Chapter Nine
Nine
Abby
I’m sitting on the couch while I wait for Jack to get out of the shower—my suggestion.
I thought it might help him calm down from whatever episode he was having when I walked in on him.
I’m not even sure what prompted me to walk in on him in the first place; I’ve been telling myself it’s simply because he seemed to need help and this is the profession I plan on going into, but honestly?
It freaked me out a little to hear him so freaked out.
Jack is such a…force, usually. He’s just always so happy, obnoxiously so…
and hearing his panicked tone when he answered me through the door had been so much of a shock that I found myself opening the door before I could even second-guess myself.
I’m still a little in shock at the state I found him in; his room was an absolute mess, like he’d been tearing through it mindlessly, and I know a manic episode when I see one.
I guess it just never occurred to me that Jack could experience something like that.
Learning that he even has medication for such episodes was a real eye-opener.
I tap my foot as I wait for him, sitting up a little straighter when I finally hear his door open and shut.
I’m almost regretting my offer to let him talk it out, because what the hell am I going to say to Jack Baker?
I would barely even call us friends, living arrangements aside—what can I possibly say to make him feel better?
He comes out of the hallway rubbing at his damp hair with a towel, his dark gray T-shirt wet at the shoulders, and his lighter gray sweatpants hung low around his hips.
Damn.
Though he’s such a pain in my ass, I can’t pretend the guy isn’t hot as fuck.
With his broad shoulders and trim waist and his big brown eyes and that slight bend in his nose that speaks of it being broken once adding character to his face…
Not that I would ever let myself go there.
I’m sure Jack has a revolving door of women, as much as he flirts with anything that moves.
“Hey,” he says, wincing a little when he sees me on the couch, like he’s slightly embarrassed I’m still here.
I nod back at him. “Hey.”
“I’m sorry about…all that,” he says with his eyes downcast. “Not exactly something I wanted you to see.”
I shake my head. “I probably shouldn’t have barged in, but you sounded so…”
“I sounded…how?”
“Lost,” I decide on. “It’s not something I’m used to hearing from you. Kind of freaked me out.”
He laughs, but it’s a scornful sound. He drops the towel on the back of the couch, moving around to plop down on the other end. “I try not to let anyone see that shit.”
“You mean to tell me this happens often?”
“It’s not so bad anymore,” he tells me. “But lately…with everything that’s been happening…”
“When did it start?”
His brow arches. “Are you playing psych on me right now?”
“Or just being friendly,” I say with a roll of my eyes.
“I didn’t think we did that,” he points out.
I feign shock, pressing my hand to my chest. “After our BFF nachos?”
That gets a real laugh out of him, and there’s a strange sense of relief that courses through me at hearing it. I realize at that moment I don’t like seeing this morose version of Jack. It just…doesn’t fit him.
“You probably just want to use me for a term paper,” he teases. “I’m sure an unhinged hockey player would make for a great subject.”
“Stop doing that,” I say with a huff. “You don’t have to make it a joke. I know you were upset in there, okay?”
His face does something funny, like it’s going for a smile but morphs into a grimace beyond his control, and his head hangs down as his fingers lace together in his lap.
“Yeah,” he says softly. “I was.”
“I told you we can talk about it.”
“I don’t even know where to start really.”
“How about the beginning? What happened to trigger that episode?”
“Coach found out about my injury,” he tells me.
I wince on his behalf. I don’t know a lot about hockey, but I can imagine that’s not good.
“I take it he had things to say.”
Jack nods. “He’s basically benching me for half the games. I can play a period, maybe two depending on my performance, but I had to agree to let our second-line right winger pick up the slack. And that’s if I don’t show any signs of hurting. Coach is going to be watching me like a hawk now.”
“Has it still been hurting?”
He nods. “It was aching after the first period today.”
“But…at least he’s still letting you play?”
“For now,” Jack scoffs. “Until I fuck up and he benches me for the rest of the season.”
“I guess I don’t understand why that would be such a bad thing,” I say. “Don’t you want to make sure you stay healthy?”
“It’s not about that,” he huffs. “It’s…” He shakes his head. “You wouldn’t understand.”
“Well…Make me understand then,” I say, crossing my arms over my chest.
Jack drops his head back on the couch, heaving a sigh. “Hockey is…It’s all I have, you know?”
“Well that’s just not true.”
He looks over at me, brow cocked.
“You have your sister, and you have Ian, and you have your aunt…You have lots of things outside of hockey, Jack.”
“I have people,” he stresses. “But I don’t have any other thing.”
“I’m not following.”
He throws his hands up, making a frustrated sound. “What else am I good for, Abby? I’m not that smart, and I have no other talents. Hockey is the only thing I have that makes me mean something.”
His phrasing gives me pause, and I shift so I’m turned toward him on the couch, bracing my head against my fist. “And that’s important to you?”
“It’s just…” He runs his fingers through his hair, making it stand up on its ends. He glances at me warily. “Are you sure you want to hear all this?”
“Perfect paper material, remember?”
That gets a small smile out of him, and again, it brings me a bit of relief. “You know my parents died when I was twelve.”
“I do,” I say with a nod. “Lila told me about it.”
“We were a really tight-knit unit, us and our parents,” he tells me. “My dad used to take me to all the local games. It was kind of our thing, you know?”
I want to tell him that no, I don’t know, given that my own father spent most of my life pretending I didn’t exist, but that’s not what he needs right now, so I just nod.
“When they died…Dee was just so little, you know? It felt like I had to step up and be there for her. We spent six months in that foster home before the courts finally granted our aunt custody, and Dee was such a tiny thing. She got picked on a lot. It always felt like I had to be there at all times to look out for her. Hockey kind of fell to the wayside in the face of all that. I sort of forgot about all the things that made me happy and focused on what would make her happy. I did that for a long time.”
I feel a squeezing sensation in my chest as I imagine a tiny Jack Baker, trying his best to keep his little family together in the wake of so much loss.
Sure, my dad was shit, but I had my mother for my entire childhood, and all the years I had with her were wonderful.
I can’t imagine losing her at such a young age. Losing everything so young.
“What changed?”
Jack sighs. “I met Ian when we started at our new school. He was already on the hockey team, and when he found out I used to play at my old school, he convinced me to try out for the team. I almost said no at first.”
“Because of Lila?”
He nods. “I didn’t want there to be anything to distract me. She needed me, you know? It felt like doing something for myself was selfish, given that I was all she really had.”
“But you eventually joined.”
“I did,” he says. “And Dee…she loved watching me play. She and my aunt came to every practice, every game. Every win felt like it was for them, and every goal made me feel like I was flying. For a while…it felt like as long as I was playing, everything would be okay.”
“Do you feel like if you quit playing, you’re letting them down somehow?”
He chuffs a laugh. “Damn, shrink, you don’t pull any punches.”
“Comes with the territory,” I say with a chuckle.
“I guess…That’s part of it,” he admits. “But honestly? It just feels like I don’t know what I would do with my life without it. It’s not like I have a plethora of other skills to fall back on.”
I frown at that. It sounds like Jack might have self-esteem issues and he doesn’t even realize, but I don’t think now is the time to be pointing it out.
“You’ve been playing for years though,” I say. “Don’t you guys usually retire around this age, anyway?”
He grimaces. “Something like that. I’ve been terrified of that too.
If I go through with this surgery, am I basically ensuring that this will be my last year?
I never wanted to be forced out like this.
I wanted to go out on my own terms. It just feels like…
It feels like it’s all being ripped away from me, and there’s nothing I can do about it. ”
I consider that. Again, I know next to nothing about hockey, but I do understand feeling out of control in your own life. I know that intimately. It seems like Jack knows a lot about it, too, which is something I’d never let myself consider before. He just always seems so damned…happy.
“I know a little about how you feel,” I tell him quietly. “I know how it feels when everything around you seems out of your control.”
His expression softens. “Shit. I didn’t even think of that. I’m sure my problems seem like bullshit compared to everything you’ve been through.”
“No.” I shake my head. “It’s not a competition. My suffering doesn’t diminish yours.”
“Spoken like a true psych student.”
“It’s true,” I stress. “You don’t have to compare yourself to other people. You’re allowed to feel what you’re feeling without worrying if someone else might have it worse. Psych student or no psych student.”
His mouth parts in surprise, his throat working with a swallow as he stares back at me. I feel a little undone under his scrutiny, like he can see right through me. It makes me uncomfortable. I didn’t want to make this about me.
“Listen,” I say. “I get where you’re coming from, I really do.
But you have to realize that if you stop playing hockey, it won’t be the end of the world.
Even if it feels like it. You still have so much going for you, Jack.
You’re funny”—he gives me an aha look—“when you’re not being a pain in the ass, and you obviously care a great deal about people that are important to you, and you have a wide support system of people who love you. Trust me, that can be a rare thing.”
His brow furrows and his jaw clenches, his eyes falling to his lap as if he’s considering what I’m saying. “I guess…You’re not wrong.”
“Everything is going to be okay,” I tell him. “Even if it doesn’t feel like it right now. This is just a bump in the road. Even if you stumble a little, it doesn’t mean you can’t get back up again.”
He doesn’t say anything for a long moment, but after several seconds, he nods slowly before his brown eyes meet mine once more.
“Thank you, Abby,” he says. “This helped, actually.”
His smile is soft, and it’s so incredibly unlike the usual shenanigans I’m used to enduring from him that it makes me slightly uncomfortable. Almost like he’s forcing me to see him as Jack instead of just Lila’s dipshit brother. I don’t know what to make of that feeling.
“You’re welcome,” I say finally. “I’m glad I could help.”
And oddly enough…that’s true. It feels like the universe is out of whack when Jack Baker isn’t smiling.
“I could make you some more BFF nachos as a thank-you,” he says with a grin.
“No, thanks,” I laugh. “I already ate. I actually have some homework I need to get to.”
“Oh, right.” He nods. “Sorry to dip into your study time.”
“It’s fine,” I assure him. “Seriously.”
Jack nods back at me, his smile genuine, and again, it does something strange to my insides.
Makes me want to escape the situation quickly before I have to endure any more of it.
I know that I should leave it at this, that this was invasive enough as it is, but my mouth is opening before I can stop it.
“If you ever need someone to talk to,” I hear myself saying, “you know I’m just down the hall.”
His eyes widen with surprise, but then they soften, his lips curling in a grin. “Thanks. I really appreciate that.”
We both just linger on the couch then, several seconds passing between us before I finally shoot upward, feeling awkward all of a sudden.
“Well, I’d better get to that homework.”
“I’ll be making some solo nachos, I guess.”
“I think you eat entirely too many nachos.”
“It’s a pregame tradition,” he tells me. “We have an away game tomorrow.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah, I’ll be gone till Friday.” He smirks. “You can get some peace and quiet in.”
A laugh tumbles out of my mouth. “Thank God.”
“You know you’ll miss me,” he teases.
I don’t know what to say to that, given that it feels a little too close to flirting for my liking, so I just flash him an eye roll and shake my head.
“Good night, Jack,” I say, already heading toward the hall.
“Night, Abby,” he calls back. “And thank you. I mean it.”
I only pause for a second before I continue on toward my bedroom, not stopping until I’m safely tucked away behind the door. I find myself replaying the entire conversation we just had over and over in my head, trying to discern what it means for me.
It had been easier to separate things when I thought of Jack as just another vapid fuckboy who ran his mouth a little too much—but hearing everything he had to say tonight, realizing that there may be more to him than just endless jokes and incessant flirting?
That’s a Jack I don’t know how to deal with.
That’s a Jack I’m nowhere near equipped for.