“I’m not here to talk about you and me,” I said.
“Whatever you want to talk about, I’m here for it,” he said, leaning back against the railing near me.
My skin began to feel itchy and overheated. He always barely dressed for the winter, and the way his sweatshirt was rolled up over his big forearms made me tighten my hands firmly in my pockets.
“Thank you,” I said stiffly. “For your generous gift to Elmsweep.”
He turned to look at me.
“You supported my career for a long time, Josie. Now I want to support you. What else can I do to help?”
I should have said nothing, should have emphasized that we would never get back together.
“We aren’t the only school in town,” I replied.
“Whatever you want, baby,” he said, grinning that killer smile at me. “It’ll be done tomorrow. All the schools. I don’t give a shit about my money without you. I thought I did, but without you it’s all meaningless. All this fucking money and a condo in the fancy fucking rich shithead part of town doesn’t matter if you aren’t there with me. And goals on the ice aren’t the same if I can’t look over and see you cheering for me.”
“Watson, attack!” I said, because I didn’t know what else to do.
I couldn’t process what he was offering to do for me.
Our disgraceful St Bernard only howled again and then licked Jesse’s face, a big wet slobbery tongue bath.
“Watson, come away from that man!” I said sternly. “I changed my mind. I don’t want you associating with him. He’s a bad influence.”
“Josie, please—” Jesse said, his voice cracking, but I turned my back on him and we went inside.
I wondered what would discourage him, but Jesse camped outside the whole rest of the week, except for when he went to practices and games and to bake a new Polish dessert as an apology.
I tried my best to ignore him, but goddamn, it was hard not to question whether he fucking meant it or not when I’d walk up the steps to flakes swirling around me and he was scraping off the steps, wiping down the garbage cans, or eating a sad little can of soup.
And my family didn’t make it easy on him.
Mike built the fire to inferno heat in the living room and taunted Jesse with it.
My mother refused to eat his desserts.
Dad came out with increasingly outlandish chores for him to do.
Then one night I had gone to bed early and woken at midnight to glance at the temperature.
It must be 20 degrees below freezing.
Oh, fuck.
This fool was going to get himself killed.
I remembered one time when we had gone camping in college and of course hadn’t prepared properly. It had been so cold that night that Jesse had peeled off every stitch of clothingand forced me to wear it, wrapping his huge body around me to keep me warm.
“You’re going to freeze your dick off!” I protested through chattering teeth.
“I don’t care,” he said, my face so tightly pressed against his chest that I felt the strong thump of his heartbeat on my ear. “As long as you’re warm.”
Now I slid out of bed, and grabbed a pair of old sweatpants, shoving my feet into slippers.
Apparently the rest of my family was perfectly happy to let him freeze, but I just couldn’t do it.
I went downstairs, listening to Dad and Watson’s dueling snores. Since of course Watson always slept in their bed Mom basically had surround sound.
