53. Maya
Maya
Drew took Jamie to a meeting with my dad and the Flyers’ coaching staff to map out what comes next in his hockey career. I’m at their house now, sitting on the couch, waiting for them to get back and hear how it went.
Over the last week, getting Jamie readjusted to everyday life has been only mildly difficult—the man is just so dang stubborn, he won’t ask for help from anyone. Last night, I got off my shift at the shop and walked in to find him trying to put his laundry on a hanger using one hand and his mouth.
After joking that his mouth is better at taking clothes off than putting them on—earning me a swat on the ass—I helped him finish his laundry, though he protested the entire time.
Today, I came over to help him some more—clean his sheets and the bathroom and things like that while he’s out of the house.
The semester is coming to a close, and he didn’t fall behind on too many assignments.
He only had one essay and one quiz to make up from the days he was gone.
Most of his teachers excused the missing work, under the circumstances.
I told him he needs to spend his time worrying about studying for finals so he can graduate, but Jamie seems unperturbed.
He’s hyper-focused on figuring out what’s going to happen with his hockey career—I guess now that his plan to get away from Ross is obsolete, he’s having an existential crisis. It breaks my heart that he’s never been able to just have a dream and work toward it without ulterior motives.
He says he wants to keep playing hockey, that it’s what he loves, and that’s fine. But it’s as if now that he’s choosing that for himself, he’s terrified he’ll never get to play again, and he’s doubling down on the stress rather than relaxing and recovering.
I’m praying that this meeting with the Flyers goes well and that he doesn’t lose his spot in the League.
A knock on the front door pulls me from my thoughts, and I walk over to answer it, unsure who it could be since none of the boys are home.
Standing on the porch is a pretty girl with brown hair and pink highlights.
The girl from New Year’s Eve.
Jamie’s friend, Claire.
“Hi!” she greets, her voice overly friendly and just a decibel short of bursting my eardrums. “Oh my God, I didn’t know you’d be here, I’m so sorry.
I mean, I’m not sorry you’re here, but I’m sorry I showed up unannounced!
Not that I wouldn’t want him to tell you I was here, because of course I would want him to tell you everything, I just mean I didn’t mean to interrupt…
” She trails off, slamming her lips together to stop from spouting more words at me, and I fight back a smile.
“Hi. I’m Maya, and he’s not here,” I say, gesturing for her to come inside.
Claire follows me in, shutting the door behind her. “Oh, okay. Well, this is awkward, then.”
I walk into the kitchen, grabbing a bottle of water and offering her one, too, before hopping up to sit on the counter.
“So, I heard about what happened—actually, I saw it on the news and called him, and he ignored me, so I came all the way here to check on him.” Claire takes a sip of her water, then pulls out one of the chairs at the dining table and makes herself at home.
“Came all the way here from where?” I ask, curiosity getting the better of me. I want to dislike this girl on principle, but that’s not really my style. She’s Jamie’s friend, and he told me there was nothing romantic between them, and I believe him.
But that doesn’t explain what she’s doing here now.
“From Wyoming. I was hiking the Tetons, doing some early Spring wildlife photography for this contract I’m working on. I’m supposed to go to Portugal next month, but I canceled and came straight here when I heard what happened.”
Paul called and told us they were finally releasing news of Ross’s death to the news stations, and prepared Jamie to get a lot of public attention and comments online.
The story was aired last night, and Jamie’s phone’s been on Do Not Disturb mode ever since—the amount of social media notifications coming through was absurd.
Nodding my head, I say, “Yeah, his phone’s been off most of the day. He’s meeting with the NHL now about his spot on the team, so he’s been a little preoccupied, to say the least.”
“And that’s totally fine! I just… I wanted to check in. I know I’m probably not your favorite person, but he’s like a brother to me. I came because I didn’t think he had anyone else in his corner but Drew, and I can see that I was wrong.”
I nod my head slowly. I can’t fault her for wanting to be here for him if she thought he was alone.
“He didn’t tell you about me?” I ask her, and she shrugs, her lips thinning into an unsure line.
“Sort of. After you left that night, he tried to tell me you were nobody, and I called bullshit.
“I was in Australia before New Year’s, and I wanted to attribute his silence to the fact that we were in different time zones, but he had quit texting me almost entirely.
I ended up messaging Drew to ask if Jay was okay, and he told me that Jay was all bent out of shape over this girl from his past. I didn’t know there had ever been a girl in the past, so when I saw you at New Year’s and how upset he was, I knew you weren’t nobody.
” She takes a breath, and her kind brown doe-eyes meet mine.
“I made him tell me the truth, and when he did, I told him he was being stupid for letting you go. I told him I would go explain everything to you myself, but he told me not to contact you. He didn’t listen to anything I had to say on the matter, didn’t want my opinion, and when I left, we were in a bit of a fight.
I’ve been traveling the country since January, and he never told me the two of you got back together.
” Her face is transparent, showing how truly hurt she is that Jamie didn’t trust her with our secret.
Sympathy for her burns in my chest. I don’t know if she’s been alone on the road this entire time or not, but her story makes sense.
Jamie was stubborn and hard-headed about the whole Ross situation before he started going to therapy—refusing help from everyone and pushing away the people who loved him most.
Claire stands up. “It’s alright. I’ll just go. If he wanted me here, he would’ve called after everything happened. I guess he just doesn’t need me anymore…” She moves to leave, but I hop down from the counter to stop her.
“No, wait. He should be home soon, and I think it would be good for the two of you to talk. He has me and he has Drew, but you’re right, he needs as many people in his corner as he can get right now.
” I smile and gesture across the room to the couch.
“Come on. I’d like to get to know another one of Jamie’s friends. ”
The boys come back to find Claire and I curled up on opposite ends of the couch watching reality TV and eating ice cream, the way true female bonding occurs.
I warned Claire that he still looked pretty rough—the swelling in his nose is gone but he’s got two black eyes and a healing split lip, plus the sling on his arm. Even with the warning, though, her eyes tear up when she sees him walk in.
She told me she knew very little about Jamie’s relationship with his father. She knew he hated him, and that was good enough for her to hate Ross, too. I know what she’s feeling first hand; seeing the aftermath of Ross’s abuse in the flesh is gut-wrenching.
“Claire?” Jamie asks, his eyes flicking between the two of us on the sofa. “What are you doing here?”
Claire lets out a watery laugh, standing up and walking over to give him a gentle hug. “Coming to check on you, asshole. Why didn’t you call me?”
Drew waves me over, leading the way out to the back porch to give the two of them some space to talk.
“How’d it go?” I ask when we get settled into the wooden patio chairs, watching the sun set over the treeline.
“Good. He’s not losing his spot in the league. I’ll let him tell you about it, but basically he’s going to wait a year to rehab, and start up next season.”
I let out a huge breath of relief I didn’t even know I was holding.
“Good. I’m glad they were understanding.”
“Yeah, they were actually pretty awesome about the entire thing. They wanted him to heal and recover, and told him they were more worried about his health than gaining another player on the roster right now.”
Drew leans back, folding his arms around his head as he stares off into the distance. “So, you and Claire didn’t kill each other?”
I snort in amusement. “We aren’t like you single-brain-celled men; I’m going to get to know someone before I decide to hate them, thank you very much.”
Drew holds up his hands in surrender. “Hey, ease up, Winchester. I don’t hate anyone. I just figured there’d be some tension in this particular scenario, given the circumstances.”
Shrugging, I turn and face back out toward the skyline. “No. I’m not going to be the reason he’s short another family member. If she’s one of his people, then she’s one of my people.”