Page 14 of For Pucking Keeps

SUPERNOVA: After all this? Are you sure? I can always google.

ME: Google? Don’t insult me, Miss Starr.

SUPERNOVA: Okay, snatching my insult back. #seriously

ME: I’m all yours, use me.

SUPERNOVA: All mine?

ME: Yes

SUPERNOVA: Okay.

And just like that. I step away from my safety net, let the doubt slide away and I let myself fall.

ME: Then you are all mine tomorrow. Free?

SUPERNOVA: Hockey?

ME: Nope. All yours. I have a break tomorrow.

SUPERNOVA: Then, yes.

ME: Good. I will pick you up in the morning.

SUPERNOVA: See you tomorrow, Tor.

ME: Sweet dreams, Supernova.

ELEVEN

JAZ

Igaze out at the sun rising over my sleeping neighborhood. A yawn passes my lips, the need to stretch my stiff muscles after the hours spent sitting is the only reason I slam my laptop closed. Standing slowly, I groan as my knees protest from my immobility and stretch my back. I raise my arms above my head, imagining I can touch the sky, tilting backwards, my vertebrae realigning with a few relieving cracks. Inhaling once, twice, and on the third count, I exhale, releasing the tension of not being able to write again.

After my texts with Tor last night, I was both exhilarated with anticipation of what our day together would bring and reluctant to step out of my front door. The Vipers’ win had Lia and I dancing around my living room in celebration. Honestly, I think it was the combination of way too many chocolate chip cookies, brownies, and cider. . . the sugar high struggle is real. But it was the post-game interviews with Lia’s brother Ridley, Tor, and their goalie, Sebastian, that stopped me dead in my tracks. The press hammered Tor with questions about me, not the game and how well all three of them played. No, me. My heart sank because I barely know the man and I am causing all this trouble for him. They exposed so many aspects of my personal life that’s not public knowledge. Hello, I write under a pen name for a reason. I felt violated and embarrassed as they asked Tor about Shaun, like he was privy to the information. I haven’t even told the man anything vital about my life yet, but does it stop the vultures from pecking at the remains of my past love life? Hell no.

You know, I can take a few hits to my pride and ego, I’m a big girl, I keep my panties well and truly pulled up. I’ve dealt with loads of negativity, I can stomach the hard stuff, or at least I thought I could. But as the press threw my failures up in the air like birthday confetti, I couldn’t hide the look of utter despair on my face. When Lia finally took pity on me by turning off the television, I was grateful. Not all press is good press, and I knew this was only going to blow up all over social media again. The world was watching, my mother, my sisters, everyone back home, well, those who know that Jazminne Starr is none other than Alexis Rhodes anyway. So, of course, I panicked when Tor’s messages came through. I wanted to tuck and run. Tell him that this had already turned into something out of control before it even began. I wanted to save myself from seeing the regret on his handsome face for even offering to help me in the first place. But he surprised me when he asked me to go out with him. He still wants to see me, I mean, help me. He did say he was all mine. God. All mine. I don’t know what all mine entails but damn, I want to find out.

Sighing, I drop my arms to my sides as my phone rings on my desk. Grabbing it, I walk out of my office, not wanting to dwell on the fact I didn’t sleep last night. Instead, I chose to stare at my computer screen, hoping my nights of watching Vipers speeding up and down the ice would spark something, anything. Nope, it did not.

“Hello,” I answer with another jaw cracking yawn.My bare feet slap against the wooden floors of my hallway and I hiss at the cold seeping into my soles. I ponder underfloor heating as I hurry into my bedroom, past my neatly made four poster bed. I stop and give it a look of longing for a second before I make my way into my bathroom. One look at myself and I want to make the sign of the cross in front of my own reflection. Fresh faced and bright eyed I’m not.

“Good morning, daughter of mine.” Hearing my mother’s voice hits me with so many emotions, my head drops as I brace myself against the bathroom sink, tears stinging my eyes. How long has it been? I’m a terrible child for not reaching out. The sound of disappointment in her voice has me swallowing past the lump in my throat.

“Hey, Ma,” I croak out as I prop my phone against the mirror and press the speaker button. I pick up my toothbrush, opting to keep myself busy in an attempt to hold myself together throughout this phone call.

I hear her hum her disapproval, probably taking a sip of her second cup of green tea before she speaks. I can picture her sitting at her kitchen table, legs crossed, in her housecoat. “Alexis Jayme Rhodes, I pride myself on raising three very different independent women, strong, resilient, and last but not least, respectful.” I close my eyes as I brush furiously, my poor teeth are probably wondering what they ever did to me.

“Ma—

“No, no, child. You’ve had ample amount of time to call and talk to me, send a carrier pigeon, or a message in a bottle, girl. You chose radio silence, so, you will now listen to me,” she admonishes, her voice rising with each word. If I wasn’t being read the riot act, this would be hilarious.

“Now, what I am trying to say is, Alexis, you should have told us what happened between you and that son of a bitch Shaun, and Mace. Mace Watson! I can’t even talk to his mother at bible study. I can see shame on the woman’s face. What kind of friend does that?” she asks. Before I can open my mouth to say exactly what kind of friend he is, she continues, “You left poor Julia and your sisters scrambling to sort out the wedding madness all on their own. You up and left your entire home, Alexis. The whole house. And moved across the country. No one knew where you were. Julia kept it hush hush. I knew she knew and threatened her within an inch of her life, but she wouldn’t tell us anything. That girl loves you though, so I forgave her in the end.”

“I’m sorry, Mama,” I say quickly in between rinsing out my mouth and gargling mouthwash. She hums again, accepting my apology, but I know she is far from finished. I’ll listen for as long as she talks because she needs to vent, and I deserve it.

“Now, after days, weeks, months of hearing nothing I find out through the Tiktok you’re in Seattle on some hockey player’s arm. Alexis, I don’t know what’s going on. You’ve always been the daughter I’ve never had to worry about, but, baby, I am worried. I saw the news this morning and the sports reporter talking about my daughter in relationship to some hockey player named Torrance Bailey. Everybody is talking about you. Why?”

---