Page 10 of Power Forward

Her pen flies over her notebook as she says, “Okay, so if he says yes to coffee and you’re back in each other’s lives again, how would that make you feel?”

A smile lights my face at the thought of having Jackson in my life again. “Really happy.”

“But what if it goes the other way? What if he doesn’t want to be back in your life again?”

My smile drops, instantly replaced with a frown. I lift my hand, rubbing over my chest as pain ricochets through me. I’d be heartbroken. There’s no other way to put it. I don’t think I would be able to recover from losing him again.

“Then I’d want to give up,” I admit, barely above a whisper.

As always, her expression doesn’t give anything away. There’s no sign of what she thinks I should do. I know she asks me these questions because she wants me to know nothing is guaranteed. She’s leaving this for me to decide.

Without a word, she gets up and moves behind her desk. Her nails tap away on her keyboard, and then she comes back to her seat, curling her feet beneath her again. “I have some homework for you.”

“Homework? Am I in school again?” I snicker, and she laughs.

“No, but I’d like for us to see each other again in two weeks. During that period, I want you to take some time to really think about both outcomes. Then I’d like you to write in your journal your feelings toward both sides. It’s easy to have an instant reaction to things, but when we dig deeper, oftentimes our answers can be different.”

I agree to her task, and we book an appointment for two weeks’ time. Once I’m back in my car and heading toward my home in Hermosa Beach, I hit Call on Zara’s name and wait for her to pick up. Even though we’re divorced, we’re still good friends, despite the lies I’ve said about her.

And that’s a whole other heap of shit I need to make right.

“Hey, how did it go?” she asks as soon as she answers.

“Good. She’s given me some homework.”

Zara snorts. “Homework? What, are you in third grade again?”

I can’t stop the bark of laughter that escapes. “You sound like me. She wants me to think about how I’d feel if I did get Jackson back and if I don’t.”

“And are you going to do it?”

I let her question linger in the air. I’m aware I’m putting a lot of pressure on this. Not just on Jackson but on myself. Placing the source of my life’s happiness in one person’s hands isn’t healthy, I know that. And while I’ve come a long way since the first time I walked through the doors to Roberta’s office, I’m still a work in progress. There might never be a completed version, but I’ve come a long way.

“Yeah, I am,” I finally say after a beat.

“Good. You know I’m here for you if you need me. If you want to talk it out loud to me, or if you need me to create a diversion, I’m here.”

A warmth spreads through my chest at the sincerity in her words.

When we decided it was best for us to separate, Zara didn’t want the truth to come out about my struggles for fear of me spiraling further and destroying the progress I’d made. In order to avoid questions on why we were getting a divorce, she came up with the idea to say she had an affair. I personally thought it was a stupid idea, and if I was in a better mental space, I wouldn’t have gone through with it. But she was adamant that she didn’t give a fuck about people’s opinions about her. She said the people who knew us would know the truth. She cared more about people’s opinions of me, and fuck, did it make me feel like the biggest asshole who ever existed every time I had to spew those lies and play into the narrative she set.

But that’s the kind of person Zara is. She puts other people before herself all the damn time, and I’m glad she’s found happiness with Connor because he’s a much better partner to her than I ever was.

Even if I do hold a tiny bit of resentment toward himbecause he’s ten years my junior and playing in the NHL. Lucky motherfucker.

“You’re awesome, you know that?” I tell her.

I can hear the smile in her voice when she replies, “I know, which is why I’m gonna help you win your man back. No matter what it takes.”

Chapter Five

Jackson

3 months later - October

“Dad, have you seen my gloves?” Ryan asks, skidding across the wooden floor in his socks and stopping in the doorway. “They’re not in my hockey bag.”

I glance up from where I’m currently packing Isabela’s bag on her bed. I leave for my first road trip of the season in less than two hours, and as usual, I’ve left everything to the last minute. I haven’t had time to shower yet or have a coffee.

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