Thirty-One
Abby
I have to admit, I feela little silly for all the fuss everyone was making over me. Especially since I didn’t think to call Ian and tell him what happened, instead throwing myself into the first cab that came by while using my own sleeve to stanch the bleeding from my arm. I guess it’s safe to say I panicked.
What’s even more surprising, though, is how fast Jack made it to the hospital, and how distraught he seemed when he saw me sitting there on the bed. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him so scared. Not about his arm, not about hockey—none of it. He kept glancing at me every so often from the driver’s seat of his car on the way back to the apartment, almost as if he was checking to make sure I was actually there. It was really…sweet, actually.
He’s still fussing over me as he helps me through the front door, gingerly lifting my bandaged arm with his good arm. It almost makes me laugh at the pair we make.
“Be careful,” he says. “Don’t hit it on the doorframe.”
“I’m really fine,” I assure him. “That ibuprofen they gave me was as big as my head.”
“Still,” he tuts. “I just want to make sure.” He frowns then. “Actually…”
In the blink of an eye, I’m yelping as he lifts me off my feet, pulling me into his arms bridal-style while he carries me inside.
“Jack! Your arm!”
“Listen, a part of me thought I could have lost you today,” he tells me. “Let me have this.”
Something in my chest softens at his tone, and I hear the lingering worry there. “I’m really okay.”
“I don’t mean just this,” he says, taking me to the couch and gently setting me down on the cushions. “I didn’t know if I’d ever see you again after yesterday. And then today I got that call, and I just…” He shakes his head. “I’ve never been so scared.”
“I was always going to come back,” I assure him. “I’m sorry I walked out on you in the first place.”
“I told you. I deserved it.”
“Maybe we both did and said things we didn’t mean,” I try.
He carefully settles next to me, winding his arms around my waist and pulling me against him as he buries his nose in my hair. “I was such an ass.”
“You were,” I agree, “but I was a coward. I knew you didn’t mean the things you said. I could have fought a little harder. I was so afraid that maybe there was some truth to what you said. That maybe I wasn’t enough for you.”
“You are enough,” he breathes against my temple. “You’re everything.”
“Jack, I need you to know that I think I—”
“No. Shut up.”
I blanch, pulling away to blink up at him. “Did you just tell me to shut up?”
“I absolutely did,” he says with a stern look. “Because if you think you’re going to sit here and tell me that you love me before I get a chance to tell you that I am fucking madly in love with you then you have another thing coming.”
“I can’t believe you just told me you loved me after telling me to shut up.”
“I had to be the one to say it first. I’ve been trying to tell you for days.”
“And what if that wasn’t what I was going to say to you?”
It’s his turn to blink back at me, his mouth falling open. “It wasn’t? Wait. Does that mean you don’t?” He presses his lips together. “Whatever. I still do. I can wait for you to catch up. It’s fine if you—”
I touch a finger to his lips, my mouth curving into a smile. “Jack. I’m kidding. I love you too.”
“That was horrible.”
“Yeah, well, sometimes you need a taste of your own medicine.”