39. Almost
ALMOST
CHELSEA
Istand against the wall, trying to remain unobtrusive while I listen to Brett give an amazing off-the-cuff speech about his experience.
His hockey player media training keeps his message focused—not on him and what happened with Janelle—but on the women and children in the shelter, and the epidemic of cyber revenge that affects so many people in far more life-altering ways than it’s affected him.
I’m so proud of him, fielding questions from the gathered reporters.
I’m also proud of the team. The guys I work with year in and year out stepped up and proved what kind of men they are today.
Each and every one of them jumped on board to support Brett and this worthy cause before I even finished the speech I planned so carefully.
And there wasn’t a single grumble of complaint, despite the last-minuteness of the task.
For all the headaches they’ve caused me and stress they’ve put me through, there’s not a better bunch of guys.
After Coach Freeson says a little something, my father makes a few brief remarks about how the Montana Wolfpack organization stands with Brett and all victims of this important issue, and I take a minute to scroll through the Wolfpack Community Foundation social media accounts.
I’m overwhelmed by the outpouring of support there, and it gives me hope that Brett shining a spotlight on this issue is an opportunity to start a thoughtful dialogue and effect some real change.
@brttsllngr42 My boyfriend did this 2 me. I know how much it hurts. Ur not alone.
So awesome to see @MontanaWolfpack support @brttsllngr42 through this. #stoprevengeporn
No means no, people! Great speech by @brttsllngr42 “I’m hurt, and betrayed, and embarrassed. But it’s not going to affect my job. It’s not going to ruin my life. Not everyone is that lucky.”
“Hey.”
I startle at the sound of Brett’s voice. I’m not sure how he’s still so good at sneaking up on me. It’s like he possesses the inherent ability to constantly surprise me.
I force a smile even though my heart hurts. “Hey. You did great up there. Social media is all abuzz.” I hold up my phone.
He shrugs off the flattery. “I, uh, I just wanted to thank you for this. For all of this. I know I said I was going to do it anyway, but you made it better.” He gestures in front of us, at his teammates signing T-shirts and taking selfies, chatting with the shelter’s residents and their children, all of whom could use a little brightness in their lives. “You made it matter more.”
“You’re the one who showed them there’s someone in their corner now. All I did was take your advice. What you said in Portland, about connecting with the people, not the cause? It reminded me why I do what I do.”
It reminded me who I am.
“I’m going to make sure there’s a lot more of this kind of grassroots community work on our calendar next season. So, thank you for that. I’m glad that something good came from all this…” I trail off lamely. Because I don’t know what else to say.
We said everything last night. Didn’t we?
Brett runs a hand over the back of his neck. “Yeah.”
Our eyes catch, and that connection that happens between us sometimes, like we’re the only two people in the world, no matter how big the crowd around us, ignites.
Against my will, my skin prickles to attention, hope expanding my ribs and straightening my spine.
He drops his hand. “Listen, I—”
“Brett? Can we get you over here for a team picture?”
The request punctures the moment, and my breath seeps slowly from my lips as reality intrudes.
“Huh? Oh, yeah. Of course.” When he looks back at me, I know whatever he was going to say is lost. Maybe for good.
“I have to…” He points behind him.
“Yes. Definitely.” I smile again, even though I don’t feel like it.
And then he’s gone, the distance between us back to insurmountable.
I bite my lip, trying to take my mind off the hollow void in my chest.
“Got a minute?”
“If you’re here to say, I told you so, now’s not the time,” I tell my father as he stops beside me.
“No. I…” He drags a hand down his face, tries again. “Today has been a real lesson in people being more than I expected.”
I glance at my father. “If you’re talking about Brett, you weren’t looking hard enough before. He’s been trying so hard to live up to your expectations, to the team’s expectations. I know you don’t think he’s serious, but he is.”
He shakes his head, a wry smile touching his lips. “I’m talking about you. Today I saw what kind of leader you are. You didn’t hide from an ugly situation or worry about how it would make the organization look. You saw who was being hurt and made sure we did something that matters.”
He pauses, his expression growing somber. “You’ve always done that, haven’t you?”
“Done what?”
“Figured out who needed help and made yourself responsible for fixing it.” His hand settles on my shoulder. “You did it when your mother left. With Andrew. With me.”
My throat tightens.
“And I let you,” he says quietly. “I was so caught up in my own pain that I didn’t see you were the one holding us together. You were fourteen, Chelsea. That never should have been your job.”
Relief quakes through me at those words. They might not change the past, but they take a weight off my chest that I’ve been carrying for way too long.
“And I’m so damn sorry.”
I reach up and erase the tears before they slide down my face. “Well, I take care of the things I love. My dad taught me that.”
He gives my shoulder a tight squeeze before he reaches up and wipes his own eyes.
“Well, aren’t we the pair,” he says gruffly.
“Not very professional,” I agree with a watery laugh.
“Speaking of professional, I don’t know if I made it clear, but the reason I gave the promotion to Andrew is—”
“He’s a better fit for the role.” As I look around at what we’ve accomplished here today, I know it’s true. “Brett explained it to me. And he made me realize I don’t want to schmooze donors. I want to do this.” I gesture toward the shelter. “I want to be part of the difference we’re making.”
Dad’s eyebrows shoot up. “Brett told you that?”
He points to where Brett is hunkered down with an adorable little girl tucked shyly against his side. The girl gestures at a nearby television camera and Brett whispers something in her ear to make her giggle.
My heart lurches and the bottom drops out of my stomach, like I’m on a roller coaster.
No, not like a roller coaster.
Worse than that.
Like I’ve just fallen in love with…
“That Brett?”
I nod, dazed.
I’m in love with Brett.
I’ve been fighting it for so long because it wasn’t on the checklist. But somewhere along the way, all my plans changed.
I’m in love with a man who has a sex tape, makes dumb jokes, is jealous of a baby, and kisses me breathless. One who understands me better than anyone else.
And he likes me anyway.
Or at least he did, before I threw it all away.
My tear ducts sting with a vengeance.
“So when will I be meeting your boyfriend?”
He almost chokes on the word, and while I appreciate what it cost him, the question lands like an anvil on my heart.
“I think I’ve blown it with him,” I confess. My voice is barely a whisper.
He crosses his arms over his chest and scowls at the man I love. “If you have, then he’s a bigger dumbass than I thought.”
I can’t muster the smile I know he’s aiming for with that jibe. Everything hurts too much.
“I’m going to go.”
My dad’s head jerks toward me. “Are you sure? I think they’re almost—”
I take a step back. “I don’t want to distract from all this.”
If I stay, I’ll want to pull Brett aside. Beg him to forgive me for not believing in him in the first place. Ask him if it’s too late.
“He needs to focus on hockey. On the playoffs.”
He said it himself.
Dad frowns. “There you go again.”
“What?”
“Deciding what everyone else needs and making yourself responsible for giving it to them.” His gaze shift toward Brett. “Maybe you should let him have a say.”
Maybe I should.
But if he doesn’t say what I need to hear? It’ll break me all over again.
“This isn’t the time or place.”
“No,” Dad agrees. “But that doesn’t mean there isn’t one.”