Chapter 39
AVERY
There weren’t words to describe how grateful I was that Shannon shoehorned me into her schedule this morning.
All day yesterday, I’d been a wreck over Peyton. I hadn’t even been able to sit through the game because every time the camera landed on him, I wanted to fall apart. Both because I was hurting and because…
I mean, every time his face appeared on the screen, unless he was focused on a hockey play happening in that moment, the cracks showed. He was always so upbeat and lively, but this time it was like when someone was playing through a bad cold or a nagging injury—he just looked exhausted and…
Broken.
Fuck me, he looked broken.
I turned off the TV before the first period was over.
The one bright spot of the night was that I resisted the temptation to drink.
It was the first time since I’d gone into rehab that I’d wanted to get absolutely shitfaced, but I’d talked myself out of it.
I was proud of that, even if I wasn’t proud of all the reasons I’d been a mess to begin with.
Today, I needed to talk to someone who wasn’t a complete disaster, and fortunately, Shannon was able to squeeze me in.
“Thanks for seeing me,” I said as I sat down in her office.
“You’re welcome.” She studied me, worry pulling her eyebrows together. “So, tell me what’s going on.”
I did. I’m not too proud to say there were some tears or that my voice broke a few times, but I got through it. I laid it all out on the table, all the way through yesterday and last night and this morning, and then I met my therapist’s gaze and whispered, “Where the hell do I go from here?”
“Well.” She seemed to think for a moment. “Let’s start with what Peyton was concerned about—that your love for him is rooted in gratitude and dependence more than affection.”
I winced, staring down at my hands. “I do love him.”
“Of course you do. I don’t think anyone questions that, including him.”
“But he doesn’t think it’s…” I chewed my lip, not sure how to proceed.
“He’s concerned that you’re not in love with him the way a partner should be.”
I nodded.
“Do you agree with that?”
“No,” I said quickly, but almost as fast, I sagged back against the couch cushion. “I… I don’t think so? But what if he’s right?”
“What makes you think he is?”
I pressed my lips together as I tried to pull my thoughts into order.
“I mean, everything has been filtered through grief since Leif died. What if… What if that’s all this is?
That I’m jumping on being with him because it feels better than grieving over Leif?
” I exhaled hard. “God, that makes me sound like such a dick. I’ll be sad for him until I start getting laid? Ugh.”
“I don’t think that’s what’s happening here, though.”
“You don’t?”
She shook her head. “Grief and new love are not mutually exclusive. The fact that you’re grieving as hard as you are for Leif just shows how much love you’re capable of.” She offered a gentle smile. “You can love Peyton while you’re still mourning the friend you lost.”
“But how do I know if I’m really in love with him, or if this is just gratitude for him saving me from myself.”
“There’s no reason it can’t be both.”
I stared at her. “But if it’s just gratitude, then it isn’t…” I chewed my lip, not sure how to finish.
“Well, let me ask you this, then.” She folded her hands on top of her notepad. “When you’re with him, or when you think about him, do you get butterflies?”
“Of course I do,” I whispered.
“Okay.” She tilted her head a little. “What about him makes you feel that way?”
I had to work to swallow. Staring down at my own hands, I said, “Everything, honestly. He’s funny.
I’ve thought he was hot for a long time, but when we’re just hanging out together, I completely forget he was ever someone I had a crush on from a distance, you know?
It’s like he’s… I don’t know. Like he’s been here all along.
We just kind of… click, I guess? And he’s, um…
” Heat rushed into my face, and I felt like a shy schoolkid as I added, “He’s an amazing kisser, too. ”
“So you enjoy the time you spend together.”
“God, yeah,” I whispered. “It sucks when he’s on the road.
It sucks being away from the whole team, but especially him.
It isn’t even…” I shifted a little, some more warmth rising in my cheeks.
“It isn’t just the sex, you know? That part’s great and all, but…
” I paused, trying to pull my thoughts into order.
“I’m just happier when he’s there than when he’s gone. ”
“How much of that is rooted in what he did to help you get into rehab?”
I froze. “What?”
“You’re worried your affection for him stems from him helping you,” she explained. “But everything you’ve just described—none of it sounds related to that, does it?”
I stared at the floor between us.
“It’s okay to be happy while you’re grieving, Avery,” she said softly. “It’s okay to fall in love even while you’re still sad.”
I swallowed hard. “Peyton doesn’t think it is, though.”
“Didn’t you say he’s texted a few times about it?”
“Yeah. He, um… He said he’s sorry and he thinks he fucked up.”
“Did you respond?”
I shook my head.
“Do you want to respond?”
I had to think about that for a moment. “I want to fix things with him. I’m just afraid he’ll tell me that what I feel for him isn’t…” I trailed off when my voice threatened to crack.
“Well. Maybe what needs to happen first is you need to talk to him. And by that I mean you need to speak while he listens.”
“What do I tell him?”
“Everything we talked about. That you are still grieving for your friend, and you are grateful that Peyton helped you when things were dark, but neither of those things precludes loving him.” She paused.
“Honestly, if it wasn’t possible to love someone sincerely and genuinely while going through some other emotional turmoil, then no one would ever love at all. ”
I blinked.
“We’re not always in the midst of a life-altering trauma,” she clarified. “But everyone is going through something all the time, whether it’s work stress or just worrying about the state of the world. No one is ever in the perfect place in their life or frame of mind to fall in love.”
I sat back again, rolling her words around in my mind. “I, um… I hadn’t thought about that.”
“It’s quite likely he hasn’t either.”
I nodded slowly as I let it all sink in.
Finally, I looked at her again. “Okay. I guess I need to talk to Peyton.”
I was distracted all the way home. Not so much that I couldn’t drive—I still had my situational awareness—but enough that nothing registered beyond traffic signals and what other cars were doing. I could’ve passed a presidential motorcade and a blazing housefire and not even noticed.
But I sure snapped into the moment when I turned up my driveway.
Peyton is here?
Oh, shit. I needed to talk to him, but I wasn’t ready for—
I wasn’t ready to see him, and I definitely wasn’t ready for the spike of fury when I saw him. After my conversation with Shannon, I was ready to sit down and talk about this, but apparently I still needed to process things a bit, because just the sight of his car had me grinding my teeth.
“Emotions don’t always seem to make sense,” she’d told me during another session. “But they are definitely real.”
Wasn’t that the truth.
Peyton got out of his car as I was pulling into the garage.
For a split second, I was tempted to hit the button and let the door come down in his face, but…
I really did want to talk to him. I was angry and hurt, yes, but mostly I wanted to tell him everything I’d gleaned from my appointment with Shannon. See if we could salvage this after all.
What a weird contradiction of emotions as I faced him in the driveway—wanting to both tell him off and beg him to stay.
Was it too much to ask for a few minutes to process all this shit and get my head together before we talked? Apparently so.
“Hey.” His voice sounded hollow. “Can we talk?”
I chewed the inside of my cheek. The words, “No, get the fuck out of here,” were dangerously close to tumbling out, but so were, “I’m so sorry I made you feel like your only option was leaving.”
Instead, I nodded and gestured for him to follow me inside.
I desperately needed some water, and he accepted an offered glass as well.
Drinks in hand, we sat on the couch, and I tried not to think about how the conversation had gone last time we’d been here.
Or that this was the place he’d slept that night he’d picked me up at the club, which had not been my finest hour.
After a sip of water, Peyton took a deep breath like he was about to speak.
“Wait.” I put up both my hands. “Let me talk.”
He stared at me, mouth still open like he wanted to protest. Slowly, though he relaxed, and he nodded. “Okay. Go ahead.”
Oh. Fuck. I wasn’t ready for this. But I was committed, so no turning back now.
“I get why you’re worried that I don’t really feel this way about you,” I began.
“And… yeah. I’m still broken over Leif. I probably will be for a long time.
” I had to swallow against the renewed rush of emotions.
“But when I say I’m in love with you, I mean it.
I can love you while I’m still grieving him. ”
“I know you—”
“Let me finish,” I pleaded.
He closed his mouth again.
I rolled my shoulders. “You’re not just the first good thing that’s come along after I lost my best friend.
And you’re not just someone who scraped me up off the pavement.
The truth is I’ve wanted you since long before you came to this team.
And the more I’ve seen who you are, the more I’ve fallen for you.
Not because you saved me from my own stupid self, but because you’re the kind of man who would do that.
Even for a teammate who was a jerk to him and gave him every reason not to. ”
Peyton lowered his gaze.