23. JESS
Chapter twenty-three
JESS
It’s been close to four weeks since I left Echo Ridge. I can’t believe how much I miss that special little town in the middle of nowhere, Montana.
I miss the majesty of the mountains. Nat keeps saying we have mountains here in Pennsylvania, but compared to out West, they look like hills to me now. Still beautiful, but different.
Instead of the sounds of rushing creeks and crickets, I go to sleep hearing car alarms and police sirens. Nat lives in downtown Pittsburgh, so it’s nonstop action around here.
There’s no one waving as I step into coffee shops, no store owners sweeping the streets, shooting the breeze about the weather or the Hawks last win. Nat keeps taking me to her favorite hot dog vendor on the corner to try to cheer me up, but it just tastes like boiled meat.
And don’t even get me started on the humidity when I first got here. I was already used to the dry air out West. It can be ninety degrees in Montana, but you can’t tell because the air isn’t thick like you’re wearing a wool blanket, like it is on the East coast.
I swear I started sweating the moment I got off the airplane in Pennsylvania. It’s like sticking your head into an oven. Why even take a shower when your back is going to be dripping in a matter of minutes?
Maybe I’m just grumpy because I miss Jagger. There’s a high likelihood of that because I love my home state, usually, regardless of the negatives I’ve listed above. Nowhere is perfect.
“How’s your job going?” Nat asks as she sinks into the couch beside me. She’s so happy I moved in with her. I love hanging out together again too, eating dinner, and binging on Netflix. We are documentary show junkies.
But this isn’t what I thought my life would look like less than three months after I moved out West. Everyone’s happy I’m here but me, really. Mom and Dad love having Nat and me come over on Sundays for lunch. Being around my family is great, but—
“It’s fine,” I tell her, looking out her window at the view of… well, more buildings. There are definitely no forests anywhere close, no hiking trails in the vicinity. I didn’t realize I’d become such a nature lover so quickly until I came back to the concrete jungle.
I enjoyed growing up here, I really did. But now it’s just so… not Montana. And not where my heart is because I left that out there, too.
“Fine?” she questions me. I’m not usually a “fine” type of girl, so I’m sure my answer surprises her. I don’t do one-word responses, but it’s all I can think to say.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m grateful for Coach Bradley’s recommendation. It got me a job with the Pittsburgh Bears. It’s the NHL, a step up from minor league hockey, which is great, in theory.
I can live with Nat, see my family whenever I want, and connect with old friends that still live here. But I’m the assistant to the assistant Media Relations Manager. My job basically consists of looking for spelling errors the checker missed before posts get sent to our social media sites.
Woo hoo.
The team is ok. Actually, they are all pretty nice. There are a few egomaniacs, but the whole team is very focused on their sport and dedicated to winning. I don’t get to interact with them all that much, though, since I’m stuck in my closet-sized office much of the day.
Again, I’m grateful, even though I probably don’t sound like it. I just miss the Hawks.
I also miss Dax coming over to my apartment for toilet paper. (It didn’t matter how much I bought him; he still needed more.) I miss Troy’s terrible magic tricks. I miss Brooks, even though he’s kind of obnoxious. I miss Talon, the way he trusted me and opened up about his life. I never found out what happened with him and Willow because he hasn’t kept in touch.
But I miss Jagger most of all, of course.
It was a lot easier to ignore his calls when I was mad at him. I didn’t want to change my number again because it’s the one I use on resumes. So, I still get texts from the guys.
“Please, come back!” comes through from Dax about once a week. Or “I’m gonna saw one of the rookies in half soon,” from Troy. That one I got just yesterday. I’m hoping he means for a magic trick and not for real. It’s hard because I can’t tell them what actually happened. I feel like I let them down.
I’m sure the guys are frustrated, too. I’ve followed their season so far; I just can’t forget them that easily. After going three and one in the preseason, they’re now one and eleven. They’ve had a terrible month.
Tina keeps me informed. She said fans packed the community center for the first few weeks, excited after my social media campaign took off. But since the team keeps losing, there are less and less people at each game.
It makes me sad to think of the guys losing the support they’d gained. But I can’t blame the fans, either. No matter how much you like the team, losing isn’t what you come to see. And right now, they are on an eight-game losing streak. Plus, Echo Ridge isn’t a very convenient location, which isn’t helping.
Tina says there’s just no chemistry between teammates. They’re just off, especially Dax and Jagger. Unlike the preseason where they both anticipated each other’s next move, now they’re passing more to the other team than to each other.
I texted Dax about it, asking him what’s going on between the two of them. He responded with, “Don’t ask me, ask Jagger. He sucks ever since you left, but he won’t tell me what happened.”
There was some ranting about how he’s withdrawn, won’t hang out with the team anymore. He finally stopped asking me why I left after the tenth time I said I couldn’t tell him. I know he doesn’t believe me, but he finally let it go.
I shrug my shoulders at Nat. “There’s not much more to say. Fine just about covers it.”
Just then the doorbell rings, saving me from her inquiry. Nat looks at her watch. “Hmm. Six o’clock? I wonder who in the world that could be?” she says with a smirk.
We both know exactly who it is. It’s the same flower company that’s been delivering sunflowers every day at six p.m. since I got here.
Coach Bradley must have told Jagger I was coming home to Pennsylvania. He’s never been here with me, but I’m sure it wasn’t hard to find Nat’s address online or put two and two together that I am likely living with her.
Every day we get a different variety of sunflower from a nearby shop and cards from Jagger, asking me which are my favorite. I’ve never answer him, so he just keeps going through all the varieties.
Nat and I have been counting the different types since day one. He finally ran out of choices a few days ago and started over. My sister goes to the kitchen to grab a Sprite.
She hands it to Mo and thanks him in what has become a weekday routine. We get him Monday through Friday and Stephanie on the weekends, like clockwork. She’s a Fanta type of girl.
“Still haven’t forgiven the poor guy?” Mo shouts to me.
“There’s nothing to forgive, Mo. I told you that,” I answer. “Why won’t you believe me?”
Mo laughs. “Because this guy spends more money sending you flowers than I make each week. It had to be a monumental mess up on his part.”
I walk over beside Nat and close the door slowly. “Thanks, Mo. Bye, now.”
I take the flowers from Nat. They’re the blue Teddy Bears, my favorite. I knew it the day Jagger first gave them to me at Sunflower Park. I should just tell him so he stops sending them, but I can’t. He’ll give up eventually. I think.
“You know he’s never going to quit,” Nat says.
“Yes, he will. Eventually, he’ll get tired of trying, tired of not hearing back and move on. Plus, he’s clearly having all the varieties special ordered. It’s going to be too expensive to keep up much longer.”
Nat shakes her head. “You’re wrong, but knowing you’re wrong is enough for me,” she jokes.
I put today’s batch in a vase and line it up on the windowsill with the rest of the week’s deliveries. We invested in seven vases when we saw this trend was going to continue, one for each day of the week because seven days is about how long they last.
We have the prettiest windowsill I’ve ever seen with our never-ending supply of fresh flowers.
“So, you’re never going to let him know for sure you live here?”
“No, it’s—”
“Better this way.” Nat finishes my sentence. Clearly, I’ve answered her persistent question the same way many times before. “Well, at some point, I’d like my bubbly sister back, please. If you’re not going to find a way to make it work with Jagger, you need to move on with your life. This has gone on long enough.”
Tough love. She’s tried everything since I’ve gotten here. Empathy. Support. Distraction. Matchmaking. When they don’t work, she circles back to tough love.
I appreciate her effort, but I’m not sure there is a time frame to put on this. Right now, losing Jagger still hurts, and communicating with him will make it worse, I know it will.
“I’m pretty tired. I think I’m going to call it a night,” I tell her.
“At six o’clock? But there’s a new season of Tiger King dropping tonight. I can’t watch it alone.”
“Tomorrow. I promise.” The Bears are on a road trip which means there’s even less to distract me. I don’t get to travel with the team. They’re having an amazing season, the best one in a decade, but I just can’t get that excited about it.
I’m washing my face in the bathroom when my phone dings. I assume it’s my mom, double checking we’re coming over on Sunday. She does it every week.
But it’s not. It’s Coach Bradley.
Coach: Hey, Jess. Hope you’re well. Did I catch you at a bad time?
Me: No, what’s up?
Coach: Well, not our wins, that’s for sure.
I didn’t know he had a funny side.
Me: Yes, the Hawks are having a tough stretch.
Coach: That’s an understatement. I wanted to let you know that I spoke with the Hawks' owner. Told her we needed to get you back here to help get fans in the seats again to inspire the guys…and Jagger.
Me: Really?
Coach: I can admit when I’m wrong. I thought keeping you and Jagger apart was the best thing for the team. But now that you’re gone, it’s clear it’s not good for him or them. Jagger’s play is flat, uninspired, and we’re losing the support of the community quickly.
Me: That’s a lot of pressure. I don’t see how I can make that much of a difference. I’m just a social media manager.
Coach: I’d argue you are more than that, especially to Jagger, of course. The team also had a different feel when you were here, and the fans bought into your campaign. A lot has changed very quickly since you left.
Me: Really?
Coach: Absolutely. A successful leader knows how to surround themselves with good people and not just assistants or players. Listen, maybe coming back doesn’t change much about this season. That’s not on you.
There’s a pause in his texts.
Coach: My point is I shouldn’t have put you in the position where you had to choose between your career and Jagger.
Me: Thank you.
Coach: So, your job is here if you’d like to come back. They never filled the position. I just wanted to be the one to tell you it’s yours if you want it.
His texts continue.
Coach: And I’ve revised Jagger’s contract, taken out the restriction about your relationship. You’re adults. Your choices should be your own.
Wow. I don’t even know what to say. My brain is swirling with all this information.
Me: I appreciate that. I really do. But I’m not sure. Can I take some time to think about it?
Coach: Of course, in the meantime, we’ll try to get some wins out here.
Me: Thanks again, I’ll be in touch.
I walk back out to the living room. Nat turns to face me.
“I thought you were going to bed?” she questions me.
“Not anymore. I’m going to put on some coffee. I think it’s going to be a late night.”