Chapter 26
CARSON
“I talked to Lenny.”
Ayla’s eyes widen. “Really?”
We’re sitting in the Nook, a little brunch place a few blocks from the house in Maplewood.
“Yeah.” I look down at my clasped hands on the table. Hands that have a faint tremor as I make myself vulnerable. “After I talked to Benny. He pissed me off but he made me think about a lot of things.”
“But not sex advice.”
“No. I tried to give him sex advice, but he didn’t want it.”
She laughs.
“That’s a joke but also it’s not funny.” I rub the back of my neck. I tell her about Trev and his wrist injury and how I’ve been working with him after practices to try to help with his scoring drought. “He got a goal last night,” I add proudly.
“He did.”
“You were watching?”
“Yeah.”
“Anyway, I was giving him advice about the surgery which apparently, he didn’t want.” I grimace.
“Ohhh.” Ayla regards me with those gorgeous dark-blue eyes, her expression soft and understanding. “You were trying to help.”
“Yeah. Ended up pissing him off. He complained to Benny, who talked to me. He said Trev felt like I was pressuring him to have the surgery.”
“He doesn’t want to?”
“He doesn’t want to be out for a few months when we’re in a playoff run.”
“Ah.”
“And that reminded me of what you said. How you felt pressured to move on after Kane died.”
She nods, her mouth full and soft.
“You said you felt like I was judging you.”
She gives a tiny nod and pushes her bangs out of her eyes.
“And I guess Trev felt like that, too. And I’m an idiot.”
One corner of her mouth tweaks up. “You’re not an idiot.”
The server brings our food. We both ordered omelets, which come with hash browns and toast. I dig into my western style. Ayla has spinach and feta cheese.
“So,” I continue the conversation, “the more I thought about it, I realized I needed to talk to Lenny.”
“That was brave of you.”
“Fuck, yeah.” I grimace. “But it wasn’t that I was afraid of talking to her. Okay, it was. But it was because I was going to have to admit I’ve made a lot of mistakes.”
“That’s how we learn. How did it go?”
“A lot better than I expected. I think she was surprised. I told her about us.” I pause. “She’s happy we’re trying to work things out.”
Ayla smiles.
“I told her the same things I told you… about when Dad died…”
She listens intently as she eats her omelet and I talk.
“I told her that I wanted to look after her and Viv and Mom. That I tried so hard. How I hated all the feelings I had after Dad died, and I just wanted to be strong. And I apologized for being too controlling. For embarrassing her in front of her friends. For being such an asshole, she ran away from home.” I look down at my plate, my back molars grinding together.
“And then even more of an asshole when we found her.” I pull air into my lungs and let it out. “I think she understood.”
“That’s good.”
“She apologized, too.”
Ayla tilts her head, listening.
“She was having a hard time. She told me she felt so pissed off because Dad was gone. She was moody and irritable. Defiant. She admitted she wasn’t easy to deal with and probably made some bad decisions.”
Ayla’s mouth softens and she swallows. “And how do you feel now?”
“Better. Weirdly.”
She nods.
“And… I realized that you’re right.” I lift my gaze to meet her eyes. Mine are blurry with dampness and I drag my fingers beneath one eye. My throat thickens and I swallow. “I’m not over losing Kane. I’m not even over losing my father.”
Her eyes go glossy. Great. We’re both about to cry here in the diner.
Fuck it. So what? I can cry… especially with Ayla. I might not be ready to cry in front of just anyone, but her… I trust her. I trust her to not judge me. To support me.
“It’s okay, Carson. You don’t have to get over it. You just have to come to your own peace. In your own way.”
“Just telling you about it makes me feel better.”
She nods slowly.
“Admitting it to myself helps,” I add. “Maybe I should see… someone. To talk more about it.”
Her lips tremble. “That’s really brave of you.”
“I don’t feel brave.”
“Does anyone ever feel brave? We feel afraid. Confused. Embarrassed, But when we do the thing anyway… that’s bravery.”
“Christ.” I rub my eyes. “You’re so fucking smart.”
She lets out a shaky laugh.
“Some things I can’t fix,” I say. “And that’s okay.
I think if I accept that, I can be supportive and…
safe. Like you said, you didn’t feel comfortable talking to me about problems. I don’t want that.
” I lock my gaze on hers. “I don’t want you to be afraid to come to me with anything.
I also don’t want that for my teammates. Or my family.”
She bites down onto her quivering bottom lip. “Okay.”
“I can care. And that’s enough.”
“Yes.” She sets down her fork and touches a fingertip to the corner of one eye.
“Don’t cry.” I fucking hate it. “No, never mind, go ahead and cry.”
“I’m okay. It’s great to offer help and support. But ultimately, it’s up to the other person to change their life.”
“Yeah.”
“And that goes for me.”
“What?”
“You said you’ve made mistakes. Well, I have, too. I’m sorry I didn’t try harder to understand what was going on with you. I thought you didn’t care. That you didn’t want to remember Kane.”
“I should have told you. We should have talked more.”
“Yeah. That was a pretty hard time, though. We were both grieving the worst thing that could happen to us. Just grieving differently.”
I nod.
“And the other thing…” She blows out a breath. “Like I said, support is great, but I’m the one who has to change my life.”
“Change it… how?”
“I need a plan for my life. I need direction. I need to know who I am.”
“Okay.” I’m not sure where she’s going with that.
She tells me how she’s been drifting, not really happy with what she’s doing but telling herself she was too busy to change things.
Too busy working at Uncle Ernie’s, helping her parents, planning a big birthday party.
“But I think I was using everyone else’s needs to avoid working on myself. My own life.”
Well, shit. “That’s… wow.” My lungs expand big in my chest with love and pride. “I love you, Ayla.”
She blinks back more tears. “I love you.”
“You know… when we were at the resort and you said that you weren’t dating because men are just another job?”
“Yeah.” She cocks her head and picks up her coffee cup.
“You were talking about marriage and how women don’t need it and I said you were anti-marriage. And you said… just for you.”
She lowers her chin in acknowledgment.
With a hard knot in the pit of my stomach, I ask, “Is that true? Do you still want a divorce?”