Page 9 of Power Forward

“He could barely look at me, to begin with,” I start, clearing my throat when my voice cracks slightly. “There was only one seat left when I got there, which, of course, happened to be next to him. He…” I let out a long exhale and focus back on the jellyfish when my heart rate picks up speed. The light in the tank has changed from blue to green, making them look like little green aliens floating around. “I think after seeing him at Zach’s place back in March, I stupidly convinced myself that maybe we could… I don’t know, talk again.”

“I don’t believe it’s stupid to think that, Hayden. You were very important to each other at one stage in your lives. So, what’s stopping you from talking again?” she asks.

Her question pulls my attention away from the tank and back to her again.

“We spoke before I left, and based on what he said and the anger in his voice, I don’t think he’ll wanna speak to me again.”

The tiny thread of hope I was holding on to snapped that night.

A few minutes pass by where she doesn’t say a word. I used to find it really unnerving. Long stretches of silence became torturous for me. It allowed the dark part of my brain to take over, to spread numbness throughout my body until I felt nothing but emptiness, but she’s helped me through it over the years. Now, I find silence can be peaceful. Except at night. I might be approaching forty, but I can’t sleep unless I have some kind of noise to drown out the chatter in my head.

“This was only the second time seeing him in quite a long time, right? Do you think there’s a possibility he was surprised to see you, and his reaction was more out of shock than how he was genuinely feeling?”

I nod. “Yeah, before that time at Zach’s, I hadn’t seen him since I retired over eight years ago.”

I think back to the puzzled expression on Jackson’s face when my ride share pulled up and he realized I was leaving early. The internal war he was fighting was evident in his blue eyes, clear as day. A mix of disappointment, annoyance, and need. Disappointment I was leaving, maybe? A need to keep our conversation going? I don’t know, but it wouldn’t be the first time I’ve been delusional when it comes to Jackson Wilde.

She’s right, though. There’s a high possibility he was surprised to see me. Sure, he knows I’m Blaine’s agent. I represent a few of his teammates too, but you can still be blindsided by your emotions when you’re actually faced with something or, in this case, someone.

“And maybe he was surprised. I mean, probably?”

I tell her everything he said to me. About how I broke his heart, how he questioned everything we had and my feelings toward him, to the hurt he felt when I announced my proposal with Zara, and how he corrected me when I said he hated me.

He didn’t hate me.

That’s got to mean something, right?

By the time I’ve finished recalling our conversation, my throat is tight. I fight off the tears burning the back of my eyes, threatening to spill over, so I focus back on the jellyfish.

The light is now purple, and one of the blobs is spinning around like a whirlpool near the pump. Do they ever get dizzy? I guess not without a brain.

“I know I could’ve explained myself there and then, but the timing was all off. I didn’t want to ruin his night more than I already had,” I say, which earns me a disgruntled noise from Roberta.

I quickly cover my mouth with my hand as my lips tilt up in a smile when she doesn’t call me out on my self-deprecating comment.

“Okay, so let’s say he agrees to talking again. What are you hoping to achieve from that?” she asks after writing something else in her notebook.

Dropping my hand into my lap, I tug my bottom lip between my teeth and lower my gaze. This seems like a trick question. WhatdoI want to achieve from being back in Jackson’s life again? Ultimately, I want him back, but I know that’s not going to happen. All the sad love songs say you don’t know what you’ve lost until it’s gone, and it’s true. But my loss is so far gone, and I’m not sure it’s redeemable after what I did to him.

Maybe I need to start small. That’s what I had to do at the beginning of my therapy journey. That’s what Roberta taught me. When something feels too big to take on, break it down into small, baby steps.

If we can start by talking first, then maybe it can progress to friendship. Once we’re friends again, it’s a step closer to making things right. I can explain why I was an asshole of the highest degree, and hopefully, we can both heal from there.

“I want to be friends again,” I confess.

“How would it make you feel to be friends with him again?”

I automatically shrug, almost defensively.

Isn’t it obvious?I want to say, but I don’t.

“I don’t know. Happiness, I guess? I was so happy when we were together. I want to make things right with him, butI also want to open that door and see if there’s another chance for us.” I rub my jaw with my palm. My skin is beginning to feel too tight for my body under her watchful eye. “I’d start small, like you taught me. Ask if he wants to get coffee, then next time, maybe I can take him for lunch. Baby steps. I know he’s wary of me, and I don’t blame him for being guarded because I threw our relationship into a dumpster fire without so much as a second thought because I was scared.”

She gives a small smile and nods softly. “But you want to try.”

My breath comes out in a rush because that’s just it. I want to try. I’ve been working on myself over the years to get to this point where I’m strong enough to try and get him back. Medication and therapy doesn’t mean depression just disappears. I’m always going to be healing.

“Yeah, I do.”

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