“You’re right,” Ian sighs. “I’m sorry. I know that must suck to think about.”
“I just…There’s so fucking much that’s been taken from me, Ian. I don’t want to lose this too.”
And that’s the crux of it, I realize.
I don’t want to lose anything else.
Ian squeezes my shoulder. “I know, brother. If I could take this away from you, I would. I promise you that.”
“I wouldn’t let you.” I wave him off. “Can’t have you stealing away all my sympathy points.”
Ian rolls his eyes. “There’s the Jack I know and love.”
“We have to beat Dallas next time,” I tell him. “We can’t afford any more fuckups if we want to make it to the second round.”
“We will,” he assures me. “We just had a misstep, that’s all.”
This is just a bump in the road.
I hear her voice again in my head, and all over again, it makes me feel just a little bit better. Like maybe it really will be okay. Part of me knows that isn’t true, but the sheer fact that such a simple platitude could make mefeellike it will is something, at least.
I rub my chest, a strange warmth blooming there.
“I got the puck!” Kyle calls, skating his way back to us.
Ian eyes me from the side. “You ready to go again, Coach?”
“Yeah,” I tell him, actually meaning it, as I feel a bit lighter than I did before. “Yeah, let’s do it.”
Maybe coming here wasn’t such a bad idea after all.
Eleven
Abby
When I get home fromclass, the lights are all on in the living room, but there’s no sign of Jack. It isn’t until I pass by the hall bath on the way to my room that I hear the sound of running water and loud music, realizing that he’s in there showering.
It’s strange, what that mental image does to me.
It’s a new development, this thing where I realize that Jack is hot and actuallyacknowledgeit—and I know it’s our conversation the other night that’s to blame. Before, it was easy to shove Jack into a little fuckboy box where he was safely out of reach and therefore no danger to my libido. But after hearing all his worries and his doubts and his fears…it makes it all too real that there’s an actual person underneath all the swagger and bad jokes.
I don’t know what to make of that Jack, but it means that I’ve been looking at him a little more than I should these last few days. It means that I’ve taken to asking Lila or Ian how the games havegone, if only to suss out what his emotional state might be. I even find myself desperately wanting to check in on him, to see if he’s had any more episodes like the one he had the other night.
I shake away the thoughts as I continue on to my bedroom. It’s already pretty late, and I honestly want nothing more than to throw my pajamas on and crawl into bed, but my stomach is demanding sustenance before I tuck myself in. I grab a threadbare T-shirt and a pair of sleep shorts that I’m partial to, slipping into them and unhooking my bra. The T-shirt is big enough that it’s hard to tell I’m not wearing one, and besides, I plan to be in and out of the kitchen before Jack finishes up, anyway. He tends to take long showers.
It’s kind of weird that I know that, and I definitely don’t want to think about the reason as to why that is.
I slip out of my bedroom quietly, easing the door shut behind me as I try to make it through the apartment without alerting Jack of my presence. It’s still a little weird between us after so deep of a discussion the other night, and for all the furtive glances I’ve been giving him since, I have tried to make myself as scarce as possible.
I turn from my bedroom door and note the same heavy beats of some rock band singing about acid and alkaline (weird)—and maybe that’s why it doesn’t click at first, that the shower is no longer running. Maybe that’s why I don’t realize until it’s a second too late that the bathroom door is opening just as I’m passing, a large body spilling out of it and colliding right into me.
“Fuck,” Jack practically shouts.
His wide palms shoot out to grip my shoulders, which means the towel that is precariously tied to his waist slips just alittle, giving me an eyeful of his Adonis belt that is…very well-defined.
“Abby,” he breathes, clearly taken aback by my presence. “I didn’t realize you were home.”
My entire front is wet now, and I have to shift my feet to steady myself so I don’t topple over after being nearly mowed down by a six-foot-four hockey player.