Chapter 12 Alondra #2
“A foal, and I don’t know if I have any pictures because I’m usually focusing on my job, not posing for pictures,” he says, a hoarse laugh escaping him, and it does sound a little ridiculous to imagine him doing an impromptu photoshoot when he’s supposed to be working.
“Does this have something to do with what y’all were up to the other night? ”
“I already told you what we did,” I say, because technically, I did tell him in the library I would find him a girlfriend. It’s not my fault he didn’t think I was serious.
After Macy’s comment earlier about how she thinks I don’t stand a chance of being just friends with Jack, it’s motivated me even more to find him a girlfriend, to prove that it’s not like that between us.
“I don’t believe you were only drinking wine and watching movies,” Jack says, and I roll my eyes.
“Sounds like a you problem if you didn’t believe me,” I say, but my stomach sinks when he pulls into the parking lot for the arena. “Jack, what are we doing here?”
He parks, turning off the engine, and my heart stutters. I really hoped he had dropped this when he hadn’t mentioned it.
“Seriously, why are we here?” I repeat, and he unbuckles, turning to face me.
“Al, we’re here to not skate,” he says, giving me a warm smile. “You’ll have fun, I promise.”
It’s a miracle the parking lot is empty.
There’s a reason I only come here in the middle of the night or before the ass crack of dawn.
I don’t talk to any of my old teammates because what are you supposed to say after quitting something so abruptly and not having any answers for the questions they ask?
Sorry? My abusive ex-boyfriend told me how pathetic I was for thinking if I won enough medals, it’d be enough for my dad to finally love me, and when I argued with him, he punched me so hard in my ribs I couldn’t breathe so I had to drop out of the competition?
How he begged me to forgive him at the same time he promised to never do it again, because he was so afraid of losing me?
But Jack isn’t Bradley.
Maybe that’s why I argue with him all the time. My brain is trying to prove to myself it doesn’t matter how far I push Jack, he won’t lay even a finger on me.
With Jack, I can fight with him all I want, and he’ll still lift me over his shoulder to carry me to my bedroom before helping me get dressed in my pajamas.
I swallow my nerves, unbuckling my seatbelt.
I cross my arms over my chest as I walk around to meet him in front of the truck, trying to quell the uneasy feeling in the pit of my stomach.
Skating by myself when no one else knows I’m here is one thing, but knowingly skating with someone else is completely different.
No. I can’t do this.
My feet are rooted in place.
“No.” The words are hoarse as they come out my mouth. “I told you I don’t skate.”
“I looked you up,” Jack says, turning to look at me. “You were good. You were really good. The forums said you were on track to compete at the U.S. Figure Skating Championships before you quit out of nowhere.”
I close my eyes, and I don’t know what to say. Who I was then and who I am now are completely different people.
“Is this because of your dad?” he asks, his voice quiet and low.
I bite my lip so hard, I wouldn’t be surprised if it started to bleed.
It’s about him, but it’s so much more at the same time.
It’s about how I craved acceptance and love from my father while leaving myself vulnerable for Bradley to swoop in, stealing every piece of me until I became an unrecognizable husk.
“Jack, I can’t.”
“Al, you can’t let him stop you from doing the things you love.” He’s right in front of me, but I keep my eyes shut, even after the scent of cinnamon floods my senses, because I know that if I look at him, I’ll cave. “Do what makes you happy.”
I count backward from ten in my head, willing myself to go in with him. Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two, one. My anxiety lingers, beating a silent drum in my stomach, but I can still breathe.
“We don’t have to skate long,” Jack promises, his smooth voice tempting me to open my eyes. “Please, Al? If you won’t do it for yourself, then do it for me.”
I choke on my laugh, shaking my head. “Do it for you?” I ask, amazed by his brazenness.
His dimples are showing as he looks down at me. “Yeah. We’re here to celebrate.”
“You drive a hard bargain,” I say, nodding my head, following him into the building.
I lean against the wall outside of the locker room, waiting while he retrieves our skates. When Jack steps through the doors a moment later, his smile widens. My fingers are itching to take my bag from him, but another part of me is afraid.
“What?” I ask, and the corners of his eyes crinkle.
“You’re still here,” he says, and I cross my arms over my chest, exhaling a shaky breath.
“Still here,” I say, giving him the best smile I can muster right now.
It feels like Jack’s staring into my soul right now, and it doesn’t matter how many walls I try to put up, he’s doing a damn good job of tearing them all down.
“Al, you don’t have to do this if you don’t want to,” Jack says, and I’d believe him if he didn’t look like a kicked puppy while he said it, especially after the pep talk he gave to get me in the building.
“This is what you wanted to do, so as your friend, we’re going to not skate,” I say, marching toward the doors leading to the arena. My stubbornness helps me take them from him, but after tightening the laces, I falter when I pull the edge of my socks over them.
“What if I can’t do it?” I ask, glancing over at him.
Jack’s kind eyes find mine, and he reaches over to place his hand on top of mine.
“Then we just sit here, and we don’t skate.”
His hand is large and callused, but his touch is gentle, thawing the fear freezing me in place.
Jack is slow to stand, making the first move to step onto the polished ice, and I let muscle memory take over, gripping the boards as I try to decide if I’m actually going to take the final step to willingly skate in front of someone else.
And I dive straight into the deep end, trying not to feel like I’ve been stripped naked and shoved into a crowded room.
After a quick lap, I feel myself loosening up, and the tension seeps from my body. Jack skates over to me, an easy smile on his face that I do my best to return.
“Wanna race?” he asks, his lips quirking into a smirk, and I snort.
“And get my ass kicked? No thanks.”
“C’mon, you know you want to,” Jack says, turning to skate backward in front of me at a leisurely pace.
“Do I? You already got me out here, so can’t you just be happy with that accomplishment?” I ask, wondering what he would say if he knew how many mornings I’ve spent sitting in the bleachers trying to make myself come out here.
“Are you having fun?” Jack asks, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his hoodie.
I can’t even try to lie to give him a hard time. I feel my smile grow before I nod because I am having fun.
“I want to hear you say it. You were right, Jack. I’m having so much fun because you’re so fun and the sexiest guy ever,” he says, attempting to mimic me.
Laughter sputters from me, and I gape at him. “I hope that isn’t you pretending to be me because it’s not something I would say.”
Jack’s deep laugh seems to echo with mine off the plexiglass. “I bet you can’t beat me,” he challenges, changing how he’s framing his idea. What’s even more annoying is it’s working.
I push him, catching him by surprise as I quickly take off for the other side of the rink. I’m almost to the goal lines when Jack blows past me, beating me to the boards.
“You cheated,” he says, and I roll my eyes.
“You still beat me.”
I’m fast on skates, but he consistently works out and is one of the fastest players in the division, if not the fastest. It’s honestly kind of a miracle he hasn’t decided to leave Wilder early to sign with the Dolphins.
“Did you want me to let you win?” Jack asks, smirking at me in the most infuriating way.
“Just a reminder, but you don’t ‘let’ me do anything.” I roll my eyes, flipping him off as I take off again.
At some point, Jack hooks his phone up to the speakers, and I’m stunned when my favorite song starts playing through them. I give Jack a questioning look where he skates next to me, and the only thing he says is that Ellie told him I liked this song.
I’ve lost track of time, just trying to enjoy being in this moment. I don’t attempt any jumps, wanting to spend more time in the gym to rebuild the body strength I lost.
“Thank you,” Jack says, pulling my attention to him. I’m glad I’m wearing my skates as well, because without them, I wouldn’t reach his shoulder anymore. “I meant it when I said I wouldn’t have passed the midterm without your help. You didn’t have to, but you are, and I really appreciate it.”
“You didn’t really give me much of a choice, but your persistence is one of your best and most annoying qualities,” I joke, trying to keep the air light because I don’t want Jack to look at me the same way Macy does when she thinks I’m not looking.
The tips of his ears turn red, and Jack rubs the back of his neck.
“I could see on your face while you were skating that you loved it out here like I do. I don’t know what happened to make you quit, but I thought that maybe tonight would help you .
. . I don’t know.” Jack sucks in a sharp breath. “I wanted to help.”
My heart jumps to my throat at the sincerity in his voice. If I didn’t know better about Jack’s stance on relationships, I’d almost go far enough to wonder if this were actually a date—except I know it’s not, and I don’t want it to be.
I am enjoying spending time with Jack, though.
“It’s complicated, but you’re right, I do love it out here. I just can’t go back to who I was before . . .” I trail off, my thoughts becoming a muddled mess. The pop music playing in the background feels out of place with the memories weighing me down.
“Before what?” he prods, his voice gentle, and for the second time tonight, Jack reaches for my hand.
For a brief moment, I let him, before pulling away. “Nothing. Before nothing.”
Before Bradley.
Before everything.
I turn away from Jack, but he catches my arm, trying to stop me.
It feels like an unavoidable car crash, experiencing that moment when everything happens in slow motion, like in an old film. Each second a frame of time before it all happens at the speed of light, sending me straight into fight or flight mode as my anxiety spikes through the fucking room.
How I’m feeling must be reflecting on my face or something, because Jack’s eyes widen in blatant confusion, and he drops my arm.
It doesn’t matter, though. It’s too late, and my mind is struggling to differentiate between the two men while panic is coursing through my veins.
I’m here with Jack. I’m not with Bradley. Jack didn’t mean anything by it because he isn’t Bradley.
“Al? Fuck, what did I do? How can I help?” he asks, this time keeping his hands to himself.
I shake my head, trying to reason with myself, but my brain isn’t thinking logically right now.
Jack isn’t Bradley. I repeat it to myself over and over, trying to pull myself together.
“I’m sorry,” he says. “I’m so sorry. Tell me what to do, please.”
Jack isn’t Bradley.
I count backward from ten again, feeling my heart rate slow down, and I shake my head. “It’s okay. I’m okay,” I force the words out, and Jack’s whole face is knit with concern.
I’m fine. I’m safe. It’s okay.
Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two, one.
The repetition of counting down from ten always helps. It’s something my brain can make sense of when everything else is moving too fast.
“I didn’t—I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have grabbed your wrist,” Jack says, apologizing again. His eyes roam over my face to see if I really am fine, but the truth is I’m not. If I were, I wouldn’t be losing my shit over Jack catching my arm.
“It’s not your fault,” I say, trying—and failing—to smile at him because it wasn’t. I have plenty of issues, and unfortunately, grabbing my arm triggered some of them. I don’t know how to explain this away, and based on his facial expression, I don’t think I can.
Jack drags a hand over his stubble, exhaling. “Was—did your dad . . .” Jack trails off, struggling to get the words out.
“Dad never touched me.” I clasp my hands in front of me, trying not to twist them as I kick to keep my head above water. “Sometimes that happens. Um, I count in my head to calm myself, but I have some shit I haven’t dealt with yet. It’s just . . . hard.”
“But Coach B . . .” Jack trails off, his jaw clenching as if the idea of my dad hurting me causes him to feel physical pain.
“Never, I promise,” I reassure him, and he nods, but I’m desperate to know what’s running through his head.
There’s an awkward silence between us, the sound of the music echoing to fill the gaps, and I wish I could rewind us back to fifteen minutes ago.
I move closer and lace my fingers through Jack’s. His eyes flicker to meet mine, and the apprehension lurking in the crystal coloring shakes me to my core. It feels like I’m staring into a looking glass, seeing everything I’ve tried so hard to hide reflected on Jack’s face.
“I’m okay. I trust you,” I whisper, trying not to let the words scare me into running as fast as I can in the other direction. “I wouldn’t be here with you if I didn’t.”
It’s terrible because it’s true.
I don’t trust easily, but somehow, like a parasite, Jack has infiltrated all of my defenses with his easy smile and the kindness he’s shown me.
I know I haven’t known him long, but despite every verbal sparring match we’ve had, Jack’s taken everything I’ve thrown at him without so much as raising his voice.
In fact, I yelled at him outside of Twin City, yet he still drove me home and took care of me to make sure I was okay.
I don’t like being someone who looks for the worst in people.
Maybe believing that if someone shows you who they are, you should believe them can also apply to recognizing when someone isn’t a shitty human.
I don’t think Jack is a shitty human.
Jack is sweet like honey, but I can only hope it’s not a trap designed to lure me in before going in for the kill.
“I’m sorry if I pushed too far to get you out here with me. I just wanted you to have fun . . . with me,” Jack says.
“You didn’t push me.” I squeeze his hand, trying to reassure him in the best way I know how. “Wanna race?”
“Even if I kick your ass?”
I laugh, shaking my head despite knowing he could probably beat me in his sleep. I haven’t spent enough time at the gym yet and am trying to rebuild my endurance. “I’d like to see you try.” Jack holds on to me, his grip unwavering.
It occurs to me that maybe I need Jack in my life, and the reason I fought against his friendship is that it’s terrifying to rely on other people. But maybe, just maybe, Jack might need me too.