CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
C al
It’s been three days.
I’m going to call him. I’ve decided. I pick up my phone, then immediately set it back down when Tessa walks into the living room.
“Boston is super cold,” Tessa exclaims.
“Guess so.”
“They have blizzards here,” Tessa says. “I thought that only happened on Little House on the Prairie .”
“It’s not like I have to use rope to get into the nearest haystack or something to spend the night.”
“Well, you would be fucked if that was the case,” Tessa says. “I haven’t seen a single haystack.”
We break into hysterics. My sister snuggles next to me on the couch, and it’s awesome. I missed her a lot, and now I get to spend extra amount of time with her.
But being next to her reminds me of being next to Jason, of Jason’s warmth against my torso, the way his breathing would slow when he finally fell asleep, and yeah, that does all sorts of things to my heart.
“How are you feeling?” Tessa asks.
“Fine. Totally.”
She gives me a hard stare. “I thought you would be more overjoyed.”
“I am.” I squeeze my eyes shut.
When I open them, concerned brown eyes stare at me. I scramble for my phone. “Just checking who’s on the roster tonight.”
“Okay. If you want to talk...”
I nod distractedly and open the app.
Jason is on the list of players for tonight’s game.
I pause and reread it, because he’s still supposed to be suspended.
But it’s true. His name is right there: Jason Larvik, Right Winger, Fourth Line.
Okay, he barely made the roster. But he’s there.
I grin at my phone.
“Your mood has improved,” Tessa says.
“Jason is playing tonight!”
Her eyes narrow, and my smile fades.
“That’s great,” Tessa says, “but isn’t he this bad guy?”
“Uh...”
“Wait.” Her forehead wrinkles. “He’s not the same Jason you kissed back in high school, is he?”
My nerve endings thrum.
No.
I didn’t tell her that.
Did I?
“You look guilty, sweetie.”
“I had a better time with him than I might have expected,” I say finally. “And if it weren’t for him, I would have died on that jet ski.”
Tessa’s face pales. “You came that close? The hotel said it found the jet skis floating with no one on them and said I should brace myself for the fact you probably didn’t make it. And then there was that storm...”
“I’m sorry I worried you.”
“You don’t have to apologize to me. If Jason was nice, that’s great. And I shouldn’t have teased you about having a crush. I would probably have a crush on a hot hockey player who saved my life too.”
I nod, then look away. “Can we watch the game?”
“Sure.”
I click it on, wishing I’d checked the roster earlier. I didn’t think there was any way he would be there.
The first period has already started. Jason isn’t on the ice, but I spot him in the second row. Everything in my body warms, my nerves zing, and the world is weightless and wonderful, until I remember that I’m not sure I’ll ever see him again.
I’d thought about contacting him. I’d even drafted a message in my e-mail: Glad you made it back okay. Hope you’re doing well.
I haven’t sent it.
I don’t have his phone number, and I don’t have his personal e-mail address. I can reach out to his agent like a fanboy or slide into his DMs on Instagram... but I don’t want to.
I don’t want him to feel obligated to me and I don’t want him to feel awkward. He was amazing to me. I never would have made it out of there without him.
I remember my fear when my jet ski stopped working, and I realized I was stranded in the middle of nowhere. I realized I might die.
That a wave might fling me into the ocean, and I’d never come back.
That didn’t happen.
Jason did.
And he spent the rest of our time together saving me too.
We experienced something most people never experience. Of course, we were going to bond. Maybe I wouldn’t have had sex with anyone who happened to be stranded on that island with me, but those were Jason’s wounds.
We were together for five days.
I shouldn’t miss him.
But I sure as hell do.
Unfortunately, there’s no future between us. Jason isn’t out. I knew that when we kissed. I couldn’t keep my hands off him anyway.
Do I truly want to message him, then desperately recheck my phone until he shoots back some polite message?
No. Of course not.
I don’t want him to worry how he can let me down easily. I don’t want to be a burden to him. No. No way.
I sigh and set my phone down.
The TV continues to hum.
I don’t think there’s any rule between sports journalists and athletes fraternizing, but that’s probably because no one thought it could be an issue.
I’m a professional.
I’m an adult.
But even though I remind myself of these things, the pain doesn’t disappear. I don’t think I want it to. Because forgetting Jason Larvik, that’s the one thing that would be absolutely terrible.
I fling myself on the couch and let my eyelids flutter down. Then I think about Jason Larvik, and a smile spreads over my face.
Dream guy Jason is knocking coconuts from the tree.
Dream guy Jason is exclaiming because he collected water for us.
And dream guy Jason is pulling my arms around him as if the only way he can sleep is if he is tucked right there.
My smile widens, then it halts.
God, I miss him.
I’m not supposed to be with an NHL star. I’m an overweight journalist making less than a tenth of his salary.
And yet...
When the camera flickers on him and he looks uncertain, all I want to do is pull him into my arms and tell him everything is going to be fine.
Jason isn’t going to ask for me.
Which, unfortunately, means that if I want this to continue, I’m going to have to have an honest conversation with him.
I could visit him.
I calculate how long it will probably take for him to leave the arena, how long it will take for him to get back to his apartment.
I walk from the North End to Seaport. The old-fashioned cobblestones turn into newly created ones. The icy wind is every bit as terrible as Tessa said, and I nearly turn back four times. Finally, I enter Jason’s glam apartment building.
Finally, I ring the doorbell.
No one answers.
He’s probably not home yet.
It’s fine.
Maybe he’s partying.
He could be hooking up with someone. We didn’t promise anything.
God, I shouldn’t have come.
There’s a peephole. Does he know I’m here and is just not answering?
I square my shoulders. Maybe he didn’t hear me. I ring the doorbell again.
Then—the soft ding of the elevator. My stomach drops.