Chapter 22
Ellie
When the final buzzer sounds, I watch as Jamie says something to the team, and by the angry look on his face, I doubt it was anything good. I’ve never seen him like this. So pent up and full of rage. Why do I find it attractive?
He was pacing behind the bench like a live wire the entire game, his jaw set. I couldn’t hear everything he said over the noise of the rink, but I didn’t need to. I could see that he was pissed off just by his body language.
His team seemed like they were afraid of him. Although, I would be too so I can’t really blame them. Except, his anger wasn’t pointed at me, and from afar, he looked good. Crap, Ellie. No, you do not think he’s hot. He’s a jerk. Right?
I hid behind a pole pretty much the whole time so he couldn’t see me. I watched him look up into the stands several times, but I doubt he was looking for me. He has no reason to. I didn’t want him to know I was here, watching him.
But God, control radiated off him, like he was born to be in charge. Like he was thriving. I know he wants to get back on the ice, but he’d really be a great coach. His team just needs a little pep.
When he finally turned and walked toward the tunnel, relief should have followed, but of course it didn’t. Relief was the last thing I felt. Instead, something pulled tight in my chest. This grown-up version of Jamie is harder, rougher.
He’s got a temper and all this rage inside of him that I don’t quite understand where it comes from.
Even when his father died, when I expected him to blow up and crash and burn, he stayed strong.
Humble. It was like he had no emotion. It kind of used to scare me, the way he’d be able to just walk away from things.
I guess that’s why it was so easy for him to walk away from me.
I don’t know what forces me to be standing here like an idiot outside of the locker room.
Maybe I’m a masochist. Maybe I like the pain.
Or maybe I’m just an idiot. All I know is that I shouldn’t be here, yet something in me is telling me to check on him.
To make sure he’s alright. Taking a deep breath, I push the door open and automatically feel the change in the air.
It’s heavier, sadder. It’s weighed down by years of guilt and heartbreak.
As I make my way further into the room, I see him. Jamie Patterson, sitting hunched over on a bench. I watch for a moment as his body rises and falls with his rapid breaths.
His white undershirt clings to him, and as I grow closer, I see the beads of sweat trickling down his cheeks and his arms.
For a second, I think he might be so out of it that he doesn’t even notice me. But then his breath hitches.
I make my way in front of him, kneeling down to be level with him. This feels all too familiar, like we’ve been here before. I should let him deal with this on his own. He probably wants space and here I am, not giving him any.
“Jamie,” I practically whisper.
He flinches, as if he’d been somewhere else and I’ve just brought him back to reality. He straightens too quickly, immediately favoring his knee, and that’s when I see it.
The way his hands tremble and the tight, unfocused look in his eyes.
Oh. Oh no. He’s having another panic attack. Shit. I reach out to touch him but decide it’s probably not a great idea. I pull my hand back quickly.
“You shouldn’t be here,” he says breathily.
“I know,” I reply. “But here I am.”
He drags a hand through his hair and turns away from me. “I’m fine, Ellie. Just go.”
It’s a lie, just like the last time.
“Jamie, you’re not. You’re shaking and dripping in sweat. That’s not fine.”
His chest rises sharply, then stalls. He presses his palms flat against the bench like he needs the solidness of it to keep himself upright.
“I fucked it up, Ellie,” he tells me. “I fucked everything up.”
A part of my heart cracks at the utter sadness in his voice. Shit, I’m not supposed to feel this way. Not about him.
“Fucked what up, Jamie?” I ask, curious as to what he could be referring to. It couldn’t be all about the game, could it?
“I should’ve got help sooner. I should’ve told someone about my knee when it first happened. But I didn’t. I thought I had it handled,” he cries, his breath catching. “Now I’m here, my career is over, and I can’t even coach this fucking team. I can’t help them the way I should. And I…”
He sucks in air like he can’t get enough.
My chest tightens.
“Hey,” I say softly. “Look at me. You what?”
He looks up through wet lashes, his eyes searching mine. God, he’s beautiful. I really have missed those eyes looking at me like this. Like he needs me.
“I fucked up with you.”
My heart stops and everything goes silent. That’s the last thing I was expecting him to say.
“Jamie…” I begin.
“Please forgive me, Ellie. I know I don’t deserve it.
I know I’m fucking shitty. But I need you to forgive me.
” His head falls to my shoulder, and he cries.
He cries harder than I think I’ve ever seen a man cry.
For once, he’s showing emotion. He’s showing me the real him.
Not the hot, cocky hockey star image he’s built up for the world. But him.
“Shhh…Jamie,” I coo. “Jamie, breathe with me.”
I feel his jaw clench.
“Come on,” I demand, firmer now. “You’re spiraling. You need to breathe.”
His eyes lift to mine, and they’re dark and frantic.
“I’m not supposed to fall apart,” he says with a sniffle. “Not now. Not in front of them. Not in front of you.”
“You’re allowed to be human, Jamie,” I say quietly.
He shakes his head, breath still uneven.
“I can’t stop thinking about everything at once. The game. My knee. My team. Fuck!” His laugh is broken. “You. I can’t stop thinking about you, Ellie. It’s driving me fucking insane. You’re just… you’re always there and you’re perfect and knowing I’ll never get the chance to… it’s killing me.”
My heart stutters at his unexpected confession. I understand him being stressed and upset about the team and his injury and what not. But me? Sure, he’s been flirty, but I figured that was just him trying to get under my skin. Was it real?
Jamie watches me, waiting for my response.
“Say something, Ellie,” he begs.
I’m frozen in place. My brain has left the building, and I am incapable of speaking. What the hell am I supposed to say to that?
After a moment, I finally make it back to reality.
“Do you know how unfair that is to me? Do you know how long I waited for you to come back? Do you have any idea how many nights I spent crying myself to sleep? No, you don’t, because you weren’t there, Jamie. You weren’t there!”
“Fuck, I know!” he shouts. Tears begin to run down my cheeks before I even realize that I’m crying.
“Okay? I know I wasn’t there. I was eighteen and I didn’t know how to handle it.
I… I made a split-second decision. Packed my bags, got in the car, and drove.
I didn’t tell anyone where I was going, not even mom,” he explains, his voice hoarse from crying and shouting all night.
“Is that supposed to make this better?” I practically sob. Jamie shakes his head, grabbing both of my hands in his. I want to pull them back, but I miss his touch. I didn’t realize how much I craved it until now.
“No, it’s not. Nothing can make it better. All I can do is tell you how sorry I am. How badly I regret what I did. I can’t take it back. I can’t change it, but I can spend the rest of my life proving to you how sorry I am. I have no problem doing that.”
That makes me sob. How many times did I wish he’d show up and say this? How many times did I stare at my phone late at night waiting for him to text or call?
“This isn’t happening. I’ve walked into the freaking Twilight Zone,” I laugh manically, running my hand through my hair.
How did this go from me helping him through a panic attack, to him confessing he can’t stop thinking about me?
“I can’t fix my knee. I can’t control how my guys play. But I can do this. Let me, Sweetheart.”
Sniffling, I say, “don’t call me that.”
Jamie chuckles, running his index finger down my cheek and catching a stray tear.
“I… I have to go. I have an early rehearsal,” is all I can say. I slip out of his grasp and quickly walk to the door. It opens an inch before it’s slammed shut. I jump, turning around to see Jamie leaning over me, his hand on the door.
My heart is beating a million miles a minute, and I feel like I can’t breathe. He smells like sweat and cologne, his hair is disheveled, his eyes are full of fire. My chest rises and falls as I watch him lean closer to my face. He’s inches away now.
“I let you walk away last time. This time, I’m not letting you go,” he states before grabbing my face and smashing his lips to mine.