5. JESS
Chapter five
JESS
Five minutes ago, it looked like pure sunshine from my spot on the couch. I walk outside, and there’s a deluge. I feel like Charlie Brown with my bad luck.
At this point, I’m just going to sit on this beach and enjoy the drenching. Just because I get stung by a jellyfish in the first five minutes I’m here, then my ex-boyfriend, who broke up with me in front of all of Miami, shows up on the island, AND the resort double books us into the same suite doesn’t mean I should lose my positive outlook. My life has clearly become some sort of romantic comedy.
My mom always told me life isn’t black and white. It’s lived in the gray. Looking up at the sudden influx of clouds, I’m definitely in the gray right now. But I’m not the one who got left at the altar, so I deserve some gloominess.
I keep focusing on what Jagger did to me and not what I did to Tobey. It’s not exactly the same, of course, but we both really hurt people we cared about and have regrets.
Jagger is Daisy Piper sorry. That’s the biggest country star in the world type of sorry.
I’ll give him credit. His lyric filled apology was very cute and heartfelt, even if it was somebody else’s song. But it was also overwhelming. I have so many emotions still swirling within me, all stirred up by him at warp speed. I’ve done everything I could to stuff them into crevices and cracks they couldn’t escape from, but I failed.
There’s a part of me that wants to throw my arms around Jagger and declare, “All is forgiven!” I’m over your wandering eye, your surface level wanting of other women, your poor break-up delivery judgment.
But another part feels like I’ll let all of womankind down by just forgetting about it and giving in because my skin prickles with heat when he’s close the same way it did back then.
I’ll seem weak if I embrace him when he chooses to show me the man on the inside of all that gorgeousness, the one who quotes country stars and offers me more space in the closet.
It’s those little things that got to me four years ago and obviously, still get to me today. It’s the man he is, one that doesn’t make life easy, but makes it exciting and worth every valley. Unless it’s a valley so deep I have to change cities, then there’s issues.
Issues that linger, but don’t allow me to marry someone else. My life’s the epitome of sitting on a beautiful beach in the rain. So here is where I’ll stay for now.
The downpour finally slows to gentle, persistent droplets. Still clad in my bikini, I shiver a little as the cold beads mingle with the salty sea air, plastering my hair to my forehead. The ocean stretches out before me in a soothing rhythm. I hug my knees to my chest, watching as the waves crash and recede, feeling the cool sand beneath me.
As I lose myself in the sound of the rain and the sea, a flock of pelicans suddenly appears, gliding effortlessly through the darkening sky. Their graceful silhouettes are a beautiful, unexpected moment in this tumultuous day.
Just as I start to think how lovely it all is, I feel something warm land right on my shoulder. I look down, and of course, it's pelican poop. A perfect, slimy, white splat that’s immediately starting to drip down my arm from the rain. I can't help but laugh at the absurdity of it all.
"Really?" I shout up at the sky, shaking my head as the pelicans continue their flight, oblivious to their excrement bullseye.
Now I have two choices: go into the ocean or go back to the room. Neither is ideal at this point. I stand and stick my foot in the water. The rain makes it feel much colder than I’d like for a cleansing dip. I need to face Jagger sooner or later and if removing a bird’s number two from my skin is the motivation, then so be it.
Plus, I need some soap. I don’t know what that pelican had for lunch, but I don’t like the looks of how it came back out. A water cleanup isn’t nearly enough.
I hear the snap of an umbrella behind me and turn to see Jagger. “As your roommate, I thought it looked like you’d had enough rain for the moment.”
He chuckles softly, his shoulders shaking with quiet amusement. “And I thought I’d offer protection in case those dive-bombing pelicans come back.”
I smack him playfully on the shoulder. “No laughing!”
“I’m not laughing. Technically, I’m giggling,” he defends himself, but not well.
“Giggling? I’m telling your teammates in Miami their star player is giggling,” I joke.
His face drops, “They aren’t my teammates anymore…”
“What? What are you talking about? You’re by far the best player on the team!” I start rattling off statistics I know because of the notifications I get.
His face morphs into shock. “You know my stats? How? You don’t cover Miami anymore. You mentioned Chicago earlier. That’s where you were all this time? Never mind, that doesn’t matter. Let’s get back to you stalking me but not taking my calls. Let’s talk about that right now.” Jagger drops the umbrella and crosses his arms across his chest, raising an eyebrow in a skeptical arch.
Nope, I don’t want to do that at all. I’ll forgo the umbrella and take my chances in the open air against a pelican recurrence. “Let’s not.” I start jogging away.
Jagger catches up with me instantly, again offering cover. It’s no use. I’ll never outrun him. I stop mid stride. “So, I kept tabs on the team. Big deal. A lot of those guys became my friends over the years, especially the last year when we were together.”
He smiles at my last sentence like the sun just reappeared after months of hibernation to light up his face. “The other guys on the team, huh. That’s why you knew all my statistics?”
“Yep,” I fib. “Just happened to notice how you played in the process. You’ve done well. I answered your question.” Kind of… “Now you answer mine, please. Why aren’t they your teammates anymore?”
I think he realizes I won’t give up either. “I got demoted, sent down to the minors. They say I need a change of scenery to work on my… ‘emotions.’” He does air quotes.
Wow. I knew he was getting into a lot of fights, but I didn’t know it was serious enough for the owner to make a move like that. I’ve never heard of shipping your best player off for behavior issues.
“I’m so sorry. Are you ok?” He’s been so focused on me when his life isn’t perfect, either.
Jagger sighs. “I have no one to blame but myself.”
I’m not sure what to say. I want to ask him more, find out what’s really been going on with him. It does seem like he’s gotten into exponentially more fights than most hockey players, but he’s always been aggressive. It’s one of the qualities that puts him at an elite level.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
He guffaws loudly. “Do I, Jagger West, professional hockey player extraordinaire, want to talk about my feelings about losing a spot on my highly respected playoff contention NHL team and being sent to a historically poor minor league squad? Sure.”
“Really?”
“No. Come on, let’s get that disgusting streak off your arm.” He places his hand on my lower back to get me moving forward.
He’s focusing on me again. Jagger’s making it extremely hard to stay mad at him. And I want to stay mad. I need to stay mad.
Jagger West acted like a stereotypical hockey player four years ago, discarding me for the next woman up. I should never forgive him for that. Well, I can forgive him, I think. Eventually. But I can’t forget and let him back in my life. I can’t keep uprooting if he decides he’s got an itch that needs scratching.
I just need to be strong through this vacation, even though the living conditions are not ideal. Then he can go his way, and I’ll go mine… wherever that happens to be.
As of right now, I don’t actually know where that is. Just before I came to Jamaica, I started looking for a new gig myself. I really need to stop dating hockey players. I have a bunch of feelers out to people I know in the industry to see what stations are looking for sports reporters. At this point in my career, I’ve got a good resume and have lots of connections, so I should be able to find something.
My lease is up at the end of the month because I was supposed to be moving in with Tobey, so I have a few weeks before I need to move, but it needs to happen pretty quickly.
Jagger is clearly trying to deflect, but I can see through it. I have Jagger x-ray vision. He may be able to fool most people with that "nothing phases me” fa?ade. But I’ve spent too many nights with him on my lap after tough losses, or when ESPN shows statistics on his poor shooting percentages over the course of a few games to the entire country.
He loves my head massages, says they’re the only things that help him relax and forget about the negatives of being in professional sports. So, he’ll flop down on the couch when he needs one and give me puppy dog eyes that are impossible to resist.
To the world, he’s cocky and superhuman, like nothing shakes his confidence. But he always let his guard down with me, admitting how exhausting that exterior can be. He says it’s what fans like, but I like the real him.
And he may be right. Certainly, fans didn’t flock to Tobey the way they did to his teammates who always showed off their abs for the camera and spoke confidently about how they’d help the team win the Stanley cup.
If they only knew the chiseled body underneath the uniform and old soul behind Tobey’s reserved smile, they’d swarm him in an instant. I hope somebody sees what I saw and can give him what I couldn’t.
Ok, enough about men, this vacation is supposed to be about decompressing and hitting the reset button on my life. I’ve got to leave the past in the past.
I let Jagger guide me to the suite without acting like his hand on my back is poison. He’s trying to be kind, so I’ll let him. And I don’t hate it, quite the opposite. His touch still sparks a flutter in my stomach, even after everything that’s happened. But it doesn’t mean it’s going to change the way things are between us.
This is actually a good time to get some closure on the Jagger chapter. What is that thing people always say about unforgiveness? Something like, it’s the baggage you carry while expecting someone else to feel the weight...
That’s a pretty good analogy because carrying that weight from what happened with Jagger ruined a chance of a future with Tobey, one of the best guys on the planet.
And although there is clearly a million-member Monarch butterfly migration happening inside me, I need to look to the future, a future without men with sticks in their hands. And wavy brown hair. And mesmerizing cocoa-colored eyes. And the perfect amount of scruff.
Yep, none of that.
I head straight to the shower when we get to the suite. Just as I reach the bathroom door, Jagger calls out from the living room, “If you need any help, you know where to find me.” Ok, that is not helping. I’ve got to set some ground rules here, as much for myself as for Jagger.
I spin back around to have a quick chat. He’s sitting on the couch, so I plop in front of him on the coffee table. “Four days, ninety-six hours. We are going to share this suite as friends, nothing more.”
His face lights up. “Friends? We’re friends again? Sweet. But I have like four more apologies left if you want to hear them.”
I wave him off. “Not necessary. I get the picture. Daisy’s writing is very therapeutic.” I feel my mouth make an upturn involuntarily. Jagger’s relief at my words is palpable. He rubs his hands over his face and blows out a huge breath.
When he removes them again, he says, “If you’re sure…” Then he grabs his phone and holds it out in front of him. “Because I have an ‘Ode to Jess’ written on here somewhere.” Then he laughs.
“No, you don’t,” I banter back at him.
Jagger tilts his head with an adorable grin. “Ok, I don’t. But I could write one if you need me to. I’d do anything for you, Jess.”
I need to look away and not focus on the crinkle of his eyes when he smiles. The way it always made me want to get some wavy French fries when I saw it. Still not hungry. Yes, I am. No, I’m not.
“We can be friends.” His eyebrows arch.
“Nothing more.” They fall.
“I’m going to take a shower.” They arch once more, even higher.
“Alone.” Jagger’s brows descend slowly, as if deflating like a balloon, finally resting in a resigned, flat line.
“Ok,” he agrees, nibbling on his bottom lip. “I’ll take it.” He reaches out for a handshake.
“Friends.”