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“You’re so good with Kyle,” Jenny says, plopping down on the couch next to me. “He’s usually shy around new people, but he took to you right away.”
“I’m not bad with kids,” I tell her, waving at my three month old nephew. He laughs and continues shaking the toy in his tiny hands. “I just don’t have the time or the patience.”
“You would also need to keep a girl around for more than a week to make that a reality,” she deadpans, sinking her petite frame into the cushions.
Unlike me, my sister is small and delicate and blonde and soft-spoken—just like our mother. Those are the few things I remember about our mom without having to ask Jenny to tell me what she was like. In some ways, Jenny has always been a mother to me.
When I think of the person who tucked me in at night, Jenny comes to mind. She drove me to school every morning until I graduated from high school and made sure I never missed hockey practice. But she started long before I found hockey.
“I don’t have problems keeping women around. It’s getting rid of them that’s the hard part.”
Jenny shakes her head at me, not at all amused. “At some point in your life, you have to let someone in, or you will die alone in this big house by yourself, and I don’t want that for you, baby bro. You can be happy. Just let it happen for once.”
Kicking my feet up on the coffee table, I turn my head to the side to look at Jenny. “Women take too much work, and with my hockey schedule, I don’t have the time for anything permanent.”
She frowns at my comment and crosses her arms over her chest. “Your friends don’t have an issue with keeping women around, and they’re on the same team as you. The difference is they make time, and you don’t.”
Anytime she starts nagging me about my game or women, I shut down. This conversation never ends well. She knows the reasons I keep women at a distance, yet she constantly tries to convince me that I would be happy if I found someone to share my life with the way she did with Steve.
I suck in a deep breath and let it out. “Attachments are bad for my game, and I already have enough problem
s. I have to get back to being myself again before I can consider a relationship that lasts for more than a few days.”
“What about that girl you were seeing? You haven’t mentioned her in a while.”
“She’s not the marrying kind,” I spit out, annoyed with myself about how I ended things with Sydney. More like how I didn’t end things with her. I went for the man move and stopped calling.
Sydney called and sent text messages. I deleted them all. I’m a dick. I feel like a jerk for icing her out, but I knew that was the only way to get her out of my life. As much as I wanted Sydney to become a part of it, her games were wearing me down, fucking with my head. A girl like Sydney would let me get close and then pull the rug out from under me. She wouldn’t be the first. I know her type. Hell, I am that type, which is why I can identify so much with her. The games were hot and fun while they had lasted. But I need more, a lot more than she was willing to give.
“What do you mean by that? Every girl is the marrying kind. You just need to find the right one.”
I shake my head. “Nope. Sydney is all about the chase. Girls like her are too high maintenance and too much work. She kept asking about my past and then withheld sex from me when I wouldn’t tell her more.”
“It wouldn’t kill you to open up to someone, Carter,” she shoots back.
“I tell you things. Isn’t that enough?”
“I’m your sister, not your girlfriend. There’s a huge difference.”
“I’m not comfortable telling women about my past. No one wants to hear about the things Dad did to me or and why I still to this day cannot take my shirt off when I have sex with a woman. I am fucked up, Jenny. You know this already. We went through a lot when we were kids, and it doesn’t get any easier as an adult.”
“You have to let go of the past and move on.”
“Easy for you to say,” I growl, my words venomous. “You didn’t go through half of what I did with Dad. You don’t have the scars as a reminder.” Feeling sorry, I apologize. My sister doesn’t deserve to get yelled at because of my insecurities.
“It’s okay,” she says, reaching out to touch my arm. She runs her fingers along my forearm to sooth me, something she used to do to help calm my nerves when I was a kid. “Don’t you take your shirt off around your teammates? How do they not know? You cannot hide forever, Carter. Some day you will need to let someone shine a light on your darkness.”
Just like Tyler, she uses my own words against me. I glance down at the script tattoo on my wrist and scowl. Sydney had no idea what she was asking. My life is far from simple and too complicated to let her into it.
“I shower around the guys, so it’s not like I keep my shirt on around them. A few people have asked me about my tattoos over the years, but men do not pry the way women do. And it’s not like I don’t have enough ink on my body to distract them from seeing what’s beneath the drawings.”
“Have you gotten any more since I last saw you?”
I nod. “Yes. One more. Now, there’s only one missing piece to the puzzle.”
She peeks over at Kyle, grinning at him once he makes eye contact and too busy to stop messing around with his toy. Then, she turns back to me, her smile replaced by a frown. Her facial expression changes from a sunny disposition to storm clouds rolling across the sky. “Can I see the latest addition?”
A bit apprehensive, I sit up and pull my shirt over my head. It has been a while since I let someone see my back, apart from showers in the locker room. But even then, I try to get in and get out. Tyler knows how I feel about sharing that part of myself and will take my secrets to his grave, just as I would do the same for him.
