Chapter 38 Jakob
JAKOB
Sleeping with the enemy. That was how this really felt. Zane’s constant buzzsaw-like snoring might’ve contributed to some of it but there was definitely more. Knowing what my teammates would say probably played a bigger role than any of it. But there was so totally more to it than that.
Over the last few days, Zane had reverted back to the lunkhead I’d known before we started making the sheets sing. He wasn’t just the guy I’d laid out at the Colter Bay Grill. He was more like the guy that made it his mission to fight me again because he simply couldn’t stand losing.
When we woke up that morning, I knew we would have to address the elephant in the room.
He leaned over to kiss me, which I accepted, suppressing my disgust. No, our arguing hadn’t caused the distrust. You wouldn’t believe the nastiness of Zane’s morning breath. The U.S. government could use that to wipe out a small country.
“What’s for breakfast?” he asked.
“Why don’t you go down to the kitchen and find out?”
He furrowed his brow like I’d taken an unwarranted swipe. Here’s the deal: Zane always insisted on me making his breakfast like his mother lived at my place. I’d gone along with it mostly because I wanted my boyfriend to keep the hot sex coming. I would’ve drawn the line at doing his laundry.
“Come on, dude, you know how much I love your breakfasts,” he said.
When I rolled out of bed, I decided I’d already lost the debate. I wanted a big breakfast too and knew he would look at me with those sad puppy dog eyes if I didn’t make him one.
Even still, something definitely felt off, and I needed to get to the bottom of it.
Once downstairs, I scrambled some eggs in a bowl and poured the batter into a skillet.
Then I did the same in another skillet with a handful of sausage links.
I put on coffee while Zane sat at the table waiting like an excited kid.
If he asked me to cut the crust off of his toast, that would totally be the last straw.
Breakfast probably wouldn’t make everything better, though.
I hadn’t forgotten about how he’d behaved like a total asshole at the gym.
All the other ways he had of being an asshole I could deal with.
All part of being attached to Zane Hirst, in other words.
Still, I had to draw the line in the sand.
“So, what’ve you got planned for today?” he asked.
“Preparing to kick your ass in the big game.”
His eyes darted at me like my comment had really set him off.
“Woops,” I said. “I mean, I’ve got practice to get to.”
“Should’ve just said that in the first place, dude.”
Technically, my boyfriend was right. I didn’t have to say that and normally I would’ve exercised far more tact.
But I found that seriously hard to do after all Zane had said and done.
The gym fiasco was the absolute worst. I wanted to pretend it was all a coincidence that Zane was actually a nice guy with an asshole coating. You know, like a really twisted candy?
I also wanted to believe that we could get through the title game without it harming our relationship. We were grownups and a couple. Love would carry us through the worst of times, yadda, yadda, yadda.
When I thought about Zane’s behavior, I couldn’t really believe that someone his age could act that way.
“I guess you’ll be going to practice too, won’t you?” I asked.
“Yeah, and I’ll be preparing to kick some Lion ass really shortly. Better get your crying towel ready.”
That one just about put me over the top. Normally, I could handle trash talk from anyone and everyone. It was part of the game. And I really would’ve had no trouble dealing with that from Zane because he was a dope, and because I knew he didn’t really mean it.
Given his recent behavior, I would have to revisit that theory.
“I think we need to talk,” I said.
“What about? I’m eating.”
“Yeah, I know. Figured you’re talking shit now that breakfast has been served.”
“No way, dude. I’m talking shit now because you did it first.”
He had a point there. Fuck! I’d said it because it’d become a habit, especially since his toddler tantrum in Delaware Park. You could say that I was proactively defending myself.
“Maybe we should have had an honest conversation about the game right from the start,” I said.
“It’s a little late for that now, isn’t it?”
“No, it’s not. We can stop the bleeding, keep things from getting any worse.”
“Thank you for the Mister Rogers routine, Jakob.”
“It’s not a Mister Rogers routine, thank you very much. Besides, do you think Mister Rogers could suck a cock or take it up the ass like I can?”
Zane shifted his eyes past me as if pondering.
“Look, I’m trying to keep things nice and peaceful here, and you’re not helping.”
“If you wanted everything to be all peaceful, you wouldn’t have pulled that bullshit in the park.”
This again. Honestly. Part of me wondered how I ever could’ve felt attracted to a man who could get so hung up on childish crap. I realized it was more than that, though. His ultra-competitive nature could spiral out of control here and there, and you never knew when it would resurface.
Maybe it was all and none of those things. It could’ve simply boiled down to the fact that he was a Remington Riptide.
He wasn’t meant to act like a rational human being.
“I don’t want to get into this Delaware Park business again,” I said.
“Of course you don’t. It’s because you know damn well you cheated.”
“What, would you like to go back and run that stupid race that never meant anything all over again?”
“Yes.”
When my boyfriend didn’t flinch, I knew that he was one hundred and ten percent serious. That was bad news.
“Look, we’ve got to talk,” I said. “That wasn’t a real race. It was just me screwing around. Nothing more to it than that.”
“How can you say that? You were gloating like there’s no tomorrow.”
“Yeah, I did. Why wouldn’t I? We’re athletes, Zane. A little trash talking is what we do. I wouldn’t have thought you were so sensitive.”
That made his eyes widen. I didn’t regret the comment. To me, it was a perfectly valid comment.
“It was a lot more than trash talk, and you know it, Jakob.”
“I’m sorry you see it that way. I know you like to win.”
“No, Jakob, I love to win. I hate everything not somehow associated with winning.”
“Hey, I’m a competitor, and winning means a lot to me too, but I’m not about to turn into a complete idiot over the smallest thing.”
I threw my hands up. I honestly worried my boyfriend would never listen to reason.
“I’m just saying that we’ve got to have an understanding about all this, especially before the big game.”
“Why?” he said. “I already told you that the Riptides are gonna mop the floor with you guys.”
I drew a deep breath but didn’t sigh. That would tell him he’d gotten under my skin, even if I didn’t strike back. No good would’ve come from retaliation.
“If we don’t figure something out, we might not make it through this game,” I said.
In truth, if we don’t figure something out then we wouldn’t make it to the championship game. I didn’t dare say that. You must know by now how much of a pain in the ass Zane was.
“Look, why don’t we just do what we did before and not talk about hockey… or anything else that’ll get our backs up?” he asked.
Instead of saying fine or anything else that served as an exclamation point, I rested my fork and continued eating in silence.
Like I’ve said, my boyfriend had regressed back to the guy I punched out at the bar. Oh, who am I kidding? He’d reverted to freaking childhood, for crying out loud.
I knew what I wanted, though. I wanted Zane Hirst, the same Zane that I’d fallen in love with. On the other hand, I wanted to win the championship. I wanted to enjoy the glory that came with it. Most of all, I wanted to position myself for NHL stardom.
Was having it all really asking that much?