Total pages in book: 104
Estimated words: 98134 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 491(@200wpm)___ 393(@250wpm)___ 327(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98134 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 491(@200wpm)___ 393(@250wpm)___ 327(@300wpm)
“Jesse is much more simple than he probably wants people to think. When we were kids, he was the one who always made sure nobody got left out of our games. He was always taking in outcasts and picking up strays, sacrificing his time to help the people everybody else forgot. That’s just who he is. He takes care of people, and I love him for it.”
“Why do I feel like all that nice stuff is coming with a ‘but’?”
She chuckles. “Because he just got out of a pretty serious relationship and he won’t tell anybody what happened between them to end things. I don’t even know who broke things off with who. What I do know is he hasn’t been the same since. There are flashes of the old Jesse, but then he’ll pull back into his shell. It’s like he’s trying to be someone else, and that someone else can be cold and push people away. He tried it on me a time or two, even.”
I realize I’m chewing my nails–the nails I spent too much of my own money to have done up nicely for the wedding and promised myself I would not chew for at least a few weeks. Whoops. I’m chewing my nails because a very dangerous phrase just fired off inside my stupid brain.
Maybe I could fix him.
Maybe I should focus on fixing myself, first. Maybe I shouldn’t even be thinking about romantic relationships when I just fled my own freaking wedding barely twenty-four hours ago?
“He really hasn’t told anyone?” I ask.
“Nope. I’ve tried interrogating his teammates and they all swear up and down he hasn’t told them. I even bribed Carter with homemade cookies to get the truth out of him and got nothing. The little asshole admitted he only tricked me into thinking he knew so I’d bake for him.”
“What about this ex of his? Has anyone asked her?”
“They can’t. She left town, and she wasn’t exactly a socialite when she was here. He met her out of town and she moved into that cabin with him, but she mostly stayed to herself unless he dragged her out. I guess she was another one of those strays he picked up. Typical Jesse.”
I glance toward the front door and imagine Jesse still sitting out there. I already feel bad for getting frustrated with him, but then I decide I’m allowed to be frustrated with a guy, even if I sympathize with him.
“Maybe I’ll go talk to him.”
“Best to give him time,” Caroline says. “If he was being pissy with you, he’s probably in his feelings about something. Talking to him more is just going to get you mad all over again. I’d give him a few hours.”
I drum my fingers on my knees, still glancing toward the front door. Giving people time and space isn’t exactly in my D.N.A. I’m more of a “charge toward unhappiness and use a freaking fire hose of happiness to drench it until everybody is smiling” kind of person. “What does he like? Maybe I could cheer him up.”
Caroline looks hesitant. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”
“What? Everybody likes something. Give me some clues or I’ll just guess wildly and go down swinging on my own.”
She laughs. “Okay, okay. Well, he loves hockey more than anything. But that’s off the table for now because of his shoulder. He’ll never admit it to anybody, and he’ll kill me if he knows I told you, but he loves to dance, too. And hmm…” She taps her chin in thought. “He likes scary movies, but he talks through the whole thing usually. I think he actually gets scared and talking is what helps him act like he’s not.”
I’m smiling now, because my head is brimming with ideas. “Okay. This is great. I’m sure I can come up with something. You’re the best!” I get up like I’m about to power hug Caroline, then realize I’d end up spilling her drink all over both of us. So I stick out my fist for an awkward bump. She grins at it and punches it with her book hand.
“You’re welcome,” she says.
12
JESSE
I’m out in front of my cabin awkwardly holding a hockey stick in my left hand. I can’t even try to use my right hand to help swing without risk of setting my injury back, so I’m just half-heartedly slapping a street puck into a net in the driveway. Usually, hockey clears my head, but lately it just pisses me off. It reminds me that I’m out for the whole season. It makes me feel like some part of me has been chopped off. Probably worst of all, it makes me feel like I have to figure myself out.
With hockey, I’ve always been able to shut my brain off and focus on the game. I can tell myself I’m working on what’s most important to me and neglect the rest. Ever since my injury, I’ve had nothing to hide behind, and all the cracks in the life I’ve built seem plain as day.