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I tell my dad everything. He’s my best friend and I love him, but I also don’t want to admit that I’m still caught up on a guy who doesn’t matter to me. Has nothing to do with me, won’t ever see me again or anything. He didn’t want me, probably hasn’t thought of me at all, but yet, I’m here putting holes in the wall to try to mend the holes in my heart.
Oh, sweet Lord, I sound like a damn sappy romance novel.
Not that I read that stuff.
Anyway, along with not wanting to admit everything, I’m also not good at communication unless I am screaming at the person across the ice. On the ice, I command to be listened to, and I have no problem expressing my feelings. But outside of that, I can be a tad bit awkward or just plain mean. But with Jayden, I wasn’t; I was normal. I was fun and happy, and ugh, he brought out the good in me and then threw me to the side.
Fucking douche.
Shrugging my shoulders, I let out a long breath and say, “Okay, yeah, I’m still mad.”
“Have you tried looking for the dick? Obviously you two need to talk.”
Giving him a dull look, I ask, “What the hell would I say? Hey, Ja-Joe, why did you reject me when I thought you were gonna have sex with me?”
Making a face of pure disgust, my dad shakes his head. “Whoa. You could have left off that last part.”
I smile. “Sorry, but really, Dad, what would I say?”
“I don’t know, Bay. I just hate seeing ya hurt, ya know?”
I nod. “I just hate that I let him in so quickly. But Dad, if you would have seen him, you would have probably gotten a boner for him.”
“I highly doubt that,” he adds, but I ignore him, in my own dreamland, remembering every single detail about Jayden. The way his body moved. His quick grin and playful nature.
“He was so big and so great. He challenged me and made me work my ass off for every shot I took. I mean, it was like playing in game seven. And we were only playing some street ball. He didn’t care that I was a girl; he wanted to beat me and I don’t know why I liked that. When it was us, on the couch, it was just perfect. Ugh! I don’t like feeling like this!”
Chancing a glance at my dad since I’m sure he wants to puke, I find that he is nodding his head, obviously trying to find the words to console me. But what can he say? How can he fix this?
“I have a gun, Bay. I can find him and make him apologize.”
Dumbfounded, I can’t help but laugh before throwing my arms up. “Ladies and gentlemen, my father, River Moore.”
He grins at me, his eyes crinkling at the sides before he pulls me in close for a tight hug. Cuddling into him, I nuzzle my nose in the middle of his chest as his lips graze the top of my head. He smells like home, woodsy and musky all in one. He is a big, burly man. He’s my daddy.
Kissing me again, he whispers, “I know you’re hurting, Bay, but don’t.”
“Easier said than done, Big 50,” I say as my eyes shut slowly. Big 50 was his nickname when he played for the Bruins. His number was 50 and he’s huge, but now that’s my number. He sometimes calls me Little 50, and words can’t describe the feeling I get when that happens.
It’s almost like how I felt when Jayden kissed me.
“I know, but remember, this pain is temporary. When you’re playing for the best team in the NHL, scoring more than most men do, you won’t remember some guy from the beach who challenged you and made you feel a certain way. Will you?”
I shake my head, but it doesn’t feel right. I feel like I’m lying when I say, “No, I won’t.”
“That’s right, so erase him from your mind. We have bigger and better things in our future.”
He’s right, but the girl inside me, the one who craves love, chocolate, and sappy romance novels, misses Jayden and wants to know why. I want to beat her in the head and tell her to suck it up, but she’s a needy bitch. A part of me wants to succumb to her. I may even want to cry.
Insane, I know.
But I won’t tell my dad that. “Yeah, you’re right.
Pulling back, he takes me by my shoulders before meeting my gaze. “I’m always right.”
“Um, that’s highly debatable,” I say, and then I instantly regret that statement since I can still hear Jayden saying that to me. Holding in that emotion though, I smile back at my dad as he laughs.
“Anyway,” he says as his laugh subsides. “We need to talk about something.”
