Chapter 4 ALI - DIFFERENT #3
“A nonrefundable one, too,” he said with a sheepish laugh. “But I didn’t tell the others I was coming to see you just in case you wanted to send me packing, so there’s no pressure, ya know?”
Sucking in a deep breath, I assessed the man sitting in front of me.
His leg was bobbing. His eyes were downcast. His muscular shoulders were tense.
JP was nervous. He was nervous to admit all of that to me.
And something about that little fact eased my brain.
Right then, he reminded me of his caring teenage self, and I knew he was telling the truth.
He really would leave if I wanted him to, I was sure of it.
Yes, the years had changed him. It was obvious in his build, and in the way his face had garnered a few more scars—one under his eyebrow, another on the right side of his chin—from hockey, no doubt. Looking at him now, a sudden sadness squeezed my heart. I missed knowing him the way I used to.
“So,” I swallowed hard, “your blacked-out brain booked a cruise,” I mused. “Better hide your phone if you drink any more tonight. What’s next? A car? A plane? Real estate?” I joked, trying to settle both of us.
He weighed my question and let out a small laugh. “No, none of that, but I think I almost bought a puppy.”
“A puppy,” I repeated with a small grin. “I’m shocked you don’t already have one.”
He laughed. “Yeah, me too.” He sat in thought for a second, looking stumped. “Why don’t I have one?”
I smirked. “Hockey keeping you too busy? You should get a small dog that can fly on the team plane with you.”
He looked aghast. “A small dog?” He shook his head. “C’mon now, Al.”
I bit my lip to tamper down a grin. “That’d be so cute. I could see it now,” I sighed.
“Nope, stop seeing it,” he ordered, struggling to maintain a straight face. “What would I do with a little rat of a dog?”
“Umm, love it? Duh.” I laughed.
“Nah.” He took a sip of beer to cover his grin.
“See, I’d believe you if you could stop grinning,” I teased.
He shook his head, a grin still in place on his handsome face. “Can’t stop.”
“Why? Because deep down you actually want a small dog but you’re afraid to admit it?” I wagged my eyebrows at him.
“No, I'm just…” His eyes crinkled at the corners as his shoulders fell into a relaxed slouch. “I’m really happy to be here with you, Al.”
My eyes widened in surprise for a split-second before I quickly looked away. I knew what he meant, my face practically hurt from smiling so much in his presence, but the way he said it so easily shocked me.
“And I need a dog that can run with me in the mornings,” he added quickly with a shy grin. “So, no little dogs.”
“Ah, you need a dog like Hank?” I asked. Hank was the McQuaid’s beagle that I loved very much—and continuously wished I could steal when I was a teen. I hoped Hank was living his best old life back on the McQuaid’s farm in Michigan.
A small smile played on his face while he tugged at the wrapped on his beer bottle. “Yeah, just like Hank.”
I brushed my hair behind my ears. “How is he?”
“Ah…” He weighed his head to the side. “He’s old, Al,” he said gently.
My face dropped. A surprising pang of homesickness for a home that wasn’t even mine hit me right in the chest. “But he’s okay, right?”
JP gave a quick nod. He reached toward me, but I flinched, making his hand stop. His jaw clenched as he dropped his hand back by his side. Feeling embarrassed, I immediately looked away, then spent the next several seconds struggling to wrangle in my emotions.
I hadn’t flinched or had these reactions in years.
Then again, seeing him brought along a slew of old memories, both good and bad.
I hated that JP’s presence was triggering me, because he’d never been anything but kind to me.
But I guess this just meant I wasn’t quite as healed as I thought, which made my heart feel like it was sinking to the bottom of my stomach.
“You’re right, we are different,” he mused, moving to relax back on his deck chair. “And we’re perfect for each other. Both those things can be true.” He smirked.
“Oh my.” I forced a shaky laugh, trying to play off his words as a joke.
“Back to this subject? You can have anyone you want. You’re JP McQuaid, one of the top defensemen in the league,” I said, making a bashful little grin appear on his face.
“Yeah, you like that.” I laughed, pointing my beer at him. “I know you.”
“I know you, too, Al. And I want you. I’ve only ever wanted you.” He arched an eyebrow at me, like he just threw down a challenge and he was waiting to see if I’d go toe-to-toe with him.
My mouth went dry. “So, I see you are no longer shy about it.” I brushed my hair behind my ear. A bittersweet memory floated through my mind of the teen version of him that tripped over his words and was scared to admit his feelings.
“Nope.” His smile was just as bittersweet.
I took another long pull of beer, trying to mask the burn in my throat.
Laying back on my own deck chair, I turned to give him a grin.
“Well, that’s nice of you to say, Jameson, but did you think you were going to march aboard and save me from this ship or something?
” I gave my head a little shake. “You can’t save someone who doesn’t want to be saved.
” I said it like a joke, but there was real meaning behind it.
He dropped his head forward, looking a little bemused. “Okay.” He nodded slowly. “Then I guess I'll just be damned with you, Al.”
I rolled my eyes. “You don't mean that.”
“Guess we’re both lying tonight then.” He winked at me, sending an instant zing of attraction through my body.
I sat there, staring out at the dark ocean, unsure of what to say or do next.
A second later he murmured, “Tell me something.”
“Hmm?”
He remained silent until I looked at him. When his grey eyes locked on mine, his voice dropped lower to say, “Tell me you don't want to be with me, Al. Tell me and I'll leave.”
I opened my mouth, but the words died in my throat.
Why was this so hard? Why? I internally cried.
But deep down, I knew why: Because it’d be a lie.
“Just because I want to be with you doesn't mean that I can,” I said with a huff of frustration.
“Both of those things can be true as well. I can't…” My throat felt like it was closing up, almost like my body was trying to stop me from pushing him away, but I forced the words out anyway. “I’m not leaving this ship, so…” I shrugged.
“I hear you. It’s nice out here.” He gave me a sad smile and his throat bobbed with a swallow.
“Well, if you haven’t heard, I just won a Stanley Cup, so I'm celebrating. And you should be celebrating traveling the world, just like you always wanted.” A mischievous spark flashed in his probing eyes.
“How about we give ourselves a little gift?”
Goosebumps skated down my arms. “What did you have in mind?”
His eyes heated as they trailed over my body, definitely noticing the effect he had on me. “Let's be together this week.” He tilted his head. “Well, six more days, to be exact. No attachments, no promises. Just a week together.” He shrugged. “What could it hurt?”
A shiver skated through me as my eyes scanned his body. He could totally tell I just ogled him because his mouth did that funny little dance that happened when he was struggling to contain a grin. “I need more alcohol for this,” I blurted out, making him laugh.
Still grinning, he lifted from his seat, and his strong, long legs casually carried him to the bar.
My mind reeled as I stared out at the dark ocean.
Was I dreaming? Did I hit my head and black out on the ice? Or was Jameson Patrick really in front of me, asking for a no-strings-attached vacation? And was I actually considering it?
I mean, I hadn’t been with a man in any capacity since…
Since my ex-husband.
And not because I didn’t want to. JP hit the nail on the head when he asked if I was afraid. I was. But I didn’t want to be. Not anymore.
“So,” JP said, making me slightly jump. He smoothed back onto his chair and handed me another drink. “What do you say, Ali?” He gave me an expectant grin.