Page 49 of Anything for You
Jeremy sits next to me, propping his left leg up against the back of the couch so he’s facing me. He smells so good, and his green T-shirt looks like it was custom made for him with the way it hugs his biceps so perfectly. His dark hair is just the right amount of messy, and I keep getting a picture of him reading with Maddy, and everything about him is just doing it for me right now. I want to jump him, and that’s not exactly the friendly vibe I’ve been trying for with him.
“It doesn’t matter that you’re not her biological parent. She’s here in your house and you’re taking care of her. You deserve all the support while you do that. You’re doing such a good job.”
His face is boyish and earnest and so damn cute.
“You think so? I swear I’m not fishing for compliments here, but I truly have no idea what I’m doing.”
“I know so.” He reaches for my hand, wrapping his fingers around mine, and heat spirals out from where our hands touch. Jeremy’s eyes bore into mine, and I can tell he feels it too.
“She trusts you. I could see it in the way she looked at you. You haven’t known her for long, but you understand her. Like how she wanted you to help her in the shower but didn’t know how to ask for it, so you offered to come sit on her bed and keep her company. For a kid like Maddy who has moved around so much, those are really big things. You were born to do this, Ems.”
I look down at our joined hands, a little uncomfortable with the praise, even as it gives me a hum of satisfaction because I really do want to be good at this.
“Thanks for that. And for coming over tonight. Your cereal idea was inspired. I haven’t seen her smile that big since she’s been here, and it was the first time I’ve heard her laugh.”
He grins at me, and it lights up his whole face. “I could tell. Hearing it was pretty great.”
“It really was. You were good with her, Jeremy. I’m holding you to the skating thing too, so I hope you were serious about it.”
His face falls so fast I almost think he’s faking it until the sorrow starts rolling off him. He barely moves and he doesn’t say a word, but I can feel it like he’s explaining it to me. His eyes are glued to the couch, so I reach my free hand out and lay it on his cheek, lifting his head until he meets my eyes.
“What made you sad just now?”
He leans into my hand just a little and closes his eyes for a second.
“It’s stupid,” he mutters, shaking his head and opening his eyes.
“I doubt that.”
“No one knows.”
“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”
“Ems, I think you’re the only one I want to tell my secrets to.”
I squeeze his hand. “You can tell me anything.”
It’s the right thing to say because Jeremy’s whole body relaxes, and he starts talking.
“I haven’t been on the ice since my injury.”
I study him, doing some quick mental calculations.
“So that’s like…”
“Fifteen years. I haven’t set foot on the ice in fifteen years.”
“Is there any particular reason why?” I ask carefully, knowing intuitively he’s never opened up to anyone like this and wanting him to feel like he can keep talking.
“At first, I literally couldn’t. It took more than a year to heal completely from my injury. I tore every ligament in my knee and shattered my kneecap and part of my tibia. Orthopedic trauma surgeons had to piece my leg back together like a puzzle, and the physical therapy was grueling. I knew right from the day of the injury I would never play again.”
He breaks off, his face twisting like just saying the words is physically painful, even all these years later.
“Once I was cleared to do mostly whatever I wanted, within reason, the first thing I wanted to do was put skates on. I loved to skate. Flying around the rink in the cold air was my happiest place, and I wanted to get that back in the worst way. Even though I had retired by that point, all I wanted was to go to the arena, so I did. I took my skates and marched in there like I owned the place because for so many years, I did. Practice was just ending when I got there and as I walked down through the tunnel with skates on my feet for the first time in almost two years, I saw the team. Laughing and joking together like we did at the end of practice. Going through the same rituals. Even my coach yelling at them to shut the fuck up and focus was familiar. Some were guys I played with, and some were new, but it didn’t matter. They were a team, and I wasn’t part of it.”
His voice is heavy with emotion, and he takes a breath, letting it out slowly. I say nothing, giving him the space he needs to collect his thoughts, but I take his free hand in mine, and he holds on tight.
“Hockey saved me when I so badly needed saving. It gave me something to love and a purpose and a family when I had never had one before. When I got injured, my teammates kept in touch for a while, but the season is busy, and the calls and emails tapered off eventually. And standing there, watching the team move on without me? The guys I called my family? It killed me, Ems. I turned around and left the arena, and never went back. Now every time I try to skate, I think about standing in that tunnel alone watching my family move on without me and I can’t make myself step onto the ice.
