Page 41 of Slash & Burn

My throat was tight, but I felt like there was an opening and I leapt toward it. “We’d both need to film each other. But getting some behind the scenes footage, some candid comments, and shooting those moments that are really making this whole program what it is, you know?”

She was still side-eyeing me, but she sat back in her seat and I took a little more encouragement that she hadn’t completely shut down.

“And you think this will help me?”

“I do. You don’t like attention, and I get that. I promise, I get that more than you know. But if I’ve learned anything in my life, it’s that making a choice out of fear is always the wrong one. Movingtowardsomething is the only way to go. And your fear keeps you moving away from things. It’s holding you back, but it doesn’t have to.”

It struck me as I was trying to convince Jill, just how much I actually believed what I was saying. Sure, my motives might have been a little complicated, but the idea of Jill not living the fullest, most spectacular life because she was afraid people might see her do it was just not acceptable to me. She deserved the world, not some slimmed down version that fit inside a lens narrowed by fear.

“This sounds insane.”

“Well, you won’t have to do it alone. I’m going to need you to shoot me too.”

“You don’t mind being on camera. You’ve already mastered being photographed.”

I held my breath, feeling my advantage slipping. “Yeah, but it’s entirely different being candid on camera. I get on the ice and I don’t even see the cameras. With this, you’ll be helping me learn how to be honest and open. It’s a weakness we both have.”

Jill’s eyes narrowed at me, and I worried I’d gone too far. But nothing that I’d said was untrue. So when she recrossed her legs and turned to look out the window, I waited for the word I knew she was about to say.

“Fine.”

I hid my smirk, not that she was looking. She didn’t even glance my way the rest of the ride into Portland. But I didn’t mind. One of my first coaches at Michigan had told me, “Growth is never more uncomfortable than right before it happens.” So, I took the awful silence between us as a good sign. One way or another, neither of us were coming out of this summer the way we came in.

Normally it would have been considered a perfect day for a baseball game. The weather could not have been more dialed in. The fans were streaming into the stadium with hot dogs and fries, and the teams were warming up on the bright green grass outfield while the constant beat of cleaned-up hip hop songs bombarded us from the speakers overhead.

Even though I knew she’d been reluctant to join me, Jill looked outwardly at ease in the private box we’d been given. As the pre-game clock wound down, I settled into my seat beside her. “You ready for a quick cameo?”

She instantly frowned and I cringed. “You promise it’s just this one time?”

“I do.” I nodded my head, my eyes scanning the full stadium.

I’d never have even bothered doing this with her if I didn’t know with certainty I could control the situation. Milly Allen, the PR manager for the Sea Dogs, was an old friend, and she’d given me every assurance her camera men were going to pan to us one time as the game started and that was it. Her assistant was standing behind us on the concourse that led around the stadium, ready to give me the signal before it was our turn to be featured.

Jill wiped her hands on her thighs, her eyes flitting from one side of the field to another.

“Hey,” I whispered, taking a hold of the hand closest to me, and giving it a squeeze. “Pretend it’s just you and me.”

She huffed out a tight breath. “Not sure that’s the most relaxing image these days.” She pinned a plastic smile to her face, offering a quick wave to a little girl a few rows down from us.

When I squeezed her hand harder, she finally looked at me. “I don’t want to be something else that makes you anxious. I never wanted that.”

A flash of hurt lit up her eyes, slicing right into me. “I know. I’m sorry I said that. I’m okay.”

She wasn’t okay. But she wasn’t going to admit it and I didn’t want to tell her I was off balance too. I’d gone back to the pool twice without her, but I hadn’t been able to make it over the edge from the shallow end. For as good as the other night had been, I was starting to feel like a real dick for not keeping myself in check.

“Holy fucking shit,” she muttered, ducking her head as she glanced down at the stands below us.

“What?”

Jill’s hand started shaking, and even though I knew she was nervous, this reaction wasn’t about being on camera.

“You’re up in thirty,” a voice came from behind me as Milly’s assistant tapped me on the shoulder.

“Thanks,” I said, waving back at her while trying to figure out who or what Jill was fixated on. “We’re up next, Jilly, can you do this?” It was a smile and a wave, but at the moment she looked white as a sheet and like she was ready to run. “Jill, look at me.”

Her head swiveled and her eyes locked with mine, wide and fearful. “Yeah.”

“Just smile and wave at the camera over home plate. Okay? I’ve got you. Whatever is going on, you and me will handle it together in forty-five seconds, okay?”

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