Page 15 of Power Forward

“Great,” I say with a relieved sigh.

Blue eyes assess me over the rim of the cup, and I pick up my own coffee for something to do. It’s awkward, but not as awkward as the wedding. There’s this level of nervousness between us, but it doesn’t hold any animosity this time. It’s weird. This feeling like you’re in front of a stranger. There was a time we couldn’t have been closer. Hell, I’ve had this guy inside of me, and I’ve been inside of him. Yet sitting here today, you never would have known we once explored every inch of each other’s bodies with our mouths and wandering hands.

I trace my finger along the handle of the cup, trying to muster up something to say that isn’t “please take me back,” but Jackson beats me to it.

“So, what brings you to Boston?” he asks.

Well, shit. I can’t exactly tell himheis the reason I’m here because then that automatically puts me in the desperation pool. That’s something I’m trying to avoid.

“I had a few meetings, and I thought I might as well catch the game while I’m in town.”

His head bobs a few times. “Was it weird? Being back there?”

“Kinda? I’ve learned to disassociate when I’m in agent mode,” I say, then chuckle nervously. “If I allowed my own hurt and bitterness over my career ending earlier than I wanted it to, affect me whenever I went to games, then I wouldn't have many clients”

The muscles in my neck tense up at the sight of pity flashing through his eyes. I quickly change the subject because I don’t want his pity. Rafe’s is not the place where I cut myself open and expose my underbelly regarding the demise of my career.

“Thanks for agreeing to meet me this morning,” I begin, taking another sip of my coffee to dampen my dry mouth. “I… I’ve had a lot of time to process what you told me at Blaine’s wedding. It didn’t come as a surprise to me that I hurt you, but I don’t think I truly understood to what extent until that night, and I wanted to say I’m sorry. For everything.”

His hand holding his cup pauses halfway to his mouth. The crease between his brow reappears, and his lips turn downward.

“Where is this coming from?” he asks warily.

I exhale heavily. “I don’t want to go into things right now, but I just wanted you to know that I’m sorry for everything I put you through.”

His frown only deepens. “Okay…”

I take another sip of coffee, then take a deep breath. I need to say it. Rip the Band-Aid off and get it out there. It’s time for step two.

“I’d like it if we could be friends again. I know that sounds very juvenile for guys our age, but…” I take off my glasses and scrub my face with my palm. He’s blurry, and somehow, it makes it easier to get my words out. “I’ve missed having you in my life, and I didn’t know how much until I saw you at Zach’s apartment that time with your daughter.”

When I put my glasses back on, his expression is still full of confusion. The longer he’s silent, the more my skin begins to feel tight and itchy.

Please say something, I inwardly beg,Anything.

His tongue darts out to lick over his bottom lip, and my eyes latch onto the movement.

“I don’t know what to say,” he finally answers.

“Say yes?” A small huff of nervous laughter escapes me. “You’ve got my number now. We can text, or if we’re ever in the same city, maybe grab a bite to eat?” I shrug, trying to appear casual despite my knee bouncing an erratic rhythm beneath the table.

I sound like a fucking high schooler begging to be friends with the popular kid, but I don’t care. This is a marathon, and I’m only at the very beginning.

Baby steps.

“Okay.”

“Yeah?” I bring my coffee to my lips to disguise how my face wants to break out in a wide grin.

“Yeah. I mean, a lot has changed over the years, like you said at the wedding. We’re not the same people we were last time we were here,” he says, and I don’t miss the slight defensive tone to his voice. “I guess it wouldn’t hurt to be civil, considering we run in the same circles.”

“Right.” I nod in agreement.

He finishes his coffee, then pushes his chair back. “I’vegotta head off. The bus leaves for the airport soon, and I don’t want to be late.”

I stand up and try to hide my wince as pain shoots through my body. Luckily, Jackson is too busy slipping on his coat and doesn’t see it.

“Good luck in Washington. Keep an eye on Young if he’s in the net. He’s been very pad-reliant recently—I think he’s hiding an injury.”

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