Chapter Five
Jacob
“Can you make that pie with half pineapple, extra jalapenos, and black olives?” I’m used to the pinched expressions Becca and our waitress are giving me. It’s the same one whenever anyone hears the combo. “Don’t knock it till you try it.”
Becca glowers at me as she mouths. “Never.”
“Do you want anything to drink?”
“A glass of iced tea with lemon, please.” My brows shoot up, and she asks “What?”
“Coke for me.” Handing the menus to our waitress, I watch her walk away before looking at the woman sitting across from me. The lopsided grin she’s wearing is doing funny things to my insides. “You make fun of my pizza, but get a lemon in your iced tea?”
Becca’s eyes go wide as dinner plates, and her jaw goes slack. “What’s wrong with lemon?”
Slapping my palms on the table, I lean in and keep my voice low. I immediately regret it when a creamy, sweet, earthy tone fills my nostrils. An essence that has always been distinctly her. “Haven’t you read any of the studies that found lemons to be full of bacteria?”
“Haven’t you heard that getting pineapple on your pizza is sacrilegious?" She leans her elbows on the table, staring at me, not backing down.
“Thank you,” we both say as our waitress places our drinks beside us.
“Have you ever tried it?” I ask, taking a swig of my drink. The look of disgust on Becca’s face has me nearly spitting it out. “I guess that’s a no.”
“It’s not a no.” Becca sits back, pulls the wrapper off her straw, puts it in her iced tea, and stirs. Her eyes focus on the swirling liquid when she says, “Caleb had me try it once.”
“A man after my own taste buds.” Sitting up, I force a grin and try to ignore how my gut clenches.
She glances up, and a small smile lines her lips, but there’s an emotion in her eyes I can’t read. Sadness? Guilt? “There were some things you had in common.”
My abdomen constricts as my own guilt pops up. I hate that she had a life with another man, and yet I hate myself more for feeling this way. It was my own actions that led us down the separate roads we traveled. “Did he make you happy, Becs?”
Her face softens, and a faraway expression graces her face; jealousy sweeps through me. “Very. We had a wonderful life together and three amazing boys.”
“Three?” I blow out a deep breath in an attempt to dislodge the wrench that’s clamping down on my chest. “Which one is Steven?”
“He’s the youngest. Miles is my middle child, and Wyatt is my oldest.” Her face glows as she tells me about them. The corners of my mouth pull up in response. “Miles is the protective one of the three.”
“Really?” My forehead pulls down in surprise. “I would’ve thought that would be your oldest.”
“Nope. Miles was born an adult. Do you remember the Benjamin Buttons movie?” I nod. “Miles doesn’t look older; he just acts it. Everyone thinks he’s my firstborn,” she chuckles, and my grin widens.
Murmurs of the other patrons and their conversations fill the silence that’s come over our table.
Unable to help myself, I take Becca in. Her hair isn’t the darker shade of auburn I recall, but a lighter shade that suits her, and though I can see some fine lines around her eyes, she’s still as beautiful as I remember. Maybe even more so.
“Did you ever—”
“All ready,” our waitress says as she puts the pizza stand on the table. My nose tingles as the jalapeno hits me. She points to our glasses. “Do you want a refill?”
“Yes, please,” Becca says, handing her glass to the waitress.
“I’m good, but do you have any hot pepper? I only see garlic powder and Parmesan cheese on the table.”
“More pepper?” Becca arches her brow, eyes dancing. “The jalapenos aren’t enough heat?”
“Nah, this is nothing!” I wink. “Serranos are better, but most places don’t have them.”
“Moretti’s does,” our waitress responds, handing me the pepper.
“I’ll remember that next time,” I answer, picking up a slice of pie, placing it on my plate, then covering it with pepper flakes. I can feel Becca’s gaze on me, but I don’t look up.
“Do you need anything else?”
I shake my head as I bite half the slice.
Becca snorts. “We’re good. Thank you.”
“What?” I ask, mouth half full.
“Nothing,” she huffs out a laugh, shaking her head. “Boys.”
We enjoy the pizza in silence, both lost in our thoughts.
After a few minutes, I notice Becca picking at her crust, and she pulls her bottom lip in with her teeth.
She used to do that whenever she wanted to say or ask something, but wasn’t sure if she should.
I take another bite of my pizza and wait.
“John mentioned you were engaged at one point in time.” The pizza in my mouth turns to cardboard. “Did you ever end up getting married?”
Swallowing the food, I respond. “No. It didn’t work out. Though she did end up marrying one of my ex-teammates.”
My ex-fiance left me when she realized I wasn’t in love with her. I don’t blame her for leaving, in fact, it was smart. She’s now married to someone who loves her in a way I never could.
“I shouldn’t have asked. I’m sorry,” Becca mumbles, looking down at her slice, her cheeks pink.
“Don’t be sorry. I’m surprised he told you to be honest.”
A piece of hair falls in her face, and my hand lifts to push it back, but before I can reach across the table, she sweeps it aside. My hand hangs in the air as I watch her. When she glances up and meets my gaze, my heart hammers against my ribcage.
Thoughts I’ve had for over a decade hover on the tip of my tongue.
A question that’s tortured me since I left Maple Ridge and Becca behind.
The words John said to me when I was at the airport.
Telling me his sister wasn’t ready for the life I was about to live.
It was better not to call right away. To wait and give her time.
I knew it was a bad idea, but I listened.
When she met Caleb, and I saw how happy they were, that one time I was back in town. I knew it was the right call, but I’ve regretted it ever since.
“Rebecca?” One of her brows quirks at me using her first name. My throat constricts, and my hands ball into fists before stretching my fingers out. Here goes nothing. “Do you think things would’ve been different had I called?”
She looks down at the table, and my pulse races. “I can count on one hand how many times you’ve called me by my first name, and most of them when you were trying to get a rise out of me.”
My mouth twitches as I recall the first time I learned that ‘Becca’ was short for ‘Rebecca’. We were at the rink, waiting for practice to start, and John and Becca were doing their usual bickering when their mom got involved.
Everyone called her Becca, so I never even thought that wasn’t her ‘real’ name. Once I saw the horrified look on her face, I knew I wanted to see that expression more often. First, it was teasing, then it became flirting.
When her gaze shifts to mine, there’s a hint of humor, and I know she’s thinking about all those times, too. But then she tilts her head and her brows pull together. “Why didn’t you call?”
Losing myself in her hazel eyes, I’m swimming in a wave of regret; emotions I’ve ignored swarm over me, and my gut tightens.
I want to tell her it was because I was foolish, that I thought I was doing what was best. Once I got to the NHL, I was barely keeping afloat with everything.
And because of that, I believed what her brother said was true.
By the time I realized I had made a mistake, I thought it was too late. That she wouldn’t forgive me.
Before I knew it, years had gone by, and she was engaged to Caleb, and I met Joanna.
Picking up my nearly empty cup, I swirl the amber liquid around and watch the motion, trying to piece my words together. But then I hear John’s voice.
“I was a dumb kid who got caught up in the big life I was living. But more than that, I felt like I was drowning.” My eyes find hers, and I do my best to convey how very sorry I am for the choice I made, but she just shrugs a shoulder.
“You deserved a call, something. I’m sorry. I’ve regretted that decision forever.”
Becca’s lips part, and she blinks a few times.
“Hey, you two! I figured you might stop here after practice.” John slides in next to his sister, places an arm on top of the back of the booth, and turns to glare at me.
I knew he wasn’t crazy about the two of us dating when we were kids, but I’m surprised he’d still be the protective big brother after all this time.
Noted.
“Hope you don’t mind me popping in,” he asks, all smiles as he looks at Becca.
“Not at all.” Becca gives him one of the extra plates on the table. “We have plenty.”
Her gaze flits to me before turning back to her brother, but I don’t miss the confusion that lingers.
My chest burns as I lift my fist, rubbing it, trying to relieve the ache.
Maybe jalapenos weren’t the best choice.