Page 1 of Worth the Risk
The ticking of the clock hand and my steady breathing are the only sounds I’ve heard for the past hour. I’m alone in a bright white room, staring blankly at the tiles of the ceiling. The last few years I’ve lived my dream of playing hockey at a professional level. I have gotten to do something I love and make a career out of it when most people never even get that chance. So, even though I’m lying on an exam table with the torn ligaments in my knee repaired (but not the same and with no hope of playing professional hockey again) I remind myself to be grateful for the opportunity I was so fortunate to have. There’s a lot I’m going to miss about this chapter in my life but there’s a lot I’m looking forward to.
I have other dreams and aspirations for my life. I’ve watched so many of my friends get married and settle down and it’s made me think about her on more than one occasion. I’ve thought about our time together a lot over the last eight years. It’s thesmall things that seem to bring on the strongest memories. She’s in the fresh baked goods I get at the market on Saturdays and the notebooks I buy, but never write in. She’s in the books I pick up but never open. They just sit on my shelves collecting dust.
I have gone on plenty of dates over the years and have been with other women. Only to reach the same conclusion eventually. There was always going to be the morning after. Even if it wasn’t exactly‘the morning after’. There was always going to be the moment where I had thought that maybe this time it would be different, but it wasn’t.
Unfortunately, this earned me a bit of a reputation. Most of the guys on the team and the women I had been with thought my not calling them or sneaking out was because I had gotten what I wanted and couldn’t be bothered to stick around. It wasn’t like I had set out to hurt anyone, but when I looked over at the woman I was sitting across from at dinner or when they were lying next to me, there was the dreadful moment I knew it wasn’t going anywhere.
The last time that happened was two years ago. That’s when I decided to solely focus on hockey. I had just seen her at a game with my family. The way she had jumped into my arms and hugged me after I came out of the locker room. I never wanted to let her go.
All the feelings I had been trying to replicate with someone else were so easily felt in that moment. That night we talked like we hadn’t in years. Like no time had passed. I thought maybe there was a shot at being with her again. When she didn’t answer my call the next day or come to my next game with everyone, I figured she didn’t feel the same way.
Now, I’m on my way back home to Silverthorne, Colorado to accept the job I’ve been offered as the new High School hockey coach. Along with getting to be with my family more and hopefully coaching my new team to victory, maybe I’ll be able tofind out why Winslow Parker ended things with me the summer before our lives went in different directions.
“He did not say that!”
I’m driving the two and a half hours it takes to get from Palisade to Silverthorne, the smell of eggplant parmesan and garlic bread keeping me company. I should probably be crying over the events of the last four hours, but when I think about it too long, I can’t stop myself from laughing. That should clue you in on how I decide to deal with things in my life. I find the humor or completely avoid it at all costs. There is no in between. I went to Palisade to surprise my boyfriend of six months with his favorite dinner as a romantic gesture. However, after I arrived at his peach orchard and let myself into his home with the key he gave me last month, it became clear it was me that would be getting surprised.
“Win, tell me he did not say that!” my best friend Marigold gasps at me through my car's speaker. I called her when I wasabout 30 minutes from home, because I knew she would want to hear how tonight went. She wasn’t prepared for this.
“He really did though. He also said that if I had been more ‘emotionally available’, he wouldn’t have had to find someone else to ‘take care of him’”. She makes a gagging sound and I start laughing.
“Stop or I’m going to be sick—and where was she? Just standing there? The whole time?” I cringe, remembering the beautiful redhead with legs for days.
“Yes, she was definitely there for the whole show. She was also in one of his button downs.” I sigh and try to sober my laughing. “She was just standing in his kitchen while he tried to explain that it didn’t really mean anything.”
“No. Winnie. No.”
“Uh huh. I was almost more embarrassed for her than I was for me.”
“What the hell do you have to be embarrassed about? He’s the one that should be embarrassed!” Marigold is fiercely protective and for some reason finds all my quirks and issues charming where most people would find them exhausting. I find them exhausting.
“You’re right. I’m not really embarrassed about what he did. I’m just not sure what to feel. I’ve never been cheated on before.”
“Are you okay? Do you need me to come over when you get home?” I think about that. I should need a friend to comfort me, with ice cream and reality TV, but I don’t. I’m…fine.
“Honestly, I think I’m okay. I know I shouldn’t be, but I don’t think he was completely wrong about me. I don’t know if I’ll ever be emotionally available.”
“Winnie…” I head her off before she starts to hype me up.
“Seriously, Mare. I’m fine. A little anxious but fine. I think I’ll stop by the bakery and check on Anna. I need to make sure things are set for this weekend anyway.” She blows out a breath.
“You need to get some rest before the festival. You’ve been working every day at the bakery since before you even opened.” Her tone is only reproachful.
“I will. Things will slow down after the weekend and as crazy as it sounds, being there will help me process. I always think better when I’m busy with my hands.”
“That’s not crazy, Win. It’s how you’re wired.” Marigold Levinson is an absolute gem. A true treasure. She validates my feelings and encourages me to find outlets for my anxiety. I would take a bullet for her. I also have the knowledge that she would be able to save me. Did I mention she’s a kick ass surgeon?
“Thank you. Love you. I’ll call you tomorrow.”
“Love you, too. Call me if you need me. I’m on call tonight but can be over in 10 minutes flat.”
“I will. Get some sleep while you can. Night.”
“Night, Win.” I drive the rest of the way home, admiring my town as I go.
My bakery,Thistle and Sage,opened three months ago and tonight is the first night I had tried to take off from work. It didn’t exactly go as planned. Anna, the sweet girl I hired to help me has been doing a great job. I left her in charge by herself tonight and although I’m sure she’s doing great, I want to stop by and check. She just turned 18 and spends a lot of time on social media. She’s also fantastic with customers.
After parking my car at home and walking the few blocks there, I push through the door.
