Chapter 2
two
. . .
jett
Hadley will probably always hate me, but I didn’t expect every pore to radiate pure loathing. Yeah, okay—I shattered her heart. But I was seventeen. Back then, stupid wasn’t just an adverb. It was a lifestyle.
I stop at my Lambo, closing my eyes as her anger presses against my chest. It’s the same weight I felt walking into my house as a kid, never knowing which version of Dad I’d find—the laughing coach who taught me to skate or the hollow-eyed stranger passed out in his recliner.
Leaving Hadley had felt like the only way to protect her. From the chaos that lived in my family, from the shame of watching me juggle Dad’s rehab and Mom’s stack of unpaid bills, from seeing the guy I was becoming and not recognizing anymore.
The familiar itch of anxiety crawls up my spine. Ten years sober for him, then one bad day destroyed everything he’d built. And now, nine months clean for me after my own spiral when he died. Some days, I still wake up in a cold sweat, terrified I’ve become him.
I check the sobriety tracker on my phone—271 days. Not nearly enough to make up for what I did to Hadley, but it’s a start.
“Jett!”
I turn, and Vivian’s nearly breaking a hip trying to walk-run. She reaches me, slightly out of breath. “Hey, don’t forget you’re a guest on The Morning Skate tomorrow.”
My shoulders round, and I deflate like a busted pool float. Truth be told, most of the time I feel like I’m drowning since I missed that kid’s camp—which I didn’t mean to miss. “Are they going to ask about Camp Junior Blades?”
Six months ago, a scheduling mix-up made me miss the camp engagement. I’ve explained until I’m blue in the face, but the internet doesn’t care. My social media is still filled with angry fans calling me all sorts of things.
“I’m almost one hundred percent sure Greer will ask about it. It’s not going to die anytime soon. Not until they’ve got something else to talk about.”
Well, at least she was honest. Right after the whole debacle, I’d hired an image rehabilitator, and they’d lied like dogs until I realized they didn’t care about me. Just the money.
But Vivian… I tilt my head. “Vivian, I need your help.”
She snorts. “Oh, no. I’m here as media manager for the Bobcats. Not your personal… whatever.” She crosses her arms over her chest. “You broke my best friend’s heart. Ripped it to shreds. She cried for weeks, months after you dumped her. I’m not helping you.”
I rake my hand through my hair, wishing to all things holy I could catch a break, but to be fair, as much as I hated it, I deserved it. All of it.
Did I dump Hadley by text? Yes.
Did I tell her I wanted to pursue my career? Yup.
Did I tell her why I had to do it? No.
She would have tried to fix things, and it was my problem. And I was embarrassed. Everyone thought I had it together. My family was picture perfect… Only the photograph wasn’t telling the whole story.
When I was being transferred from my old team, I had four different offers from four different teams, and I picked the Bobcats because, well, I still love Hadley.
I’ve missed her. Her scent, her laughter, her warmth, and most of all, I miss her grounding me.
Maybe my life wouldn’t have gone sideways if I’d been smart enough to ask her to go with me.
If thirty-two-year-old me were to advise seventeen-year-old me, I’d tell him to swallow his pride, tell Hadley the truth, and figure things out from there.
“Vivi—”
“Nope!” She snaps and spins to leave.
I grab her arm. “Vivi—please!”
Maybe it’s the desperation in my voice or divine intervention, but she stops and looks at me. Her eyes narrow, and her jaw flexes. “What?” The “t” is so sharp it could give me a life-threatening injury.
“Could you just…” I guess I’ve hit my wits’ end because the next words out of my mouth are so unplanned, even I’m shocked by the revelation. “I need help. I know I screwed up. I know I hurt her, but I was hurting too. I just… I love her, Vivian. I’ve never stopped. If you’ll just let me explain…”
Her posture softens. She stares at me for what feels like an eternity plus thirty years.
I throw my hands in the air. I can’t win. My last team? I couldn’t win. My coach, my family? Same story. Now Hadley? One more battle I’m losing.
I turn to slide into my car, and Vivi goes, “Wait.”
When I face her, I’m not hiding anything. I’m sure my face looks how I feel. Defeated. “I can’t take anymore.”
Her eyebrows squinch up.
“Stop looking at me like that. Like you’re trying to decide if I’m lying or not.”
She shrugs. “Well… how do I know you aren’t? Did you really think I wouldn’t go through all your social media before you got here? I’m good at my job because I’m thorough.”
Okay, she had me there. I was seventeen, free from my family’s chaos, and I made mistakes. But I cleaned up fast—until Dad died. Then I unraveled again. Missing that camp was just another failure.
“Just have coffee with me. That’s all I ask. Let me explain. Okay?”
Vivi cocks her jaw, and her eyes narrow. “Fine, but I’m getting a ride in that car, and we’re going to the good coffee shop with the expensive muffins. I’m getting two. One for Hadley.”
“Will she eat it if she knows I paid?”
“Who’s gonna tell her?”
I glance at the school’s windows. “Isn’t she going to see you getting in my car?” There is no way Hadley isn’t watching us right now.
She waves me off. “Nah, she called Superintendent Metcalf the second I left her office. If I know Hadley, and I do, she’s using everything in her toolkit of charm to talk Leah out of letting you coach the Icebreakers.”
I fidget with my sobriety coin in my pocket—a nervous habit since Dad died—turning it over between my fingers. Nine months of better choices. Nine months of facing my problems instead of trying to drown them.
“Think she’ll win?”
Vivi grins wide. “Depends on how good the coffee is and what you’ve got to say.”
I laugh. “All right.”
Maybe that dark cloud that showed up a year ago is finally shrinking. I can only hope and pray that it is. I need a break. A big break. At this point, I’m willing to juice a field of four-leaf clovers and chug it if it means my luck will turn around.