Chapter Twenty-Nine
Twenty-Nine
Abby
I had forgotten just how small Ian and Lila’s couch was. It feels even smaller knowing there’s a bed and a man waiting for me back at Jack’s apartment.
Ian and Lila didn’t say much when I showed up here last night; I think they could sense that something was off with me.
I’m sure the red eyes and constant sniffling were a dead giveaway, but blessedly they gave me my space.
Lila left a little while ago for work, I’m assuming, but now in the cold light of the morning, there’s no one here but me and my thoughts and my brother for company.
The latter has been staring at me surreptitiously ever since I woke up, and it’s clear to me that we’ll have to have a discussion at some point.
To make matters worse—Dad has been calling me all morning. I’ve done well ignoring it so far, but I can’t pretend that, on top of everything else, it doesn’t make me feel more downtrodden.
“Are you…hungry?” Ian tries, looking unsure of what to do with me.
I shake my head. “Not really.”
“Are you sure? I’m nowhere near at Lila’s level, but I could totally whip up some pancakes or something.”
My lip trembles at something as simple as the word pancakes as I think back to all the mornings Jack made them. That squeezing sensation in my chest hasn’t left me since I left the apartment yesterday, and it seems with every sparked memory of the man I walked out on, it only gets worse.
Ian doesn’t miss the way my face falls.
“Okay, that’s it,” he sighs, stomping across the apartment to peer down at me. “We need to talk about it.”
I clear my throat. “Talk about what?”
“About whatever happened at Jack’s that is making you look like that.”
“And what do I look like?”
“You look fucking sad, Abby. I don’t like it.”
I take a deep breath before blowing it out, shrugging one shoulder. “It’s not really that important.”
“If it’s making you look like that—it’s important to me.”
I look up at him with watery eyes, noting the concern in his features, the genuine want there to make me feel better.
It’s almost too much. Tears well up and spill over before I can stop them, and in a matter of seconds, Ian is on the couch with his arms wrapped around me, pulling me into his strong chest as his hand smooths calming circles against my back.
“Talk to me,” he urges. “Tell me what’s wrong.”
“I’ve been so stupid,” I tell him.
He scoffs. “I sincerely doubt that. You’re the smartest person I know.”
“Well, if the last six weeks are any indication, I’d have to disagree with you.”
“You know you can tell me anything, right? I know we haven’t quite…figured everything out between us, but I want to be there for you if you’ll let me, Abby.”
I close my eyes as I bury my face deeper into his chest, no doubt wetting his shirt with my tears, but feeling a strong sense of comfort from his arms around me, nonetheless.
It’s embarrassing, how often I’d wanted something like this when I was younger—for someone in my family to just hold me—and I can’t pretend that I’m not relishing it a little now.
“Is it about…Dad?” Ian asks tentatively.
I shake my head. “No. I mean…He hasn’t stopped calling or anything, but it’s not about him.”
“Then talk to me,” Ian presses. “Tell me what’s wrong.”
I swallow thickly, feeling the back of my neck heat as I mumble, “It’s Jack.”
“What? What did you say?”
“It’s Jack,” I say a little louder.
Ian is quiet for several moments before he answers, “Do I need to murder him?”
“No,” I say, a laugh tumbling past my lips despite everything. “You wouldn’t do that, anyway. You love him.”
“I would if he hurt you,” Ian says seriously. “Or at the very least, kick his ass a little.”
I give another shake of my head, finally untangling myself from Ian’s arms and sitting back to wipe my eyes. “It’s not all his fault. Not really.”
“What happened?”
“We’ve sort of been…” I bite my lip, feeling mortified to be talking about this with my big brother. “We’ve been—Well.”
Ian sighs. “God. I’m going to owe Lila twenty bucks.”
“What?” I ask incredulously.
“She was so sure this would happen when you started staying there.”
“But we did nothing but bicker! How could she know this was going to happen?”
“She’s an intuitive little thing,” Ian chuckles. “So…you and Jack?”
He makes a face when he says it, and I can tell that he’s as uncomfortable talking about this as I am. “I guess he finally got you back for you and Lila.”
“That’s not what he said, is it?” Ian counters, looking angry.
“No, no.” I heave out a sigh. “It wasn’t like that.
He—” There’s a ghost of a smile on my mouth as I remember all the time I’ve been spending with Jack, a pang in my chest that follows it when I recall the look on his face yesterday when he told me he had nothing good in his life outside of hockey.
“It was both of us,” I settle on finally. “It just happened.”
Ian makes a face. “I suddenly feel like I should apologize to Jack.”
“Why?”
“Because he’s right. This is weird. You’re my sister! And he’s practically my brother.”
“I don’t think you have any grounds to be upset with him about it,” I point out.
His nose wrinkles. “Ugh. That’s the worst part. You know he’s never going to let this go, right?”
“Well…” My face falls, that pang in my chest turning into a full-blown squeezing sensation. “He might. Now.”
“Do you want to tell me what happened?”
“I walked out on him,” I say quietly. “He needed me, and I just left him there.”
“Did you have a good reason?”
I think back to all the hurtful things Jack said, each remembered word making me feel more and more shitty. I nod back at my brother. “I thought I did at the time.”
“And now?”
“I don’t know…I mean, I know where he was coming from, I do. He’s scared, Ian. He’s scared of losing something important to him.”
“I take it the doctor didn’t have good news yesterday.”
My shoulders slump as I fall back against the couch, sinking into the cushions as I recount everything that happened during Jack’s appointment.
I tell Ian how broken he seemed by the news, how morose he’d been after.
Ian listens quietly as I tell him about the fight we had, keeping his mouth shut even when he looks angry on my behalf by the end of it.
It isn’t until I finally stop talking that he has something to say.
“He shouldn’t have said those things to you,” Ian tells me. “Especially after everything you’ve been through.”
I nod. “It didn’t…feel good, but I think I understand. I really do.”
“But that doesn’t make it hurt any less,” Ian says.
Another nod. “Right.”
“Jack is…” Ian shakes his head, turning his face to frown at the floor.
“Jack has always been the one you go to for a laugh. He’s been that way as long as I’ve known him.
Always smiling. Always making sure everyone around him was okay.
But there was a moment when he broke his arm last year…
I don’t know. I could tell it really freaked him out, worrying that he might have fucked it up beyond repair. ”
“He’s been terrified,” I admit. “And I get it, I really do. This is his entire life.”
“I guess I never stopped to think about how that might feel for someone like Jack. I’ve always been a hockey player, but Jack lives and breathes it.
I knew when I found Lila again that there would be other things I wanted to do with my life—that there was more to life than hockey—but Jack…
” Ian blows out a breath. “He’s never had that. It’s always been about the game.”
I don’t know if this makes me feel better or worse. It’s probably conceited to think I could be that for Jack after such a short time. Especially given that I’m perpetually fucked-up and unable to deal with my own shit on the best of days.
“Maybe it was unfair of me to leave like I did,” I admit. “I should have heard him out.”
“Don’t do that,” Ian says. “Don’t try to put it all on yourself. It sounds like he made mistakes, and there are consequences to that. Hurting doesn’t give you the right to hurt other people.”
“I don’t think he meant to…”
“But he did,” Ian stresses. “It’s like dropping a plate. You didn’t mean to break it, but it’s broken all the same. You have to decide then if it’s worth putting the pieces back together or throwing the whole thing away.”
I try to imagine a scenario where Jack would throw it all away, and that clenching in my chest gets worse. It doesn’t help that he didn’t reach out at all after I left. Maybe it’s unfair that I feel that way, given that I told him I needed space, but I thought for sure he would at least text me.
But there’s been nothing but radio silence since last night.
“Maybe I’m not worth the trouble,” I say quietly.
Ian rears back. “How could you say that?”
“I mean, look at me, Ian. I’m a mess and a half on the best of days.
I’m putting most of my energy into my classes, I work a dead-end job in the meantime, and I can’t even figure out my own shit well enough to stop our dad from continuously trying to ruin my life. Who would want to take on all of that?”
“It’s admirable what you’re doing with school. You have a dream and you’re chasing it. And you have good reasons for pursuing it. You were dealt a shitty hand in this life, and you want to use that and channel it into making other people’s lives better. That’s amazing, Abby.”
“And yet I still allow Dad to call and text me every day to tell me what a fuckup I am.”
“Do you know what I think?”
I wince. “Do I want to hear this?”
“Maybe not,” he says with a shrug. “But I think you need to.”
“By all means.”
Ian places a hand on my knee, squeezing it gently.
“I think you allow our father to do these things because you actually believe all the bullshit he says about you. I think you still blame yourself for everything that happened to him and to me, that you somehow think you’re responsible for all the shitty things that we’ve dealt with over the years. ”
My voice is small when I answer, “And aren’t I?”