Chapter 23
Chapter
Twenty-Three
Bodi
Dear Bodi,
I don’t know whether to laugh, cry, apologize, or some combination of all of them.
The scene at the cookout today was a total clusterfuck—and I hate that you had to be part of it.
For some reason, I always seem to make a fool of myself in front of my dad.
Whether it’s at one of his games or throwing up on stage during the fourth grade spelling bee, I can’t seem to do anything right when he’s around.
It wasn’t quite this bad when Mom was alive. She seemed to be the Hugh Whisperer, always able to talk him off the ledge. With his temper, his bad moods, his lack of patience with ME… Once she was gone, I started to notice all the little things she managed to mask for most of my childhood.
Now I mostly walk on eggshells, because Lourdes has a temper to match his.
Except she usually takes it out on Lindy.
That was why I ran to stop her from falling in the pool because even though she wouldn’t have drowned with all of you there, it was just something else for her—and maybe even me—to get yelled at about.
I was mortified that I essentially knocked you into the pool in front of the whole team.
And my dad. That’s also the second time my awkward ass has bowled you over.
I wish it could be different. Sometimes I wish I could be different.
Someone cool and confident and sexy. The type of woman you’d date.
But I completely understand why you wouldn’t want to risk it.
I just wish we could. You would. I wish you saw the me I want to be—the woman on the inside who’s trying so hard to get out.
But I want you to know how much I appreciate the date and the laughter and the attention, however short-lived it had to be.
Always,
Jayne
I fold the letter—that appears to have been ripped out of a notebook—and thoughtfully put it back into its envelope before closing my eyes.
She must have slipped the letter into my backpack last night while I was indisposed or something.
Before I took her home. I found it when I got on the plane and was pulling out my headphones.
There was a little pink Post-it note that said, “The first letter I wrote you on the day of the cookout. Hope it’s not too sappy. Remember—you asked to read it.”
I did ask and now I’m glad, even though my heart breaks a little for the young woman she was in that moment and what she was feeling when she wrote it.
Insecure.
Invisible.
Insignificant.
Pre-therapy Bodi wouldn’t have recognized all of that.
But I do now and I hate that she feels that way.
Hate that she wishes she could be someone else so I would pay attention to her.
Except she isn’t and I still did. Does she realize that?
Intellectually, I’m sure she does, but everything is different emotionally.
I have my own set of insecurities, which is why I recognize a pattern of self-deprecation.
Mine are simply more related to hockey and all the ways I failed as a parent to Billie.
I wish Jayne hadn’t given me the letter before I left on a road trip, though I’m guessing that was done by design.
The first two pre-season games are in Nashville and St. Louis, and we left this morning. Normally, I don’t mind, especially since they’re both quick flights, but it means three days away from Jayne. Three days until I can look in her eyes and tell her I don’t want her to be anyone else.
We’ve been seeing each other almost daily since we started sleeping together, and it’s been amazing.
She has to know how much I enjoy spending time with her, getting to know her better, forging our path as a couple just starting out in life.
She’s at the end of her academic era, getting ready to go out into the world, and I’m still in the early stages of my NHL career.
Our futures individually are murky, which is why I’ve been trying to spend as much time together as possible because free time is something I won’t have a lot of once hockey season officially starts.
Things are inevitably going to change.
She’s already nervous about the situation, mostly on my account since she worries about what her father will say or do. I’ve tried to reassure her but I can tell she’s not as convinced as I am that everything is going to be okay.
Now that I’ve read that letter, I understand her a little better.
So far, everything in our relationship has been great, except for how she can’t spend the night with me.
It’s not that I mind getting up and driving her home after we’ve been in bed, I just wish she didn’t have to go.
I’d love to explore the next step of intimacy—actually sleeping together. Waking up together. Having breakfast.
I’m trying to come up with a way for us to get away somewhere, but it hasn’t been easy to figure out the logistics.
And it’s only going to become more difficult as I get deeper into the season.
There are a lot of details for both of us.
She has responsibilities at the library, she’s been buried in homework, and she tries to go to all of Lindy’s pageants.
“You haven’t said two words the whole flight,” West says to me as the plane begins to descend into Nashville.
“Just thinking about the game,” I respond blandly.
He arches his brows. “I bet that’s not all you’re thinking about.”
“Not here,” I mutter under my breath.
We’re quiet again for a beat.
“You really like her,” he says in a thoughtful tone.
“Well, yeah.”
“What are you going to do about it?”
“I don’t know yet.”
“Secrets have a way of blowing up in your face.”
“Yeah, but she’s…special. And he’s a jerk.” I say the last part even more quietly.
“Still…he’s the jerk in charge.”
I’m grateful that West is cognizant of how precarious my situation is and chooses his words carefully. “Believe me, I know. We’re being tested,” he continues in his quiet, steady tone. “All of us. Remember that as you navigate whatever it is you’re doing.”
“You think I’m crazy.”
He shrugs. “Not my circus, not my monkey. I’m just hoping you’re thinking with your big head and not your little one.”
I shoot a scowl in his direction. “Don’t do that. You know damn well that’s not what this is.”
A faint smile plays on his lips. “Well, I do now.”
“What, you were testing me too?” I roll my eyes. “Thanks for the vote of confidence, bro.”
“It’s what friends do, look out for each other. I wanted to remind you to think about the risk in conjunction with…the big picture. Apparently, you have.” He nods and reaches for the book that’s been sitting on his lap unopened.
Have I thought about the big picture?
Not really.
I’m focused on right now because there isn’t going to be a big picture if I get traded again or, God forbid, sent back down to the minors.
I can’t take care of either of us if the latter happens, so short-term, my focus has to be on hockey.
We’ll worry about the big picture later. Maybe when she graduates and the season is over.
We can hang on and keep things quiet until then, right?
I really fucking hope so.