Chapter 2
TWO
JAYDE
“I’m going to Turks and Caicos with Reese,” I blurt out to my boss, and if I’m being honest, my closest confidant.
Scott’s eyes nearly fall out of his head and if we weren’t about to discuss my personal, scratch that, romantic life, I’d yelp with glee at catching him off guard.
Scott clears his throat and sits up straighter in his desk chair.
His eyes hold mine for a long beat and finally, he chuckles. “‘Bout damn time, Jayde.”
Um, what? “Excuse me?” I ask, convinced I heard him wrong. What’s about damn time?
“Come on, I know something went down between the two of you.” He arches an eyebrow, challenging me to call bullshit.
But I can’t…because something did go down between Reese and me.
One year ago, drunk and upset about my stupid ex and hurting, I threw myself at Reese Keller and he rejected me.
Worse, he was nice about it. He covered my bar tab, escorted me home, and tucked me into bed like I wasn’t a pathetic, humiliating mess of feelings.
Afterwards, I could barely meet his eyes without feeling an unpleasant rush of mortification.
If there’s one thing I detest, it’s being vulnerable and weak, especially in front of men.
And there I was, practically begging Reese Keller with my drunken words and desperate mouth to take me home and make me forget.
What hockey player, hell, what man would pass that up?
Reese did. And the hurt was worse than the embarrassment.
And now, I’m going to a wedding with him. A destination wedding. Anxiety blooms in my chest as the realization sinks in. “What the fuck am I thinking?” I blurt out, dropping into the chair in front of Scott’s desk and kicking my feet up on the corner. “I can’t go away with Reese. I can’t—”
“Breathe, Jayde,” Scott demands, leaning forward.
“You never do anything you don’t want to.
The fact that you said yes means deep down, you want to go.
You’re curious about this…spark, between you and Keller.
Don’t psych yourself out about it. And don’t admit this to anyone, because I’ll deny it, but Keller is one of the nicest guys on the team.
He’s a good man and if you let yourself, I think you could have a great weekend with him. ”
I huff, letting the air out so it blows my bangs away from my forehead. “Scott, I suck at dating.”
My boss freaking grins. “I know.”
I flip him the middle finger and he laughs.
“Put it this way, if you go and nothing comes of it, at least you don’t have to wonder ‘what if?’ And, if something does come of it, you’ll be too happy to regret going.
And…you won’t have to see this ugly mug for a long weekend.
” He cheeses really hard, and I roll my eyes.
But, there’s that concept again. What if?
What if Reese and I have a future? Since my ex and I called it quits, there’s been no one. A handful of dates through online sites but nothing real. There’s been no one who’s made my heart race or my blood heat, the way it always does around Reese.
And, if I’m being honest with myself, which I loathe doing, I haven’t stopped thinking about Reese Keller either. I haven’t stopped wondering…what if?
What if I give this weekend a real chance? If it goes well, I embrace it, like a normal person with normal emotions. And if sucks…well, then I know. I can move on the same way I have from my ex-boyfriend.
“Get out of here, Jayde. You gotta pack,” Scott reminds me.
I heave out another breath. At the panic that must be obvious on my face, Scott’s expression softens. “It’s going to be okay. You got this.”
“Yeah,” I agree, hardening my tone so Scott doesn’t worry too much. I hate letting my guard down; I hate wearing my heart on my sleeve. “I got it.”
He tries, and fails, to hide his smirk. “See you Monday.”
“See ya.” I give a little wave and leave his office.
As I head for the exit, my nervousness spikes. My mind spins.
What am I doing? Why did I say yes? I waited for months after Reese’s rejection burned me from the inside out. But I’d be lying if I said I didn’t wonder. About him and us and…a stupid future.
No, I’ve made my decision. I’m giving this weekend the chance it deserves. I’m giving Reese and me and a potential us a true chance to develop into something more.
Wait, do I have a cute bathing suit? Fuck, do I even have a cocktail dress for a beach wedding? My style leans edgier. I like black with pops of color. I love a good ripped pair of tights and sparkly bling. I don’t do pastels or peach or whatever the hell is trending.
I pause at the end of the corridor, trying to recall everything in my closet. I have nothing to wear!
“Hey!” A friendly voice greets me.
I turn and nearly weep with relief when I see Abbi Walsh. She’s the girlfriend of Hawks goalie, Luca Pandatelli, and head of Youth Outreach. She also owns a killer wardrobe. We share a slice of the same personality and if anyone can relate to my unease—and loan me a dress—it’s her.
“What’s wrong?” she asks immediately, her eyebrows drawing together.
I take a deep breath and then, I blurt out the whole story. All of it. Taps and Reese and the past year, before getting to the wedding weekend and my lack of attire.
When I’m done, Abbi is smiling. Jeez, what is wrong with these people? Don’t they realize how dire the situation is?
“Calm down, girl. I got you,” she says easily.
“I’ve got one more meeting and then I’m heading home.
I’ll swing by your apartment tonight with a bunch of options.
You’ll be good to go in no time and Jayde, the way Reese looks at you, there’s something there.
Don’t overthink it.” She tilts her head.
“Even when it’s in your nature,” she adds before I can interject. “I got you.”
I nod, starting to calm down because I believe her.
Over the past four years, the Boston Hawks have become my second family.
I’m not a warm and fuzzy girl. I never joined a sorority or had sleepovers with my friends.
I always kicked it with the boys. But the BHH girls, as they’ve taken to calling themselves, have always gone out of their way to make me feel included.
“Thanks, Abbi.”
“Don’t mention it.” She squeezes my arm. “I’ll see you later.”
And she does. Abbi Walsh shows up with Chloe Crawford, the captain’s girlfriend.
They bring armfuls of dresses and skirts, linen pants and cropped tops.
Between the three of us, we’re able to pull together the necessary outfits so that when I arrive at the airport to meet Reese, I’m only mildly, instead of full-blown, panicking.
I’m fucking panicking.
As the plane hits turbulence, I’m gripping the armrests so tightly, my knuckles crack.
My stomach is somewhere around my freshly polished navy-blue toes and my heart is about to come out of my throat. This was a bad idea. I’m not cut out for Reese and sunshine and a beach wedding with his college friends.
“They call me Golden Boy,” he interrupts my downward spiraling thoughts.
“What?” I turn toward him.
His eyes—a vibrant green that reminds me of springtime—hold mine.
“My friends, they call me Golden Boy.” He slips his hand over mine, his palm shadowing the back of my hand, as he continues to talk.
“In college, I was fully committed to hockey. I barely drank, hardly partied, and spent Friday nights catching up on assignments. Or laundry.”
I crack a smile because I can see it. With his light brown hair, always perfectly trimmed and styled, and dimples, Reese Keller looks golden. Sincere and thoughtful and sweet.
At least, those are the characteristics he’s always shown me, even when I haven’t deserved the benefit of the doubt or the kindness. But he’s also showed his team loyalty and respect, and stepped up whenever needed.
“I can see that,” I admit.
His hand grips mine tighter and I realize that I’m no longer clutching the armrests. Instead, I’ve relaxed under his touch and the soothing sound of his voice.
“I’ve told them about you,” he adds, surprising my further.
When he grins, his dimple winks and it’s as endearing as the hesitancy that rings his irises.
Like, he doesn’t want to say too much. I don’t know if he’s worried of scaring me off or worried about baring a truth—I’d be worried about both if the roles were reversed—but I don’t want him to stop talking.
I want him to tell me everything, if only to ease my insecurities. “The first time we met, I told them.”
My mouth drops open. Because—“The first time we met, you had just signed with the Hawks.”
“Your hair was all black then,” he laughs, tipping his chin toward the blue streaks. “I tried to catch your eye and you ignored me.”
“I saw you,” I counter, my eyes narrowed.
Reese laughs again, the sound easy, like he does it all the time. That’s the difference between us. I only laugh when something’s truly funny; Reese chuckles for amusement. “When Mick, the groom, called to see how my first week with the Hawks went, I told him about you.”
“You did?” I’m shifting toward him now, my elbow brushing his, my hand holding his.
“Mm-hmm.” He nods. “And after that night at Taps—”
I grimace, hating everything about that night. Except for the part where I realized what a good man Reese Keller is.
“I don’t know if I stopped talking about you.” His tone is deeper, his voice rumbly. His expression serious.
“Reese—”
“One weekend, Jayde,” he reminds me, squeezing my fingers.
“Yes,” I say, half dazed by the desire shadowing his eyes.
He’s so far out of my league, I don’t know how to respond. My ex-boyfriend couldn’t articulate his feelings, his intentions, if his life depended on it. And I’m not much better. But somehow, with Reese, everything is clear. Honest and open and…sincere. Just like him.
I smile, loving that my smile makes his grow. “Thank you for inviting me,” I add.
He squeezes my fingers again. “I’m glad you came. You have no idea how happy I am to go to this wedding, to have a weekend, with you by my side.”
After that, the flight goes smoother. I barely feel the turbulence. The loop of worries in my mind quiets.
A calmness settles over me and I focus on the feel of my hand in Reese’s. In our connection.
Maybe we’ve always had it and I tried too hard to tune it out. After Reese turned me down, I thought his friendly hellos were him being polite. But maybe that night at Taps was just the beginning. And this weekend, we can see how the rest unfolds.
When the plane touches down in Turks, a glimmer of excitement fills my veins at the possibilities before me.
Reese and I disembark, gather our luggage from baggage claim, and step into the warm, beautiful sunshine. The breeze filters through my hair, his eyes spark, and our weekend together begins.
As we ride in the taxi to the resort, my phone dings with a message.
Scott: Have fun, Jayde. If you need to take more time off, say the word.
I roll my eyes and show Reese the message.
He laughs. “See? Even Scott’s rooting for us.”
I snort in response, but I want Reese to be right. I want everyone to root for us the way my heart secretly is. I want this weekend to be perfect, even if I can’t admit it aloud.