2. JAGGER
Chapter two
JAGGER
I can’t believe it. Jess Lockwood is standing in front of me after all these years, as radiant as ever. Her warm brown hair, with its streaks of honey and caramel, blows gently in the wind and the first thing I do is ask if I can pee on her. Classy. I’ve dreamt of seeing her again for so long, of what I’d say, and that was not on the top of my list.
I sat on the beach for a few minutes before heading to my room, heard a woman cry out in front of me and hopped up. When I found her locked in a staring contest with the mini jellyfish that had undoubtedly attacked her, I thought it would be funny to offer my… assistance.
I wasn’t trying to pick her up or anything. Well, if I’d known it was Jess, I would’ve done anything possible to get her to notice me, aside from the… "can I pee on you” thing. But I’ve basically sworn off women since Lottie.
What a huge mistake that was. The newsclip went viral after I told Jess on live tv that I thought we should see other people. Lottie and I never had a chance after that. The scrutiny became too much, too quickly.
Not that there really was a future to begin with. She always agreed with everything I said, never having her own thoughts. Sure, it made things easy but extremely boring. I like a woman with strong opinions, and Jess never disappointed in that category.
Lottie would just stare at me and smile, nodding during every conversation, which was weird because during interviews she was so well spoken. Don’t get me wrong, she was beautiful. But clearly my older self wants more.
I wish my more mature side—a side I didn’t know was in there —would have told me that before I lost the only woman I’ve ever—
Whoa. I’m not going to say it. I’ve never said the “L” word to anyone, not even Jess. But I must “L” her, or I wouldn’t have had the thought, right?
All my teammates loved Jess, and they were not happy to see her go. I know. Professional hockey players do have souls in there. Good ones, even. They all boycotted being interviewed by Lottie until I found a way to make it up to Jess, and I never could. She’d become like an extra member of the team while we dated.
So, every interview for the rest of the season from Channel 5 was with Frank. Nice guy, you just had to breathe through your mouth when talking to him. The man is a big fan of garlic, and it lingered on him long after he consumed it.
Lottie eventually changed stations, too. I messed up two women’s lives in Miami. I really did feel bad about what happened. Lottie accepted my apology, and when I broke it off, said she wanted to go back out west with family anyway. The situation gave her the push she needed. She texted me a few months later that she was happy and had no hard feelings. That made me feel much better.
But Jess, she never responded to any efforts I made to reach out to her. And I tried for months and months. Eventually, her number was no longer in service. And she closed all her social media accounts after the “Lottie the Hottie” firestorm. So that was it. No more Jess. Unless I wanted to turn full-on stalker and hire a private investigator.
That’s when I decided to just focus on hockey, slamming heads and scoring goals. If I couldn’t have Jess, I didn’t want anyone. No distractions to throw me off my game. And it worked, maybe a little too well. For the next three years I was an all-star, leading the league in goals. But I was also tops in minutes spent in the penalty box.
There was a lot of fighting, an excessive amount. It was the only way to release my frustration over the choices I’d made. Yes, sometimes hockey players just fight, it’s part of the game. But my fights with the other guys were solely because I wasn’t going to punch myself, so my fists had to land somewhere.
The problem with that is their fists had to land somewhere, too. So, not only did I spend a lot of time in the penalty box, but I also ended up with tons of injuries, more than expected for a hockey player. In the past two years alone, I’ve broken several bones in my hand, had multiple concussions, and sustained a serious eye injury when a stray finger found its way to my retina.
Owners have no problem with injuries when they come from the game, but when they come from a player with no restraint on his emotions, which I can admit was me, then there’s an issue.
My coach was forced to make a move. The front office said my offensive skills were not enough to outweigh my other issues. That I needed to get my head on straight by spending some time in the minors.
Coach Mills and I are close, so he was empathetic to my situation. He said losing a woman can be one of the hardest things a man goes through. But he also agreed that a change of scenery might be just what I need.
So, here I am. In Jamaica again on vacation before I get shipped off to our minor league team in Montana. I don’t understand why our affiliate is so far across the country, but apparently, it’s strategic. In what way, I have no idea. Maybe if I had known I’d be going from never-ending sunshine and cityscape to a state known for ski resorts, I wouldn’t have had so many altercations.
No, I’m sure I still would have.
But my email said the team is in Missoula, a city with a population close to a hundred thousand. It’s about a quarter of the size of Miami but is supposed to have a vibrant economy, so that’s good enough. As long as people are filling the seats, I don’t need the South Florida nightlife anymore.
I am going to need some different clothing, though: eighty degrees and clear skies are not what that state is known for.
“Well, if it isn’t the better half of power couple JJ. So great to see you,” I tell Jess, hoping to lighten the mood.
She huffs after her mouth finally closes at the sight of me. “There’s no JJ anymore. Hasn’t been for a very long time. Never will be again.”
Jess turns quickly away, but she’s not getting very far. Clearly, she’s in a lot of pain. “Let me help you, please,” I practically beg.
“By peeing on me, Jagger? Grow up.” She’s trying so hard to be mad, but I can see cracks in her fa?ade. Hardcore isn’t in her personality. Strong, for sure, but angry, not usually.
Except she probably has years of pent-up feelings for me inside that amazing body. No, stop focusing on her body. Just because she has curves that would make a back road jealous doesn’t mean I should be distracted by them. But man, she looks even better than she did a few years ago, if that’s possible.
Focus on helping, Jagger.
I follow behind her as she hobbles a few steps, then whips around to face me again. “What in the world are you doing here, anyway? I fly fifteen hundred miles away from Chicago to an island and yours is one of the first faces I see. How is that even possible?” She waves a hand in front of her. “You know what? I don’t care. Goodbye, Jagger.”
She tries one more time to limp away, but the pain and maybe my unexpected and unappreciated appearance seem to drain her spirit. Jess crumbles to the sand.
Oh, man. What do I do here? I can’t leave her, even though she wants nothing more than for me to go away. Seeing her this way is a punch to the gut, and one I had coming.
Her eyes, usually so vibrant, are now clouded with tears. Her brows furrow in a way that reveals her struggle. Her lips, which often hold a warm smile, are quivering, as if she's trying to stifle a cry.
And yet, there’s an undeniable, raw beauty in her vulnerability that grips me deeply. I take a seat beside her. “Jellyfish. Why does something so cool looking have such a nasty sting, am I right? Where is the guy that got you? I’m going to hunt it down right now and show it who’s boss for stinging you. Let me at ‘em!”
I start punching the air like I’m in a fight with an aquatic creature. That gets the smallest giggle from her.
“I’m serious. What did it look like? Was it a Man O’ War? A box jellyfish? Maybe a moon jellyfish? Oh, then there’s the Sea Nettle—”
Her hand reaches out to stop my rattling. The feel of just a few of her fingers across my chest is a kaleidoscope of sensations. Her gentle touch turns my body into an array of emotions. And shivers, let’s not forget the shivers.
“How do you know so many species of jellyfish? How much Discovery Channel do you watch?”
I laugh. I forgot what a great sense of humor she has.
“You know I’m not a big tv guy, except when you were on it, of course.” I can see her holding back a smile, but she’s struggling. “I’ve been coming down to Jamaica for the last few years before the season starts. It’s my happy place, so I’ve heard of all of them.”
Jess nods at my explanation.
“I think the real question is, ‘What in the world are you doing on my island?’” I move to wipe the tears still lingering in her hazel eyes.
She jerks away from my touch, then stares out at the water for a minute before answering. “It’s a long story, and we’re not friends anymore, so I don’t think I’m going to share. I need to get back to my room. Thanks for sitting with me, but I’m good.”
“Just gonna walk it off?” I ask.
“Yep. I’m a tough cookie.” She pushes off the sand, stands up and limps away.
“I know,” I whisper as I watch the best thing I’ve ever had in my life walk away. Again.