Chapter 48
CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
Jason
Taking a deep breath, I look out the window, and it dawns on me that we’re sitting in the car in the parking garage.
This isn’t at all where and how I wanted this conversation to go.
At least, not how I wanted it to start. I had it planned out.
We’d sit, either on the couch or at the table, have coffee or something, and have a rational conversation about what we both want and how we get from where we are to that.
But this …
Starting from jealousy—on both of our parts, from the looks of it—sparking an emotional conversation and Hailey dragging out all her past pain and trauma …
It’s dragging up mine as well.
Unlike her, I was able to run away from the gaping wound that Hunter’s death left. I had hockey to keep me busy and people supporting me, helping me through the worst of it, letting me talk about the grief when it became too much.
Yeah, Hunter’s death left a deep scar, but it healed.
With time. With help. With support from my parents and coaches.
The team even brought in a counselor. It was mostly for me, but enough of my teammates used him that it became a permanent feature of the team, helping pave the way for more teams at that level to follow the lead of the pros by making psychological help available to players.
But Hailey …
She went through all of that without any help.
Without any support. Her parents pretended her brother never existed, packed up all reminders of him, and forbade her from talking about him.
Kept her from feeling like she could reach out to me, even though I know I told her repeatedly that I’d be there for her.
I wish … I wish so many impossible things. I wish Hunter never would’ve died. Never would’ve gotten sick. How different would all our lives be then?
And I wish that her parents would’ve been there for her instead of trying to pretend they’d never become parents and making her feel like they wish she’d died instead of her brother.
What a fucking load of bullshit.
I take in another deep breath, trying my best not to let the tears gathering in my eyes fall down my cheeks. I don’t want her to feel like she has to comfort me right now. And I know Hailey well enough to realize that would be her first instinct.
“I’m sorry,” I say at last, my voice hoarse.
“I’m so fucking sorry, Hailey. For everything.
For your parents. For not trying harder to be there for you.
I thought …” I press my lips together, my nostrils flaring as I breathe deep.
I can’t look at her because if I do, I know I’ll lose the tenuous control I have over my emotions.
“Jason, please don’t apologize for that,” she says softly, her voice pleading.
“You were a kid, too, and in the process of getting drafted for hockey. And then you were gone. How could you have done anything for me from hours away, with a busy practice and game schedule, plus finishing high school? What could you have done?”
I risk a look at her, and her cheeks are wet. All I want to do is reach over and wipe away her tears, but I don’t know how she’d react to that. But then she reaches for me …
It’s instinctive, her hand reaching out in my direction, and then she seems to realize what she’s doing and pulls back.
But it’s enough.
It confirms what I’ve come to suspect—she’s afraid. That’s why she hasn’t jumped in with both feet. And her hesitation to tell her parents or invite them to the reception?
That has nothing whatsoever to do with me. That’s entirely about them and the way they’ve been treating her for years.
I knew they didn’t have the greatest relationship, I knew that they weren’t anyone’s definition of good parents after Hunter died, but I guess, since my parents are the exact opposite, and also I remember how her parents were when we were kids, I couldn’t understand how bad things really were.
They made her think they wished she’d died instead? Holy fuck.
That keeps popping into my head. I can’t … it’s just so disgusting. So awful. And I hate it so much.
“I don’t know.” I hold my hands out in front of me. What else could I have done? I feel like there has to have been something. “I could’ve tried harder to connect with you. Texted you more than two or three times a year. Called. Asked my parents to check in on you.”
She makes a soft sound of disagreement. “My parents never would’ve let your parents come near me.
Don’t you remember the funeral? You were there with your parents.
They knew how close you were, but they hated that you were there at all.
Like I said, I’m not sure if they actually blamed you.
But they resented you every bit as much as they resented me. ”
“So?” I challenge, a spurt of anger making me look at her, and she shrinks away.
I let out a breath and temper my tone. I’m not mad at her.
I’m mad at her parents. “I could’ve handled their resentment better.
What does it matter to me if they resent the fact that I’m alive when their son isn’t?
Because that’s what it boils down to, doesn’t it?
They resent anyone who didn’t die of a brain tumor.
Or maybe …” I pause, weighing the idea that just occurred to me before letting it out.
“Maybe what?” Hailey prompts, though her voice sounds dull.
“Maybe they were afraid of being close to you. Because what if you got a brain tumor or something too? Maybe they thought it would hurt less to bury you if they kept their distance?”
“That’s …” She looks away, swallowing hard. “That doesn’t make how they treated me any better.”
“No,” I agree quickly. “It doesn’t. It’s terrible, and you deserved—deserve—better.
I’m also sorry I didn’t realize …” I shake my head.
“I knew your parents were distant and that your relationship wasn’t close.
I should’ve realized that your hesitation to share anything with them, much less that we got married, had to do with them and their treatment of you, and wasn’t about how you felt about me. ”
“God, no,” she rushes to reassure me. “No. It wasn’t that.
Well, not entirely.” When I glance at her, she shrugs, hands spread, palms up.
“I wasn’t sure how serious you were when you said you wanted me around as long as I was happy here.
I kept looking for the loophole—for you—that meant my time was still limited, even though we’d never set any kind of deadline for me to move out.
I just …” She chews on her lower lip, looking down at her hands in her lap.
“Everyone always gets tired of me eventually. And you’ve given me so much in such a short amount of time, I figured you’d get tired sooner rather than later.
Sure, you like me now. You’re attracted to me, and I live in your house, and like we’ve said, we are married. ”
“Wait, wait, wait. Stop.” I hold up a hand, palm out, like someone signaling a car to stop. “Are you saying you think I’m only with you because it’s convenient?”
Another shrug. “I mean, not just because of that. But I’m certain it plays a role.”
I pause to digest that. Then, in a quiet voice, “Does that mean you’re only with me because it’s convenient?
I don’t mean marrying me for insurance and a place to live.
I mean everything else. Our relationship—because at least for me, that’s what it’s become.
Is it just because we live together and I’m willing to scratch the itch? ”
Her eyes are wide when she looks at me, shaking her head and sucking in a deep breath. “No, Jason. God, no. You’re … you’re amazing. You’re kind and funny and thoughtful and …” Her cheeks turn pink, visible even in the dimness of my car interior, only lit from the lights in the parking garage.
“And what?” I prod, a smile tugging at my lips.
She rolls her eyes. “And you’re hot.”
“You think I’m hot?”
Shaking her head, she rolls her eyes again. “You know I do. We’ve been over this before.”
I do my best to bite back my grin. “I know. But I still like hearing you say it.”
“Anyway,” she continues. “I’m not just with you because you’re there and you’re hot. If I only thought you were hot, I wouldn’t sleep with you. There are lots of people who are hot. I’m not interested in sleeping with them, though.”
Relief swamps me. That also means she wasn’t doing it out of any sense of obligation. Right? “And you weren’t worried I’d change my mind if you said no?”
Her eyes widen in alarm. “What? No! I would never think you were that kind of guy. And if I did, I’d just pack up and leave. Stay with Marissa or something. I’m sure she’d let me crash at her place if I really needed to.”
The knot that’s been tightly coiled in my guts since I thought she didn’t really want me loosens, coming undone as I breathe and consider everything.
“Okay, so let me just … I just want to make sure we’re both on the same page.
About everything.” She nods, her gaze steady on mine.
I hold out my hand in invitation, and she only hesitates for a second before setting her hand in mine.
Her fingers are cold, and I cover them with my other hand, wanting to give her my warmth.
“So. We agreed for you to come live with me so I could help you. You were hesitant because you didn’t like the idea that I was only doing it out of some misguided—in your opinion—sense of guilt.
But when the only other option was moving back in with your parents, who are neglectful, unsupportive, and controlling, you decided to risk moving here. Does that about sum it up?”
“Yeah.” It comes out hoarse, and she clears her throat before trying again. “Yeah. That puts it pretty succinctly.”
I nod. “Okay. You knew I was also suggesting you marry me, for the pragmatic reason that then you’d have access to health insurance, plus it would help me explain you moving in with me without having to drag out our past for the entire hockey community to pick apart.”
Her eyes widen on that last part. “I guess … I hadn’t realized that was a possibility.”
With a half shrug, I tilt my head back and forth.
“I would’ve done my best to keep a lid on it.
I prefer to keep my private life private as much as I can.
But I am a public figure, and it wouldn’t be that difficult for someone to go digging and find our connection.
Depending on who that person is … yeah, it could get picked up as a story. I’ve seen more made out of less.”
“Huh.” She looks away, down at where our hands are still joined, and I give her a second to process what is apparently new information.
“But you, for your own reasons, weren’t ready to get married, even though you moved out here.
Which is … understandable. The thing that I don’t think you realized, and I didn’t do anything to let you know this either, is that I didn’t just want to marry you for some kind of convenience for either of us.
As you pointed out more than once, I didn’t really gain anything materially from the deal. ”
She snorts. “No kidding. It seems like it’s cost you quite a lot of money, actually.”
I shrug one shoulder again. “I can afford it.”
Another snort. “So you’ve said. More than once.”
“It’s true. I don’t care about the money.
What I do care about—what I’ve always cared about since I came up with this harebrained scheme—is you.
” I wait until she meets my eyes again because I want her to see the naked truth stamped on my face.
“I’ve always intended for you to stay as long as you wanted.
Forever, if I could swing it. I’ve known since I took you to that wedding outside of Madison. ”
Her eyes widen as she takes that in. “Jason … what exactly are you saying?”
“I love you, Hailey MacKay. I fell for you while you played violin for some little kids at a park. And I’ve been trying to figure out how to get you to give me a chance ever since.”