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We’re not working through things. We’ve been arguing since she walked in. No matter what I say, she remains focused on me moving in with Jackson. She let me move in with her when I had nowhere else to go, and I feel guilty she’s losing half the rent. But our shared condo has no space for a baby, and eventually, she’ll return to dating and partying. That’s not my life anymore.
Fighting with her is pointless. I’m shutting down and haven’t even told her about Ethan.
It doesn’t help that Jackson’s first game of the season is getting intense, and I’m eager to watch. I’m trying to split my attention between the two, but Emily’s nagging voice is irritating me more and more.
“Is this what you want? To be back under his control?”
WhatI want is to tune her out and watch the freaking game.
She hates him. I get it. She has every reason to, which is why I’ve disregarded her relentless criticism.
But right now…
The other team scores, and the camera zooms in on the chaotic scene. I spot Jackson’s jersey amidst the skirmish on the ice, and my breath catches.
Emily’s voice cuts through the air—something about Jackson attempting to buy my forgiveness. I ignore her, focusing on the fight in front of me. I’ve explained my perspective, and further discussion will only heighten my frustration.
The announcers’ excitement rumbles through the speakers, vividly describing the scrum.
“Ladies and gentlemen, we’ve got some intense action on the ice tonight! A fierce altercation has broken out between two players, and things are heating up!”
“You’re spot on, Mitch. The tension is palpable. O’Reilly and Irving are engaged in a full-on brawl, throwing punches left and right.”
“It’s a heavyweight bout out there! Jackson O’Reilly lands a solid hit to the jaw of Vince Irving, and now, they’re both grappling, trying to gain the upper hand.”
“O’Reilly isn’t backing down. Oh, and he delivers a powerful punch!”
“The referees are doing their best to intervene, but these players are fired up! Trading blows, and that’ll be time in the penalty box.”
“Absolutely, Mitch. These guys must have some serious beef, and they’re taking it out on the ice tonight.”
Butterflies flutter in my stomach. I admire Jackson’s passion for the game, but watching it is another thing entirely. Every punch exchanged on the screen sends a tangible jolt through me, as if the impact reverberates through my own body. It doesn’t matter how many times I’ve witnessed it. I hate seeing him hurt.
“Are you even listening to me? Or are you too focused on Jackson being a moron?”
Her interruption pulls me away from the fight, but I dismiss her comment, knowing nothing I say will make a difference.
“Watch the game, Em. Focus on another player, please.”
She shakes her head. “Do you want this around the baby? A man who’s violent?”
I understand she’s concerned for me and the baby. I tell myself she only wants what’s best for me. Yet, deep down, I know that isn’t the whole truth. More and more, it seems as though Jackson was right. He poses a threat to her.
She wanted me to find someone to support this baby financially.
But not someone who’d swoop in and care for me, who’d take me and all that I offer away from her.
Or maybe that’s Jackson’s influence speaking.
The camera pans away, and a commercial interrupts the on-screen action as Emily drones on.
“He’s psychotic. You know that, right?”
A burning irritation simmers within me. Does she not realize her pessimistic attitude only fuels my determination to protect him? “It’s just a hockey fight. Can you please stop?”
This behavior from Jackson isn’t his norm, at least on the ice. He can’t score from the penalty box. Something must have triggered him.
She only persists, using my own words against me. “It’sjustflowers. It’sjusthis penthouse while you’re on vacation. You’rejusttalking. Do you hear yourself? You sound the same as when you were dating, always making excuses for his behavior.He was drunk. He was angry. He was stressed over the season.”