Page 26

26

JP

We practice Saturday morning. I eat lunch at the arena with the guys, then head out to do some shit. I have suits to pick up at the dry cleaners, food to buy, and I need new socks. Exciting stuff. I’m about to go home when I get a text from Théo.

Get your ass over here.

I smile grimly, remembering getting a text like this last spring, when Lacey took off back to Vegas.

I send him a reply.

Okay, okay. Meet me at Time Out. When can you be there?

I know he’s talking about a sports bar in Manhattan Beach. I sigh. Does he just assume I have nothing else going on? Fine, I have nothing else going on.

Half an hour

Okay.

When I walk in a while later, he’s already there, drinking a beer. I high-five him. “You won.”

“Won what?”

“The race to get here first.”

He laughs.

I pull the stool out from the high-top table and slide onto it. “What’s up? Lacey leave you again?”

“Fuck off.”

The pretty waitress appears. “Hi there.” She looks at me. “What can I get you?”

I order a craft beer and she disappears. I look at Théo with a cocked eyebrow.

“This is about you and Taylor.”

I roll my eyes. “Great.”

“What the fuck did you do?”

I heave a gusty sigh. “Taylor talked to Lacey, right?”

“Yep.”

Then I drop the smart-ass ’tude. “She okay?” I finger a paper napkin on the table.

“No. She’s not.”

My insides spasm painfully and my chest throbs. I keep staring at the napkin.

“Be glad it’s not Everly here, because she wants to do some damage to your lucky charms.”

I choke. “What?”

“Your twigs and berries.”

“Come on!”

“Bits and pieces.”

I scowl.

He laughs. “Big Joe and the twins?”

“Slightly better.”

The waitress brings my beer with a gratifyingly flirty smile.

“Okay, seriously, what’s going on?” I pick up my glass.

“You broke up with Taylor.”

“Yeah.” I take a big gulp.

Last time he and I met here, we confessed some messed-up stuff, feelings we’d had about each other our whole lives that had impacted our relationship. And our relationships with others. So I’m guessing Théo is after more bro talk.

“Why? You don’t care about her?”

It takes me a while to find words. “I do care about her,” I choke out. “Too much. I can’t do that. It fucks up my mind.”

“Hmmm.” He sips his beer. “I’m trying to see things from your point of view, but I can’t stick my head that far up my ass.”

“Asshole.” I drink my own beer.

“Look. You gave me shit when I screwed up with Lacey. I’m here to return the favor.”

I nod. This is what I expected. “Go for it.”

His lips twitch. “Tell me why you really broke up with her.”

I sigh. “Because of that fight with Martinez.”

He looks at me like I’m speaking Cantonese.

“I punched him because he insulted Taylor.”

His expression lightens. “Ah! Okay, now we’re getting somewhere.”

“Don’t you see?” I glare at him. “I’ve been trying so hard to stay out of trouble. To control my emotions on the ice. She’s got me all fucked up and confused, and then I go and lose it because of her. It cost us two fucking games! Dad and Uncle Mark are pissed at me. Hell, the whole team is pissed at me.” I shake my head bitterly. “I can’t go losing my shit over a woman. I need to stick to my goal. But I keep fucking up.” The words come out rough and scratchy. “I keep dating women I shouldn’t. I keep losing my temper on the ice. I keep doing stupid shit like letting Lacey’s dog piss on the Christmas tree and eat poison. I nearly killed her dog. And I insulted her by implying she’s just like Emma.”

“What—and I can’t stress this enough—the fuck ?”

I snort-laugh.

“Seriously, man? Emma? You think Taylor is like Emma? As Mom would say, esti de calice de tabarnak!”

“Ha. Mom has never in her life said that.”

“Pretty sure she said that the time we tried to ski off the garage roof and you broke your wrist. Never mind that.” He glares at me.

“I don’t think she’s like Emma.” I rub my forehead. “It was a misunderstanding. I apologized.”

“Thank fuck for that.”

“But see? When I do the wrong things, it’s the wrongest thing of all the wrongs that ever wronged. It was best to end things with her.”

He laughs. Fucker.

Théo tips his head back and looks at the ceiling. “Everyone fucks up. It’s how you learn.”

“Why don’t I learn, then?”

“You don’t learn because you don’t let yourself learn. You don’t let it go. You keep whipping yourself. You know you have to let shit go when it comes to sports. You screw up, make a turnover, a bad pass, miss a shot . . . you have to let it go.”

I pause. “I know that.”

“Then do it! Let it go in your private life too.” He pauses. “I forgive you, JP.”

His blunt words set me back. I stare at him.

“I forgive you for what happened with Emma. Now fucking forgive yourself. ”

I can’t even speak for a minute, reeling. Then I manage, “That’s not what this is about.”

“Isn’t it?” He frowns.

I let his words play over in my head again. I’ve heard this before. After I nearly killed Byron, Taylor reminded me that not being judgmental is part of dealing with stress. Including judging myself.

Oh Jesus.

He’s right.

I’m still pissed at myself for what I did to him. .

“Fuck,” I mutter.

Last time we sat in this bar, I confessed to Théo. I told him I felt I could never be as good as him, so I just tried to be badder. My whole life I’ve embraced that bad boy, that cool guy who hides his feelings under a cocky smirk, who lets his bitterness get in the way of making good decisions, who takes the blame for shit he didn’t do. And yet . . . way down deep inside, I don’t want to be that guy. I want to be better. And I’ve been trying. I’m not perfect, but I’ve been honestly trying. But I can’t get past the secret, hidden fear that I can’t be better.

Now I’ve lost the best woman I’ve ever met—a woman who apparently likes me despite all my goddamn flaws, a woman who makes me a better man because I want to be worthy of her, a woman who forgives me when I screw up—because I can’t forgive myself.

She doesn’t judge me or blame me. Even when I screw up, she’s still sweet and loving and forgiving.

“Let it go.” He holds my gaze. “It’s all okay. Love you, bro.”

A giant fist is squeezing my throat. Christ, I think I’m going to cry. “Love you too,” I choke out. “What am I going to do?”

Théo’s lips turn upward at the corner. “About Taylor?”

I give my head a shake. “Yeah.” I had something so perfect and amazing . . . I had sunshine. Now everything feels dark. I need that sunshine back. “I don’t know.”

“You have to be honest.”

“Yeah.”

“With yourself first of all. Do you love her?”

I swallow. “Yeah.”

He nods. “Then you have to tell her that.”

My jaw drops in alarm.

“Yep.”

I suck in a breath. “Okay.”

“It’s good if you can do something to show her you love her. Like groveling.”

“Groveling?” I grimace. “Like get down on my knees and beg her to take me back?”

“Pretty much.”

“Ugh. I think it’s too late. I wouldn’t blame her for not taking me back.”

“Well, at least ask her to forgive you. At least be honest with her, so that if things really are done, you both know the truth.”

I nod slowly. “Yeah. Okay. This is my worst screwup yet because I hurt her. I don’t know how to make it up to her, but I’ll figure something out.”

“Okay, good. We’re having a New Year’s party—Lacey and I. You can come. Taylor might be there.”

My heart slams into a rapid rhythm. “Right. Okay.”

We play Sunday, then we play next Tuesday, which is New Year’s Eve. I’ve been playing, but Dad and Uncle Mark are right—I feel like a zombie. I hate it.

I took a stupid tripping penalty on Sunday, but that was it. Staying out of trouble. That’s me.

I haven’t scored either.

Dutch, Abs, and Copper want me to go to a big New Year’s party after the game that apparently one of the Lakers is throwing in his mansion in the hills. They promise me lots of gorgeous women, booze, drugs, and a swimming pool.

I’m not into it. Even if I was, I have other plans—Taylor. Since I met with Théo, I’ve been hard at work on my project. Monday is an optional practice and I bail on it because I’m busy. But things aren’t going well, and I need help.

I call Everly. “You working today?”

“I’m taking off at noon.”

“Come by my place. I need you.”

She laughs in a nasty way that makes me frown. “Okay.”

What is up with that? Oh right. My lucky charms. This might be dangerous. Oh well.