Chapter 34
34
Aviva
I t’s setting up Jack for a great career in the NHL, so he can accomplish every single thing he’s dreamed of since he was that scrawny teenager on the ice…
I sat next to Jack, his warm, strong thigh pressed against mine as he gripped my hand tight. I was reeling after his speech, and Coach Jensen’s closing words. As much as I hated the topic of Jack’s speech, I was proud of him. He’d stumbled a few times—why, I wasn’t sure—but he’d given a passionate, eloquent, rousing speech. If I didn’t know better, I’d begin to love his coach as much as he did, based on his hero worship.
Jack lifted my hand to press a kiss to my knuckles. I tried once again to pull away, but he just gripped it harder, nipping my middle finger with his teeth in reprimand. I looked over at him, his eyes were swimming with thoughts I couldn’t follow. Anger and…confusion? Sorrow? Determination? I wasn’t sure, because I’d never been able to read him as well as he read me .
“You did great,” I murmured to him, unable to not share how proud I was of him, despite how upset I was.
… so he can accomplish every single thing he’s dreamed…
I hadn’t felt this at cross-purposes with my tormentor-slash-boyfriend since we’d first faced off in the locker room. God, that felt like years ago, and only yesterday, all at once. If I got justice for Asher, it meant taking Joshua Jensen down. But without their coach, with the scandal and resulting scrutiny, could Jack still take his team to the Frozen Four? Win the championship? Be first in the draft? Accomplish all his dreams? Or would I take that all away from him. Was I going to have to choose between my brother’s peace and my boyfriend’s future?
Suddenly, the room felt hot, claustrophobic.
I tried to tug my hand away. “I need air.”
“I’ll come with you,” he said, rising from his chair, still gripping my hand.
“No!” The word was like a slap. Jack flinched, and I softened my tone. “Please, I need to get air alone. Please .”
He scanned my eyes, then slowly released my hand. “Okay, but when you come back, we’re going to dance.”
I nodded. I couldn’t even worry about it, I needed air. Before, being around him meant I didn’t care if I sacrificed breathing; now I couldn’t go one more second without it.
I stumbled away from him, hurrying through the room, passing elegant couples on the dance floor as a small string band played a rendition of Chinchilla’s “1:5” which was a weird but depressingly apt accompaniment to my current emotions.
Down a hallway, past Judah and Levi, who were talking about something in harsh whispers, and then out the side door into a small garden similar to the one behind Hallister Hall. Once I was outside, I sat down on a wooden bench, gasping for breath.
Too much. This was too much. Angry, helpless tears fell. I understood the latter emotion, but not the former. Who was I angry with? The coach, certainly. Was I upset with Jack, who’d hurt me in so many ways but not more than when he refused to believe me? But who felt such obvious, understandable loyalty to the man who’d changed his life for the better and would help him gain everything he wanted in life? Or was I angry at myself, for falling for a man who should’ve been my enemy, and feeling torn when my loyalty should’ve been to my brother and my brother alone?
Because I was falling. Falling for Jack, with all his cruelty and kindness, terror and tenderness. He was the person who seemed to understand me the most but trust me the least. He knew the parts of me that scared me, had dragged them to the light, and had finally made it possible for me to let go of control. And in doing so, he’d stormed his way into my heart. I laughed bitterly, sniffing. He called me “little thief,” but he was the one who’d stolen from me.
What was I going to do?
“Aviva?” The deep voice made my skin crawl.
I looked up to see Joshua Jensen standing in front of me, hands in his suit pockets. He smiled at me, but there was no warmth in it.
He was the last person I wanted to talk to. I stood up to vacate the bench—and the garden—when he raised a hand.
“You don’t have to run from me, Aviva. I only want to talk.”
“Is that the kind of thing you’d say to my brother?” I spat, wiping furiously at my tears.
The coach sighed, shutting his eyes for a moment. “Aviva, your brother is troubled, mentally. I’m sure you know this. It’s understandable, the way you two…lost your parents.”
I glared. “How do you know how we lost our parents?”
“Because Asher told me. Asher used to talk to me about everything. I was his confidant, a pseudo-therapist. That was a mistake because he attached to me in inappropriate ways…”
“Bullshit,” I said. “You manipulated him, took advantage of his trust…”
The coach raised his eyebrow. “Like you’re taking advantage of Jack’s?”
“I’m not taking advantage of him.”
“You may not mean to be, but before he met you, that boy had one focus, and one focus only—winning. Since he’s met you, he’s been distracted. Sure, he’s playing fine, but I can sense him and his game slipping. Do you really want that for him?”
“You’re so full of it,” I snapped. “Who’s really manipulating whom, here?”
He chuckled. “Smart. You’re a smart girl. With a bright future ahead of you. Please don’t let your brother’s vendetta against me turn me away from that. All I wanted for Asher was for him to get everything he ever wanted. I still want that for him. I hope he gets the help he needs, Aviva. Are you getting it for him?”
I drew myself up to my full height. No wonder why Jack didn’t believe me. Joshua Jensen was a smooth talker, able to twist the story and make you forget what was true in the face of his easy lies. If I didn’t know better, I’d think he was actually concerned about my brother.
“You mean the help he needs because you assaulted him? ”
He shook his head. “I wish you hadn’t fallen for his lies, Aviva.”
Joshua Jensen had a tell. There was a smugness in his stare, a smirk on his face. It could be misinterpreted as compassion, but I knew better. This was a man who’d taken advantage of his authority and power to take advantage of the boys who looked up to him. I’d been studying sexual narcissism for my deviant psych project: so often, sexual narcissists didn’t groom, manipulate, or sexually assault their victims because they’d wanted them. They hurt them because they could.
“Do you believe your own lies, Coach ?” I asked. “Have you convinced yourself you’re a good man?”
That was the difference between him and Jack. Jack didn’t pretend to be a good man. He knew who he was, and he accepted it. He’d never denied hurting me, never gaslit me. He was honest, and that honesty meant a lot to me, especially right now when I was faced with such an extreme liar. Jack, for all his flaws, was guided by his emotions, not his greed for power and dominance. He didn’t want to make me feel small, the way the coach made my brother feel small.
It didn’t matter. There would be no Jack and me after this. I ignored the pain of the realization even as it tore through me.
“If you’ll excuse me, I owe Jack a dance.”
Coach Jensen’s hand flew out, gripping my bare upper arm. “Careful, Aviva. At the end of the day, I have his loyalty, you don’t. You won’t want to get on Jack’s bad side.”
Except I already had. And would again, after this.
I pulled away. “You ever touch me again, and I’ll scream my fucking head off.”
He shook his head, that smirk in place. “And they’ll think you’re just like your brother. A liar. And we both know Jack hates liars.”
I stormed past him, but he called after me, “Tell Asher I say hi,” and the sinister taunt chilled me as I pulled the door open and re-entered the building.
I headed down the hallway to the bathroom, determined to wash the tears and my anger off my face. As I turned the corner, I almost bumped right into Jack.
“Whoa,” he said. “Where are you going in such a rush, little fury?”
I shut my eyes, determined to hide my tears. “Not now, Jack.”
Then he was closer, his hand tilting my chin up. “Have you been crying?”
I wrenched away from him. “No.”
“Aviva, baby, look at me.” He lowered his voice, stroking my face. “Tell me what’s going on. Tell me what’s wrong, and I’ll fix it.”
Willing away my tears with a deep breath, I opened my eyes and looked at him, really looked at him. Hoped he saw me.
“You can’t fix it, Jack, if you refuse to believe me.”
He inhaled. “This? I believe that you believe it. But it’s not true, Aviva. Did you hear my speech at all?”
I swallowed down more tears. “Every word.”
“Then you should understand how important he is to me.”
“I do,” I said to him. “I understand it, and I know it’s hard to let that go, but Jack, if you care about me at all?—”
“I do.”
I do.
He thought he did.
But he cared about his coach and his worldview more .
Inhaling, knowing that his next response could break my heart, I said, “I’m about to tell you something, and I need you to believe me. Not about my brother. About me.”
He swallowed but didn’t say anything.
I continued, barely able to get the words out. “Joshua Jensen confronted me out in the courtyard just now.”
Jack’s eyes darkened. “And?”
“And he’s guilty, Jack! You can see it in his eyes. He fucking smirked at me when he told me if I reported him people would think I was a liar?—”
Jack cut me off. “You aren’t a liar Aviva, but you have to let?—”
This time, I interrupted him . “I don’t mean report him for what he did to Asher. I mean report him for what he did to me.”
Jack reared back, like I’d shocked him.
Good.
“What did he do to you?”
“Just now? He touched me.”
“He. Touched. You?” Jack’s voice was gravel, his eyes working. His fist clenched and unclenched. “How?”
“Your beloved coach grabbed me by arm and squeezed,” I said. I shuddered from the memory of his grip. “You can probably see…”
But Jack was already relaxing, clearly relieved. “I’m sure he startled you, and I’ll talk to him about it, but I’m sure he wanted to talk to you. He’s like me, a little too aggressive at times?—”
I gaped at him. “I’m sorry,” I said slowly. “You lose your shit at your own goalie for talking to me, but your coach touches me and suddenly it’s okay? Do you see how ridiculous that is?”
“He’s a good guy, Aviva. I’m sure he’ll apologize. ”
“How do you not see that he’s manipulating you?”
Jack’s eyes flashed. “He’s not the one manipulating me.”
I gasped, guttural and pained, hunching in on myself protectively. He may as well have punched me directly through the heart.
“You think I’m manipulating you?” I could barely get the words out.
Jack’s jaw was set. “Coach said as much.”
“So after everything we’ve been through, after you told me you knew I wasn’t a liar, we’re back to this?”
I shook my head in shock. My eyes burned. I wanted to be angry, but anger was a secondary emotion; I hurt too much to be angry.
“Maybe you don’t mean to, but that’s what you’re doing, Aviva. You have a goal, and you’re smart about people, about psychology, and you’re utilizing it to get what you want out of me,” he rationalized.
“What I want out of you ,” I said, then repeated it. “What I want out of you. All you’ve done Jack, is take, and take, and take. The one thing I’ve asked you for—to believe me, to support me here, to trust me—and you can’t even consider the option. If there’s no trust between us, then there’s nothing.”
We both stared at each other, my chest heaving from the effort to breathe, because it hurt too much to breathe. People had started to gather, whispering. I didn’t care about a single one of them. All I cared about was that the man I’d started falling for, despite all the shit he’d done, was so set in his fragile worldview he’d decided to make me the villain.
We were at an impasse.
“I don’t know where we go from here,” I murmured, blinking away the tears that threatened to return.
His eyes flashed. “Don’t say that. ”
“What else is there to say? Between him and me, you’ll choose him, every time.”
He shook his head like he couldn’t believe me.
“And if it were between me and your brother, you’d choose Asher every time.”
“So I guess this is it, then,” I said, unable to fight off the tears anymore. They spilled out over my face.
“I guess so,” he said. “Tell me one thing, Aviva Gold. Make me understand—what made you so hellbent on vengeance for someone else, you’re willing to let go of the good thing right in front of you? That you’d give us up—for a lie?”
As if he weren’t doing the same exact thing.
As if he weren’t still lying to himself.
“Tell me, Aviva,” he finished. “ Who hurt you ?”
I gave up the fight against the tears, and they streamed down my face.
“You did.”
He reeled back, his face a kaleidoscope of jagged, betrayed edges. But he was the one who’d betrayed me. And he didn’t contradict me. And how could he, when my heart was bleeding out on the floor in front of us?
We stood there, neither speaking, and even though physically we were so close, we were now worlds apart. Universes. Entire galaxies. Separated by our differing beliefs. It was a distance I couldn’t cross, no matter what I did.
“Let me go, Jack,” I said quietly, even though deep down I was begging don’t let me go, don’t let this be over, don’t believe him over me, don’t choose him over me.
Pain was etched across his features, his gray eyes dark, not with lust, but with a devastation that matched mine. His throat worked, but he didn’t say a word .
I left him there like that, forcing myself not to look behind me, hoping despite myself that he’d follow. That he’d be his usual overbearing self, unwilling to let me go without a fight. Every other time, he’d chased me, caught me, brought me back.
But this time he didn’t.
And that hurt most of all.