we moved forward and handed our tickets to the guy in the yellow staff jacket manning the door. “Something happened and it soured my entire feeling for the game. I couldn’t get passionate about it anymore. I couldn’t stand to be on the field. Every time a player comes in with a shredded ACL or a broken clavicle and a season’s worth of closed head injuries it makes my skin hurt. All sports are brutal but the toll football takes on the body is insane.”
The noise inside the auditorium echoed and bounced as excited fans made their way from the entrance to their seats. I touched his elbow and Lando stopped and looked at me with lifted eyebrows. “So what happened?”
I saw his quick intake of breath and watched as he debated how to answer me. He was opening his mouth to reply when an arm was suddenly slung around my neck in a strangling hug and my torso was bent over as a big hand smacked across my abs.
“If it ain’t super cop. Long time no see, Dom. We miss you around the station, dude. When you getting your lazy ass back to work?”
I grunted and straightened up to see a couple of my fellow patrol officers dressed down and off duty, clearly here for the game as well. The one that had jumped me was Devin Shea and the other was his partner, Diego Ramirez. Both had been in the academy when Royal and I had been going through the paces and both had been there the night I got shot and fell. They were good guys, good cops, and part of the brotherhood I missed so much I could taste the bitterness of the loss on my tongue.