Chapter 30
Jack
“Do you want to talk about it?” I ask, glancing over my shoulder at Alondra. She hasn’t been herself since this morning, and based on the mood Coach was in for practice, the interaction didn’t get better after he dismissed me.
“Not really,” Al says, pulling her knees up to her chest, leaning against my headboard. She seemed like she was on another planet the entire night, and all I want is to be there with her.
“You barely said more than five words all night,” I say, but I think Alondra disappears into her head again because she doesn’t react at all.
I step into the bathroom, brushing my teeth to give her a few minutes alone.
I want to know what Coach said to her, and if she won’t tell me, I’m half-tempted to march into his office tomorrow to set the record straight. Alondra’s been trying to tell me since I learned her true identity how her dad would receive the news of us being friends, and I hoped she was wrong.
Hell, even if she does tell me, I should still defend her to him. It’s what I should have done this morning instead of being the dutiful captain, following Coach’s directions.
She hasn’t moved a muscle since I stepped into the bathroom, and I hate seeing Al like this. My loud, grumpy bundle of chaos has disappeared into herself, and I don’t know how to fix this, but I’m desperate to.
“Al, I would never force you to talk about it with me, but it might make you feel better,” I say, trying to tread lightly as I move to sit next to her.
Pain flickers across her pretty face, and Al shifts away from me. “I don’t know what there is to talk about. Don’t you know I’m a distraction for you?” she says, her voice dripping in sarcasm.
“No, you’re not.”
“How else would you describe your performance during your games in Wisconsin?”
I wasn’t the only one who was off my game that weekend, but I was upset about where I stood with Alondra after the party. It wasn’t her fault, though. I’ve always been able to check my personal life at the door when it comes to hockey, but I did a shitty job in Wisconsin.
“I’m allowed to have a bad weekend without it being your fault. I’m only one person, I don’t dictate whether the team wins or loses,” I say, but Alondra’s mouth flattens.
“No, but you’re the captain of the team. You play a pretty big role, whether you want to admit it or not.”
She’s throwing up walls, trying to block me out, but I won’t let her.
I owe a lot to Coach, but he doesn’t get to decide this for me.
I roll my eyes, dragging a hand over the stubble lining my jaw.
“You’re right. I am the captain, and your dad is my coach.
I can’t change that, but I’m not going to let it affect our friendship.
Church and state, remember?” I can’t get a read on her, but I refuse to let her pull further away from me.
I know I’m lucky as hell she’s even here with me tonight, considering I spent most of the day wondering if Al was going to run as far as she could in the opposite direction from me.
Was telling her she’s a distraction the only thing Coach said?
Alondra shuts her eyes, pulling her knees closer to her chest, and I need her to believe me.
“You didn’t see how disappointed he was,” she whispers, and the sadness in her voice stabs me straight through the heart.
“He said I would understand why he’s asking me to leave you alone if I ever loved something as much as you love hockey. ”
My inhale is sharp, and her reaction makes a lot more sense.
Fuck, why would he say that to her? All anyone has to do is watch Al skate to see how she leaves everything on the ice.
If anything, I’d even argue that Alondra might love skating more than I love hockey, and I hate how he’s made her question herself.
“Shit, Al. You have to know how wrong he is. You love skating. I could tell from the first time I watched you just how much you love it. I’m sorry, Coach never should’ve said that to you,” I insist, wishing I could grab him by the shoulders to force him to see his daughter for the wonderful person she is.
Alondra has more heart than most of the guys I’ve been on the ice with, and I’m disappointed in him. I want to respect Al’s wishes, but he’s wrong for this. I know it.
“What if he’s right?” she asks, her eyes slowly opening to look at me, and it devastates me how empty they are. “I quit skating. If I could do that, did I really ever love it?”
I want to scream for her. From everything I’ve learned about her relationship with Bradley, quitting was the safest option, even if I hate him for taking it away from her. It reminds me too much of Momma.
Hearing the doubt in her voice as she questions everything is painful.
My hand drifts up to reach for her necklace, borrowing a fraction of her strength.
“He’s not right. He doesn’t know what happened during your relationship with Bradley, or how you did it to protect yourself.
And Coach certainly doesn’t know you were fucking strong enough to leave him, because I know how hard it can be to make that decision,” I say, my throat threatening to close up as my own nightmares surface.
A lone tear slips down her cheek, scarring my heart. “Thanks, but it’s easy for you to say . . .” Al trails off, wiping her cheek with the back of her hand.
“My momma used to figure skate before she met my dad,” I say, my voice catching.
It’s hard for me to talk about because I choose to focus on when it was only the two of us, instead of everything before.
But I think Al might need to hear some of the before, because I hate hearing her diminish her choices.
“She was good, but Momma skated because it made her happy, and he didn’t like that she had something to love other than him.
Her parents cut her off when she refused to give me up for adoption, so she didn’t have anyone but him.
When I fell in love with hockey, the rink became our safe haven from him, and just because she had to quit, it didn’t take away the love she had for skating. ”
I think that even as a kid, I could see the difference in my mom when we would go skating compared to when we were at home, and I loved seeing her happy. Some of my best memories are of when we would go skating.
Alondra’s face pales, her glistening eyes widening.
“Is the necklace hers?” she blurts out, and I’m shocked it’s taken her this long to ask about it. I’ve caught her staring at it more than a few times.
I pull it out from beneath my shirt, twisting the skate pendant between my fingers, nodding. “She gave it to me when I started having nightmares after he went to prison. I wear it as a reminder that she’s always with me, and we are free to live our dreams.”
I can count on one hand how many times I’ve taken it off since then. It’s become a good luck charm in some ways, because Momma has a way of making me believe everything will be okay.
“What did he do?” she asks, her voice barely above a whisper.
Flashbacks of the night I woke to the sound of him screaming at her have haunted me for years. The nightmares still happen, though, not as often as they used to.
Putting it into words is more than I’m capable of.
I look away, dropping my hands to the comforter, gripping the soft material in my hands to ground myself. “Al, I . . . can’t. I’m sorry, I just can’t.”
“It’s okay,” she says, and I’m caught in the torrent of comparing how similar Momma’s and Al’s stories are. What would have happened to Alondra if she’d never left him? I know better than to drift into what-ifs—
Her hand rests on mine, pulling me from my thoughts before I can spiral. Alondra’s fingers curl around mine, and she settles next to me.
I clear my throat, turning toward Al. “I just want you to know quitting doesn’t mean you can’t still love it.”
I wish I had the code to decipher the way she’s looking at me. It makes me want to question everything I thought I knew, and my head can’t make sense of it.
“Thank you,” she says, her lips curving into a genuine smile for the first time all night. The relief I feel is overwhelming because I want Alondra to be okay. I want her to be happy. “This morning sucked, but I’m not sorry we’re friends.”
“I’m not sorry either,” I say, leaning over to press a gentle kiss to her lips. It feels right being here with Alondra—more right than anything else. She makes me feel steady.
Alondra makes me dream of wanting more for myself.
She pulls back, squeezing my hand. “I love skating,” she says, and I cup her face, holding Al with the tenderness and care she deserves. I can’t take away any of the hurt she’s felt, but I can do my best to be a safe place for her to land.
“Damn right you do.”
I slide my hand into her hair, grasping the clip holding her curls back to let them tumble over her shoulders and down her back. Alondra stares at me, pulling her lower lip in between her teeth, and I smooth my hand over them.
“Beautiful,” I whisper, twisting one of her curls around my finger, and I wish she could see herself the way I see her.
“It’s messy,” she protests, but I don’t care.
“I like messy. Real life is messy, darlin’,” I say, because I’m aware of how imperfect I am, but I think she might be perfect for me.
She leans in, pressing her hand to my chest, right over where my heart is hammering against my ribcage. Alondra pauses just before our lips can meet. “So make a mess with me,” she whispers, curling her fingers in the fabric of my shirt.
I close the gap between us, slanting my mouth over hers, and Al tugs me closer as she leans back, pulling me with her.
She might as well have branded her name on my chest because the idea of being with anyone else is unbearable.
I settle over her, and Al slides her hand under my shirt.
I press my mouth harder against hers, a groan slipping from the back of my throat when she drags her nails over my abdomen.
It feels about as honest as we’re both willing to be right now, moving in tandem, pushing when the other pulls, and Alondra takes everything I have to give her. I lose my shirt, and Al pulls hers off a few moments later before we’re fused together again, and my hands are worshipping her.
She’s soft and warm beneath me, driving every part of me crazy for her.
I tangle my hand in her hair, trying not to push things too far tonight.
I could lose myself in Al, and never regret a single second of it, but I don’t want her to have regrets.
Alondra shifts her hips up, rocking against me, and it takes everything I have to pull away.
“We’re not having sex tonight,” I say, out of breath.
“Why not?” Alondra has the nerve to pout, driving me crazy when I’m already fighting to keep my hands to myself. I roll off her, shifting away before she can tempt me into changing my mind.
“Because I care too much about you to have sex, or do anything other than kiss you while you’re upset. Al, I want to, but not tonight.”
“Jack, I’m fine,” she insists, and I smile, leaning to kiss her, making sure to keep our bodies firmly away from each other.
“Even if you are, trust me. I want the feeling of how fucking great it will feel when I’m sliding into you over and over to be the only thing you’re focused on when we do have sex.
Not distracted by whatever bullshit your dad said to you this morning, or remembering whatever your piece of shit ex did to you before.
I want to have your sole attention, and I promise, it’ll be worth the wait. ”
Alondra’s mouth falls open, and I smirk when she nods, dumbfounded. “Okay.”
She’s never this agreeable.
“Just okay? You’re not going to fight me on it?” I tease, and Al sits up, pushing the covers to the side to climb under them.
“Nope. It’s bedtime. Goodnight.”
I laugh, reaching to turn off the lamp to lie down next to her.
“Goodnight, Alondra,” I say, and she nudges me with her foot.
“Don’t say my name like that.”
“Like what, Alondra?” I ask, taking care to drawl out her name this time, causing her to grumble under her breath. I wrap an arm around her waist, pulling my girl against my chest as I bury my nose in her soft curls, perfectly content to hold Alondra for however long I’m lucky enough to have her.