23. Jinx
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Jinx
The application portal glares back at me from the screen, all sterile white boxes with a polite, unassuming font that seems to mock my indecision.
I’ve been like this for almost two hours now: just trying to formulate my thoughts into a cover letter but every time I try I’m inundated with repeated thoughts of how I need a new job because I’ve been caught having an orgy in public.
It’s a wonder I haven’t been arrested for public indecency…
Every time I start a sentence, my mind goes sideways.
I have experience in all areas of PT, including injury avoidance, recovery, and how to handle three dicks at once!
With a groan, I dig my fists into my eyes, trying to refocus on the letters I still haven’t written, feeling the weight of their blankness, and a heavy “ugh” echoes in my mind.
I was meant to be a free spirit, untethered by conventional expectations. Planning for baby bottles and college classes simultaneously was never something I foresaw in my future.
And, well, certainly not doing it alone in my cramped little apartment, where the air is heavy with the earthy scent of snake bedding mingling with the sharpness of lavender cleaner.
I gather my scattered papers with a resigned sigh, cramming them into my battered laptop bag alongside my MacBook and a granola bar that will likely remain anxiously uneaten.
My fingers drum nervously on the desk, eyes flitting to the ultrasound picture carefully tucked inside my planner. A pang twists through my heart.
There’s a part of me that yearns to be with the boys, to truly be with them. To raise this baby together and form some unconventional, alternative version of a happy family.
But another voice in my head shouts, “You don’t fit into any box, Jinx. You’ve never followed the script, so why start now?”
The silence in the apartment feels suffocating. I grab my worn hoodie, shrug it over my shoulders, and head out the door. I crave noise, the clamor of life.
I need movement, the rush of adrenaline.
And, against my better judgment, I need the rink.
The thought stops me in my tracks. How could I return to the rink? If I did manage to get in, would I be trespassing?
My heart races a little when I think about Coach’s reaction to seeing me, his dark eyes narrowing to slits and his large mouth downturning into a disappointed frown.
The rink is a public place, though. Just because you were fired doesn’t mean you’re banned from ever attending a hockey game again, right?
That thought galvanizes me enough that I figure I’ll give it a shot.
I have to try anything to get myself together, to get my mind ready to move on.
The drive soothes me somewhat as I wind along the familiar roads. Outside, the wind whistles through the small gap in my car window, playfully tugging at the loose strands of my burgundy hair that I haven’t bothered to tie back.
My thoughts swirl like a relentless carousel, each turn bringing a new wave of anxiety.
What if I never figure out what I want from life?
What if I can’t handle this journey on my own?
What if everyone else has already moved on without me?
How will I react when I see the boys?
That one floods me with nerves. I don’t know how I’ll act. I’m pretty good at playing aloof, but I also thought I was good at hiding that I was in a quad-with-benefits, and that blew up in my face, didn’t it?
As the rink comes into view, my heart beats a little faster, a mix of nostalgia and nervousness. I’ve missed this place: the sharp bite of the cold air inside, the glacial scent of freshly resurfaced ice, the rhythmic hum of skates cutting across the rink.
The memories flood back as I approach the entrance. I swipe my badge with anticipation, but the scanner remains silent, unresponsive. I try again, pressing the card against the reader more firmly. Still nothing.
Of course, why would it still work…
Panic rises, and embarrassment tingles up my neck in a hot wave. I stand there, momentarily frozen, contemplating retreat, when a voice I recognize breaks through my thoughts.
“Jinx, hey, what are you doing here?”
Kenzie’s voice is warm and familiar, pulling me back to reality. I turn around, forcing a smile to mask my discomfort. Her dark hair frames her face perfectly as always, and her mocha eyes have a prying sense to them.
“Oh, just… needed to get out. Thought I’d haunt my old stomping grounds,” I reply, attempting a casual tone.
Kenzie raises a single black eyebrow, a knowing look in her gaze, but then she grins, reaching into her pocket for her own badge. “What are friends for?” she says with a wink, swiping us both into the arena.
The door buzzes open, and I exhale a long, relieved breath, following her inside, grateful for the familiar companionship.
Kenzie and I walk side by side, the echo of our steps bouncing off the stark concrete walls of the partially lit hallway.
The distinct smell of rubber from the skate mats mingles with the sharp tang of ice cleaner, filling my nostrils. It brings back memories of early morning practices and late-night games, leaving me feeling both nostalgic and slightly queasy.
“So,” she says, casting a sidelong glance at me, her eyes curious under the fluorescent lights, “how’s the harem life going?”
I respond with a wry smile, the corners of my mouth lifting slightly, and shake my head. “It’s not really going anywhere,” I admit.
Kenzie hesitates for a moment, her pace slowing as she gives me a sympathetic look. “I’m sorry, Jinx,” she says softly.
“Nah.” I wave off her concern with a flick of my hand. “Don’t be. It is what it is.”
My smile feels forced, barely grazing my eyes, and I can see she notices, but thankfully, she doesn’t press further.
Reaching the stands, I duck under the railing and step up onto the metal bleachers, the cold biting through my leggings as I take a seat.
The chill seeps into my bones, reminding me of the countless hours I used to spend here. It’s funny how a sheet of ice beneath fluorescent lights can feel more like home than the four walls of my apartment.
The rink buzzes with activity. The hockey team is deep into practice, skates slicing through the frozen surface with precision. The players dart back and forth, their breath visible in the chilly air.
My attention shifts to the new physical therapist, standing awkwardly at the sidelines. She’s fumbling with a roll of tape, holding it upside down like a foreign object. I wince at the sight.
Oh no. She doesn’t even stretch Hensley right—his quad’s gonna seize halfway through the drill.
My fingers itch to intervene. I could fix that in twenty seconds flat. The urge to jump in and help is almost overwhelming, but I remind myself that I’m not on the payroll anymore. I’m just… a visitor now, watching from the outside.
The ache hits me with unexpected force, like an icy gust sneaking through a crack in the window. It creeps up my spine, a slow, unwelcome burn that coils around each vertebra.
I rest my hand on my belly, feeling the gentle curve beneath my fingers. The baby isn’t kicking yet, but the presence is undeniable.
“I’m gonna figure this out,” I whisper to the unborn life within over the distant echoes of skates slicing the ice. “I’m gonna give you the best damn life I can. I promise.”
But in this moment, doubt hangs heavy over me like a fog. It doesn’t feel like I’m doing a great job at all.
I stand and make my way back to the lobby, the crisp air hitting me, sharp and invigorating, filling my lungs with its frosty breath. I push through the glass door and emerge into the late afternoon sunlight.
The brightness stings my eyes, causing me to blink rapidly in an attempt to adjust, to shake off the sensation that something important has slipped from my grasp, something that truly mattered.
My worn leather boots crunch through gritty, salty slush paved along the parking lot, while the overcast sky looms heavy and gray, like an old, stained cotton sheet sagging under its own weight.
Midway to my car, I hesitate, lungs working overtime, not from physical exertion but from the crushing pressure of everything piling up. The boys, the baby, and the awkward limbo I’ve engineered pull at me relentlessly.
I need to unburden my heart to someone who truly understands the sudden plunge into a life that’s as terrifying as it is genuine.
For a moment, I entertain the idea of slipping back inside to find Kenzie. But the last thing I want is to drag her into my personal storm, risking her hard-earned focus.
With trembling, numb fingers, I dig into my pocket, retrieving my phone. I scroll slowly until Ally’s name appears on the screen, then press call.
Her warm voice fills the line on the second ring: “Hey, Jinx.”
My response is a scratchy, thin “Hey,” as if the sound itself were pleading for solace.
After a pause that crackles with unspoken worry, Ally asks, “What’s wrong?”
I press one hand against my temple as a dizzy pulse builds behind my eyes. “Have you seen the tabloids?” I murmur, my voice heavy with resignation.
Another pause, a fragile silence, then her soft confession: “Yeah… I have. I wasn’t sure if I should mention it unless you brought it up.”
With a gentle exhale, I admit, “Well. I am.”
Her tone shifts, laced with quiet concern. “What’s going on now? With the boys?”
“I don’t know what I want,” I confess, closing my eyes as a dull ache behind them throbs in time with my admission. “I thought I had it all figured out, but now I’m just… lost.”
Without missing a beat, Ally challenges, “Are you asking yourself what you want, or just what you think you’re supposed to want?”
I freeze, the silence stretching like a drawn-out heartbeat between us.
Finally, in a voice laden with gentle truth, she reminds me, “You can’t try to live up to expectations that aren’t truly yours—neither your parents’ nor society’s, not even those of the boys. Listen to your own heart, or you’ll never find your own happiness.”
Those words settle around me, heavy and undeniable. “Thanks, Ally,” I manage.
She replies simply, “Anytime.”
I hang up, staring at the dark, lifeless screen for a moment before drawing a long, steady exhale. With a final glance at the empty lot, I pivot and head toward the small café down the block.