Chapter Thirty-Six
Thirty-Six
Lucy
I wiggle my way through a swarm of disgruntled Rainiers fans. While everyone looks for an exit, I’m looking for a way in. I see a door propped open and slip through, going unnoticed among the crowd. Like a fish swimming against the current, I get bumped around by disappointed fans with their heads hung. The game is over, but I’m here for Jaylen. I need to show him something—if he’ll even listen to me.
I catch a glimpse of the ice as I rush by; 4–1 is illuminated on the scoreboard, looming over the ice like a rain cloud. I dart into an overstuffed elevator and slap the lower-level button. A man in the corner looks me up and down with such disdain you’d think I was wearing an Ice Tigers jersey.
I look down at myself and realize that I’m covered in paint. It dawns on me that I haven’t checked my hair in the mirror since this morning when I left my apartment. Between meeting my dad, turning down the apprenticeship, and painting all afternoon, I haven’t had time for second thoughts.
When the elevator doors open, I take off running. The family room is around the corner, and if I hurry, I can make it before Jaylen leaves. As I’m catching my stride, I see a giant blur with SECURITY written on it speeding my way. The crowd hurries out of his way, allowing the security guard to barrel through as few obstacles as possible.
“Stop right there!” he yells, lunging toward me.
Suddenly I feel as if I’m being struck by a car. The security guard wraps his arms around me and tackles me to the ground to restrain me. I try to explain myself, but I’ve just had the wind knocked out of me and when I open my mouth only wheezing noises drain out.
“Let her go! She’s my friend!” someone shouts.
His bear hug loosens and I grovel on the floor in agony, rolling around like a dog scratching its own itch.
“Oh my god! Are you okay? You took that hit like a champ.”
It sounds like we’re underwater. I slowly open my eyes to find Hannah hovering over me like an angel backlit by the humming fluorescent lighting. I prop my head up to find the giant security guard standing beside her.
“Believe it or not, that wasn’t my first time being tackled by a security guard,” I say. I slowly roll to my knees, pausing in a just-hit-by-a-car cat yoga pose to gather my bearings.
Hannah offers her hand and helps me to my feet. “She’s with me,” she tells the remorseful security guard.
“That was embarrassing.” I hold the side of my head that ricocheted off the floor.
“Don’t worry, I don’t think anyone noticed.”
I look up to find everyone in a fifty-foot vicinity staring at me in shock. Several people have their phones out ready to record a viral video of a deranged hockey stalker attempting to attack the team’s superstars. I give an awkward wave before darting around the corner. Hannah’s shoes click and clack as she follows me.
I brace myself on the wall out of view. I’m not sure if I’m queasy from the hit or nervous to see Jaylen. The sparkles on Hannah’s jacket catch my eye and distract me from the pain. “Cute jacket,” I say.
She does a spin. It’s a custom bomber jacket with Caldwell stitched across the back and her husband’s number bedazzled on the arm.
“We have one for you, if you still…” She trails off, tugging on the sleeve of her coat.
“I’m not sure Jaylen wants me wearing his number anymore.” I touch the gold thirteen pendant hanging from my neck. I haven’t taken it off since he gifted it to me.
Hannah winces and offers me the drink in her hand, which I accept. While I start chugging what’s left, Hannah leans in and says, “I’m sorry. Not only about Jaylen, but I know you were in the bathroom at the team dinner. Bianca can be so catty sometimes. I never meant to cause a rift between you and Jaylen. Hockey might be his first love, but it’s not his only.”
I wipe the back of my hand across my mouth. “It’s fine. I was the one who let my own insecurities get in the way.” What people think of me has never been my problem, but that night I felt so self-conscious and out of place. And worse, I let it get to my relationship.
“No, it’s not okay. I’m pretty sure Mallory called you a lesbian too.”
“That’s not an insult…” I start to explain, but Hannah continues on.
“People already think the worst of us, but I promise we’re harmless. I know how it feels to have people judge you and talk badly behind your back. Lots of people think we’re all gold diggers,” Hannah says.
I try to say the right thing by adding a dramatic gasp and a lengthy nooo , but Hannah waves me off and continues to explain herself.
“They do. They think that we’re only with the guys for their money, following along behind them like a trophy wife for them to show off. I’m not. I’ve been with Evan since we had nothing. Since I was the one paying for his rolls of stick tape. I gave up a lot to make it work and I’d make the same choices a hundred times over.”
“For the record, I don’t think you’re a gold digger. You’re married to a handsome guy with full dental benefits and great seats to every Rainiers game. If I was going to call you anything, I’d call you smart.”
She smiles. “Thanks.” Her phone chimes loudly from her purse. She takes it out and silences the call. “My parents already want to know when we’re going to be home for the offseason.”
The sight of her phone jogs my memory. Jaylen and Hunter Gunn weren’t the only people owed a reply. “Oh! I keep forgetting to text you back. I’ll do the commissions. Pass my number along to whoever.”
Hannah gasps. “Does that mean you’re staying in Seattle? Wait, does Jaylen know? We need to find him immediately so you can go get the league’s most desirable free agent and make him an offer he can’t refuse.” Her smile is encouraging.
“I don’t know what that means, but I think you’re wishing me good luck.”
She links her arm in mine and brings me into the family room. Weaving through reunited families, I scour the room for Jaylen, but can’t find him. I try calling his phone, but it goes straight to voicemail. As I peek my head in the bathroom, I hear a familiar voice.
“He’s already gone,” Bianca says, sitting in a chair in the corner of the room, sipping wine. “I overheard him talking to one of the guys. He said he could really go for a weird night—whatever that means. I can text you and let you know where we all end up going out tonight,” she adds, in a way that feels like the closest thing to an apology she’s capable of.
She didn’t have to say anything to me. She could have ignored me completely and relished in my dismay, but I’m glad she didn’t.
“I think I know where to find him. Thanks,” I say, and run out of there like security is still chasing me.
* * *
I rush into Purple Haze and scan the room for Jaylen. It’s dim and already filling up for the night. I see a bunch of Jones Rainiers jerseys, but no Jaylen.
“Great, you again. You can’t bully me into turning the game off this time.” The bartender throws a rag over his shoulder and leans over the bar, standing his ground.
“That’s not why I’m here.” I hold up my phone, showing the bartender Jaylen’s hockey headshot. “I’m looking for this guy. Have you seen him?” I ask.
He laughs. “The comeback kid? Yeah, I’ve seen him.” I eagerly search the bar top for Jaylen. “He’s right here.” The bartender points to the TV behind him. It’s a replay of Jaylen’s pregame on-ice interview. I thank the bartender and leave empty-handed.
I run up the street and barge into Trolls Bridge, a few locals turning as I come bursting through the door. None of them are Jaylen. I worry I’m too late, or worse, I’ve completely misunderstood him, and he’s already forgotten all about me and the weirdest night of his life. I run to the final spot, faster and faster as if my pace can turn back time.
As I hurry up the road, I see him. He’s slumped on the curb, staring at the tattoo shop across the street. There’s a new thirteen sign dangling from the awning, only this time it’s heavily reinforced with chains and screws.
“Your phone’s off.” My breathing is labored from the run. My heart doesn’t let up as I slow my pace, approaching him. Jaylen still remembers that night—our night—yet I might be too late to make things right between us. As I get closer to him, I see it. A beard. Well, more like a patchy scruff. Still, he must be feeling miserable to let himself go like that. I sit on the curb next to him. “I like your new look. It’s very Drake of you.” I ease into conversation.
“It’s a playoff beard. It will be gone tomorrow.” Jaylen keeps his head hung.
Oh, thank god. I was really worried for a second. Beards are bangs for men; when they appear unprompted it’s a cause for concern. “I tried to find you after the game, but everyone said you already left.”
“I needed to get out of there. I could feel my chest getting tight.” He rubs his hand across his chest like external compressions. His eyes still avoid mine as he stares ahead.
“Are you okay?” I want to touch him, but I’m not sure I’m allowed anymore.
“Shouldn’t you be gone?” There’s little emotion in Jaylen’s voice, and even less in his face.
“I turned down the apprenticeship.” I tuck my legs into my chest, staring across the street at the new sign. I can’t believe he convinced me to steal it that night, and yet now there isn’t much I wouldn’t do for him.
So much has changed since the last time we were sitting on this curb together. I’m painting again. I’ve cut myself free from the expectations I had for my dad. I haven’t even stolen anything in a while. But when I look at Jaylen, it’s hard to believe any time has passed at all. I still want to follow him into the night and wind up tangled in his bed. I want him to whisper nice things into my ear, and this time I’ll be sure to believe them.
“You did what?” He finally looks my way. There’s just enough light from nearby streetlights to see his brows strain together as he searches for an explanation.
“Not because of you,” I say, quickly blurting out the words. “Well, that’s not completely true. You helped me realize that my infatuation with a tattoo apprenticeship was really an attempt to run away from old wounds. I should be painting. I am painting.” I motion to my paint-smeared attire.
“Really? Good for you, then. I guess you’ll have to find another way to tell your dad to go fuck himself.” He fights a smile.
“Don’t worry, I found a way. But I didn’t come here to talk about my dad. I have something to show you. Will you come with me?”
“I don’t know, Lucy. I’m beat.”
I pull myself up off the curb. “I’ll carry you on my back if I have to. Please,” I say, looking down at him. My bottom lip droops and I hold out my hand. He reaches out, once again putting his trust in me.
I bring Jaylen to Brewed This Way, stopping him right in front of the giant mural I painted on the side of Cooper’s café this afternoon. It was an ambitious undertaking considering the time constraint, and my wrist is still limp, but I need Jaylen to see how I feel about him. I want everyone to see how much I love him.
It’s a collage in which I’ve included the infamous stolen thirteen sign, my thirteen heart tattoo, the Trolls Bridge glowing neon sign, Zuko and Katara from Avatar , a few other meaningful relics only we understand, and finally, a large portrait of Jaylen in the middle. Across the top the words “Can I have another shot?” are painted boldly.
“I usually paint houses for the people I love, but every time I tried to paint your apartment, I kept seeing your face. I think my Finding Home series is complete, because when I’m with you I feel like I’ve finally found it.”
Staring up at the mural, he whispers, “It’s beautiful.”
“I’m so sorry, Jay. I’ve been running from the things I love for so long that when settling down was finally a possibility, I didn’t know how to stop myself.” A brisk breeze blows on the back of my neck, but I still feel flush.
“You really hurt me when you left.” He turns away from me, looking down at his feet.
“I know. I was trying to hurt myself, but I took us both down instead.” I reach for him, but my grasp slips.
“And now what?” He shrugs, sticking one hand in his pocket while the other rubs across his face—doing anything to avoid eye contact. “Do you actually know what you want this time?”
“I want you. Real life could never measure up to a painting until you stepped onto my canvas. I’m sorry is not enough and I’ll spend forever wishing you good luck and painting you murals if it makes you happy. If it means I can still know you.”
Jaylen looks at me with the same patient eyes and the same longing as he did months ago when I first looked into them on a street corner not too far from here. “I’ve missed you. Not just your texts before my games, but I’ve missed you in my life.”
“You have?” I can’t hold back my eagerness as my body shakes with shameless desperation.
Jaylen nods, and there’s a hint of an upturn to his lips. He grabs my hand and pulls me in close beside him. He lifts my hand to his mouth and kisses the thirteen tattoo on the inside of my wrist.
“Say you’re my girlfriend,” he says, holding my hand.
I smile, clinging to him with my fingers digging into the flesh of his hand. I can’t let him slip out of my grasp again. “I’m your girlfriend.”
Jaylen wraps his arm around my shoulders, and I lean into him as we look at the mural together. Two large security lights on the corners of the building illuminate the art like spotlights. “I can’t believe Cooper let you paint this huge mural on the side of his building.”
“It came at a price. I have to cover it with a mural of his face on Lady Gaga’s body tomorrow.”
Jaylen laughs softly. “Probably for the best. It’s beautiful, but it also kind of looks like I died tragically and I’m worried people are going to start leaving flowers on the ground in front of it.”
I cock my head to the side. “Oh god, it does. And the text is incredibly insensitive. I’m sorry, I haven’t been sleeping much lately, and I only had a few hours to get this thing done.”
Jaylen takes me into his arms and kisses my self-doubt away. Under the dark indigo blue sky and glowing moon, his mouth parts and I wrap my hands around the back of his neck. I savor the kiss, internally battling between not wanting to ever pull away and wanting to immediately head back to Jaylen’s apartment and crawl into bed with him.
Hand in hand we head down the street together. “I’m sorry you lost tonight,” I say.
“It doesn’t feel that way.” He gives me a discreet wink. “So, you’re really staying in Seattle?” He swings our hands back and forth in motion with our steps.
“Actually…”
Jaylen stops walking. “You’re not?” Anchoring himself on my arm, I snag back to him.
“I was hoping your offer for the summer still stood. I’ve always wanted to visit the Art Institute of Chicago.” I peer up at him, anxious for his reaction.
A welcoming smile engulfs his face. He quickly drops his grin and tries out an unfitting cool-guy act. “I might have room for my good-luck charm. You know, you’re luckier than we thought. I’m signing long-term with the Rainiers,” he says casually.
“You did it!” I jump into his arms, my interlocked fingers tethered to the back of his neck. “I knew you would. I’m so happy for you, Jay; you got everything you always wanted.”
“If I’ve got you, I’ve got it all.” He picks me up and we kiss under the streetlight.