Page 15 of Lucky Laces
My voice breaks and I hate that weakness.
But I do what I always do when I’m hurt.
I hold tight to my anger, blink back my tears of frustration, and I press on.
“So don’t try to gaslight me and tell me what I saw?—”
“You need to?—”
“Same goes for telling me what Ineed todo,” I add icily holding my bag up between us when he comes close again, using it like a shield to stop him from touching me.“This isn’t something we can come back from.You broke us.You cheated.”
“You’re never home,” he snaps, shoving my bag away from him.“And you work too damned much.”
“And now that gaslighting me isn’t working you’re going to get angry?”Sighing, I reach for the door to the rink, tug it open.“What’s next?Tears?Hurtingme?”I say, when he takes a step in my direction, his face full of all that scariness from the other day.
Luckily my tone is icy cold and unaffected, despite the blip of fear in my belly.
I’m not alone here.
The guys are within shouting distance, the back office staff probably even closer.
But, God, I don’t want to be seen as a woman who needs rescuing.
Hell, Ican’tbe seen that way.
Not and remain in charge, not and keep their respect, not and…
Be a coach.
Justa coach.
Luckily, my words have Jason pausing, reconsidering.
“You need to leave me alone,” I say.“There’s no getting us back.Not today.Not ever.Youdid that?—”
“I can fix?—”
“No, you can’t.”I take a breath, strive for patience.“Please, Jason.You know me, so youknowthere’s no going back.”His expression changes and I think I may be finally getting through to him.“Because if you don’t stop this, I’ll have to get a restraining order.And then,” I add, playing the one card I have left, “I’ll have to call your mother and tell her what you did.”
Yup.I’ll tattle like a little whiny toddler.
But if there’s one thing in this world that Jason is afraid of, it’s his mother.
So, I’ll pull whatever punches I need to.
“You won’t?—”
I lift my brows, ask quietly, “Want to try me?”
“Why can’t we just talk this out?”he pleads.“Find a way forward?”
I sigh, let go of the door, and step back outside.
I don’t miss the blip of hope in his eyes, but I don’t let myself feel guilty, and I don’t soften my resolve as I say, “Because you broke us, and you did it in a way that can’t be repaired.”
His face falls.
I don’t stay around to watch it, to deal with it, to make itmyproblem.
