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ISLA
“Hello,” I answer my phone, then promptly start coughing. My head feels like it’s full of quicksand; both Sadie and I have caught some sort of cold or flu.
“You sound awful, Freckles.”
“I feel awful.”
“You should go back to bed. Why did you even answer my call? You haven’t the past twenty-eight times I’ve tried.”
“Maybe it’s my fragile physical state, but I’m ready to hear you explain what you taunted Cillian with on the ice.” I’ve avoided this for long enough and I need to stop doing that. Stop being the woman that sticks her head in the ground and get back to the badass bitch I used to be. The one that took no shit from anyone, especially men.
“Only wanted to know how serious he was about you. That’s all.”
“Tyson, that’s not your job. Besides, that sounds like bullshit.”
“I’m serious, Freckles,” he says with a laugh. “He wasn’t going to risk the bin if he didn’t give a shit about you. You were more important than the game. No hard feelings.”
“You hockey players are a fucked up bunch. You know that, right?”
“As well as you do. Yet here you are, back with one. You are back with him, yeah?”
“No. I mean… no?”
“Level with me here, Isla,” he says without the same humor he held moments ago.
“I’m trying,” I admit. “I’m trying to trust him again. We’re trying to see if there is still something there.”
Tyson is quiet for a few beats while I nervously await his opinion. Love never played into our scenario, but he has been a good friend and someone who I respect. I also know he won’t blow smoke up my ass; he’s never shied from being honest with me.
“That ‘something’ was always there, Isla. You never let it go.”
“I’m sorry for how that may have made you feel, Ty. Hurting you, or anyone, wasn’t ever something I wanted to do.” My tear ducts, already sensitive from being sick, trigger. I’m going to be a clogged up, snotty mess by the end of this conversation.
“There’s nothing to apologize for, you were always perfectly honest about your lack of availability. Even if you wouldn’t admit the reasons to yourself,” he says. “I’m happy you’re getting a second chance.”
“Because I’d never be able to move on without one?” I accuse. Maybe it’s not fair of me, but it sounds like that is exactly what he’s implying.
“Or because maybe you two really are meant to be,” he admits. “Either way, I don’t want to lose you as a friend. Okay? I’m always around, but I’ll be respectful of your decisions and relationship.”
“You don’t think I’m wrong for trying again?”
“It’s not my decision to make, Freckles. Right or wrong, you owe it to yourself to try anything that is going to make you and Sadie happy. I won’t beat you up for that and I’ll stop egging on Wylder unless he does something to deserve it.”
Owing it to Sadie is something I’ve thought about, but I never wondered if I owed it to myself. I do owe it to myself, don’t I? Exhausting all options that could lead to the happily ever after I’ve always wanted isn’t a bad thing. That dream started with Cillian Wylder, it grew every day with my daughter, whether I wanted it to or not.
Some days I did; I’d fantasize about Cillian’s return, him coming to find us and falling to his knees with guilt and regret. Other days, that fantasy was of me punching him in the face and kicking him in the balls. I imagine his have been much the same about me since returning to Seattle. But he still wants to try again, because on the scale that holds our lives… the good has outweighed the bad.
“You’re a good man, Tyson Murphy. Don’t ever settle for a woman who doesn’t see that. Okay?”
“I promise, Freckles.”
* * *
“What’s wrong,” Cillian asks when I open the door to him later that day.
“Sorry, I fell asleep and forgot to message you. We’re sick. I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to take Sadie tonight.”
“Both of you?” He brushes the hair from my face, his eyes bouncing all over my face.
