Page 61 of Power Play
I wander the facility, looking for him. I'm sure there's a good explanation. I search the gym, the rink, and finally I hear a voice in the men's locker room. I open the door and hear his voice.
"Yes, Father," he says with such disgust and derision it's hard to imagine it coming from my Garrett. It's so far from the sarcastic teasing of Jonesy, or the vulnerable softness of Garrett. "Fine," he spits with such anger and defensiveness I feel the hair on my own arms stand up straight. I can hear male shouting on the other end of the phone and it's now that I notice Jonesy's posture. Every muscle in his body is tense. His shoulders are nearly at his ears. But his back is hunched.
I wonder if this doesn't have something to do with his shoulder and back tightness.
He suddenly spies me from the corner of his eye and hangs up the phone with an angry stab.
"Oh..." My eyes widen, realization dawning on me. "Oh." I repeat. It all makes sense. Pressure from his father. Family obligations. His father's his bully.
It's the wrong thing to say.
Jonesy takes three long strides towards me before backing me against the wall and slamming his forearms against the wall on either side of my face.
"Don't 'oh' me," he spits, his voice laced with venom. I've never seen an angry Garrett before. Or even angry Jonesy. He was agitated in the elevator with me, but not angry.
He's trying to intimidate me, put the barriers back in place and distance between us. It doesn't have the desired effect though. I've seen beneath his mask.
"I don't need anyone's pity or... or.... or whatever this is," he growls, chest heaving. His face is a mix of pain, anger, fear, resentment, and pure, raw, hurt. Deep hurt.
I don't speak for a long time. I don't know what to say. Jonesy on and off the ice is crude, annoying, and antagonistic, but it's because he's preemptively pushing people away. He's convinced he doesn't deserve to be accepted, to have a family. So he makes a concentrated effort to push people away.
"Hurt people hurt people," I whisper. It's the only thing I know to say.
My hands can't help but run up his chest and wrap around his neck.
I shake my head. "I don't pity you. You're an incredible athlete playing at the top of his game. But... but the Titans are a family. You don't have to keep pushing everyone away. I know they give you shit, but the man underneath the persona you give everyone else is sweet, caring and loyal. Don't be afraid to show them that."
He shakes his head angrily.
"They know Jonesy. They know the arrogant dumb prick that Jonesy is. They don't give a shit as long as I play well on the ice."
I tangle my fingers in the hair at the back of his neck. I know we could get caught any moment, but this moment feels like we're on the edge of a cliff. If we stay on this side, things will remain the same - fine, but unresolved. If we leap over the cliff? Miracles might happen.
"You're not that guy, though, Garrett. You're a good man. Maybe a complicated man, but then who of us isn't complicated? Don't let one asshole dictate your entire life. Be you, and I promise people will line up to love you."
In the matter of a couple of heartbeats, his face morphs from outrage, to pain, to despair and finally resignation.
He lowers his head to my shoulder, the weight of grief and defeat heavy on him. I wrap my arms around him as if I can hold him up. I have no idea what he's dealing with, but all I know is this man deserves my support.
"I have to marry and produce an heir or join my father's company's board before I'm thirty to get my trust fund. I'm twenty-nine," he says, like that explains it all.
"You make millions every year, why would you give a shit about a trust fund?"
"My mother was an international model in the sixties."
Okay, now I'm more confused. So, I wait. This is his story, his burden, and he'll explain it on his own time.
"She modeled while she was young, and when she got older, she developed a perfume based on pheromones that went viral, and she made millions. Magnifique."
"Your mom was Catherine Garnier? I love that stuff!"
"Of course you would use it..." he grumbles, laying kisses up and down the side of my neck as if to self soothe.
"My father is an asshole. My mother passed away from breast cancer when I was in high school. It's not so much about the money, but if I don't pass the qualifications of the trust, the money goes to him. He managed to get it changed right before she died. I don't want him to have a penny of the money my mom worked so hard for. He'd been cheating on her long before the diagnosis and he doesn't deserve a dime of what my mom was able to earn. Fuck, I'll donate the money to charity, I just can't sit by and watch him take my mother's hard-earned money when he did fuck-all to earn it."
Jonesy is panting at this point, clearly worked up. I take a moment to process everything he's said and my heart breaks for him. Clearly, he loved his mother. Which I love about him. And he's still holding onto this hate and resentment towards his father, which I completely get. It's eating him from the inside out and his response is to push everyone away so they can't hurt him.
"Garrett?" I ask, cupping his face in my hands and bringing my green eyes to his blue ones. "You're a good man. I don't think enough people have told you that."
