My mouth curves into a smile, and I feel my chest swell with emotion. “I love you too.”
Another quick kiss against my lips, and then he’s striding back into the kitchen, like he didn’t just turn my world inside out. I wonder idly if I’ll ever get used to a love like Jack Baker’s.
He gives me a wink just before he starts to pull ingredients down, and I think to myself that no, there’s a good chance that I never will.
As it turns out…I’m perfectly okay with that.
Thirty-Two
Jack
It’s the first game ofthe second round, and for the first time since I found out about my diagnosis, I’m feeling pretty great about it. The guys are still gearing up in the locker room when I get out of Coach’s office, and I can feel myself still buzzing a little bit over our talk. Between that and the knowledge that Abby is out there in the stands today, I feel better about the game than I have in weeks.
“Usually when you’re smiling like that, I should be worried,” Ian says from the lockers.
I flash him an even wider grin. “For once, I think you’ve got nothing to worry about.”
“Except for the fact that you’ve been doing unspeakable things to my sister,” he grumbles.
I bark out a laugh. “First of all—pot, meet kettle. Second…It’s been a week since you found out. You’d think you’d be getting used to the idea by now.”
“Areyouused to the idea of me and Lila together yet?”
I consider it, tilting my head back and forth in thought before finally saying, “You know? I think I might be.”
“Who are you, and what have you done with Jack?”
“I don’t know if you know this about me,” I tell him, “but I’m what some people would call emotionally mature.”
Ian rolls his eyes. “Sure you are.” He stares at me then, looking concerned. “How did the talk with Coach go?”
“It went…well,” I say. “I feel good about it.”
“And this is what you really want?”
“It is,” I tell him truthfully. “I’ve thought about it a lot, and I’m good with it. Really.”
He pats my shoulder. “As long as you’re okay, I’m happy for you, man.” He wrinkles his nose. “One of these days, maybe I’ll be able to say I’m happy for you and Abby without gagging.”
“If you two are done hugging it out over here,” Jankowski butts in, “we sort of have a game to win.”
Ian gives me a look like he’s still unsure about how I’m feeling, but I just nod back at him, reaching to clap him on the shoulder in encouragement. “Go on,” I tell him. “I’ll be right out.”
The room clears out with shouts and jeers and all-around sounds of male testosterone, but I hang back to look around the place that’s housed me for almost a decade. I’ve bled, sweat, and shed tears in this room, and I know that it will always be a part of me, but for the first time since the emergency room doctor gave me that fateful news, I’m not feeling like I’m missing something. Maybe that’s because I have a better understanding of what Ihavenow.
I tap my knuckles against my locker before I head down the chute after the team, hearing the roar of the crowd as I near the entrance and taking a deep breath before I step out just behindthe home bench. It feels strange, I have to admit, watching my team take the ice without me, but the misery and uncertainty I’ve been hanging on to are just…gone. I can’t say if that means they’re gone forever, or if that means that one day I’ll feel that regret again, but right now…I feel at peace with everything.
It’s a really great way to feel, turns out.
People stop to gush over me as I make my way through the stands, and I give them all a polite interaction as quickly as I’m able so I can continue to make my way to where I want to be. I can see her blond waves from a few paces away; I notice the way she laughs at something Dee has just said. Kyle is seated to Dee’s left, practically bouncing in his seat as the Druids warm up around the rink.
I probably should have told Abby my plans before coming out here tonight, but something in me wanted it to be a surprise. I can tell that it is when she finally looks up and notices me—her eyes going wide and her lips forming a smalloas she cranes her neck to look at me from the other side of where Dee is sitting. Dee turns her head to look at me too then, her brows shooting up as I approach.
“Jack?” Abby asks. “What are you doing out here?”
I take the seat to her right, plopping down and reaching for her hand to thread my fingers through hers.
“What are you doing?” she presses, glancing around us where the crowd has started to take notice.