22. Aurora
TWENTY-TWO
AURORA
Emily’s jaw clenches. “You’re moving in with Jackson?”
“No. I’m not moving in with him, Em. I want my own place in Santa Monica to be close to Grams.”
She glares at me from the other end of the sectional. “Why are you staying at his place, then?”
“He wanted to ensure I was safe and look at this penthouse.” I offer her a placating smile. “It’s unbelievable.”
She crosses her legs, her dainty high heel slipping off. We didn’t even make it to the pool. “Exactly. Isn’t that a bit suspicious? Or did you plan to meet him here?”
“No,” I draw out the word. “He was here meeting someone, and we bumped into each other. Besides, didn’t you want me to tell him and the guys?”
She throws her arms up. “To receive support! Not shack up with him!”
I lean in, placing my hand on my chest. “I’m not moving in with him.”
We’re not working through things. We’ve been arguing since she walked in. No matter what I say, she remains focused on me moving in with Jackson. She let me move in with her when I had nowhere else to go, and I feel guilty she’s losing half the rent. But our shared condo has no space for a baby, and eventually, she’ll return to dating and partying. That’s not my life anymore.
Fighting with her is pointless. I’m shutting down and haven’t even told her about Ethan.
It doesn’t help that Jackson’s first game of the season is getting intense, and I’m eager to watch. I’m trying to split my attention between the two, but Emily’s nagging voice is irritating me more and more.
“Is this what you want? To be back under his control?”
WhatI want is to tune her out and watch the freaking game.
She hates him. I get it. She has every reason to, which is why I’ve disregarded her relentless criticism.
But right now…
The other team scores, and the camera zooms in on the chaotic scene. I spot Jackson’s jersey amidst the skirmish on the ice, and my breath catches.
Emily’s voice cuts through the air—something about Jackson attempting to buy my forgiveness. I ignore her, focusing on the fight in front of me. I’ve explained my perspective, and further discussion will only heighten my frustration.
The announcers’ excitement rumbles through the speakers, vividly describing the scrum.
“Ladies and gentlemen, we’ve got some intense action on the ice tonight! A fierce altercation has broken out between two players, and things are heating up!”
“You’re spot on, Mitch. The tension is palpable. O’Reilly and Irving are engaged in a full-on brawl, throwing punches left and right.”
“It’s a heavyweight bout out there! Jackson O’Reilly lands a solid hit to the jaw of Vince Irving, and now, they’re both grappling, trying to gain the upper hand.”
“O’Reilly isn’t backing down. Oh, and he delivers a powerful punch!”
“The referees are doing their best to intervene, but these players are fired up! Trading blows, and that’ll be time in the penalty box.”
“Absolutely, Mitch. These guys must have some serious beef, and they’re taking it out on the ice tonight.”
Butterflies flutter in my stomach. I admire Jackson’s passion for the game, but watching it is another thing entirely. Every punch exchanged on the screen sends a tangible jolt through me, as if the impact reverberates through my own body. It doesn’t matter how many times I’ve witnessed it. I hate seeing him hurt.
“Are you even listening to me? Or are you too focused on Jackson being a moron?”
Her interruption pulls me away from the fight, but I dismiss her comment, knowing nothing I say will make a difference.
“Watch the game, Em. Focus on another player, please.”
She shakes her head. “Do you want this around the baby? A man who’s violent?”
I understand she’s concerned for me and the baby. I tell myself she only wants what’s best for me. Yet, deep down, I know that isn’t the whole truth. More and more, it seems as though Jackson was right. He poses a threat to her.
She wanted me to find someone to support this baby financially.
But not someone who’d swoop in and care for me, who’d take me and all that I offer away from her.
Or maybe that’s Jackson’s influence speaking.
The camera pans away, and a commercial interrupts the on-screen action as Emily drones on.
“He’s psychotic. You know that, right?”
A burning irritation simmers within me. Does she not realize her pessimistic attitude only fuels my determination to protect him? “It’s just a hockey fight. Can you please stop?”
This behavior from Jackson isn’t his norm, at least on the ice. He can’t score from the penalty box. Something must have triggered him.
She only persists, using my own words against me. “It’s just flowers. It’s just his penthouse while you’re on vacation. You’re just talking. Do you hear yourself? You sound the same as when you were dating, always making excuses for his behavior. He was drunk. He was angry. He was stressed over the season .”
Her accusations ring true, and that irritation boils over. My stomach is in knots. I want to enjoy my night, my time off, my life. Is that so wrong?
“Em, I understand your concern. I do. I’m not rekindling anything with Jackson. We’re friends, that’s all.”
I try to sound confident, but I can’t deny the flicker of uncertainty in my voice. I know Jackson wants more, and he’ll do everything in his power to get what he wants. Emily knows that too.
“Jackson will never be friends. To him, you’re still together. And don’t expect him to change because you’re pregnant. If anything, he’ll become more controlling. It wouldn’t surprise me if he bought this penthouse to lure you back in.”
What if he did? For once, I have enough money to support myself and my family. It’d be difficult if I lost my modeling contracts, but I’d manage. I don’t need to depend on Emily, Jackson, or even Ethan. I can make my own decisions and mistakes. I’ll do what is best for me and my child. I’m not rushing into things with Jackson, but if I ever needed to leave him, I can. I didn’t always have that option before.
Play resumes, and the camera focuses on Jackson in the penalty box. His nose and eyebrow are bloodied. The medical staff tends to his wounds, but his gaze is fixated on the ice and the ticking clock.
“I’ll let you watch the game.” Emily’s mumbling barely registers.
I nod, my attention on the screen as I wait for Jackson to make his next move. The atmosphere in the arena is utter chaos, and I’m filled with nervous excitement.
The penalty counter runs down, and he bursts from the box with fierce determination.
Grant passes the puck his way, and I hold my breath. In an unbelievable display of skill, Jackson maneuvers through the opposing defense, twisting, dodging, and spraying ice in front of the goalie. Adrenaline courses through my veins, matching the escalating roar of the crowd, and then, with a flick of his wrist, the puck soars into the net’s top-right corner.
“Holy shit!” I jump from the couch, my arms shooting up in celebration.
The camera zooms in, and Jackson raises his hands, forming the shape of a heart over his chest. His mouth is open, screaming “Fuck, yeah,” and his face is pure elation.
A rush of affection washes over me. I turn to Emily, unable to hide my grin. “Did you see that?”
But she’s not sitting next to me, nor is she in the room. Once again, I’m left alone to revel in my excitement.
Disappointment settles in my chest. I thought we’d work through this. I thought she’d support my decisions, even if she didn’t like them. I thought she’d be happy for me, happy to spend time somewhere beautiful, happy I’m moving forward with my life.
A twinge of sadness comes over me. If I decide to share a future with Jackson, I’ll lose Emily. What about Ethan? The fear of her reaction and judgment is why I couldn’t confide in her about him.
Either way, I’m moving out. I’m moving on.
Perhaps this widening gap between us reflects the shifting tides in my life. If confiding in someone makes you fearful, what type of friendship do you have? This whole time, I thought Jackson’s reaction was the one I needed to be afraid of. I’m not so sure anymore.