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The comment didn’t surprise me. Keith and I had split for good a few months after I’d started chatting with “Nick,” so Tanner had been there for the aftermath.
I shifted a little. “I know he was an asshole. And I know he said whatever he could to manipulate me and excuse his own bullshit, but…” I swallowed hard. It didn’t matter that Keith had been out of my life for three years. He’d left a mark on my world and on me, and to this day, he still made it difficult for me to trust men. Especially men who said they were attracted to me. So, no shit he was tough to talk about. “The things he said—they stick, you know?”
Tanner winced, and he laced our fingers together between our chests. He’d heard the stories before about Keith cheating on me with anything that moved, so this wasn’t news to him. I wondered if he knew how many times he’d been the reason I’d pulled myself together after some really bad nights. He couldn’t always be online—because of hockey, I now knew—but when he could be, he’d talk me through whatever was happening. A night when I’d caught Keith cheatingagain. That awful three-week period when Keith had left. The weeks leading up to me finally working up the courage to kick the fucker out permanently. The mix of grief and relief after that.
It was honestly a miracle Tanner hadn’t gotten tired of my drama back then, but no, he hadn’t. He was still here, somehow. And of course, my asshole ex was here, too.
I absently ran my thumb along the back of Tanner’s. “The thing is, his go-to-excuse for cheating was that it was my fault.”
Tanner rolled his eyes. “What the hell? Like you tripped him and he fell dick-first onto another guy?”
I actually laughed, though it didn’t last. Avoiding Tanner’s gaze, I said, “I wasn’t enough for him.”
Tanner’s fingers twitched between mine. In fact, his whole body went rigid. When I met his gaze, he looked like I’d slapped him. “You… What does that even mean?”
My laugh was dry and humorless this time. “Too boring. Too… plain, I guess. Unattractive.” Some warmth rushed into my face as that familiar knot of self-loathing wound tight in the pit of my stomach. “He said if I couldn’t be bothered to lose fifteen or twenty pounds to keep him hot for me, then of course he was going to go find a sexier piece of ass.”
Tanner’s lips parted. “Are you fucking kidding me?”
Shame had me breaking eye contact again, and I shook my head. “No.” With a bitter chuckle, I added, “Ironically, I dropped those twenty pounds after we broke up just because I felt so shitty. I gained it back, but at least for a while…” I trailed off, hating myself more with every word.
“God, what a dick,” Tanner muttered, and he squeezed my hand. “His loss.”
I blinked and met his gaze. “What?”
“Are you kidding? He could’vemarriedyou. All he had to do was not be a jackhole.” Tanner rolled his eyes. “What a dumbass.”
I struggled to comprehend what he was saying.
He must’ve seen my confusion in my eyes, because he leaned in and dusted a kiss across my lips. “He’s a liar, and he’s a cheater. Fuck him and his opinion.”
I managed the ghost of a laugh before I broke eye contact again. “Maybe. But those opinions—they stick.”
“I get that.” Tanner sighed. “It’s nowhere near the same, but I had a coach who told me I was a useless player and I’d never even make major juniors, never mind the big leagues. Not with my lack of a hockey IQ and my weak shot.”
“He… wait, he said that about you? When you were a kid?”
Tanner nodded. “He was a dick.”
“No kidding. Especially since you clearly have a seriously high hockey IQ, and your shot is…” I whistled. “I mean, c’mon, people literally write magazine articles about your wrist shot and your backhand. What the fuck was he talking about? And like… you were a kid!”
“I was,” he said softly. “He constantly threatened to cut me from the team, and to this day, he’ll tell everyone that he did it on purpose to turn me into the player I am now.”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” I groaned. “I know teachers like that. The ones who insist that when you see a kid with talent, the best way to help them build that talent is to beat them down with criticism. Maybe it works with some, but I’ve always found it’s the quickest way to chase a kid away from something they could really be good at if they’re given the right support.”
“Yes, exactly. But this coach—he was the tough love type. And yeah, maybe he did help me, because I worked my ass off on those skills so I wouldn’t get kicked off the team. But the way he talked to me? That stayed with me. It still does.”
“It does?”
“Oh, yeah. Every time one of the coaches wants me to work on something, or every time I fuck up in a game, I’m terrified they’re all going to come down on me and put me on waivers or something.”
“Holy shit,” I whispered. “But you’re… There’s no way…”
“Maybe not, but it’s impossible not to hear that voice every time I fuck up. It’ll probably be that way for the rest of my career.” He kissed the backs of my fingers before settling our hands between our chests again. “So, the point is, I get it—when someone from your past gets into your head, and you can’t tune them out even after a lot of time has passed. Hell, my coach has been in my head longer than your ex has been in yours, so I’m not going to judge if that fucker still messes with your mind now.”
I couldn’t describe the feeling in my chest right then. There was anger toward that asshole coach who’d been so awful to him. Also some relief—or maybe that was validation?—over hearing someone say they understood. Maybe I wasn’t so pathetic after all.
Except I was. That voice in my head was loud as hell sometimes, and it definitely left me insecure.
