Chapter 31
THIRTY-ONE
SUTTON
- Present Day -
“ D id you seriously start without me?”
I can hear the mock outrage from across the room, and glance up in time to see Jonah walking in, carrying our favorite pizza in one hand, a bottle of wine in the other.
“You snooze, you lose, my dude.” I call out, reaching for the remote to hit play once more.
Quickly crossing the room, the view is obscured as Jonah steps in front of the screen, placing the pizza, wine, and glasses on the coffee table in front of me.
“That’s a total dick move, you know. I was the one who introduced you to this show.”
“Yeah, yeah, quit your griping and sit. It’s almost to the good part.”
One long stride and he rounds the table, plopping down on the sofa beside me and yanking the remote out of my hand.
“Hey! ”
“Nuh, uh. You started without me. The punishment is no more remote privileges for you.” Holding it out of reach, he restarts the episode before settling back against the cushions.
“Jerk.” I grumble under my breath, reaching for a slice of pizza, not bothering to get up to look for a plate.
“Brat.” He responds in kind, leaning sideways to snag a bite out of my slice of pizza as the opening credits for Breaking Bad come into view.
The last several weeks have passed in a blur as we’ve settled into our new routine.
Jonah is gone most mornings before I wake and on game days, he’s either late getting back or doesn’t return at all if it’s for a series of away games.
When he is home though, we spend most of our time binging our shows and just hanging out.
Honestly, if it weren’t for the fact that we live in a ridiculously oversized skyscraper apartment in the heart of downtown, I would swear we were still living our best college lives.
But he is a professional athlete now, and I’m still.
. . just me. I do have an audition coming up next week for the local broadway company’s latest show though, so that at least gives me something productive to work towards outside of my writing.
And, in addition to that, I’ve finally found a good system between working on my songwriting, and finding time to explore the city I once called home.
Trying to establish a better routine for myself, I have taken to daily walks, looking for new hole-in-the-wall diners, coffee shops, and bookstores that pique my interest.
Lena has called several times to check in on things, worried about my encounter with her brother.
Apparently he called her after running into me at the first game and now, according to her, he has been constantly hounding her for information.
She swears up and down that she hasn’t said anything though.
And I trust her. . . mostly. She loves me like a sister, but Callum is her brother.
If it came down to it, if she had to choose a side.
. .well, I know she means well, but I wouldn’t blame her if she ended up picking him.
My phone rings, and my fingers stop their brush strokes over the keys of the piano that I had been playing, trying to find the perfect new harmony for the piece I’ve spent the last two months writing.
As the music fades into soft notes in the background, I swipe my finger across the screen, answering the call.
I don’t even bother to check and see who it is.
The only people who ever call these days are Lena and Jonah.
“Don’t hate me.”
Taking a deep breath, I mentally count to three before I respond.
“You know I am reall y beginning to hate when you start our conversations like this.”
Silence greets me over the line and I close my eyes, exasperated. “Jonah, just tell me.”
I can hear the hesitation in his tone as he responds. “So, apparently there’s this thing. It’s like a big annual party that the team does each winter to celebrate with the families, and then all the partners hang out and do karaoke night or some shit after.”
My lips purse as I consider his words. “So. . . I’m not seeing the issue here. Have fun at the event.” I shrug, feigning nonchalance even as my heart sinks into my stomach.
“ You’re my family, babe. I need you to come to the event with me.”
Dammit.
I may not be his actual ‘girlfriend,’ but to the world, I’m his something , and I am the only family he has here on the west coast. I knew something like this was a possibility when I agreed to move here with him, but it doesn’t stop the anxiety that courses through me, as I think about having to be there. With him .
“ Fine. I must really love you or something.” I grumble belligerently.
And I can hear the smile in his voice as he responds. “I know you do.”
The giggles and squeals of delight bounce around the arena as hockey players guide their families - sons and daughters, nieces and nephews, out onto the ice, skating in slow deliberate motions.
The smell of hot cocoa and popcorn wafts through the air, and I close my eyes, allowing myself a moment to process the sensory overload and my overwhelming feelings.
Jonah squeezes my hand, bringing me back to the present.
“You alright?”
The slight furrow of his brows is the only indication of his concern, but he knows.
I know he’s fully aware of just how hard it is for me to be here, like this.
It took a long time for me to come around, but over the course of our freshman year, I had finally - little by little - opened up to him about my past. My feelings for my best friend’s older brother while growing up, the relentless taunting and bullying I endured in school.
. . basically everything that led up to my avoidance of hockey players and my spiral downward into disordered eating that eventually landed me in treatment after almost dying.
Even before I opened up to him fully, Jonah never asked me to come to another hockey game after the first one I attended at his request; instead, I supported him in other ways even if I couldn’t bring myself to be there in person.
I was always cheering him on from a distance, sending encouraging texts, or swinging by his place for a hug that quickly became part of his pre-game ritual.
I did manage to surprise him once or twice though, on really special occasions, like when they made it into the Frozen Four.
I put my big-girl panties on, bottled up my anxiety and all of my old insecurities, and joined in with the rest of the crowd to cheer on my dear friend in person.
The look of astonishment on his face when he realized I was there made it all worth it.
What I agreed to by coming back to Seattle, though?
It’s a totally different level of commitment when given my history, and he knows it.
Jonah was aware of just how big of an ask it was for me to move back here with him, to come to this family day event, to put myself into this situation where I’m constantly surrounded by memories and a past I can’t escape.
But I also knew that he never would have asked me if he didn’t need my support on a level he wasn’t ready to verbalize.
We‘d become so comfortable with our routine over the years, I think that if he and I were living on opposite sides of the country, neither one of us would have managed well. I’m not ashamed to acknowledge my own co-dependence when it comes to him; how he’s become the most important person in my life.
“I’m okay”, I respond with a nod, and he takes my hand in his own, our gloved fingers intertwined as he gives me a gentle squeeze.
“Food, or skating?”
My nose wrinkles.
“Do I have to be the one to choose?”
He just arches a brow at me. We’re standing on the side of the ice rink, where they‘ve blocked off a section for friends and families to just relax, carpet laid down to provide some traction for those that didn’t feel up to wearing skates.
People mill about, snacking while they talk, or watching the big tough hockey guys play around on the ice with the little kids.
I recognize several of them as players that Jonah had introduced me to before, and their partners.
In one corner, at the far end of the rink, my heart melts as I watch Bash with that little boy of his.
Wolfie, I think his name was, is wearing a similar pair of noise-canceling headphones to the ones that he had worn at the game, and Bash is holding his hands, skating backwards as he helps guide the small child around on the ice.
The boy’s expression is focused as he looks down, carefully watching his feet as they glide across the smooth surface of the rink.
“Let’s skate first.”
Jonah’s words interrupt my distracted gaze, and I nod in acquiescence.
Leading me over to a bench, he gestures for me to sit and we take a few minutes putting on our skates, which he’d carried in his free hand.
It took a lot of digging around in boxes, but eventually I found my old skates.
I haven’t worn them in years, but as I slip into them they feel surprisingly familiar as Jonah leads me onto the ice.
Jonah’s fingers lace with mine as he guides me forward, giving me a moment to get my bearings.
I haven’t skated in I don’t even know how long, at least not since high school, but it doesn’t take long before muscle memory kicks in and I feel less wobbly trying to stay upright.
Glancing in my direction, Jonah notices the slight shift in my demeanor, subtle decrease of nervous energy emanating from me, and his grin has me smiling hesitantly in return.
Still, he doesn’t let go of my hand as we continue to skate several slow laps around the rink.
Instead, he gently squeezes in encouragement, distracting me with stories of when he first learned to skate as a child, and some of his more embarrassing moments on the ice over the years.
For all the time we’ve been friends, I can honestly say I hadn’t heard most of these stories and I find myself laughing at his self-deprecating sense of humor.
“Yo, Newbie! ”
A man I don’t recognize skates up to our side, stopping so abruptly that shaved ice sprays in our direction.
“Hey, watch it, asshole. Not around my girl!” Jonah’s voice comes out all growly, and I flush at his use of ‘my girl.’ I know we’re technically just faking it, and he’s one of my best friends, but sometimes, well, sometimes it feels like the line is more than a little blurred.
The man grimaces, his expression sheepish. “Sorry about that. I was aiming for Davies, here. I’m Helmsy, by the way. Ian Helmsy. But you can call me ‘Hotshot.”
Reaching out a hand, I tentatively grasp it, shaking in acknowledgement. His thick brows wag suggestively, a sly grin on his face as he continues to hold my hand, and I laugh as Jonah glowers at his teammate.
“Dude! What the fuck? She’s taken.”
Jonah tenses, and I can feel the frustration radiating off him.
I know this hasn’t been easy. He didn’t go into details but I know things have been.
. . tense to say the least after they got into a small altercation.
We both knew going in that things might get messy, given my complicated history with Cal but I don’t think he was expecting all of this when he asked me to move here with him to continue being his fake girlfriend.
I certainly wasn’t, and I don’t want it creating even more of a barrier between him and his teammates; I’m not worth him potentially losing his dream job over. Maybe I shouldn’t be here.
Carefully, I shift towards my friend, placing a gentle hand on his chest. “I’m okay, Jonah.” My words are soft, meant only for him.
Freezing, body rigid, he glances from Helmsy to where I’m touching him, and then his shoulders relax. Reaching up, he places his hand over mine, a steadying gesture for both of us, before he glances at his teammate once more.
“What’d you need, Hotshot? ”
Helmsy jerks his head back in the direction of the seating area where several players have gathered.
“Coach O’Reilly wanted to talk to us for a minute.”
“Got it.”
With that, Helmsy turns and skates back to where the other players are waiting along with their head coach.
“Want to come back with me?”
I shake my head slightly. “No, I’m okay. You go ahead. I’ll wait.”
I can see the hesitation on his face, and I gently pat his chest in what I hope is a reassuring gesture.
“I’m fine. Really. I’ve got my bearings now. I promise I’ll do my best not to embarrass you with any of my awesome skating moves.” As I say this, I shimmy my head and shoulders in a mock dance, and he just rolls his eyes.
“I’m more concerned about you falling on your ass and hurting yourself.”
My jaw drops in mock outrage. “Hey! I’ll have you know, I’m so graceful. I make even the butterflies jealous of my innate sense of beauty and poise.” I smack his chest lightly. “Now, go, before you insult me further, you jerk.”
A grin breaks out across his face, he bends down to lightly kiss the corner of my mouth, before skating backward in the direction of his gathering teammates.
Shaking my head as I mutter under my breath about obnoxious roommates, I cautiously attempt to skate forward, and almost do exactly what Jonah was afraid of - fall on my ass - but strong hands find my waist, providing some much needed stability before I completely embarrass myself.
“Oh! Thanks - ”
“Well, well, well. If it isn’t my favorite ice angel.” The voice sends chills down my back, goosebumps raised on my arms as his warm breath caresses the hollow of my ear, scruff rubbing gently along the side of my face.