Page 23 of Winging it with My Ex
That doesn’t mean I’m over what he and Vivi did, even if they didn’t mean to toss me in the pond.
“Are you ever going to speak to me again?” Vivi asks.
“I dunno. Are you going to let me toss you in the pond?”
“Will that help?” The words are dripping with sarcasm.
My lips poke out in a pout. “No, but it’d sure make me laugh.”
Her posture softens. “Seriously, though, are we going to be okay?”
“Yeah…” I know Vivi. If Jett told her what he told me…there was no way she wouldn’t have helped him. “I just wish you two had been upfront and honest. I mean, we’re adults…”
“I know, and I tried to tell him that. But?—”
“He’s stubborn.”
“Annoyingly so. Besides, I think you needed to fall in love with him again. The you that you are now. You were just kids the first time.”
I lean on the car. “I know. I’ve been thinking about that too.”
“So…what are you going to do?” Vivi chuckles. “Jett sure does look rough.”
My head drops back as I groan. I lift my head. “I wanted a minute. A moment to put my thoughts in order.”
“I get that.”
“Vivi. I love that jerk face. I don’t want to live without him.”
She grins. “I know.”
“Could I get your help with something?” The corner of my mouth lifts up.
Because I have an idea. One that would’ve terrified the old me.
But maybe falling in love again means being a little brave.
I just hope I don’t make a complete fool of myself.
***
Honestly, I wasn’t going to watch him.
But when Vivi mentioned he’d be running drills with the younger kids that afternoon, something in me… tugged. Curiosity, maybe. Maybe something else I didn’t want to name yet.
So I went. Parked in the back lot, sat in the bleachers in the farthest corner of the arena where the lights didn’t quite reach. Hoodie up. Sunglasses on. Invisible.
Jett didn’t know I was there. And somehow, that made it easier to breathe.
He was on the ice, crouched beside a boy no older than ten, showing him how to shift his weight and balance through a turn. When the kid fell, Jett helped him up, then exaggerated his own fall with a goofy flop that had the entire rink echoing with laughter.
They skated laps, ran puck-handling drills, took turns shooting against a net. He gave high-fives and shoulder squeezes, coached and cheered, and by the end of it, every single kid looked like they’d been handed a trophy.
Even from a distance, I could see how relaxed he looked. No swagger. No PR face. Just… Jett.
My Jett.
And for the first time in weeks, my chest didn’t feel so tight.
