Chapter 15
Theo
“
J ay bay bay!” I yell, cupping my hands around my mouth to project my voice as Marcela and I reach Jasmine’s brand new café and bakery, Minniebakes.
Elio, Aurora, Cameron, Camille, and Ryker are all outside the front doors, waiting for Jasmine to open for the first time. Today is open strictly to family and friends, to prepare for tomorrow’s grand opening to the public.
“Here we go,” Elio shakes his head, but I don’t miss the smile on his face.
I wrap Jasmine in a hug. “I can’t wait to try everything you’ve got in there.”
“Aren’t you on a strict diet for football?” She raises a brow at me once we part.
“Celebratory calories don’t count. You’ve never heard that?”
“They absolutely do,” Ryker mutters.
“You grumpy asshole. I missed you, Ry Guy,” I pull him into a hug, one that he will deny he enjoys, but I know he secretly loves.
“He’ll never admit it, but he’s missed you too,” Camille says, wrapping her arms around me for a hug after I let go of Ryker.
“Theo Miller!” Aurora shouts.
I swivel around to face her, finding her with her hands on her hips and a look of dismay on her face.
“AV baby!” I shout, about to hug her, but she stops me.
“I was your very first friend at RLU and I’m nearly the last person you greet?”
“I’m sorry—”
Aurora giggles, and her entire demeanor changes. “Pretending to be as dramatic as you is so much fun. Come here.” She smiles before hugging me.
“She’s been waiting to do that for awhile,” Cameron adds in, attempting to shake my hand.
I gently push his hand away. “Ronnie boy, we’re huggers here. Get in here.”
After we hug, I turn to Elio who’s looking at me with narrowed eyes.
“Miller, if you even think of hugging me, I’ll punch you,” he grumbles, folding his arms over his chest.
“Well, it makes sense that you’re the oldest and least fun one—your age is really showing, Eli Oldi,” I tease, offering him a fist bump instead.
When I look over my shoulder, I find Marcela and the girls talking animatedly, hugging and laughing.
It does something to me to see her as a part of our friend group, knowing that my friends like Marcela as much as I do. Especially when her friend was so shitty to her, I’m happy that these girls treat her better than Ruby ever did.
Elio walks over to Jasmine, wrapping his arms around her waist as he says, “I hate to break up girl time, but let’s get started. Camille and Ryker have to fly back tonight for a playoff game tomorrow.”
“You’re right, we’ll catch up inside,” Jasmine says to the girls before walking to the front doors.
“Here goes nothing,” her voice is riddled with sarcasm as she pulls the key out of her pocket.
We all clap and cheer as she puts the key in the lock, and opens the doors for the first time.
“So proud of you, dolcezza ,” Elio tells Jasmine, pressing a chaste kiss to her lips before they head inside.
We all follow suit, walking inside to the stunning café. Every detail of this place screams Jasmine, and I love it.
There’s a wall filled with hearts in many shades of orange. The counters are a bright white, and the displays are filled with various treats that all look so good. The brick wall across from the display counter adds a touch of coziness, along with the bookshelf that sits against it.
“It turned out perfect, Minnie,” Aurora squeals, wrapping her arm around Jasmine.
“I’m taking pictures to post immediately,” Camille says, pulling her phone out to snap some photos.
“This is amazing,” Marcela remarks as her eyes move around the room.
I go to reach for her hand, but she stops me. “No one’s around that we have to pretend in front of.”
My heart pinches painfully at her comment, but I do my best not to show it on my face. “Yeah, you’re right.”
And she is. We’re only pretending to date, and our friends are all in on the secret. There’s technically no need for me to hold her hand right now, despite how much I wish I could.
Which is another problem in itself, but I’ll deal with that another time.
Once we’re done marveling at the interior, we all line up to buy some baked goods that we bring to a table we all crowd around and catch up.
It’s the first time in a while that we’re all in the same room, and I have to admit, it feels like a part of myself has finally returned to my body. These people are my family, and every time we’re together, I feel better than ever.
Unsurprisingly, Marcela sits with the girls, probably wanting to be close to them since we don’t see them often. While I love that for her, there’s a part of me that realizes she’s putting distance between us right now, because it’s the first time she can. At campus, we’re always on in case someone is watching. But here, she gets to drop the act and I hate it.
I crave a distraction, so I peel the wrapper off my mini apple crumble with a maple glaze. I let out an audible moan as the flavors hit my tongue. “This is delicious,” I say through a mouthful.
“Seriously, Jasmine. This lavender and honey donut is divine,” Camille swoons, giving her own stamp of approval.
“I’m in love with this pumpkin muffin,” Marcela adds.
“Our girl is good at what she does, huh?” Camille nudges Marcela’s shoulder with her own, making them both chuckle as she nods in agreement.
I wish I could take a picture of her right now. Watching her smile light up, a genuine one at that, with her head craned backwards, her eyes shut. I could put it under the word bliss in the dictionary and it’d be a fitting description.
“How’s football going?” Elio asks, making me turn my attention to him as he takes a bite of his raspberry scone.
Dread seeps into my body, taking over the elated feeling I’ve been having all day. “We’re undefeated so far,” I tell him, sticking to facts.
“That’s great! Congrats,” Camille cheers.
I feel Marcela’s eyes on me, and I look to her for a beat. There’s a look of understanding in her eyes, like she can tell how much I hate talking about this. She gives me a sympathetic smile from across the table.
“Yeah, it’s pretty cool or whatever,” I laugh, wanting to try and sound happy about it.
Ryker glares at me, his hands folded under his chin. “Why don’t you seem more excited about that?”
My heart begins to pound erratically, like it always does whenever someone questions my enthusiasm for football. It doesn’t happen often, yet when it does, it scares the shit out of me that someone might know my secret.
“I’m just tired, Ry Guy. Between classes, studying, and extra workouts on top of the team ones, you could say I’m running on empty,” I admit, shoving the last bite of the delicious dessert into my mouth.
“Theo,” Aurora says my name with far more pity than I’d like to hear. “You need to take care of yourself. Do you remember what happened to me senior year?”
I do. She pushed herself harder than ever and ended up in the hospital. Aurora almost played a game of volleyball after her concussion, not wanting to miss the scouts at the game, but with Cameron’s help, she was able to realize her health was more important than anything.
Cameron brings Aurora’s hand to his lips, closing his eyes and likely thinking back on that time.
“I know, AV. I’m doing my best to rest in between it all,” I reassure her.
“What do you mean by extra workouts?” Ryker questions me.
“My dad hired a personal trainer that I see a couple days a week. He doesn’t think the football program offers enough for me.”
This time Elio speaks up, “That’s insane, and this is coming from a guy who used to play professional hockey. Your body needs a break or it will break. Trust me.”
Elio used to be an NHL legend until he suffered a career-ending injury. He now coaches the RLU hockey team alongside Jasmine’s dad.
Not wanting to be serious any longer, I turn up the classic Theo silliness. “Pffft, that’s because you’re an old man, Elio.”
“How has it been working together?” Marcela’s quiet voice filters into the group, drawing everyone’s attention away from me as she talks to Camille and Ryker.
I couldn’t be more thankful for her intervention, especially knowing she did it on purpose to help me out of a conversation I wanted no part in.
“It’s okay,” Ryker shrugs, making Camille’s mouth pop open. “I’m kidding, baby, it’s the best.”
“He especially likes it because we get to fuck on company time,” Camille says nonchalantly.
“Jesus,” Cameron sputters, nearly spitting out his cookies ’n cream cookie.
“Risky, I like it,” Jasmine hums, making the group laugh.
Our visit isn’t long as we all have other obligations to get back to, but we make plans to get together again for Aurora’s birthday next month since it’ll be the long Thanksgiving weekend.
On the drive back to campus, Marcela is quiet as we listen to the radio, but I find myself itching for a conversation with her. She’s easily my favorite person to talk to.
“I’m so proud of her,” I say, breaking the quiet. “And it was nice that her parents showed up as we were leaving.”
“It was, and I know Jasmine must be thrilled, because her parents weren’t always supportive of her choice,” she says.
“What about your mom? Does she support you wanting to work at a publishing house?” I ask, turning the volume on the radio down.
Marcela hesitates for a few moments before answering my question. “The plan after graduation has always been to work for my stepdad for a few years since he paid for my tuition. But my goal is to get my master’s in English literature while I work for him. Then, I’m going to leave Bass Hotels for a publishing house. I love books, and I think I’d enjoy working in that world a lot more. I’m hoping at that point she’ll understand my need to separate myself from him.”
“I know she will. I could clearly see the love she has for you.” I do my best to reassure her. It’s a tough situation, and there’s not much I can say about it.
Families are tricky, and I know that all too well.
I leave my hand out in the middle console. An invitation.
She accepts it, lacing her hand in mine the entire ride back. It feels like a win, especially after feeling set back with our friends today. I want to ask her about that, but I already know why. And she’s not wrong.
I’d be smart to do the same thing and back off when we’re alone, yet I can’t help myself around her. Marcela pulls me in like nothing else has in my life.
If I wasn’t put on this earth to be in her orbit, then I don’t know what else it was for.
Marcela has been oddly quiet since we left our friends, more than usual. During our entire ride home, I’ve tried my best to make her smile or laugh, but nothing’s worked.
It felt like she was slowly pulling away, and I couldn’t figure out why.
I pull my truck into the lot, shifting into park as I turn the radio off. Rain hits my windshield, the soft pattering providing background noise to the silence.
“Is everything okay? Did I do something wrong?” I ask her, wanting to know what changed in the last half hour.
“No, it’s not you at all,” she says quietly, looking at me apologetically.
“Tell me what’s going on, please. I hate seeing you look so sad.”
There are many undesirable tasks that I’d do in a heartbeat, if it would stop her looking like this.
The rain begins to hit off the windshield a bit harder as she takes a moment before speaking. “Tomorrow would have been my dad’s fiftieth birthday,” Marcela’s voice cracks at the end of her sentence.
“You must miss him a lot,” I say gently.
“He had a heart attack before I was born. I never got the chance to meet him, yet I grieve him all the same. Every year on his birthday, I think about what life would be like if he was still here, you know? All I have are stories my mom has told me, and a photo of them while she was pregnant. That’s all I will ever have.” She looks at me, her voice filled with pain as a tear slides down her cheek.
In an instant, I’m sliding across the bench seat and pulling her into my arms. I clutch her to me, trying my best to give her all the support and comfort she needs right now. Marcela’s body quakes in my arms as she lets her feelings out, while her hands fist the back of my sweater.
It breaks my heart a little that she’s been dealing with a pain similar to mine, because I know all too well what it’s like to miss someone you never knew.
Once her breathing evens out and she settles in my arms, I begin to play with her hair while I speak softly.
“Not knowing who you’re grieving, but feeling that pain is an odd, yet torturous, feeling.”
Marcela pulls her head from my chest and looks at me in question, so I fill her in without as she moves back to her spot.
“My mom passed away from breast cancer when I was four,” I start, swallowing the lump in my throat. Her pinky rubs against mine as our hands rest in the space between us, before she wraps hers gently around mine, giving it a squeeze.
“It fucking stings not having her here, but I think what drives me mad is not having known her. I don’t know who I’m missing and grieving. My sister has told me stories, because she was much older when it happened, but it’s not the same. I wish I could remember her.”
She unwraps her pinky from mine, and instead intertwines our hands together.
“I’m so sorry,” she sniffles as a tear strolls down her cheek. “I know exactly how you feel, and it sucks not knowing or remembering them.”
“You’ve got that right,” I say as I blink rapidly, trying my best to keep the tears at bay.
“How did your dad handle that?” she asks quietly, rubbing her thumb along the top of my hand.
“Not well. He had just retired from the NFL a year prior due to an injury, and was getting used to working at the farm full-time. He was already in a shitty head space, and then that crushed him. He threw himself into work and truly did everything he could to provide for us. But I wish he had more time to be a dad, you know what I mean? He was already so withdrawn from losing his career that I barely got time with him, and then after Mom died, the only quality time we spent together was him training me to finish what he couldn’t.”
What I don’t say out loud is that the biggest reason I won’t quit football is because I can’t take anything else away from him. Not when he lost his dream and the love of his life in such a short amount of time. I refuse to add to his pain, even if it creates my own kind of hell.
“That’s so tough … I couldn’t imagine what your dad went through. Or you, basically losing two parents. I’m sorry,” she says, her cheeks wet with tears once again.
I raise my free and gently swipe under her eyes, and it’s not until her hand comes up to do the same to me, that I realize I’m crying too.
“Fuck.” I sniff, trying to reel them in.
“Don’t run from your feelings. It only gives them more power,” she says, still wiping at the tears I can’t seem to stop.
“I … I …” I struggle to catch my breath as the beginning of a panic attack sets in. My hand on her face begins to shake and she notices. She pulls me into her arms, hugging me tightly.
“It’s okay. Let it out,” she says as she rubs soothing circles on my back with the tips of her fingers, while I try to center my breathing and focus instead on her scent of mint chocolate.
I struggle to take deep breaths at first, but with her sweet voice in my ear and her fingers on my back, it allows me to eventually shift my focus to her touch and my breathing.
While I inhale and exhale deeply for a few breaths, I bring my hand up to her hip, squeezing her there to ground myself. We stay like that for a few more minutes, and once my breathing evens out into a steady rhythm, I slowly lift my head from her neck.
I wipe my eyes as I say, “Thank you for that.”
“No need to thank me. I think we both needed this,” she responds softly.
“I oddly feel somewhat better,” I tell her, and it’s true.
The weight on my shoulders feels a little less heavy after letting myself feel what I’ve been ignoring for a long time—that I miss my mom a lot, and that I not only grieve the life I’ve had to live without her, but also one where my dad isn’t the way he is now.
Knowing Marcela and I share a similar pain, along with wanting to be there for each other during vulnerable moments, has changed something in our dynamic.
And I don’t think I ever want to go back.
“Usually you feel better when you allow yourself to acknowledge your emotions, then let it go and try to move on to a better feeling. At least that’s what a therapist told me once.” She chuckles, making me smirk.
My therapist has changed my life by giving me the mindfulness practices and tools that I now incorporate into my daily routine. We’re still working on the whole communicating my feelings thing with my dad though.
“I should get going. I want to read before bed,” Marcela says, undoing her seatbelt.
I could stay out here all night with her, baring my soul, because with her by my side, it feels easy.
“I’ll be expecting an update on what happens to Selena and Cole,” I say, referencing the characters in the book she’s reading.
That finally manages to pull a smile from her. “I will. Get home safe and text me when you do.”
I give her a captain’s salute. “Will do.”
She exits my truck with a wave, and I wave back, watching as she runs inside her building to avoid getting drenched in the rain.
On my short drive home, and in my bed later that night, all I can think is how if it was that easy to talk to Marcela, maybe in time, I’ll be comfortable to talk to my dad about everything.
And that tiny piece of hope allows me to get the best sleep I’ve gotten in a while.