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Clearing my throat, I grab my binder and start working on more math.
One Week Later...
The first derivative of the function f of x as x approaches two. Calculus. Great. I thought I would be finished with this type of math in high school, but I guess when you take freaking space math, you can’t escape this shit.
Sighing my annoyance, I look down at Jake lying on my lap as I rock my signature grandma underwear. Why he finds it attractive, I honestly don’t know. He moves in his sleep, and his hand ends up on my thigh.
Jake got injured in game six. After his injury and sitting on the bench for the last six games, I’ve been nursing him. His right hip has a slight tear from a tough body check. The Rubenstein travel doctor said he might have to take a week off before he can play again. Since then, he’s been camping out in the hotel room. It also didn’t take me until now to notice that...Jake Larson is a big baby.
He whines when I leave to work out and always wants me to feed him. Not that I’m complaining, but who would have thought this muscle of man would come to me for mercy?
I put my math notebook down and start playing with his hair. I love the way it feels, all soft and voluminous.
“You gonna braid my hair, love?” he mumbles in his sleep.
I smile to myself as I continue to play in it.
“It’s just so soft. And you were sleeping on me, so I saw it as an invitation.”
He laughs and puts his weight on his elbows. “I’m not complaining.”
I can tell he wants to laugh, but it just seems forced. Like he’s thinking about something.
“Glad to hear. So what’s the deal? Are you going to see the doctor today? Or are you going to see the guys to hang out?” He has to leave the hotel. I don’t like him cooped up in this room.
“Are you kicking me out?” he jokes, but there’s a hint of annoyance behind it.
“No, I’m just concerned about you. You haven’t left the hotel in a week, babe.”
“Unfortunately, I can’t help it, Allie. I wouldn’t even know the first thing todoif I went out.”
There aretonsof things to do around Bratislava. The whole city’s a tourist attraction. He’s avoiding something, and I don’t know what. I put my binder down and focus on him.
“Jake, talk to me. Why don’t you want to leave the room?”
“Allie, please. I just wanna spend time with you.” He’s dodging again.
“Stop it, Jake. What’s wrong? Just talk to me.”
He lies back down on my lap, sighing. I just play with his hair until he responds. I’ll give him time. “What if I never play again?” he asks in such a sad voice.
My heart drops at that question. He’s scared. He’s scared of failure. But afteroneweek?Surely, he can’t think one small injury will ruin his chances in hockey. “Jake...”
“I’ve been playing hockey my whole life, babe. Ever since I was five, I never stopped playing. It’s like a drug. It’s everything to me. If I don’t play hockey...I’m nothing.”
I hate when he talks like this. A sad Jake Larson breaks my heart. I pull his head to mine so he can see me. “That is not true. You’re too special, Jake. Even without hockey, you’ll still be somebody.” How can he not see that?
“But it’s a part of me. What if I can’t find anything else?”
“You will. If it ever comes to it. Don’t let this injury define you because you are so much more. You’ll come back. You’ll get better. You know why? Because you, Jake Larson, are freaking amazing.”
He stares at me with a growing smile. He brushes hair out of my face as he cradles my face. “You’reamazing.”
I smile back at him. I don’t know how he does it. “Jake...”
“And I think Jake Larson has found his good luck charm.”
“I wasn’talwaysyour good luck charm?” I try to joke, but I’m curious. What makes him say that?
