Chapter 14 #2
I close my eyes, breathing deeply to calm my racing heart, imagining going to that godforsaken town and pummeling everybody I come across.
“They made fun of my teeth, called me Bucky Beaver. I’m not even sure who started it, but as early as I can remember, that’s what I was called, by everyone. The whole town.”
I’ll knock some fucking teeth loose. See who’s Bucky Beaver then.
“I wanted braces, but my parents couldn’t afford it…not with all the money they were putting toward Lizzie’s pageants. And later, when I was older, they made fun of anything they could, my nose, my hair, my skin. I had really bad acne, and… I just wanted to disappear.”
She doesn’t say it, but I understand the double meaning. She wanted to disappear permanently, and I don’t want to imagine a world without Josephine Atkins in it.
“You don’t deserve that,” I tell her. “Not then, and not now. And I’m sorry I had any part in making you feel that way.”
She scoots toward me, parting her knees so I’m cradled in the space between her thighs, staring up at her beautiful face.
Because I don’t care what anyone says, she is beautiful.
I love her teeth and when she finally gives up her fight and smiles my way.
I love the way she scrunches her nose when I say something that annoys her and how I can read everything she’s feeling because of her expressive eyes.
I love the way she focuses behind her camera and holds herself, confident in her work.
I love the way she doesn’t look like anyone else in the world because she’s mine. My Jo.
“That’s what I’m trying to tell you, though,” she says quietly, meeting my gaze. “You’ve never made me feel like that. None of this mess is your fault.”
“So why did you tell me you don’t want to be with me anymore?”
She scrunches her nose in that way I love, but I don’t love her next words. “We’re not together. Not for real.”
I wave them away. “You know what I mean.”
She sniffles. “I can’t keep doing this. I can’t keep being reminded of all the worst things I’ve ever thought about myself, when I’ve done so much work to be better.”
“But isn’t that what they want? You can’t give in, not if…” I swallow down my words, not if this is what you want.
Not if I’m what you want.
Because let’s be fucking for real, I want her. I want Jo, and I want her to want me back.
“You said it yourself, you’ve done so much work to get to this place where you feel good about yourself, so don’t let them win. Don’t listen to them. They don’t matter.”
Her throat lifts on a swallow, and she licks her cracked lips. “I know, but it’s hard.”
Even though my feelings for Jo might have grown, I know hers haven’t, so I return to the original purpose of our fake engagement. “But think about how good it will feel to rub your sister’s face in it when I walk into your great-grandma’s party.”
“You’re not going.”
“You bet your sweet ass I am. We’ll tell that whole town to kiss it.”
That earns a short laugh. Barely a puff of sound, but it’s something.
“Come on, Jojo. Say Yes, Nico. Yes, you’ll come with me to my family’s party.”
She heaves a sigh, her voice monotone. “Yes, Nico. You’ll come with me to my family’s party.”
I wind my arms around her middle, hugging her, my cheek against her breast, and a few moments later, I feel her fingers tentatively stroke my hair, a flower of hope through the crack in the sidewalk. “I can’t let you go yet. The season’s not over.”
I feel more than hear her hum. “Have they told you anything about your position on the team? Is the front office happy?”
I don’t actually know. Couldn’t care less at this moment in time, but yeah, that was my reason for sticking my ring on her finger so…
“I’m safe, as of now. Coach was happy about my play last night, and I’ll have more minutes on the ice since Rovie’s out for the next few games. You gonna miss me while I’m gone?”
“Not one bit.” I love sassy Jo, and I back a few inches away from her, finding that quirk to her lips. One step at a time, I’ll get her back to herself.
“I won’t miss you at all either,” I say, standing up, only to flop on her bed. “Which is why I plan on hanging out here for the day.” At her brow raise, I pat the spot next to me. “I believe you owe me a movie from last night.”
She rolls her eyes but hands her laptop over to me, once again trusting me with her private details and log-in.
I make a mental note to text her all the log-ins for my streaming accounts and set her up with my laundry service.
I don’t like that she has to take all of it on public transportation to the laundromat when I can have someone come pick it up and drop it off when it’s done.
I’d also like to get her a weekly food delivery and buy her a car, but I doubt she’d be down with either.
One thing at a time.
Starting with a movie.
I decide on Underworld, and she teases me about how much I love my fated mates trope. I don’t deny it, lifting my arm so she’ll cuddle into my side, and she starts to move but suddenly stops. “Wait. How did you even get in here? The door was locked downstairs.”
“Oh yeah. I, uh, broke it down.”
“Nico,” she chides, and I lift my hand because what else was I supposed to do? She wasn’t answering, and I wasn’t waiting.
“I’ll need the name and number of the rental manager, so I can pay for a better door and lock than that piece of shit. All it took was a couple of kicks.”
“So, you’re telling me the downstairs door is open right now?”
“No, it’s closed, but off its hinges.”
“Nico.”
“Text me the contact info right now, and I’ll take care of it.”
She huffs and puffs but texts me, and I press pause on the movie to make the phone call to a guy named Omar, who’s not a fan of hockey but is happy enough to know I’ll pay for a replacement door and extra locks as well as the rest of her year’s rent if he can fix it today.
Jo hisses my name and punches my shoulder when I make that particular offer, but I end my conversation with Omar before she can take it back.
I catch her hand when she fists it for another wallop. “Now, now, Josephine. Violence is never the answer.”
“Your whole job is literal violent figure skating.”
I tilt my head. “Not necessarily wrong.”
She growls cutely. “You can’t pay my rent.”
I press play on the movie and scoot down, opening my arm so she’ll cuddle with me once again. “If we were really getting married, you’d be living with me, so you should be happy I’m not moving you in with me.”
She huffs. “You are such a caveman.”
“And you’re wearing my ring, babe, so say th—”
“Thank you, Nico,” she drones and throws herself down to the mattress so her hair whips against my face.
I pull the strands out of my mouth, murmuring, “So violent.”
She digs her finger into my side, and I shriek because it tickles, and when she realizes, she dances all of her fingers along my ribs, making me rock and roll away from her. When I glare at her since she’s found my weakness, she grins back, knowing she’s won this round.
Which I think is what makes her snuggle into my side, her head on my shoulder, safe in the knowledge that she can take me down at any time. Literally and figuratively.
By the time the movie ends, Omar’s arrived with a handyman, and I spend an hour downstairs with them, making sure everything is up to code then take a few selfies. After, I order Jo and me lunch, and we watch the second Underworld movie until she falls asleep in the middle of the afternoon.
I use the time to dive into the sludge of the online pit. I read the cruel words thrown Jo’s way, so I know exactly what I’m dealing with. So I can silence it.
With the help of Malcolm King.
Not wanting to wake Jo, I slip into the hall outside her apartment when I call him. He answers almost immediately with a terse, “Nico Tremblay, I wasn’t sure if I’d be hearing from you.”
I lean against the wall, my head back, eyes closed. “You’ve seen it?”
“Everything they’re saying about hockey’s biggest player getting married? Yes.”
“Everything they’re saying about Jo?”
“Yes.”
“It’s not good.”
“No.”
“Are you going to help me?”
He doesn’t answer right away, and I squeeze the bridge of my nose between my thumb and forefinger. “You going to make me beg?”
“Why should I help you when you clearly didn’t want me to before?”
“Because I’m an ass. Is that what you want to hear? Because I’m selfish and didn’t want to hear about the possibility of all this…everything I have with her going up in smoke. But you were right. I should have been more careful, and I need your help now to clean up my mess again.”
“So am I doing this for you or for her?”
“For the both of us. For her because she doesn’t deserve any of this, but for me because…because I’m all in with her, and I swear I’ll do whatever you tell me to. I need to protect her, and I need your help to do that.”
He makes an appreciative sound and says the best five words a public relations guy could say to a fuckup like me. “Then I’m glad you called.”