Chapter 11 #2
Mouth slightly full, she laughs, tears springing to her eyes.
She takes deep breaths as she chews and then swallows.
She washes it down with a lime La Croix and says, “Oh my God, you’re such a man.
That gag reflex is strong on you.” She leans forward and elbows me like we’re chums. “Not something I ever had to worry about.”
Jesus.
Christ.
Didn’t need to know that.
Because now that’s all I’m going to think about.
That and the way she was able to unhinge her jaw.
“Ooo, was that TMI?” she asks.
“No.” I shake my head. “Just surprised, as I haven’t met a girl without a gag reflex.” I pause and tilt my head. “Shit, that sounded bad.”
She chuckles. “Ooo, tell me more.”
“Yeah, I’d rather not.”
“Damn.” She smirks. “And the conversation was just about to get good.”
“Do you think if you played tonight, they would have scored more?” Blakely asks, turning toward me in bed.
The boys won but by the skin of their teeth. Pacey was working overtime in front of the net, not letting one goal pass, while Hornsby and Posey defended the goal well. Silas scored the one goal for the team, leaving it to a one to zero win.
I was pretty nervous there for a second.
“I don’t know,” I say. “The Yetis seemed like they were on their A game today. They’re a quick team. I’m honestly surprised Posey and Hornsby were able to keep up.” I consider it. “Probably would have scored a goal.”
She chuckles. “Ooo, a little bit of cockiness. Didn’t know you had it in you.”
“There’s still a lot you don’t know about me that would probably surprise you,” I reply.
“Is that a challenge to ask you a question?”
“Could be,” I say.
“Hmm, okay. Well, I know that you like blueberry-flavored things. I know that you like to read and, despite liking to read, you don’t have bookshelves for all of your books, which drives me a little nutty.
I know that you somehow formed a bond with a plant named Sherman.
” If only she knew the truth about that.
Although, when I pass by him, I do feel a kinship toward him now.
“I know that you’re protective and kind and care about your friends and was a bit of a hellion when you were younger. That seems like a lot.”
“Only the tip of the iceberg,” I say.
“Well, I will say this, you’re not as shy as I initially thought you were. More just quiet, but it seems like when you’re comfortable, you open up. Does that sound right?”
“Yeah, I think so.”
“So that means you’re comfortable with me?” she asks.
“I wouldn’t let you in this bed or take care of Sherman if I wasn’t comfortable with you.”
“Makes sense.” She shifts an inch or so and I can feel her body heat—it lights my skin on fire. “So tell me something I don’t know.”
“There are a lot of things you don’t know. Be more specific.”
“Okay.” She pauses, giving it some thought. “What’s your best memory?”
And here I thought she was going to ask something like what my favorite color is, but she’s diving deeper. I like that.
“Best memory? Well, I have a few but they all revolve around the same thing. Playing hockey out on the frozen pond with my brothers Hayden and Holden.”
“Oh right, you have an older brother. Do you see him much?”
I roll my teeth over my bottom lip. “No. I haven’t seen him since Holden’s funeral.”
She sits up on her elbow. “Wait, really?”
“Yeah,” I say, swallowing down the emotion traveling up my throat.
She’s silent for a second and her hand connects with my arm. “Is this hard for you to talk about?”
“Yeah,” I answer.
“Okay, well we don’t have to talk about it,” she says.
“We can talk about something else or go to bed. Or I can tell you about my first period to defuse any uncomfortable feeling. I can make you feel even more awkward with a story about how I got it in the grocery store and what I thought was a melted strawberry popsicle on my pants . . . wasn’t. ”
I lightly smile. “That’s okay. I can talk about it.
” I turn my head so I can get a better look at her beautiful face in the moonlight.
A shadow casts on the right side of her face, but the left is easy to make out.
Her eyes are penetrating. It makes me lose every boundary, every wall I’ve ever erected around myself.
“Losing Holden took a big toll on my family. My parents divorced after his death. Hayden and I haven’t been able to speak to each other, let alone look at each other, and I can’t remember the last time there was a family gathering. Well, I guess it was the funeral.”
“I’m so sorry,” she says, rubbing her thumb over my forearm.
“It was silent that day,” I continue. “Not a sniffle, not a single moan of sadness. I think we were all still in shock. We went through the motions, receiving hugs and condolences. We didn’t say a word to each other and once we lowered him into the ground, we went our separate ways.
Nothing and no one has been strong enough to pull us back together because the person who could do that, is the person we lost.”
“Halsey, I don’t know what to say, I’m sorry.”
“There’s nothing really to say. That day will forever leave a mark on my life.
I didn’t just lose my brother, I lost my family.
It’s why my boys are so important to me now.
And they get that. They understand that I need them more than they probably need me.
It’s why they let me be who I want to be when we’re up at the cabin or when I’m in the locker room quietly reading.
They know I need my space and I need my escape.
There are times where they push me out of my comfort zone, but they also get me, and they know when they’re pushing too hard. ”
“They know your limits.”
“They do,” I answer.
“Do you usually let new people into your life? Or are you afraid you might also lose anyone new?”
I look her in the eyes and say, “You’re new and you’re here. Does that answer your question?”
Her lips turn up. “I guess it does.”
“I do fear the unknown though. I like to know where people are, the people who are closest to me. I like to make sure they’re safe. It’s why I’ve gone out with the guys, not because I want to, but because I feel more at peace if I know what they’re doing, if I can make sure they’re being safe.”
“That makes sense. Are they aware of this fear?”
“Probably not.” I stare up at the ceiling. “Hell, I think I’ve divulged more to you than any of them.”
“Really?” she asks.
I look over at her. “Really. And maybe it’s because I know you won’t give me shit about what’s on my mind.”
“Ooo.” She cringes. “That’s where you’re wrong. I very much will give you shit. I just need to find the right thing to give you shit about . . . like . . . the books. For the love of God, Halsey, get bookshelves.”
I chuckle. “Maybe it will be a project I take on while I’m healing.”
“As long as someone else is building them and anchoring them into the wall, then sure, sounds great. The last thing we need is Bob the not-so Builder putting up his own bookshelf and having it fall on top of him, breaking a wrist because you have no business putting together anything.”
“I built the nightstands.”
“Wow, where’s your tool belt? We need to gild it in gold.”
I let out a low laugh. “It’s in the hall closet. Put it in a shadowbox while you’re at it.”
She pokes my side. “Okay, funny man.”
“Want me to bring dinner over to you since you’re icing?” Blakely asks.
“Sure.”
She made tacos tonight and I tried helping but she wouldn’t let me, of course. I sat on the counter for a little bit, keeping her company, but my timer to ice went off, which put me on the couch. It’s an off night for the boys so we decided to eat dinner and watch a movie . . . my choice.
I decided to make a very shocking—hear the sarcasm—choice and picked the movie, Miracle . She asked me the other night what my favorite hockey movie was and it was no contest. I get chills at the end of the movie every time.
Blakely walks over with a cookie tray full of plates, taco shells, beef, lettuce, salsa, and cheese, as well as drinks. I let her sort everything out and when I reach for a plate, she swats at my hand.
“Tell me what you want and I’ll put together your tacos for you.”
“You know, I can do it, right?”
“I know, but I do it best.”
My brow raises in question. “Says who?”
She grins. “Me, of course. Now, tell me what you want.”
Letting her win, I say, “I’ll take the works.”
“Ooo, just the way I like my tacos too.” She starts with cheese on the bottom of the shell and then adds the meat, then the salsa, and finishes off with the lettuce.
“Smells amazing. Thank you, Blakely.”
“Of course. I’ve been craving these for a while. Perry never really liked tacos so I’m excited to share these with someone else.”
“He didn’t like tacos?” I ask, confused. I feel like tacos are a universal food that everyone likes. I can’t imagine one single person saying they don’t like tacos.
“Well, he was more into a fancier taco. Like . . . he needs refried beans and rice and olives and fajita veggies.”
“Isn’t that more of a burrito?” I ask.
“That’s what I told him.” She hands me my plate.
“But he’d try to shove it all into a taco shell and it would break.
He’d then get so irritated and just start piling everything into a bowl and crunching the taco shell on top.
At the end of the day, he wasn’t eating a taco and it just .
. . it irritated me. Sometimes simplicity is key. ”
“I agree,” I say right before I take a bite, letting the flavors wash over my tongue. “These are really good.”
“Thank you. My secret is freshly grated cheese. Other than that, there’s nothing special about them.”
We both laugh. “I knew it had to be the cheese. Truly elevates the meal.”
“And elevation is key when eating tacos.” She holds up her finger cutely, as if teaching a lesson.
“Besides adding fajita veggies and refried beans and all of that, right?” I eye her.