Chapter 5
Chapter Five
JENSEN
Iwas drunk enough to earn a hangover this morning, but not drunk enough to forget everything that happened.
I should have drunk more; anything to make the memory of Barrett’s hero moment disappear.
Of course, it’s been ten years, and he acts as though nothing happened.
Like I didn’t spend months—fuck, maybe years—questioning what I did wrong for things to end the way they did.
I missed him, more than I’ll ever admit to anyone, and I think he fucked me up for friendships from that point forward.
Sure, I have my teammates, and I have Lachie, but our relationships are built on hockey and golf and parties.
I can’t remember the last time I actually talked to someone.
Maybe it would have been easier to process everything with Kasen if I had that kind of person in my life.
Because all it took was one conversation with Barrett to make me doubt all the decisions I came to yesterday before going to the bar and trying to drink away the grossness those decisions brought.
I hate that it was Barrett who made me question it all, though, because I know myself. I’m too stubborn and still holding too much of a grudge to acknowledge that maybe he was giving good advice.
Maybe Kasen does need me.
I groan and push out of bed, headache slamming against my temples as I go in search of painkillers. Anyone needing me is a worry in itself, and this poor kid has been through enough.
I creep through the house, up so early because I slept like shit, and try not to wake my parents. Gigi went home last night before I left, and she’s too logical to have deep conversations with anyway. She’s never met a problem she couldn’t solve, but this isn’t something I need her to fix for me.
After draining two large glasses of water, I eye the coffee machine, trying to decide whether to turn it on, but I’m craving bacon and eggs on top of the caffeine, and I can’t be fucked to cook those myself.
The pain it takes to get changed and find my keys feels like enough penance for my asshole attitude yesterday, and thankfully, by the time I get out into the cool morning air, the painkillers are doing their thing.
It’s only a five-minute walk to the cafe, but with my cravings for grease, it feels like it takes forever. The birds are too happy, and even through my sunglasses, the sun is too bright. Why won’t this place let me sulk? Let me exist as a black hole, sucking up all the small-town, happy vibes.
I slump into the cafe and place my order, then find a table to wait at. It’s Sunday morning and just after six, but already almost half of the tables are taken, most by what looks like a walking group.
I huddle into myself, staring out the window at the small road and shops on the other side.
No matter how many times I try to yank them back to the present, my thoughts keep straying back to yesterday. To Kasen and his demands and his attitude. If that’s the kid Carly raised, the decision of what I want should be simple: absolutely nothing to do with him.
But if Barrett was right, and Kasen is hurting and lashing out …
I still don’t know what to do about it. He obviously needs someone who understands how to parent and what he’s going through, and he already has Amelia for that.
Wouldn’t it be more selfless of me to leave him where he’s supported and has a stable life than to push and uproot everything he’s ever known by fighting for him to come back to St. Louis with me? Is that even an option that I have?
Or want?
The child support thing caught me off guard, but I have no issue paying it. I would have been from the very start if anyone had bothered to inform me that I had a kid, but now … there’s something bothering me, buried deep in my chest, that feels a lot like betrayal.
I hiccup over a whole new wave of emotion that threatens to overwhelm me.
I’ve been struggling to place the feeling since I got on the plane yesterday morning, and now that I have, I want to punch something.
Carly never gave me the chance to make this decision for myself, and now I’m being punished for it.
It’s not fucking fair.
I’ve had twenty-four hours to wrap my head around this whole situation, and the entire time, I’ve been under pressure from Amelia and my parents about signing away all rights to custody, like everyone automatically assumes he’d be better off without me in his life.
Just like Carly did.
How am I supposed to figure out what I want when no one has bothered to ask what that is?
Except Kasen. He asked what the right thing is, and I should have been better about answering it than I was. Even with my hangover, I can already feel myself pulling out of the numb shock I was in yesterday, and it really wasn’t smart to let myself be ambushed like that.
“Little Jensen Hawke …” a rough, slow voice says.
I glance up at my name and face an older man whom I haven’t seen in years.
Comfort floods through me like it always used to …
until my brain flags that there’s something different with him.
He’s smiling with one side of his face, the other struggling to match it, and with the way he’s holding his arm stiff to the side and leaning slightly, I immediately wonder if he’s had a stroke.
“Mr. Barrett?” I’m half asking, half in shock.
“I’ve told you to call me Ben,” he says, lowering himself into the seat across from me. “It’s been a long time.”
“It has. Are … are you—?”
He obviously knows where my question is heading because he waves a hand at me. “Had a stroke a while back. But I’ve bounced back as good as ever.” The glint in his eyes helps me catch on that he’s joking. “How have you been? I’ve been hoping to catch you. Our own town superstar.”
“Superstar is a stretch.”
“Don’t be all humble now. Didn’t you win the Norris Trophy a year or two back?”
“How did you know that?”
He gives me the same fatherly look I used to get from him as a kid. “Never missed a game.”
My jaw actually drops. I’d assumed he’d turned his back on me as solidly as Barrett had. “I … thank you.”
“Someone’s gotta cheer you on while Tai is working.”
My cynicism takes over my face before I can stop myself. “Not that he’d cheer me on if he wasn’t working.”
Ben tilts his head. “You two should talk.”
“We have nothing to talk about.”
“That’s a lie, and we both know it.”
“Look, I don’t know what he’s told you, but Tai made it very clear where our friendship stood the minute I left.”
“Well, I know what he hasn’t told you, and my son is a lot of fantastic things, but he’s as stubborn as the day is long, and he’s regretted what he did every second since.”
I stare at Ben, wondering if Barrett’s filled him with lies.
He leans over the table. “Do you really think he’d haul ass out of bed to go and rescue someone he hasn’t seen in ten years when he had to be up before the sun this morning if he didn’t?”
“How can I answer that? I have no clue who Tai is anymore.”
“Well, I do, and I know he wants a chance to make it up to you. If you’d let him.”
And like that, Ben throws another decision in my lap that I don’t want to make and would never have had to if it wasn’t for Barrett fucking everything up. “I don’t think I can do it. There’s a lot going on with my personal life that I’m trying to figure out already.”
“The kid?”
“Tai told you?”
Ben shakes his head. “Start of the school year, he told me about a kid who looked a lot like you, then I read about the accident, and he said you were back. I put it together myself.”
“Shit.” The last thing I need right now is the entire town doing exactly that. I’m no stranger to small-town gossip, given the stupid shit Barrett and I used to pull, but as an adult? The thought of it is painful.
“Doesn’t matter,” I murmur, turning to look back out the window. “He wants nothing to do with me.”
Ben chuckles. “If I was given a dollar for every time Tai said he wanted nothing to do with me growing up … I’d be a rich man, and my kid wouldn’t be working himself half to death.”
That pulls my attention back. “Isn’t he a high school hockey coach?”
“That’s one of his jobs. But my point is that a kid Kasen’s age needs to see that you’ll put in the effort, no matter what they say.
You need to be there for them through the shit, even when the shit times are their own doing.
Kids need to know you’ll be there for them through everything, and up until now, you haven’t been there for anything. ”
“That’s not my fault.”
“Not saying it was.” His speech is getting even slower than before. “But now it is. Now you have a son. What are you going to do about it?”
“I have no idea how to be a dad. Or how to have someone rely on me.”
“No parent does until they do it, and even then … But it’s worth the effort.”
My food and coffee are brought over and set on the table in front of me, but I’ve lost my appetite. “So what? I walk into his life and be his dad, whether he likes it or not?”
“He’ll hate you for that. Try being a friend.
Someone who will show up. Keep every, single promise.
” Ben stands, and there’s a second where I’m not sure if I’m supposed to ask if he needs help or not.
“But it’s not for the weak. And after what that kid has been through, don’t put in the effort if you’re not up to the task. ”
Well, that’s even more pressure. How will I know if I’m up for the task until I try?
“What do you want, Jensen?” He’s looking down at me, and I’m expecting judgment, but it’s not there.
“I … no one’s asked me that yet.”
“Do you even know?”
My automatic response is no, but I think it’s a lie. Because if I really let myself think about it … I want a chance to know the Kasen that Barrett does.
My nose gets all tingly at finally letting myself think it, and I swallow the emotion down again.
Ben pats my shoulder. “You’ll make the right choice. That’s one thing that can be said about you and Tai. You boys never backed down, even when you wanted to.”
Something in his tone sparks my curiosity. “You want me to give him a chance to explain.”
“If you’re still the Jensen Hawke I used to know, you want to give him a chance to explain.”
I take an angry bite of my breakfast sandwich, hating that he’s right.
“He’s at the rink, if you’re looking for him.”
I swallow the bite and frown. “What’s he doing there?”
“Working his … second? Third job?”
The fuck?
Ben knocks on the table with his stiff hand. “Strokes aren’t cheap. Try not to have one if you can manage it.” The humor in his tone stays with me after he leaves and rejoins the group in activewear, but I’m stuck replaying his words over.
Strokes aren’t cheap.
Second … third job.
My heart rate kicks up as pieces click into place.
That need to cry sweeps over me again.
I squash it.
And try to focus on swallowing as I smash down my food and coffee, struggling to work out what to do next.