THIRTY-FOUR
HAYDEN
MICHIGAN
FEbrUARY
"Do you remember when I was bartending at Houlihan's?"
Emerald sits between my legs while I nuzzle her neck, pressing gentle kisses along her soft skin. She hums and leans deeper into me. Outside the master bedroom, we watch the sky fade from pink to purple as the sun sets.
Our house backs up to a mile of forest. Emerald told me that a lake she and Ruby used to skate on with their friends is on the other side. It's always nice to hear her childhood memories, a contrast to what I had growing up: hockey practice or weight training.
It's the childhood I want to give to our kids.
One day.
Ruby and Ramirez left an hour ago so he could catch his flight back to Boston. He shook my hand firmly and told me to take care of Emerald. Something in his eyes, in the tension in his hand as he shook mine, made me feel the weight of his words.
"I do," I murmur.
Emerald snorts. "Remember how you'd sit at the bar like a guard dog?"
I growl playfully, making her giggle.
I remember those times. It was after my father had cut me off, right around my twentieth birthday. I had no money and no free time to get a job if I wanted to keep my hockey scholarship.
So, Emerald came up with a plan for us—that we get married.
When I just looked at her, I expected her to burst out laughing and say she was joking, but instead, she was more serious than I had ever seen her. Then she explained everything: she would pick up another job in addition to tutoring, and I would join her health insurance plan.
I asked her what she would get out of it, and she answered so simply that her reply still takes my breath away.
"I get you. That's all I really want. I'm making out like a bandit!"
I had suspected Tim would want to kill me when we came back home from the courthouse.
I sure as hell would if my little girl came home married to a hockey goon.
But Linda had just squealed and hugged us both.
Tim shook my hand and welcomed me to the family, and Ruby had driven the five hours home when she heard.
That weekend, they threw us a little backyard wedding, and it was one of the best days of my life.
Emerald got a job at a pub owned by one of her dad's friends, and after practice, on the nights she worked, I would sit at the bar and do my homework. She would come help me between customers, most of whom knew her by name because they knew her dad.
But some around our age would have too much to drink and think they had the right to touch Emerald.
"I always felt so safe around you," Emerald whispers. "Like nothing could touch me."
The words are so soft, so sweet, but there's an undercurrent that turns them sour. Noticing Emerald shiver, I immediately wrap my arms around her, rubbing her arms through my hoodie she's wearing. She's been practically living in it since we returned to Michigan.
"I used to pride myself on protecting you," I say, voice hoarse.
"Hayden, when you said those words to me, I was... done."
My heart stalls in my chest at her words.
Overwhelmed by the memories, I squeeze my eyes closed. That night replays in my mind, every single word I spat at Emerald now acid in my mouth. Even though I know the attack is not my fault—Emerald reminds me, as do Linda, Tim, Ruby, and my therapist—the guilt still sits in my gut.
I could not have foreseen Emerald running into someone capable of doing that.
The chances of it were one in a million, but it happened.
Rick was truthful: he didn't plan or orchestrate the attack, but the steps he took to ensure I would be his cash cow until he was finished with me made it possible.
He allowed hate to spread online about Emerald.
He had a plan if that hate went from social media to the real world.
And when it reached the real world, he had a plan to make money off it.
Off me and my grief.
At any step, I could have set boundaries between hockey and Emerald.
"I probably would've driven straight to Logan and bought a ticket to Ann Arbor. I couldn't take it anymore. Those people telling me that I'm ugly, not good enough for you, that I was bad luck and should just kill myself," she says, her voice sharp with pain lining every word.
"I was so tired of feeling alone. I was tired of missing you. And when you were home, you were swept off to another practice or another appearance. I tried to make friends, but... I just couldn't. I missed Ruby and my parents."
My lips go to her hair, and I inhale the familiar scent of her shampoo, reminding myself that she's here, in my arms, safe and speaking.
"Then, when you said... that moment was just confirmation to me—that I wasn't good enough. Not pretty enough to be yours anymore. That I was nothing to you and these people were right," Emerald sniffs, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. "That you deserved better."
"There is no better, Emerald," I cup her cheek, turning her face to me. "There's only you."
She gives me a wobbly smile, dropping her eyes.
"And then when I was in this hospital, I looked scary. My jaw, the wires, my teeth... when I looked in the mirror for the first time after, I thought that I was just seeing what they'd seen all along."
"You've been beautiful every single second I've known you," I rasp, tilting her chin back and not speaking again until she's looking into my eyes. "I never saw the bruising, or the lack of teeth, or the wires—all I saw was you. My wife. My heart."
Her smile grows steadier. "Yeah?" she laughs through tears.
"Always, baby. You're my Emerald," I murmur. "I love you."
She presses her forehead to mine. "I love you too, Hayden."
The words hit me like a punch, knocking the air from my lungs. Then they settle around us like a warm blanket, not allowing the brisk February air to even penetrate the bubble we're in. Emerald leans forward first, and I meet her, connecting our lips.
Just a brush, a taste, and it feels incredible.
"What happened after I left?" Emerald asks, once she's pulled back.
"I asked Rick to send a security guard to make sure you got to your car safely," I admit, shame rolling in my gut. "I should have gone myself, but... there's no excuse."
Emerald doesn't say anything for a long moment before she sighs.
"I don't think I would have listened to you, Hayden."
"But you would've been safe," I snap, tears pooling. "Even if you told me to fuck off, you would've been safe."
"All I had to do when my jaw was wired shut was think. And think and think," Emerald huffs. "And most of the time, all I thought of was the could have beens and should have beens. It doesn't help, honey. It doesn't do anything but sour every good feeling in your chest."
"I was scared of you when I woke up. My mind was all muddied together.
I knew you didn't hurt me, but all I could see was your jersey.
I still don't remember much of the... the assault," my hand tightens on her face, and she covers it with hers.
"But I remember him wearing your Bullies jersey. And I just wanted you."
"I was scared, too, because I thought maybe you were just there out of obligation, or guilt.
That you were going to grow to resent me or think I was hideous.
I just felt scared... and angry... and then scared again.
The fact that it was on video and is now online for the world to see.
To judge. Then that nurse taking the picture of me in the bed—it was just one long humiliation. "
"But you stayed. And you didn't waver. You moved. It was like a switch was flipped in you," she says, voice trembling. "But... why did it have to get that far? Why did it take me almost dying to make you see?"
Emerald's words are shaky and breaking on every syllable.
"That is something I go over with Dr. Anson about every week—why did it take until the worst happened?"
Emerald gives me a crooked grin, "Would you care to share?"
I pause for a moment to gather my thoughts.
"It was relative," I start, Emerald nodding for me to continue. "A lack of empathy because I couldn't relate to letting words hurt me anymore."
Understanding dawns on Emerald's face, but I lay it all out. Everything I've untangled with Dr. Anson over the last month. That was the hard part, letting out the words I wanted to keep buried deep because they sounded pathetic to me.
"My father called me the worst you could think of, since I was a kid. Somewhere along the way, I taught myself to trick my mind. If I told myself that those words didn't mean anything, then they didn't. And when you showed me those vile things people were saying, I did the same thing."
"You minimized it," Emerald whispers. I nod.
"I thought I protected you, but really I was protecting myself," I huff. "Not even considering your feelings— that was the failure. I failed as a husband. Even as a friend."
Emerald doesn't say anything, but she cuddles more into my arms.
"It's not an excuse. Hell, it barely feels like a reason. But it's the only truth I've got."
My throat tightens, and I swallow to clear it, "And it's something I'm going to think about every single day for the rest of my life. It's not something I'm going to forgive myself for. Ever."
Emerald's quiet for a long moment before she asks, "You really watched the video? Of the assault?"
"Eight times."
"Did it help?"
"No."
Emerald looks like she wants to say something, but I press my thumbs to her lips and make a vow.
"But it's making sure that I'll never repeat the same mistake."
Emerald looks me in my eyes, and then her gaze drops to my lips. Her eyes get a little heavy, and I stay as still as a statue, letting her lead and choose, as she leans closer. Our noses brush, and she keeps her eyes right on mine until they fall closed when our lips connect.
Mine close too, and a quiet whimper escapes from my throat at the feel of my wife’s soft lips on mine.
A real kiss.
After far too long.
Not so much reconnecting as remembering.
Who we were, who we are. Emerald and Hayden.
It’s always Emerald and Hayden. I love this girl more than life itself, but unfortunately, I’ve learned that you can love someone as much as you want, but if you don’t actually protect that love, then it’s just a nice sentiment.
“I missed this,” Emerald sighs against my lips, kissing between words. “I missed you.”
The words make me ache, my grip on her face tightening slightly, desperate. I deepen the kiss for only a moment, my tongue brushing against hers, and we trade moans when I taste her, so sweet.
“I missed you. I missed these lips,” I slide my one hand from her cheek to the nape of her neck, gripping her hair like I know she likes, and being rewarded with a soft moan. I gasp, “I missed those noises too— God —”
My other hand slides down her back, pulling her flush against my chest. Emerald’s arms wind around my neck, keeping our lips attached as they move against each other.
Years of tutoring from Emerald made me very good at this, made me know just how to touch Emerald the way she likes it, how to hold her, how to love her.
And that’s a subject I excel at.
"I hated Boston," she whispers once we pull back to breathe. I settle her against my chest, pressing a kiss to her head and letting her speak. "So much."
I could apologize again. I could say I wish I had chosen differently. I wish I had listened to her. I wish I had never accepted that Boston offer.
All of it being true changes nothing.
So, I'm going to do what I should have done from the beginning.
Listen to my wife.
"It wasn't hockey, though, because you set boundaries before. The people in Minnesota weren't like that. Is the city rotten, or did the people spread the rot?"
"The people spread the rot. There are people like Aisha and Ramirez. Denise and DeMar. Who didn't let that city rot them, too? But the ones full of hate are louder."
"That's actually comforting to think about. Maybe good can spread in that city now. Maybe they can change," Emerald meets my eyes and grins. "I hope so."
"I think people can change," the words taste sour, and I can't help but let my mind drift to my father. One good act doesn't negate eighteen years of abuse. But maybe he has changed. My focus is on my wife and my family, who chose me, though. Not ghosts of the past. "If they want to."
"You did."
"You think?"
"Yeah, you're not Boston-Hayden anymore," Emerald smiles. "You're my Hayden."
"And you're my Emerald," I grin. "My beautiful," a kiss to her pink cheek, "blushing," the other cheek, "sweet," her nose, " sexy," a bite to her lips, and the last word growled against them, "wife."
Emerald makes a mewling sound as she tilts her mouth to connect our lips better, before she suddenly pauses. I reel back, worried I hurt her—her jaw—but she’s just looking at me tenderly.
“Hayden...”
“What’s wrong?”
She shakes her head.
"I forgive you.”
I go still, the words running through me like an electric current.
She smiles, and with a steady voice, she says, "I'm still a little raw. I think I will be for a bit, and Dr. Carter says that's normal, but I need you to know... I forgive you, Hayden."
I didn't seek it.
I was trying to do better, because that's what Emerald deserved.
But she thinks I earned it anyway.
I'll never take that for granted.