Chapter Twenty-Six #2
Bea is watching all this quietly, chewing her food thoughtfully as she takes it all in.
I see her eyes snag mine then, flicking between me and Abby before she arches a brow in question.
I try to keep my expression as even as I can, but I have no idea whether or not Bea sees through it.
She’s always been pretty sharp, that one.
“So what about this hit you took?” Bea asks, which is honestly a topic I’d like to talk about even less than what’s going on with Abby and me.
I huff, dropping my fork onto my plate. “It was really nothing. I barely felt a thing.”
“Bullshit,” Ian says. “You had to ice your arm for the rest of the game.”
I don’t miss the way Abby tenses beside me, but to her credit, she remains quiet.
“Have you talked to the doctor again?” Dee asks.
I shake my head. “No. But I…I have an appointment with him this week.”
“Wait,” Abby says. “You do?”
I nod back at her. “I just thought it might be a good idea to see where I’m at.”
She looks like she wants to comment on this, but instead turns her head to take another bite of her food. Again, I can sense that we’ll be talking about it later.
“I just think it’s downright silly to keep playing with your arm like that,” Bea says.
“I said the same thing,” Dee grumbles. “A game isn’t worth your damned arm.”
“And I think that it’s not your decision,” I say, trying to not let my irritation bleed into my tone.
“She’s just worried about you,” Ian says. “We all are.”
“Well, I didn’t ask any of you to be,” I say with a sigh. “I’m really fine.”
“It’s just not very smart to keep this up when the doctor already told you how detrimental it could be for you if you keep playing,” Dee goes on, pointing her fork at me. “I can see the way it hurts you every fucking game. We all can. You’re not fooling anyone, Jack.”
And that irritation gives way to mild anger, because they act like I’m a fucking child.
“I’m not trying to fool anyone,” I say a little harshly. “I’m just trying to play my fucking game without everyone constantly telling me that I can’t.”
I feel a soft touch at my knee, but even Abby isn’t enough to stifle the growing anger building inside me. This isn’t what I came here for, but it seems that they aren’t done.
“You always have next year,” Bea points out.
Ian nods. “That’s true. Just because I’m retiring doesn’t mean you have to. You could have the surgery and be back on the ice by next season.”
“Which is what you should be doing,” Dee grouses.
“It’s just a damned game,” Bea says.
And it seems that’s the final straw, if the way my chest swells with rage is any indication.
I’ve never felt this way toward my family before, but right now, I can feel the anger swirling with a panicked edge that has my heart racing and my blood thumping in my ears, and all I can think about at this second is getting out of this room.
I shove away from the table before rising to my feet, my jaw clenched and my body rigid.
“I need some air,” I say to the room loudly, watching as their expressions all morph into confusion.
I can’t remember ever raising my voice to them before. I can’t remember a time when I’ve ever wanted to.
I stomp away from the dining room toward the hall in search of my old room, pushing through the door and shutting it behind me with more force than necessary.
My breathing is erratic and my head is pounding, and I can feel the way an episode is building, knowing that my pills are back at home where they’re useless to me.
There’s the soft sound of my doorknob turning behind me, and I shake my head before I even look, just needing a minute to myself.
“Just give me a sec, Dee,” I say to the air. “I just need a damned minute.”
“It’s me,” Abby says quietly, making me wheel around to face her.
“Abby?”
“I told them I’d come talk to you,” she says.
My brows rise. “And you’re okay with that?”
“Why wouldn’t I be?”
“Because you barely want them to know that we’re friends,” I say, not meaning to let my irritation with them bleed over into my feelings on that matter, but sensing it happening regardless.
Because she doesn’t want them to know, and right now, it only makes me feel worse.
Abby, ever perceptive, seems to notice.
She takes a step toward me, pressing her hand to my chest and looking up at me with concern. “Are you having an episode?”
“I—” My shoulders slump; I feel like a dick now. “Maybe.”
“Just breathe through it,” she says softly. “In and out.”
I do as she says, taking a deep breath in through my nose and blowing it out through my mouth like I’ve been taught. She keeps her hand pressed to my chest while I do it a couple more times, and I have to admit that it makes me feel a little better.
“I’m sorry,” I tell her. “I didn’t mean to snap at you.”
She shakes her head. “I know how it feels when everyone seems to be ganging up on you for ‘your own good.’ ”
“I know they mean well,” I say, “but I just…”
“You want to make your own decisions,” she finishes.
I nod heavily. “Right, but I…I think I’ve been worrying lately that I’m making the wrong ones.”
“What do you mean?”
“What if they’re right, Abby? What if it’s utterly stupid for me to hang on to this season when it could mean never getting another one?”
“That’s a choice only you can make,” she tells me. “It’s your life, Jack. You have to live it the way you think is best.”
I let my hands settle at her waist then, not giving a damn if someone walks in on us or not. I dip my head until my forehead rests against hers, blowing out a breath.
“I’m trying,” I say. “I just don’t know if I’m fucking it all up.”
“You won’t fuck it up either way,” she says assuredly.
I can’t help but snort. “And if this doctor tells me I’ve made a bigger mess of my arm?”
“Then you get the surgery,” she says. “You do it because you made the decision to. You fix your shit and you come back next year ready to play, if that’s what you want.”
“But we’re so close to the cup,” I mourn.
Abby wraps her arms around my middle, squeezing me. “There will be others, if that’s what you want. You can do anything you set your mind to, Jack.”
“Why does it not bother me when you say stuff like this?”
“Because you know I’m always right.”
I huff out a laugh. “You know they’re going to wonder about you coming to comfort me.”
“Let them,” she says quietly.
I lean back, bringing my hands to her shoulders and gripping her there so I can get a good look at her face. “Really?”
“Maybe you were onto something with the whole telling people idea.”
I rear back in surprise. “You’d want to?”
“Maybe not…tonight,” she says with a wince. “I mean, you kind of left a mess back there.”
I grimace. “I did. I didn’t mean to.”
“It’s okay,” she tells me. “I get it. Really. Just go out there and say you’re sorry, and everything will be fine.”
“I don’t know what’s gotten into me lately,” I sigh.
“You’ve had a lot happen,” she says. “And everyone in your life seems to have an opinion about it. Of course it would get to you.”
“My sweet baby shrink,” I laugh softly. “Always knowing what to say.”
“I’ll be sure to drop your bill in the mail.”
“That gets funnier every time you say it,” I deadpan.
“Now you know what it’s like living with you.”
“Touché.”
“So are you ready to go back out there and face your aunt?” she asks.
“I’d be more ready if we could just go out there and tell them we’re banging. Take the heat off me.”
“One: Don’t ever call it banging again. Two: I think I’ve decided that I’ll be the one to tell Ian.”
“You would rob me of that?” I gasp playfully.
She arches a brow. “Yes, I would.”
“Fine, fine,” I say, already feeling loads better. Even if I feel slightly embarrassed about my outburst. “I don’t care who tells him,” I say with a grin. I lean in then, letting my lips brush against hers. “As long as everyone knows who you belong to.”
“You wish I did,” she snorts.
I let my kiss linger this time, pleased when she melts into it a little. “Yeah,” I murmur against her lips. “I do.”
I watch her throat bob with a swallow when I pull back, her cheeks slightly flushed and her teeth worrying at her lower lip in a way that tells me she’s pleased but would never admit it.
“Go out there and say you’re sorry,” she says, shaking her head.
I scratch at the back of my neck. “Yes, ma’am.”
“And when we get home, I want to hear all about this doctor’s appointment.”
Home.
It’s funny, my place has always just been some walls and the bed I go back to after a hard day, but when Abby calls my place home, it almost makes me see the place differently. Like maybe it is a home, just because she’s there waiting for me.
It makes it easier to swallow my pride and get back out there.
“All right,” I say with a sigh. “We wouldn’t want to rob Bea of the tongue-lashing she’s going to give me for acting like a fool.”
“Oh, I’m looking forward to it,” Abby says with a grin. She presses up on her toes then, giving me a soft, chaste kiss. “But for the record, it doesn’t make you a fool to have feelings. You’re allowed to feel your feelings, even when they seem too big.”
She turns to go then, leaving me in her wake. I’m ever in awe of the way she can say something so simple, and yet it can make it seem like things aren’t so bad.
I’m already dreading the way everyone is going to give me hell out there for my outburst, but when I think about Abby’s soft smile and her reassuring embrace, it feels like I can face anything, really.
Maybe with her, I can even face all the uncertainty I feel when it comes to my future. I don’t know what that doctor will say when I see him, can’t say for sure how it will affect me to hear whatever it is, but part of me thinks that as long as Abby is around, maybe I can get through it.
It hits me all at once then, just how much I feel for this woman.
I wonder what she might say if I told her just how much.