Chapter 34 Taevin #2
The sound of a whirring heartbeat echoing off the walls only hours ago is now replaced by the chants and cheers of the Harvard student section as I watch the love of my life skate to center ice to start the game.
Across the faceoff circle from Jackson is a player with a familiar last name splayed across his shoulders.
TURNER.
Griffin plays for Emery University, and though I watched him a few times on the ice this summer playing in pickup games against Jax and Carson, I hardly recognized him when he skated by our seats earlier during warmups. He looked so broken.
His little sister Katie was killed last month in a drunk driving accident that almost claimed Kenna’s life too.
I wasn’t able to make it back for the funeral because Kyle scheduled my first gig in Nashville.
But I should’ve gone. I should’ve turned down the gig. It would’ve been the right thing to do, especially considering how emotional I was.
Even though I didn’t know Katie for that long, it didn’t matter. She accepted me as a part of their friend group without question and with open arms. She was kind, caring, smart, beautiful, funny as hell, and young with a full life ahead of her that was stolen in the blink of an eye.
Tears well in my eyes as regret churns in my stomach.
I should’ve been there. For Kenna. For Griffin. For Carson. But most importantly, for Jax.
Jackson reaches his gloved hand across the red line to give Griffin knucks but Griff just shakes his head once and crouches down to get ready to take the faceoff. Jax’s shoulders fall in defeat before he mirrors Griff’s position.
The puck is dropped and Griffin wins the faceoff back to one of his defensemen.
From what Jax told me this summer, Harvard’s team is young with mostly freshmen and sophomores making up the roster aside from their junior goalie, Enzo Calvetti.
Just as I think of the name, it’s announced over the roar of the crowd as Calvetti makes a glove save off of an Emery winger’s shot on goal.
“Not today, asshole!” Ryan shouts, causing a few Harvard fans around us to cheer and high five her.
Shaking my head, I bring my gloved hand to cover my laugh.
I have the best friend in the world.
She knows just how to ease my mind and quell my anxious thoughts that were riddling me only moments ago.
I decide right here and now to make a vow to myself.
For the next few hours, I won’t think about all of the ways my life is about to irrevocably change in the coming months.
Instead, I’m going to watch the man I married live out his dream of playing college hockey for the next three periods before I turn his world upside down.
I’m going to pretend his dad didn’t blackmail me into breaking both of our hearts, that I didn’t accept a record deal that thwarted our plans for college together in Boston. Instead, I’ll imagine I did move into my dorm at Berklee and I’m here supporting Jackson.
One truth still remains: I’m still his, and no matter what happens, I always will be.
The game is closer than I thought it’d be considering I overheard a few guys in front of us talking about how much older Emery’s team was than ours and that they had planned to leave after the first or second period because they were sure it’d be a blow out.
Instead, Harvard managed to hold them to a tie with only a goal apiece.
Apparently there are a few parties where it’s likely players from both teams will be in attendance considering how close the universities are in proximity to each other.
Ryan does some digging on social media and finds a party where some of the Harvard players are going.
Feeling unsure of myself, I wring my hands together as we walk into the foyer of a Harvard frat house. The loud music makes it hard to hear anything Ryan is trying to tell me, so she leans in and yells, “Give me your hand so we don’t lose track of each other!”
I place my hand in hers as she works her way through the crowded entryway and living room areas toward the large kitchen at the back of the house. An oversized island is littered with liquor bottles and mixers that I gloss over without a thought as I search for Jax in the sea of people.
A guy with jet black hair that looks as if he’s just showered reaches across me for a bottle of Diet Coke to mix into his cup.
“Pardon my reach,” he murmurs, giving us an easygoing grin.
He looks vaguely familiar, though I can’t place where I’ve seen him.
The guy catches me staring when he turns to face me and he must misinterpret my puzzled look for intrigue because he says, “Were you ladies at the game tonight?”
Ryan answers, “We were.”
“Yeah? Nice. Who were you cheering for, Harvard or Emery?”
“Harvard. My girl here is actually hoping to find Jackson Wilson. Do you happen to know if he’s at this party?” Ryan asks, looping her arm through mine and blinking innocently at the guy.
“Wilson? What is a gorgeous girl like yourself doing wasting your time with a rookie?” he asks, raising my hackles. Who is this guy?
“She’s his girlfriend,” Ryan tells him, thankfully not telling him that I’m his wife.
“Ah, so you’re the girl who broke the rookie’s heart.” He pauses to look me up and down while taking a sip of his drink. “You know what, I think I just might know where Wilson is. Come with me,” he suggests.
“Who are you?” I question, finally finding my voice.
“Enzo Calvetti. And from what I hear, you’re Taevin Gray.” Enzo holds his hand out and I hesitate for a moment before shaking it.
“Nice to meet you. You had a good game tonight.”
He clenches his jaw before mustering a curt, “Thanks.”
I nod. “So . . . Jax?”
“Right. Follow me.” Enzo nods behind him and we follow him toward the back of the house into a large den that has five couches surrounding a pool table.
There looks to be about a dozen guys all with Harvard hockey sweatshirts or stocking hats on.
They’re either sitting together on the couches or playing pool.
Off in the corner there’s also a group of girls talking to a few guys.
“Oh shit,” Enzo murmurs at the same time my eyes land on my husband for the first time in over six weeks.
As if in slow motion, I watch as a girl sits down on his lap, wraps her arms around his neck, and leans in for a kiss.
My heart sinks to my stomach and my mouth becomes watery from the nausea threatening to take over. I cover my mouth and run from the room in search of the nearest bathroom.
Ryan hooks her arm around my elbow and guides me to a sliding door that brings us out to the side of the house. I’m throwing up into the bushes before I’ve even taken three steps.
“Motherfucker!” Ryan seethes while simultaneously holding my hair and rubbing soothing circles on my back.
Pain ricochets from my chest to my stomach but the pain in my abdomen is different from the heartbreak I’m experiencing.
A stabbing pain has nausea rolling through me again and sweat dotting my brow.
“Something’s wrong,” I gasp through the heaves wracking my body.
“Unfortunately I think he’s just an asshole,” Ryan counters, misunderstanding what I’m trying to tell her.
“No—” I breathe. “Something is wrong.” Just as the words leave my lips, my pants soak with a gush of liquid.
I bring my hand between my legs and even in the dim lighting from the nearby outdoor light I can make out the blood covering the pads of my fingers.
In disbelief, I frantically swipe my other hand through my legs and it comes up covered.
Blood. There’s so much blood. It’s soaked through my pants. I fall to the ground and drop my head into my hands as sobs wrack my body with an unyielding force as the likely reality of my situation hits me.
“Oh my gosh! Tae, we need to go to the hospital. That’s a lot of blood.”
“I can’t, Ry. Not yet. He doesn’t know. Jackson doesn’t even know.”
I can hardly breathe as tears stream down my cheeks. Ryan uses all of her strength to get me to my feet before guiding me toward the street where an Uber is waiting.
“Please take us to the nearest hospital!” she shouts to the driver.
“Are you Angela? It says you’re going to Shake Shack—” he starts, but Ryan cuts him off.
“I’ll give you a hundred bucks cash if you just bring us to a fucking hospital!”
“This better not mess up my driver’s score,” he mumbles as he puts the car in drive.
It’s been two days since I heard my baby’s heartbeat for the first and last time.
Cervical incompetence. That’s what caused me to miscarry the baby I only got to know about for a matter of hours.
How can God be so cruel?
Why should I even believe He’s real when so much has been stolen from me?
My mother. My marriage. My baby.
“Do you want a cup of tea?” my dad asks, startling me from my thoughts.
I pull the sleeves of my sweater over my hands and ball them into fists. “No thank you.”
“Taev—” he starts but hesitates, rubbing the back of his head. “I know I’m probably the last person you want to talk about this with considering everything you’ve just gone through, but are you sure this is what you want?”
Tears well in my eyes for what has to be the hundredth time today, and I sniffle before nodding my head. “I’m sure, Dad. I need to move on from this.”
He sighs. “I understand that, honey. But don’t you think you should try to talk to Jackson before you blindside him like this?”
My bone-deep agony is temporarily replaced by anger as I stare at my dad. “Are you seriously trying to defend him right now? I just miscarried our baby after watching my husband kiss another woman.”
My dad crosses his arms and looks down at the floor, unwilling to meet my eyes that I’m sure are full of fury.
How can he defend someone he hardly even liked?
Especially after I unexpectedly came home this morning and told him that not only had I eloped behind his back, but I also managed to get myself pregnant at eighteen.
“I’m not defending or excusing his actions, Taevin.
I’m simply trying to do my job as your father and make sure you’ve fully thought this through.
I don’t want you to make a rash decision when you’re hurt and angry.
You exchanged vows. Filing for an annulment would mean on paper that your marriage never happened. ”
“That’s exactly what I want. Besides, Jackson broke those vows.”
“Didn’t you break them first when you left?” he counters, and my stomach sinks. But there’s no sense in telling my dad the reason for my leaving now. Not when Senator Wilson went so far as threatening my father’s position at the church too.
Regardless of who broke whose heart first, this is what is for the best.
“I want an annulment, Dad. And I came here to ask for your help. If you can’t do that, then I’ll do it on my own from my apartment in Nashville,” I snap back at him.
My dad puts his hands up in surrender. “Alright. If you’re sure, I’ll help you. Just give me a day to have the paperwork drawn up. Then you can sign it before you fly back to Nashville and the lawyer will send it to him.”
“Thank you,” I murmur just as my phone rings.
Kyle’s name flashes across the screen and before I answer, I look up at my dad. “I’ve got to take this, I’ll be right back,” I tell him before walking up the stairs to my room and answering the call.
“Hey Kyle,” I greet.
“Taevin! There you are, I’ve tried calling for hours now. How are you doing?”
“I’m okay. I just got settled at my dad’s house in Minnesota. I’ll probably be here for another day or two before I fly back to Nashville.”
“But you’ve got the studio booked for a recording session tomorrow afternoon.”
“I won’t be there, Kyle,” I tell him, barely restrained frustration lacing my tone.
“You can’t throw away your entire future because of a bad breakup, Taevin.”
As much as I want to snap at him for assuming he knows what happened or what’s best for me after only knowing me for two months, I swallow down my angry retort and take a deep breath.
“It wasn’t just a bad breakup. I, um, I actually was pregnant.”
“Pregnant?!” he echoes back in disbelief.
“Yeah, and I unfortunately miscarried when I was visiting my friend in Boston. That’s why I’m home.”
“Are you—” he starts but huffs out a breath. “Do you need—” he cuts himself off again, sighing. “What can I do?”
“Nothing. There’s nothing you can do. I just needed to be home for a few days.”
Kyle clears his throat. “I understand. And I’m sorry to hear about your miscarriage.”
“Um, thanks,” I mumble, swallowing past the swell of emotion.
There’s a long pause on the other end of the line before Kyle lets out a heavy sigh. “Maybe it wasn’t meant to be, Taevin. Maybe this was God’s way of telling you you’re truly not meant to be with Jackson.”
I rear my head back. “How could that be? The only real reason we’re not together right now is because his father is terrible. I’m fairly certain he’s the devil disguised as a senator.”
“Isn’t that the case with most politicians?”
His blasé tone grinds on my last thread of patience. Did he just really imply that my miscarriage was God’s attempt to break Jax and I up for good?
When I don’t respond after nearly a minute, Kyle apologizes.
“Look, I’m sorry. That didn’t come out right.
What I should’ve suggested was that you should take a few days and then when you’re ready, come back to Nashville and pour your heart into new music.
Maybe then something good can come from this. ”
I couldn’t possibly write about my miscarriage.
Instead of telling Kyle that, I decide to end this phone call as quickly as possible before I say something that will likely ruin the only thing I have going for me right now.
“Yeah, maybe,” I placate him with a lie. “I’m going to try to take a nap. It’s been a long few days and I’m still in quite a bit of pain.”
“Of course. I’ll let you go so you can rest up.”
After mustering a quick goodbye, I hang up and toss my phone onto my bed before crawling under the covers and wishing there was something that could ease this pain and the heartbreak threatening to consume me.
I’d do anything to numb the ache so I never have to feel this way again.