Chapter 33
THEO
I walk Becca to the door, hesitant to let her go.
Hearing her say she felt like I was shutting her out sobered me right up. It’s not lost on me that my fear of losing her made me behave in a way that clearly did more harm than good.
I can’t let that happen again. I can’t let her doubt, even for a second, that she’s the most important thing in my life.
I pull her into a hug, bending down to press a kiss to her temple. “I’m sorry about today,” I say. “That I didn’t respond. I just … got in my head about everything. I didn’t want to disappoint you.”
She lifts a hand to my cheek. “I will never be disappointed over hockey. Whether you’re playing, not playing, winning, losing, moving. It’s just your job. I didn’t fall in love with you because of your job. Not before. Not this time either.”
“I know. But it feels like a lot to ask.”
She tilts her head, studying me in a way that makes me think she’s looking right into my heart. Her tone is gentle when she asks, “Why do you have such a hard time letting people love you?”
I open my mouth to respond, but I can’t seem to find any words.
“It’s not a lot to ask because it means getting to be with you,” Becca says. “Please trust that. You don’t have anything to prove here.”
Her words trigger a wash of relief, resonating in a way I don’t expect. Is that what I’m doing? Trying to prove myself?
Before I can say anything else, a knock sounds on the door. That has to be Carter.
Becca leans up and presses a quick kiss to my lips. “I’ll see you soon?”
I nod. “I’ll text when I’m on my way to your place.”
She steps out of the way, and I open the door to find my brother, hands pushed into the pockets of his sweats.
Becca steps through the door, giving Carter’s arm a quick squeeze on her way.
Then she’s heading to the elevator, and I’m alone with my brother.
I tilt my head toward the inside of my apartment. “Come on in.”
We’re silent until we’ve made it to the living room, where I sit on the couch and Carter drops onto the armchair, perpendicular to me. He leans forward and places a single penny onto the coffee table in front of us.
Years ago, when Carter was little, our dad jokingly offered him a penny for his thoughts. Except Carter took him literally and held out a hand, wanting payment for what was going on inside his head.
It became a thing for them. All those pennies. I didn’t care. I had plenty of other ways to connect with my dad. But then, after he died and I almost wrecked my entire career, my brother pulled away.
He’d always been there for me. Supported me. Kept me safe and focused. But I was drowning, and I was dragging him down with me. So Carter decided he couldn’t be my life preserver anymore. Then he stopped talking to me.
Until I tossed a penny on his bed, just like Dad used to do.
We finally talked—really talked—for the first time in months. Maybe since before Dad died. And I realized what I might lose if I didn’t stop taking advantage of my brother. A week later, I had two necklaces made, each with a penny hole-punched and threaded on a chain, for us to wear as a reminder.
We can’t stop talking to each other. We have to be honest like we were always honest with Dad.
I sigh and look at the penny. “I guess I should have expected it.”
“I don’t know where you are, man,” Carter says. “And I’ve been trying to give you space. Give you time to be with Becca. But you have to tell me what’s going on.”
I lean forward, elbows propped on my knees. And then I talk.
I tell Carter about needing surgery. About not wanting to disappoint Becca. About how hard I’ve been fighting to prove I’m a Jaguar.
“But I just keep falling short,” I say. “I know you think I can do this captain thing. But I already screwed things up with Blake. And I screwed up with Becca and—”
“How did you screw things up with Becca?”
“I shut her out,” I say. “Not on purpose. I just didn’t want her to worry. But that backfired because then she worried because I wasn’t talking.”
“Yeah, you can’t keep secrets from her. Not unless it’s about the size of the diamond you want to put on her finger.”
“I don’t want to have secrets. But she decided to stay in the city to be with me. It just felt wrong to expect that of her when I can’t promise her I’ll still be here in six months.”
Carter eyes me. “What did she say?”
“That I’m an idiot,” I say. “That she chose me. Not the city.”
He’s quiet for a long moment before he leans back in his chair, resting his hands on top of his head. “Do you remember the first time I was made team captain?”
I nod. “We were what, nine? Ten?”
“Ten, I think. What were we? The Coyotes?”
“Yeah. With Coach Dickson,” I say. “He had the giant mustache.”
“Right. That was him,” Carter agrees. “Anyway, when he asked me to be captain, you know what my first thought was?”
“What?”
“That he was asking me to make up for the fact that I wasn’t as good as you.”
I scoff. “Dude, that’s not true.”
“Theo,” Carter says dryly. “Your stats were always better. You scored more. Blocked more. Being made captain felt like a consolation prize. They knew people were always going to compare us. So they gave me a little something extra to even us out.”
“Whatever,” I say. “You’ve had plenty of years when you’ve scored just as often as I have. And the last two seasons, you had more points overall.”
“But you always block more shots,” Carter says evenly.
“You land better hits. You’re faster. You always make more of an impact.
But none of that is the point. I’m just saying, you got it in your head that you aren’t captain material because I am.
I got it in my head that I would never make it in the NHL without you.
I was convinced I wasn’t good enough on my own. ”
“When did you think that?” I ask, still struggling to wrap my head around Carter’s confession.
“When we first started playing with the Appies. It was Alec who finally knocked sense into me. He made me realize that the only thing standing between me and what I wanted for myself was the belief that I wasn’t good enough. I had what it took. I just had to get out of my own way.”
Our team captain when we played for the Appies had a pretty big influence on us both, but I had no idea Carter ever dealt with worries about his game. That he ever felt like I was the better player.
“I’m guessing there’s a lesson in here somewhere for me.”
“Get out of your own way, man,” Carter says. “If you screwed things up with Blake, fix it, then do better. But stop with all this pressure to prove yourself. You don’t have to convince Becca. And you don’t have to convince the team either.”
“That’s debatable,” I say, but Carter shakes his head.
“It isn’t. I talked to Norcott about your conversation with Shawn. The Jaguars aren’t interested in trading you.”
I sit up a little taller. Carter talked to our general manager? “Then what was Shawn talking about?”
“There was talk,” Carter says. “Ottawa wanted you, so they asked a few questions. I’m guessing Shawn saw the potential dollar signs and thought he’d feel you out. See if it was a button worth pushing. But Norcott was never serious.”
“Then why did Shawn make me think the front office was watching me?”
“I’m guessing he hadn’t talked to Norcott yet. If he didn’t know the Jaguars wouldn’t bite, he would tell you to bring your A-game to camp. But in Norcott’s words, ‘We just plastered your faces all over Atlanta. You’re Jaguars. We want you both to be Jaguars for as long as you’re willing to stay.’”
I swear and drop back onto the cushions. “You could have led with that, man,” I say to Carter.
He grins. “I could have, but then you would have missed the bigger point. Everything I said would still apply even if you were traded somewhere else.”
I’m quiet for a long moment, eyes fixed on the rug under my feet. “Becca asked me, right before she left, why I have such a hard time letting people love me.”
Carter leans forward, his expression serious. “You’ve been paying penance for a lot of years.” His eyes drop to the penny sitting on the coffee table between us. “But nobody expects that of you but you.”
He stands and holds out a hand. I take it, and he tugs me to my feet, then practically crushes me with a hug.
“And look, just give up on ever truly deserving Becca. You won’t. She’s always going to be too good for you. But let her choose you anyway. Then live every single day doing your best to show her you know how lucky you are.”
After I say goodbye to my brother and take a quick shower, I head out the door and pull out my phone to text Becca. It’s after eight, and she has to be starving. I could stop at any one of a dozen different places on my way over, so I key out a message asking her what she wants.
But then I glance up and see Blake’s apartment door, and another thought pops into my brain. I add a second text.
Theo
Hey. Is Mia around?
Becca
Yeah, she’s here. What’s up?
Theo
Ask her if she’d be up for a double date with us and a teammate. Not tonight. Just generally.
Becca
She says yes please and thank you
And why didn’t you ask sooner?
I chuckle. That’s a very Mia response.
Theo
Noted. I’ll let you both know.
The elevator door opens, but I leave it and cover the short distance to Blake’s apartment door instead.
I knock, then lean against the wall while I wait.
I could be wrong, but I’m pretty sure Blake’s single, and I can’t think of anything that might make a man love a new city more than a woman he can explore it with.
Blake opens the door, his expression wary.
“Hey,” I say. “I just wanted to apologize about this morning. I was out of line. I’ve been really in my head about my hand lately, and I took it out on you. I’m also sorry I didn’t call. Same reason. I just haven’t been myself.”
He leans against the door jamb, arms folded across his chest. “I get it. When I blew out my knee, I was a jerk for weeks.” He nods toward my hand. “How is it?”
“Not great. Having another surgery on Friday. But it could be worse.”
“That sucks. How long?”
“Two to three months,” I say. “At least.”
He nods. “Sorry, man.”
“It’s the game, right?” I run my hands through my hair. “Look, I have to run. I’m taking dinner to my girlfriend. But are you single?”
His eyebrows lift, his expression shifting like he’s not quite sure he wants to answer. But he finally nods. “I am presently single.”
“I was just thinking you might want to grab dinner sometime with me and Becca—and her best friend, Mia. She’s a nurse too. And she’s great.”
The expression he gives me looks so much like his older brother, I have to fight not to smile.
“All right,” he finally says. “I’d be down.”
“Good. Great. I have to get through surgery first, but after, I’ll set something up.”
Twenty minutes later, I show up at Becca’s with smash burgers and fries for myself, Becca, and both her roommates.
Mia has her laptop open at the kitchen table when I walk in, the Jaguars team roster pulled up on her screen.
“Okay, I need more info,” she says as I set down the food. “Which one?”
Becca steps up beside me and slips an arm around my waist. “It’s possible you’ve created a monster.”
I lean down and give Becca a quick kiss, then lean over Mia’s shoulder. “This guy,” I say, pointing at Blake’s photo.
“Ohh, he looks grumpy,” Mia says. “I like.”
“He said he’s down,” I say. “After my surgery, we’ll set something up.”
The four of us eat together, then Becca and I head back to her room for a little privacy.
“I like your friends,” I say as I shut the door behind us.
She smiles. “Yeah. They’re pretty great. How was your conversation with Carter?”
I cross the room and tug her into my arms, clasping my hands at the small of her back. “It was good. I learned the Jaguars aren’t actually looking to trade me, so that’s good news.”
“Shut up,” Becca says. “Are you serious?”
“Carter talked to the Jaguars general manager. Stuff like this can always change, but for now, I think we’re okay.”
She nestles in closer. “I like that you just said we.”
In the diffuse light of her room, her brown eyes are deep and dark, shifting the flecks that look gold in the sunlight to a more muted amber.
“Get used to it,” I say, then I bend down and press my mouth to hers.
The kiss is tender at first, but then her hands grip my t-shirt, her lips parting in invitation, and heat rushes through my veins.
I brush her tongue with mine, and she lets out a low whimper that leaves me aching to get closer, to hold more of her, all of her.
“I love you,” I whisper against her mouth. “I never stopped loving you.”
Her hands move up to my biceps, slipping under the fabric of my t-shirt. “I love you too,” she whispers, and I’m struck with a bone-deep certainty that we were always meant to love each other.
For a long time, I believed I would never love anyone again—not like I loved her. It kept me up at night, the quiet desperation of thinking I’d missed my only chance to truly be happy.
I guess I was right and wrong.
I never will love anyone like I love her.
But I did get a second chance at happiness, and I won’t waste a single moment.