Chapter 45
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
Hailey
Jason
The event planner said you haven’t been answering her
I wasn’t sure what to say. I didn’t know if you were going to cancel or not, and it seemed like a waste of time and money to have her do more if the whole thing’s not happening
Do you want me to cancel?
I already told you no. But you’re the one who’s brought it up twice now. It’s your decision
I stare at my phone as dots appear and disappear a few times, but no answer comes through. Finally, after almost half an hour …
We need to sit down and talk
My breath comes faster, a spurt of panic making my heart beat faster as well. He said he wanted to talk when he texted on his way home, but I’ve been making myself scarce since he got back. I wasn’t lying about where I’ve been, though I have been making an effort to be out of the house.
I’m … scared.
I’m worried he’ll tell me the whole thing’s off and I’ll need to find a place to live. I haven’t gotten anything lined up since moving here, focusing too much on Jason and what’s happening with him, basking in the sensation of not having to hustle and grind just to survive.
I’ve also started doing food delivery again.
Using his car. I don’t know how he’ll feel about that, but if I’m going to be on my own again soon, I need to do what I need to do.
I’ve been looking at apartments, and with the cost of living here, I don’t see any way I’ll be able to make it with just music.
I’ve also started applying to other jobs because I can’t make ends meet here the way I did in Madison.
I don’t have the established network I did there, and it’s so much more expensive to live here.
Maybe my parents were right that I need to focus on a sustainable career, though they’re wrong that I need to give up music. I can do both, right? Lots of people do.
I’ve also started looking at the grad school options in the area. UW has a good program. I could get my master’s and maybe land a job as a teacher at a community college. I’ll still need some way to make money in the meantime, of course, since I wouldn’t be able to start until next fall.
Or … maybe Marissa will introduce me to her sister sooner than later. I hate to ask and try to trade on that friendship already, but I’m getting a little desperate.
Since you don’t have a game tomorrow, let me know what time you want to talk
My thumb hovers over the button to send the message for a long moment, but I finally take a deep breath and send it.
It might scare the crap out of me, but I need to put on my big-girl pants and be an adult.
That means having hard conversations, even if I don’t want to.
If Jason’s going to end things, if I’m going to have to move on already, better I know now and negotiate some kind of timeline for getting a job and moving out.
Or calling Marissa and begging to crash on her couch if it comes to that. Though what I’ll do for a car …
Sucking in a deep breath, I push that thought aside for now. I’ll deal with that when I get to it. Marissa’s a car person. She might know of a place I can get one for cheap. Or at least come with me to look at cheap cars so I get one that will run for a little while at least.
But while I’m on the subject of difficult conversations, I pull up my texts with my mom.
We’ve exchanged a couple of check-ins since I moved.
I did finally tell her that I moved here, but not much else.
And it seems like the fact that I haven’t told my parents Jason and I got married is part of the reason he’s so upset.
Or maybe it’s the whole reason. Or … I don’t know.
I just know that he asked about my parents, and then everything blew up in my face.
“Just like always,” I mutter to myself.
But if I want to work things out with Jason, maybe showing up to our talk tomorrow with a variety of contingency plans in hand and also the fact that I’ve told my parents will help?
And … I do want to work things out with Jason.
It was nice feeling like I was wanted, like I mattered, like I belonged.
Even though I’ve always chalked everything up to his guilty conscience, the way he reacted makes me less certain in that assumption.
And the fact is, I like Jason. A lot. I like being with him, talking to him, relaxing together.
I like watching him play—his focus and drive and determination on the ice are so sexy.
While I don’t think I’d care much about hockey if I didn’t know any of the players, games are exciting when I get to look for people I know in the game.
I care about his games because he cares about his games.
Just like he cares about my music because I care about my music.
And if that isn’t something worth fighting for, then what is?
I’m still too chicken to call my mom, though.
Hey, so I have some news. Jason and I got married a few weeks ago before the hockey season started.
It was a small ceremony with only a few of his friends and their significant others there as officiant and witnesses.
We’re having a reception in a couple of weeks.
Jason’s parents are coming, and I’ve been debating whether or not to invite you and Dad.
I know you resented Jason spending time with me after Hunter died, and I’ve been worried about how you’d react.
If you can come and be genuinely happy for us, then you’re welcome to the reception.
If you’re going to ruin the celebration, though, please stay home.
I read through the text a few times, making a few edits before hitting send. Then I put my phone down and pick up my violin. I don’t want to stare at it, hoping for a response. Especially since I don’t even know what kind of response I’m hoping for.
I start in on scales, the repetition soothing, but it’s so familiar that my thoughts still run free.
Do I actually want my parents to come to the reception?
Part of me does. The little kid part of me that remembers how they were before Hunter died. The part that’s always longed for their approval and involvement.
But the cynical adult part of me, the part that grew up with them after Hunter died, the part that suspects they wish I’d been the one to get sick instead of Hunter … that part doesn’t want anything to do with them.
Am I ready to cut them off entirely?
No. Mostly because of that little kid part, though. The part that hopes that if I do and say all the right things, maybe they’ll love me again.
Even as the adult part of me knows they’re probably not capable of that anymore.
The therapist I saw in college helped me come to terms with that. Or start to come to terms with that. It’s still hard, though.
I’ve had the passing thought that I should look into finding a therapist again since I have insurance now, but with the uncertainty of my situation with Jason …
It might be worth finding some people I want to call at least. As part of my contingency plans. If I can show that I’m wanting to work on myself, maybe that’ll help?
Yet another tally in the find a real job column, though.
Even if things with Jason don’t work out, I need to figure out a way to stop sabotaging myself.
Because I know enough to realize that’s what I’ve done here.
That’s what I did with my relationships—both platonic and romantic—in college. That’s what I’ve always done.
I’m too wounded, too scared, too certain I’ll be rejected yet again, and I keep everyone at arm’s length until they get sick of it and leave. Just like I always knew they would.
Because isn’t that what I’ve done here? With Jason?
Kept him at a distance, held his original words as the only, immutable truth—that he’s helping me because of his promise to Hunter—rather than acknowledging that things between us obviously changed?
He said as much, and instead of listening to that, I clung to the first—the safest feeling—option.
The one that meant he’d eventually decide he’d paid his debt, kept his promise enough, and I’d be on my own again.
That was my plan all along, wasn’t it? To end up on my own again?
I was willing to accept Jason’s help as long as it had a definite end date, even if that end date wasn’t clearly defined.
There were too many variables to set a hard deadline at the start.
I needed time to move, to make contacts, to get myself set up.
But I figured in a year, maybe two at the most, I’d be able to live on my own, and we’d quietly divorce.
I never expected him to fold me into his life so completely, though. To introduce me to his friends, to encourage them to become my friends, to use his contacts as much as he could to help me …
To throw together a gorgeous, if tiny, wedding in less than a week. To plan a beautiful reception because his teammates were upset they didn’t get to celebrate with us.
To not keep me as some kind of dirty secret, but instead to openly introduce me to everyone as his wife.
And I didn’t know how to take all of that. To trust any of it. To believe that he was exactly who and what he seemed to be—a man with a deep sense of connection to his community, both that of his team, and also this town.
He’s driven me around, shown me his favorite places, described the kinds of charity work he does in the name of the Emeralds.
He’s beloved.
And it’s not difficult to see why. Even if it’s taken me a stupidly long time to figure it out.
My phone alerts, and I’m tempted to ignore it, but also Marissa’s picking me up for the game, so I need to check the time and see if she’s the one calling or texting.
Thankfully, it’s her. I let out a relieved sigh at the sight of her text message letting me know she’s on her way.
And while my phone is in my hand, I mute the texts with both my parents.
That way, I’ll be able to look at them on my own terms—when I’m ready—instead of being caught by surprise in the middle of the game.
After putting my violin away, I change into the hoodie I stole from Jason and get ready to go. Marissa will be here soon.