Jeremy looks down at my fingers tracing the ninety-one inked on his leg and smirks at me.
I grin and shrug. “What can I say? I never realized I had a thing for thigh tattoos, but it’s the hottest fucking thing.”
“Current Jeremy is patting past Jeremy on the back for thinking a thigh tattoo was a smart idea.”
“You don’t like it?”
He shrugs and picks up the hand that’s still on his leg, kissing my knuckles. “I felt like a badass when I first got it. I was twenty and thought I was invincible, like I would play forever. Then once I got injured, every time I looked at it, I felt like those stupid hockey sticks were mocking me. Like all I got were three full seasons in the league and now I had to live with the reminder of it for the rest of my life. Like the scars on my knee weren’t enough of one.”
Jeremy lets out a short laugh, a little self-deprecating.
“And now?”
He looks at me curiously. “What do you mean?”
“You were talking in past tense. Do you feel differently about your tattoo now?”
Jeremy stares at me. “Do you think I’ll ever get over how spooky it is that you can read me so well?”
I give him a satisfied smile. “Probably not. The girls never have. What can I say? It’s a gift.”
“Well, as always, you’re right. I do feel differently about it now. It’s new though. Ever since you helped me get back on the ice, it’s like a missing piece of me slotted back into place. I’ve been feeling sorry for myself all these years, grieving my playing days instead of figuring out if there was a way I could keep hockey and skating in my life, even if it looks different than it used to. Skating with you and Maddy, and then all the times I’ve skated in the couple of weeks since, gave me back some of my joy. I don’t think I’ll ever stop missing my playing days because, god, I loved it so much. But it doesn’t have to be all or nothing.”
Hearing him talk like this gives me some of that joy too, but there’s one thing he left out. I don’t know if it was on purpose or not, but after the last twenty-four hours, I’m willing to bet it was. He’s avoiding it because talking about that means he has to talk about all the other stuff he would probably rather avoid, but I’m not going to let him. Taking his other hand in mine, I ask the question.
“And what about how you felt about your teammates? You told me part of the reason you hadn’t been back on the ice was because every time you tried, you remembered how you felt when they drifted away from you after your injury. That being back on the ice is a reminder of how you lost your hockey family when you got hurt.”
Jeremy gives me a wry smile. “Why did I think falling in love with a smart lawyer was a good idea?”
I scoff at him. “As if you had any choice.”
His smile turns serious, and he leans forward, kissing my neck while his hands tighten around mine.
“I didn’t have any choice. I saw you at Julie and Ben’s house that first Thanksgiving Julie brought you home all those years ago, and that was it for me. I was too wrapped up in my own shit to realize what it was, but there has never been anyone else for me since that day. It was always supposed to be you. I’m sorry it took so long. I can’t help but feel like we missed out on so much time.”
My heart squeezes at his words and I shake my head. “We didn’t miss out on anything. We’re right where we need to be.”
This time I kiss his hand, needing the connection. Then I give him adon’t fuck with melook.
“Sweet words aren’t going to get you out of talking about the hard stuff, pal of mine. So, talk.”
Jeremy blows out a breath. “If you’re asking me whether I think about my teammates every time I step out onto the ice,the answer is yes. The same way you and the guys and Rachel and Steven can all tell me a million times that you’ll never walk away, and it will still be hard for me to trust it, to believe that I’m enough to keep people around when for most of my life, all evidence was to the contrary.”
His words are heartbreaking, but I feel a tidal wave of relief at the matter-of-fact way he’s talking about it. His understanding that we mean what we say, even though it’s hard for him to trust it, feels ground-breaking.
“I’ll tell you as many times as you need to hear it. So will everyone else. How can we make you believe it?”
The look in Jeremy’s eyes is earnest and intense when he speaks. “It’s not your job to make me believe it. Not yours or anyone else’s. It’s mine and only mine.”
He takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. “Rachel gave me the name of a therapist. One who specializes in what I’ve been through. The therapist calls it childhood trauma. I already called her this morning and made an appointment. She wants to see me twice a week for a while. She says she can help me.”
“And how do you feel about that?” I ask carefully.
“Relieved,” he says quickly. “I feel really fucking relieved. I’ve carried all of this for so long, and learning about my father was the last straw. Rock bottom, or something like that. I don’t want to be this person. The one who doesn’t trust that love is honest. I want to give everything to the people I love and trust that they mean it when they give it to me.”
He winds his fingers around mine, pulling them to rest in his lap.
“I want to give you everything. I want to love you and be there for you for the rest of my days. You and Maddy. You both are everything to me, and I don’t want you to think you have to constantly reassure me that your love is real. That’s not fair to you, and it’s not the life I want for us. I want so much more forus than that. I want to show Maddy that the people who love you stick by you and that love is forever. I want to go to sleep with you at night and wake up with you in the morning, and have a cabinet full of cereal, and make sure you always have a drawer full of M&M’s. I want us to run on our trail, and I want to teach Maddy how to cook more things and show her how to make a perfect wrist shot. I want to kiss you and touch you and fuck you every damn day because when you’re around, I can’t keep my hands off of you, and I literally dream about the next time I can be inside you.”
