Chapter 29 #2
“I doubt that,” she whispered.
“No, I was. I was absolutely a—”
“Avery.” Rachel shook her head. “I’ve snapped at my mom about things I don’t even care about.
I have to be so careful around the kids because sometimes I just get so angry I can’t see straight, and I don’t want to take it out on them.
” Her eyes welled up as she added, “It’s grief, honey.
It makes everything messy, including us. ”
“Isn’t that the truth?” I scratched my neck. “What sucks is I had a thing for him, and…” Renewed heat rushed into my cheeks. “I think he had one for me too.”
“Oh, I know you were into him.” She giggled. “Leif thought it was adorable how you crushed on him.”
I rolled my eyes and laughed. “Of course he did.” My humor faded. “I’m pretty sure I messed it up, though.”
“Do you really think so?”
I took a deep breath and told her the story.
I didn’t gloss over the ugly parts, either.
The night Peyton had poured me into bed in the hotel.
How I’d kissed him. Asking him to come get me from the club.
Waking up to find him in my living room because he hadn’t wanted to leave my pathetic trashed ass alone.
By the time I’d finished, I was queasy with embarrassment. “He says I didn’t blow my chance with him, but…” I groaned and covered my face with both hands. “There’s no way he wants anything to do with me after this.”
“Sweetie.” Rachel reached over and touched my arm. “If you blew it with him over that, then he wasn’t worth getting together with anyway.”
I lowered my hands and met her gaze. “What do you mean?”
She gave my arm another squeeze before leaning back in her chair and folding her hands on top of her belly. “You didn’t do anything wrong, Avery.”
“You didn’t see how things went with Peyton.”
Her lips pulled tight. Then she shook her head.
“Whatever it was, he doesn’t seem to be holding it against you.
” Before I could protest, she barreled on, “You’ve gone through something awful—you’re still going through it—and you needed help.
” She shook her head. “I mean, do you think I screwed up by forgetting to register Elsa for Pre-K next year? Or getting behind on some bills because I was so overwhelmed I lost track of everything?”
Mute, I shook my head.
“Right. It’s grief. It’s going through hell. If Peyton is a good guy—and I think he is—then he’ll see that you aren’t a bad person. You’re just hurting.”
I had to swallow hard to keep my emotions in check. It was bad enough she of all people was comforting me this much; she didn’t need to help me stop crying, too. When I was sure my voice would hold, I said, “I can’t imagine he found any of it attractive, though, you know?”
She shrugged. “Then he doesn’t deserve you.”
“Is it stupid that I still want him even if he doesn’t?”
Rachel laughed softly. “No. It isn’t. Emotions aren’t rational, and everyone has loved someone who didn’t deserve it. But I don’t think that’s what’s happening here.”
“Maybe,” I conceded. “But I mean, I was an asshole to him. Even if it was the grief and the alcohol talking… it was still me.” I half-shrugged. “I can’t really blame him if he can’t look at me the same way, you know? Or if he doesn’t find it attractive.”
She seemed to consider it. “Maybe? Even if he isn’t interested in anything like that, though, he seems to be a really good friend.”
“He is. I just wish I could be around him without kicking myself for fucking up a chance at anything else.”
“Eh, give him time. And give yourself time. He might surprise you.”
I nodded but said nothing. As much as I desperately wanted to cling to that glimmer of hope she was offering, I couldn’t make myself believe it.
No matter how much Peyton may or may not have been interested in me before, neither of us could change what had happened.
I didn’t blame him if he couldn’t look past it.
But I could sure hate myself for it.
Rachel gazed at me sadly. “I wish I’d known you were struggling so hard.”
I was shaking my head before she’d finished. “You didn’t need that.”
“I didn’t need to find out you were suffering in silence, either,” she said pointedly.
“Okay,” I admitted. “Fair. I just…”
“You didn’t want to burden anyone else.”
I blinked.
She laughed softly and patted my arm. “I know you.” Her smile fell. “You should’ve told me you were having such a hard time. Sweetie, you know we all would’ve been there for you.”
“I was trying to be there for you.” I swallowed hard. “And the team—I’m the captain now. They don’t have Leif anymore, so someone had to take the reins and be strong.”
She stared at me as if she could barely understand what I’d said.
“What else could I do?” I whispered. “I couldn’t—”
“Avery. Honey.” She took my hand. “If things had been reversed—if Leif had lost you instead of the other way around—don’t you think he’d have been a mess, too?”
It was my turn to stare at her.
“But he was always…” I swallowed. “He was the one who kept the team together.”
“And he kept me and the kids together, too. He was strong as hell, no doubt about that. But he was human, too.” She chewed her lip. “Remember a couple of seasons ago when you hurt your neck?”
I shuddered. That was a night I wished I could forget.
The crunch when I’d landed. The way everyone had frantically held me still, ordering me not to move until they’d stabilized my neck.
How much it had fucking hurt, and how we couldn’t tell if I’d lost feeling in my left leg because of spinal damage or if the position I’d been in had just cut off circulation.
In the present, I cleared my throat. “Yeah. Of course I remember.”
“Okay. Well. So do I.” She locked eyes with me. “And I remember my husband being an absolute mess because his best friend had been stretchered off the ice on a backboard, and we still didn’t know if you were okay.”
My heart dropped into my stomach. I vividly remembered Leif being worried sick and rattled after our other teammate had taken a similar fall. For some reason, it had just never occurred to me that he’d been that much of a mess—or more of one—when I’d been hurt.
She wasn’t finished yet, either. “He made Coach Tabakov and half a dozen other people promise to call the minute they heard how you were. And you know what happened when they called?”
Swallowing hard, I shook my head.
Her eyes started to well up for a third time.
“As soon as he heard that you were okay, and that you were probably going to be on LTIR for a while but you’d be back—” She put her hand to her lips, and when she continued, her voice shook.
“The only other time I’ve ever seen him that relieved is after things got scary with me and the twins in the delivery room. ”
My lips parted.
“He was human, honey,” she said. “He loved you like a brother. If he’d ever lost you, he’d have been a broken man for a long, long time.” She squeezed my hand again. “None of us were ever going to judge you for falling apart when you lost him.”
Speaking of falling apart…
I was so damn tired of crying, but this time…
God, just like it had been in my therapist’s office and with Peyton, it was cathartic.
It wasn’t that crushing grief that had become a constant companion.
As Rachel pulled me close and let me literally cry on her shoulder, it was like a long overdue release of things I’d stupidly held on to for too damn long.
It didn’t matter how much I’d let out in therapy, there always seemed to be another reserve of heartache to tap into.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered. I didn’t even know if I was apologizing for keeping all this from her, or for leaning on her of all people when she had to be struggling even more than any of us. Both, probably, since I was sorry for both.
“You don’t need to apologize,” she said softly, stroking my hair. “I don’t have a monopoly on grieving for Leif.”
“Still.” I let her go and wiped my eyes. “I should be supporting you, not leaning on you.”
She was already shaking her head. “No. We can be there for each other.”
I knew better than to argue with her, so I nodded. “Okay. But… tell me if it’s too much, all right? I don’t want to make things worse for you.”
Her smile was sad but sincere. “You’re not. I promise.” Before I could ask if she was sure, Rachel sat up a little, wincing as she rubbed her back. “Ugh. Being pregnant is not for wimps.”
I chuckled, both at the comment and because I was relieved we were shifting gears. “No kidding. Are you okay? Do you need an icepack or—”
“No, no.” She huffed sharply. “I just need it to be my damn due date so I can serve an eviction notice.”
“You’re almost there. Only, what, three or four more weeks?”
She shot me a glare. “There’s no such thing as ‘only’ three or four more weeks of… this.”
Showing my palms, I said, “Fair enough.”
She laughed, then glanced toward the kitchen. “Do you want something to eat?” She smiled sadly. “And don’t tell me you’re not hungry. You’re a hockey player—you’re always hungry.”
I laughed, and it felt good, especially because it made her laugh, too. “Yeah, you got me.” I took out my phone. “Why don’t we order a pizza or something?”
She made a face. “Ugh. No. Just the thought of pizza makes me gag right now.”
“Seriously?”
She gestured at her belly.
I scoffed. “That kid is going to be born grounded.”
“You have no idea.” She picked up her own phone off the end table. “What about Thai? Does Thai sound good?”
“Thai always sounds good. And I guess as long as the kid lets you eat Thai, we can reduce the grounding to two months instead of three.”
She scoffed. “Please. This child is making me hate garlic. He’ll be lucky if he’s ungrounded before kindergarten.”
I arched an eyebrow. “He?”
Some pink rose in her cheeks, and she smiled. “Yeah. We found out last week.”
I managed to smile, too, pretending not to notice that pang of renewed grief beneath my ribs. “That’s awesome. Congrats.”