“Sometimes life isn’t.”
He stands, stretches. I can tell he doesn’t like that answer, but I don’t press further. “Do you have any Advil?”
I nod and point to the medicine cabinet. “You okay?”
It happens so fast. His mouth twists in a smile, and I brace myself for the flirty reply, but it’s his quietness that hurts the most. “Fine.” He opens the mirrored cabinet, grabs the bottle, and swallows a few. His hand lingers on the edge after he closes it, his back toward me. “I’ll be out there if you need me. Take your time.”
I blow out a breath, frustrated as he slips away, knowing he’s hurting and there’s nothing I can do. I reach for my wine, taking a sip before I close my eyes and sink deeper into the water. Allthe while, I hear water running and dishes being set down. No one ever cleans up after me.
“You don’t have to do all that,” I call out after a few minutes.
“I want to,” he calls out, before continuing.
Jack appears in the doorway after a few minutes, a dishtowel slung over his shoulder. “Still okay?”
I swing my knees from side to side, and the water gently swishes around me. “Can I ask you something?”
“Yeah.”
“Do you always tell someone when you’re hurting?”
He goes still but doesn’t answer.
“Why not?” I press gently.
He exhales, pulling the towel from his shoulder to wring it in his hands. “The truth?”
“I’m a good listener.”
“Hmm.” He stares at the flickering candles before his gaze settles back on me. “Losing hockey wouldn’t just change my life. It’d change me. And I don’t know who’s on the other side of that.”
The quiet crack in his voice breaks something in me.
Maybe it’s the wine, or maybe it’s just the disbelief ringing in my ears. “You really think hockey is the only interesting thing about you?”
He moves his gaze to the floor and pushes out a rough laugh. “Yeah, probably.”
I rest my arms on the tub’s edge, propping my head up. “You shouldn’t always believe everything your brain tells you. It’s not the whole story. You’re…well, for someone who pretends nothing is serious, your big heart proves otherwise.”
“Big heart, huh?” His thumb brushes away a string of bubbles along my shoulder.
“You’re allowed to hurt, Jack. Doesn’t make you any less?—”
“So are you,” he counters.
Our eyes meet. “We’re both idiots.” I set down my wineglass and rest my chin on my folded arms over the edge of the tub. This has been the longest, most confusing day.
“Yeah.” He smiles, sitting on the tub’s edge. “We really are.”
He stares down at his hands. I pretend not to notice they’re shaking, but I do.
By the time I step out of the bathroom, wrapped in my robe, my kitchen is spotless, and my laundry is folded.
Jack looks up from his spot on my couch, a book clutched in his hand. “Feel better?” He stands, closing the space between us. He cradles my face between his palms, thumbs tracing over the apples of my cheeks. “You take care of everyone,” he murmurs. “Let me take care of you tonight.”
My voice cracks. “Why?”
He frowns. “Why what?”
