Page 125 of Ruled Out

I stare at him. “Like I might actually count for something. Like if I break, then they’ll break too. She practically told me this morning that she’s in it with me, no matter what, thatwe’re unconditional. And you know why it’ll be my fault when I inevitably drag her underneath with me?”

“You won’t, buddy.”

“Because I can’t keep away from her. I couldn’t help myself when I went to her in the college library, hoping to catch a glimpse of the girl who was so far out of my goddamn league that I wasn’t even playing in the same universe! I couldn’t even keep my hands off her in bed this morning.”

Silence.

“Graham was right the first time.” I shake my head. “I just couldn’t leave well enough alone—because I am my dad. He steals oxygen with his fists.” My hands come to the top of my head. “I just suck the life right out of people.”

“Mia is happy with you.”

“Is she?” I look up at him, dropping my hands from my head. “Because she still had the red marks around her throat when she left this morning. She thought I didn’t notice when she stood in front of the mirror and covered them with concealer. How much more is she hiding, Jensen? What bruises is she keeping from me because she doesn’t want me to see? How many times does she cry in silence? I’m the one who’s supposed to protect her!”

“Mia’s okay, Jessie. She told Kate she’s doing okay. She’s spoken to a therapist; she’s working through it all. You both protect and support each other.” He points to a picture of us taken in Riley’s Bar. Tara snuck the photo of us kissing and gave it to Mia, who framed it and put it on a bookcase.

I stare at the photo—my hand’s wrapped around the nape of her neck, pulling her into me.

“Every time I touch her, I feel like I have no right. Every time I wrap my body around hers, it feels like she’ll evaporate right there in front of me. Because she can’t be real.”

“You deserve her, buddy,” Jensen argues.

“And do you know what makes all of this especially fucked up?”

He stays quiet, letting me get everything out.

“Now, she’s gone—my mom. I’m free. Free to cut ties with every part of my past, apart from my brother and the couple of memories I have of her when she was sober. When I walked into that hospital, they told me she’d already passed. I felt relief. For me.” My nose and eyes sting with emotion. “What kind of person does that make me, Jensen?”

My emotion reflects back in his eyes as he looks over at me and smiles. “It makes you human, Jessie. I told Kate once that nothing her parents had done to her had any bearing on who she was as a person. That they were the fucked-up ones, not her.”

“But I am fucked up. I’m broken.”

“So, that’s it, is it? You’re going to push Mia away for asecondtime because you’re worried that you’re going the way your mom did? Is that what this is about? Because that sounds every bit like your dad winning.”

I nod, knowing he’s right. “Last year, the team psych, Ashley, diagnosed me with complex PTSD. She wanted me to start a course of treatment that would help me process what had happened to me. The memories I can’t remember. Only once the gaps have been filled can my mind file them away.”

“Did you take it?”

I scratch at my chin. “Not really. One or two sessions maybe, and then I backed out. It just made me feel worse. Then, around the time Mia moved to Seattle, I agreed with Coach to go back into therapy. But then my game started improving, I got my drinking under control, and I figured I didn’t need it anymore. Maybe Coach did too.”

Jensen takes a second to work through everything I told him before he speaks. “I think maybe you do. I’m not an expert, but I think you need to make peace with not just your past, butyourself. I don’t need to know the details of what happened to you, Jessie. I’ve read between the lines of the small snippets you’ve offered me over the years to know you deserve every good person in your life. I’d also hazard a guess that your mom would think that too.”

“I don’t know if I have it in me. To walk through the memories. I’m scared, Jensen.”

Rising from the couch, he disappears down my hallway, reappearing with something black in his hand.

When he hands me the puck from the great game I played against Colorado earlier this season, I take it from him and turn it around in my hands. He knows I keep game memorabilia on a shelf in my gym.

Crouching beside me, he reaches across and taps his finger over my heart. He’s seen my tattoos before, but never once asked me about them, instinctively knowing they were likely to do with my past and respecting the privacy I obviously needed at the time.

“I don’t think I’ve ever met another person like you, Jessie, and I don’t think I ever will. On or off the ice. You’re a warrior, and I’m honored to walk alongside you. To call you my friend. I’m even more honored that you shared everything you just did with me—I know how much courage that took. But know that this day, right now, marks the start of your healing.”

He bites on his bottom lip and exhales slowly. “At twenty-six, you’ve lived a life where most people would have faltered. How many times have you gotten back up, man? Off the floor, off the ice. How many times have you shared your problems with the bottom of a bottle, but still, you got back up? I wanted to know more about your battles but respected the fact that you weren’t ready to tell me. But now, you have. You’ve shared the strain, so let me take some of that weight, brother.”

He stands and wraps his hand around my forearm, pulling me to my feet with him. “You want to take to the ice with us tomorrow? Then, this time, you do it, knowing we have your back. Your girl has your back and your whole fucking heart too. You aren’t going anywhere, and you know it. You aren’t going to let her or yourself down either. You’re way too gone for her. You’ve come too far together. So, this time, when you rise up, you won’t fall back down. Because this time, you have us.”

CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

JESSIE

---