“Sexually?” Grace frowns.
“No! God, no. Emotionally.”
“That’s not a good thing,” she replies, lifting her hands.
“I know. If he would just open up a bit more about his feelings, he’d be better off. His family’s a bit overwhelming though, and I know he was hurt by his parents’ divorce, so I can kind of see why he’s like that.”
“Maybe it’s not a rebound,” Grace points out. “Maybe you have real feelings for him.”
“It doesn’t matter.” I shrug. “He obviously doesn’t feel the same. It was just a fling for him, which is all he ever does with women.”
“The advice also says that when someone gets dumped unexpectedly, they don’t have as much time to heal as someone who knows a relationship is over for a while before it actually ends.”
“Well, that’s true,” I say slowly. “I don’t know how much time someone needs to heal, but it’s probably more than a day.”
They all laugh, even though I’m not really joking.
“I think that’s different for everyone,” Grace says. “Although I do believe time to heal is important before committing to someone else.”
I nod slowly. Maybe I do need more time. Maybe my feelings for Jax weren’t real.
“One thing I can say in Jax’s favor is that he never made a pass at me,” Brielle says. “Sadly, for me.”
I laugh. “Steve denied doing that. But then he said it didn’t mean anything. Bastard.”
“Hell yeah. You’re better off without him. Lying cheating motherfucker.”
We all lift our glasses in a toast.
22
Jax
It’s nearly the end of August. And I still don’t have a contract.
Fuck.
I started skating with some of the guys when I got back to town. It feels great to be back on the ice again. I’ve been working out harder too, training at the gym.
I have to admit, the first time I stepped onto the ice with Chucky, I kind of wanted to drive him hard into the boards and then punch him in the face. I did none of that. I greeted him casually and pretended nothing had changed.
I fucking hate it.
I feel like I’m lying, even though I haven’t said a word to him about Molly. I don’t know what’s happened between them because I haven’t heard from Molly since the day she arrived back in Chicago. It’s killing me, but it is what it is.
For all I know they could be back together.
That only makes me want to punch him even more.
I don’t have to worry about that anymore though, because everyone else is now skating every day at the Aces’ practice facility, and I can’t.
Because I don’t have a contract.
It’s less than three weeks until training camp starts, and I’m still at the community rink, basically on my own.
It’s really bugging me, even though Paul keeps assuring me it’s fine. I’m trying not to get snarky with him, not to blame him for the delays. This happens every year to a few players. And even if I have to miss training camp, it’s not the end of the world.
I’m not so sure about that. I’m working hard, but it’s great to have other elite-level players around to push you to work harder and do better. It would be tough coming in without having that kind of preparation and time with the team.
And I want to be with the team, not practicing all by myself. This sucks ass.
I’ve had calls from the media, and I know Paul has too, not to mention Ian Yarish, the team GM. I keep telling them what Paul told me to say, that I’m not worried, I know it will get done, blah blah blah.
“Obviously you’d prefer that a deal get done before training camp?” the reporter asked.
“Well, yeah, that’s the plan. We never want to miss training camp, so that’s our goal, yeah. But nothing to panic about yet, these things just take some time.”
But I am worried. I trust Paul. I know he’s working on it. But still…
“Are you or the team waiting for someone like Charbonneau to make a deal?” the reporter asked, referring to another free agent in New York who still hasn’t signed.
I refused to comment on that and so did Paul, but it’s definitely a factor.
The dude on TSN announced the other night that the team and I aren’t even close on contract negotiations, apparently confirmed by Paul. Another sports reporter announced that other teams have reached out to the Aces about a possible trade.
I don’t want a fucking trade. I want a long-term deal here in Chicago. That’s what we’ve been pushing for. I want six years. Would I take five? Probably. Four? I don’t know. So far they’ve only offered three and not enough money.
I already knew about this from Paul, so it wasn’t a shock, but I hate that this shit is making the news.
I feel like I have no one to talk to about this. The guys with contracts are practicing together. I still see them, but I’m leery of saying anything that could get out when Paul has drilled into me how important it is to keep our negotiations private. Mom and Dad have both called, so I’ve told them what’s happening, but I kept up the positive façade I present to the media so they don’t know how much I’m freaking out.
Tonight I’m going out for dinner with Paul to get an update on their meeting today. I’m not optimistic that the news will be good.
We’re meeting at a steak house near my place, so I walk there and meet him at the restaurant. This place is upscale and expensive, but not stuffy, and the food is great.
We’re at a table for two in the dimly lit restaurant when for some reason I lift my head as the hostess shows a couple to a table across the room.
It’s Molly.
And who the fuck is that she’s with?
I frown. I don’t know the guy. His suit looks expensive. I’d say he’s about ten years older than Molly and me. Jesus.
“Jax?”
I look blankly back at Paul.
“Did you hear me?”
“No. Sorry.”
Paul repeats his questions about what it would take to get me to sign a four-year deal.
“I don’t know.”
Paul rolls his eyes, then follows my gaze across the room. “What’s going on? See someone you know?”
“Yeah. Sort of.”
“Ex-girlfriend?”
I huff an unamused laugh. “Sort of.”
Molly, apparently sensing my attention, turns and looks straight at me.
I don’t react. Just hold her gaze.
Her eyes widen and she visibly flinches back. Then she lifts a hand in a tiny wave.
I lift my hand too, smiling wryly.
She turns her attention back to the toolbox she’s with. Is she on a fucking date?
“Jax.”
I give my head a shake and try to focus on my conversation with Paul and my delicious twenty-eight-day dry-aged bone-in rib eye.
I’m hyper aware of Molly just across the room, though.
After she left the lake, I was a sad panda. I kept a happy face on until Dad left and I was alone. And then I was really alone. I’ve been at the lake by myself before, and I don’t mind it. But this year it was a definite downer. I ended up coming home sooner than I planned, which didn’t actually help because then I knew I was in the same city as Molly and still couldn’t see her.
And now she’s here. A few feet away from me. Looking beautiful and sexy, her hair its usual mess of waves brushing her shoulders. Smiling at another man.
Fuck.
I order another whiskey, since I’m walking home and also since I don’t have a fucking contract. Getting hammered suddenly seems like a great idea.
Paul and I are done our dinners and are finishing off our drinks when Molly gets up and walks toward what I assume are the restrooms. My heart leaps in my chest.
I watch her companion. He pulls out his phone and starts looking at it, but he’s not making a move to leave the table. I give it a few minutes, then right in the middle of one of Paul’s sentences
, I stand. “Excuse me,” I say abruptly. “I’ll be right back.”
I set my napkin on the seat of my chair and walk the same way Molly did. The hallway to the restrooms is narrow with low lighting, the walls painted black with gold sconces and gold framed pictures on the walls.
But I don’t enter the men’s room. Nope, I hang out in the hall hoping nobody comes along and thinks I’m some kind of creeper.
My timing is perfect, though. Molly emerges from the bathroom with shiny lips and a small purse in her hand. She stops dead at seeing me, her lips parting.
“Hi.”
“Hi.” She gives me a tremulous smile. “How are you?”
She’s beautiful. She has on more makeup than I’m used to seeing, with her eyes all smoky and her skin gleaming. She’s gorgeous either way, though. “Shitty. Thanks for asking. You?”
“I’m…okay.”
“Are you on a date?”
“Y-yes.” She blinks.
I close my eyes at the churning feeling in my stomach. Then I open them and nod. “So you and Steve didn’t get back together?”
Her eyebrows pull down. “No! Of course not. How could you think that?”
“I don’t know. How would I know?”
“Haven’t you talked to him? He mentioned you were skating together.”
“Not anymore.” I rub the back of my neck. “I still don’t have a contract so I can’t skate with the team.”
“Oh. Oh no.” Her eyes shadow and she takes a step closer. “What’s going on with that?”
“Nothing. We’re miles apart. Still waiting.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Yeah, it’s frustrating as hell.” It feels good to admit that out loud to someone.
She studies my face. “Is that your agent you’re with?”
“Yeah. He had a meeting with Ian today so he wanted to update me and talk about some other scenarios he can take to them. Who’s your date?”
“Um. His name is Nicholas. We met…online.”
I mutter a curse under my breath.
“What?” Her eyebrows lift. “Is that a problem?”
Hell yeah, it’s a problem. It’s a big fucking problem. I don’t want her to be with any other man but me. I’m not interested in dating and goddammit, it hurts that she is.
How can I say that, though?
She seems to be waiting for me to say something. The noises of the restaurant—clinking cutlery and glasses, voices, music—fade away and we’re standing alone in this dark, narrow space in a bubble of our own personal space.
“Molly.”
She nods.
“I miss you.”
Her bottom lip quivers. “I miss you, too,” she whispers, her fingers tightening on the little purse.
“Shit.”
Neither of us move. My body aches for her, though. My hands want to reach out for her. My mouth wants to taste her.
“Does Nicholas like trivia?” I ask roughly.
“I don’t know. This is our first date.”
I nod tersely.
“I better get back,” she says softly. She walks forward to pass me in the hall. I step back even though I want to block her way. She pauses near me, near enough for me to smell her sweet citrusy scent. “Good luck with your contract.”
“Thanks.” Right now, that seems meaningless. I just want her. More than anything.
How did things get so fucked up?
She brushes past me. I watch her walk away. She’s wearing a black halter dress fitted to her curves, baring her shoulders. It ends just above her knees and her legs look killer in black heels.
Emotion swirls inside me, filling my chest. Anger. Frustration. Regret.
Without using the men’s room, I go back to the table where Paul is waiting for me, not looking at Molly and Nicholas. Paul’s already taken care of the check. “Thanks, man,” I say as I sit again. I pick up my whiskey and down the remainder.
“I have to fly to Toronto tomorrow,” he says. “But I’ll keep you in the loop about any more talks with Yarish.”
“It’s not going to get done before training camp, is it?”
“Not looking like it right now. But before the season starts, sure.”
I nod. “Okay.”
I can’t resist another look at Molly as we walk out, and she turns her head and flashes a tiny sad smile that fucking breaks my heart.
I stroll along the Esplanade on my way home. It’s dark now, but there are still lots of other people around. The river reflects city lights on its inky surface, and I pause at the low wall to gaze out over it.
I have to get my shit together. But right now feels like a low point in my life. I finally found a woman I actually want a relationship with, and I can’t have her. And I found a team I want to stay with, and they don’t want me.
Okay, I’m being pathetic. It’s not that they don’t want me. I know it’s a business. It’s all about the numbers. But it’s hard not to take things personally. I know I’m not in a good frame of mind, and both these deficiencies in my life seem worse because of that.
Maybe. Or maybe they really are shitty.
I need to do what Molly’s doing—move on with my life. Find some other woman to bang. Maybe prepare myself to play elsewhere this year.
Or maybe I’ll just go home and finish getting drunk.
Molly
“I can’t believe I saw Jax the first time I went on a date.”
“I know. That’s a hell of a coincidence.” Grace and I are sitting on her big sectional in her living room. Her fiancé is out tonight.
“Nicholas was a nice guy, but it felt like so much work being with him. I get that we don’t know each other at all and it takes time, so I was going to agree to a second date. But after seeing Jax that night, it only reinforced how bored and uninterested I was in Nicholas. So I turned him down. Which pissed him off.”
“Ugh. Men.”
“I know! I’m getting all kinds of action on Tinder, and not all of it’s good. Holy shit, there are a lot of assholes out there. One guy asked me if that was my real hair or a wig.”
“Oh my God.”
“Right? Another guy sent five cringe-y pickup lines in a row, not getting the hint after I didn’t respond to the first one that I wasn’t interested. Then there was the dude who asked how my head game is.”
“What did you tell him?”
“I told him he’ll never know.”
Grace laughs.
“And the guy who told me how beautiful I am and begged me to have sex with him.”
“Ugh.”
“Right?” I shake my head. “I really just want to give up on this dating game.”
“What about Andrew?”
Yeesh.
There was another guy on Tinder who seemed okay. Grace and Brielle were supportive and encouraging. I didn’t think it was going to work, but dammit, I was determined to give it a shot.
“His mouth was gross.”
“What?” She stares at me.
“I looked at his mouth and tried to imagine kissing him. I couldn’t.”
I met Andrew for drinks after work one day. Once again, he seemed like a nice guy. He had a good job, he dressed well, he was well spoken. He didn’t get some of my jokes, but maybe that’s something that takes time. I gave it an honest shot and went out with him again. Still turned off.
“What is wrong with me?” I ask Grace. “Why am I not interested in anyone?”
“Nothing is wrong with you.” She sighs. “Maybe we were wrong to push you into dating again. Maybe you need time by yourself to heal.”
“Honestly? I’m healed. I don’t care about Steve.”
“I mean, maybe you need to time to heal from Jax.”
My head jerks around. My mouth falls open. Shit.
For some reason, my throat constricts and my eyes sting.
Jax is…everything. Smart. Funny. Kind and generous. Yes, he’s a little bottled-up, but I think he just needs to feel safe with making himsel
f vulnerable. Also, he’s incredibly attractive.
I think what’s upsetting me is the thought that I need to get over him. That we can’t be together. I drop my head forward, my chin hitting my chest. “Fuck.”
“Yeah.”
After a moment I lift my head. “There is something wrong with me. Steve didn’t care enough to be faithful or honest. Jax just wanted a sexy fling. I fell for him, but he didn’t fall for me. It’s me. I’m not good enough.”
“Molly, that is not true. You’re amazing. Smart, kind, wonderful with kids. With all people, really. Fun to be with.”
“Thank you.” I try for a wan smile. It’s great to have the support of friends, but deep inside I still feel inadequate. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe I do need time by myself. Not just to heal. But to come to terms with who I am.”
Grace tilts her head. “I know you’ve had a couple of disappointments. But you’ve always been someone who’s comfortable in your own skin. You should take some time, though, and sort out what you really want.”
I feel like I’ve already taken time. It’s been over a month since I left Jax at Clear Lake. I’ve had a lot of time to reflect and evaluate what happened. To consider my feelings for Steve and for Jax. A month isn’t very long, out of a whole lifetime, but I’m confident that my feelings for Steve are over, and my feelings for Jax…aren’t.
After seeing him the other night, my stomach was in knots worrying about his contract. He seemed so glum about it. I hate that he’s unhappy. There’s nothing I can do to help, except…I could be there for him. Listen to him. Tell him it’s going to be okay. I wish so much I could do that.
Should I try?
23
Jax
I frown as my doorman tells me there’s someone here to see me. “Who is it?”
I’m not expecting anyone. Is it one of my teammates here to commiserate with me? Jesus. I rub my face.
“It’s Molly Flynn, Mr. Wynn.”
My heart stops. Then it slams into a rapid rhythm against my chest. For a few seconds I can’t get words out. “Okay,” I finally croak. “Send her up.”
Game Changer Page 21
