Page 20 of Game Changer (Wynn Hockey #5)

Molly

It serves me right for trying to give Jax advice. As I was telling him he should talk to his dad, I realized he’d told me the exact same thing about Steve. And I had to admit he was right.

I think about this as I lay by the pool.

Jax is golfing with Harrison, Asher and JP.

Tomorrow he’s having lunch with his sister, and the next day he and his dad are taking a helicopter ride to Catalina Island, which sounds amazing.

Probably a helicopter isn’t a good place to have an intimate discussion, though.

But maybe they’ll have a chance to talk when they get to the island.

Assuming Jax doesn’t spend the whole time taking pictures; I know he’s looking forward to that.

Likely because he feels guilty, he’s going to take me whale watching on Sunday, our second last day here. I’m so excited about that! And I don’t mind hanging out by myself for a while as he spends time with his family, which is what he came here for.

Also it gives me a chance to think about a lot of things.

Like talking to Steve. Ugh. And how mixed up I felt when Bob Wynn talked about Jax and me getting married and being attracted to each other.

My belly got a tight, twisted feeling because I shouldn’t be attracted to Jax.

He was making it patently clear that we’re just friends.

But sometimes, I catch him looking at me, especially at the pool or the beach or sometimes in the hotel room…

and there was the night we got here and what he was doing in bed…

I flip onto my stomach and kick my feet a couple of times in frustration.

Maybe this was a mistake. I just wanted to get out of Chicago. I can’t be thinking about Jax in bed with me…which he has been. But I keep thinking about pushing those pillows out of the way and sliding up next to him and feeling all that hot, bare skin against mine.

Oh God. I let out a little whimper, my face buried in my arms, my belly fluttering with inappropriate lust.

Don’t go there. Do. Not. Go. There.

I roll over again, jump up off the lounger and stride to the pool.

A quick dip will clear my mind. I jump right into the deep end, letting the cool water close over my head.

All sound is muffled briefly as I sink down, then bob back up.

I suck in air and shake water off my face as I break the surface, then start a leisurely breaststroke across the pool.

I should think about Steve. The man I loved. Love. The man I was going to marry. It feels like a year ago, which is weird. What do I want to say to him? What do I want to ask him? Why did he cheat on me? Why wasn’t I enough?

I inhale a nose full of water and choke. I grab onto the side of the pool and hang there coughing, gasping for air, my sinuses burning. Shit. I can’t start feeling sorry for myself again. I thought I was past this. It’s not my fault he cheated.

Easy to say. Not so easy to believe, sadly.

When I’m over my near-drowning, I resume swimming, switching to a crawl and determinedly doing lap after lap. I’m not sure if I’m punishing or distracting myself.

It’s not that I’m blaming myself, but it’s possible there are things I did in my relationship with Steve that contributed to the problem. I need to keep an open mind about that so I can learn and grow.

I haul myself out of the pool, breathless, and stagger over to my lounge chair where I collapse. I stare up at the blue sky, my chest heaving.

Steve’s in Europe, enjoying our honeymoon with someone else. He won’t be back in Chicago until early July. That will give me time to get my stuff from his condo. My friends will come help me pack up and move them back to my apartment. Now it feels lucky that I haven’t yet been able to sublet it.

Then when he’s back, I’ll have to face him. All I feel is a sense of calm resignation.

I can do it.

Jax

I’d rather shit in my hands and clap than ask Dad why he cheated on Mom.

So I’m waiting for the right moment on this little excursion to Catalina Island.

We leave from Long Beach. The helicopter ride is sick.

I’ve never been on a chopper before, and I love it.

I’ve got my camera and a few lenses with me to take as many pictures as I can.

The view of the ocean beneath us—flat blue, smoothly textured and endless—is stunning.

The flight is only about fifteen minutes, so soon we’re landing in Avalon on the island.

There aren’t a lot of cars on the island, so we walk, checking out the town and the beach.

There are tons of things to do—paddle boarding, kayaking, snorkeling, even zip lining.

I didn’t come prepared for snorkeling, so I let Dad talk me into zip lining.

Obviously, that’s not the time for a deep conversation.

I’ve zip lined before and it’s really cool—a little adrenaline rush swinging through eucalyptus trees.

As we wander the streets, I keep seeing shops that I think Molly would enjoy. Too bad she’s not with us. She’s been a trooper about letting me spend time with the family, not realizing that I kind of like having her along. And she fit right in the other night at Coastal Kitchen.

Eventually we stop at a restaurant right on the beach for beers and food. We’re seated on the deck next to the railing, overlooking the curving beach.

“This is the life,” Dad says, smiling. He sets his sunglasses on the table and gazes around.

A table of four women across the deck are eyeing us. And by us, I mean Dad. Jesus. I guess he’s not that old, but those women are closer to my age than his.

Once we have cold beers in hand, my gut tightens. Okay, I have to do this. Molly will be disappointed in me if I don’t. I’m not sure why her opinion of me matters, but apparently it does. But it’s also for me. She’s right; I do need to understand better what happened.

I run my hand through my hair, looking away, then take a big gulp of beer and swallow. I look back at Dad. “Can I ask you something?”

His gaze swivels back to me. He arches an eyebrow. “When you have to ask that question first, that means it’s something unpleasant.”

I gnaw briefly on my bottom lip. “Yeah, I guess that’s so.”

“Go ahead.” He curves both hands around his glass, watching me.

“Why did you and Mom get a divorce?”

His lips tighten, but he nods. “Your mom and I agreed that we wouldn’t talk to you kids about the reasons.

” Then he sighs. “But that was years ago when you were teenagers. The truth is, I made some mistakes in our marriage and…” He drops his gaze briefly.

“I was too focused on my career and not enough on my marriage.” One corner of his mouth kicks up in a glum smile. “Don’t make that mistake.”

“Not a worry, since I’m not getting married.”

“You will, one day.”

“Nope.” I pause, then I say it. “I know you cheated on her.”

Dad’s jaw drops, and his eyes burst wide open. “What?”

“I overheard Mom talking one day after you left. I think she was talking to Betsy.” Her friend. “She said you’d betrayed her.”

Dad’s head moves side to side and he genuinely appears shocked. “I never cheated on her.” Then he grimaces. “I understand why she might have thought that, since I was hardly ever home. But I didn’t.” Now his eyes narrow. “Were those her exact words?”

“Yeah. I think so. It was a while ago.”

“She may have felt betrayed, but it wasn’t because of another woman.”

I don’t know what to do with this. Do I believe him? I’ve spent my entire adult life thinking he’s a cheater.

“If it wasn’t that…couldn’t you have worked things out?” Christ, I sound like a hurt little boy, still hoping for his parents to reconcile.

“We tried. We went for counseling. It helped us communicate better. Well, somewhat. It helped your mom. Actually, she didn’t need help. She’s a great communicator.”

“It is kind of her job.”

“Yeah.” His smile is wistful. “She’s the smartest woman I’ve ever known.”

Jesus. I blink at him. He sounds like he still cares. Is that possible?

“I wasn’t great at talking about my feelings. In the end, Mom wanted different things and I wasn’t…ready to give those to her.”

“What did she want?”

“Only things that she shouldn’t have had to ask for.” Dad’s lips droop and he turns his beer glass in his hands. “It was never her fault. I want you to know that.”

I huff out a sigh. “I never thought it was her fault. But I thought…”

“You thought I cheated on her.”

“Yeah.” My chest feels like I’m being squeezed by giant bear paws. My face heats and I take a fast gulp of lager. My mind is scrambled. I don’t know what to think. I don’t know how I feel.

“Well. I have to say that explains a lot.” Dad’s voice is quiet. “And it kinda hurts, Jax.”

“I know,” I choke out. I can’t even meet Dad’s eyes. My armpits prickle and sweat trickles down my spine.

“I’ve never claimed to be perfect,” he says.

“But I at least hoped that I’d demonstrated honesty and integrity to my kids.

But then…” He pauses. “I wasn’t around as much as I should have been.

Especially after the divorce.” For a moment, neither of us speak.

Then he says, “I guess I deserve your animosity.”

“No.” I swipe a hand over my damp brow. “No, you don’t deserve it. I’m sorry.”

“I wish we’d had this talk years ago. But I’m not blaming you for that. You were a kid. I’m your father. I’m sorry, too.”

I swallow thickly, my face tight.

He heaves a sigh and drinks his beer. “What a lot of wasted years. Shit.”

I choke out a laugh. “Yeah. Shit.” I pause. “Also…what a lot of wasted years for you and Grandpa.”

Dad’s eyes widen, then narrow. Then he closes them, looking like someone’s jabbing the butt end of a stick into his nads. “Yeah. I know. I regret that, too.” He opens his eyes and his are a little red as he regards me across the table. “I’m proud of you, Jax.”

I hold his gaze and it’s the most painful thing I’ve ever done. But I sit a little taller. “Thanks, Dad.”