Page 60 of Puck to the Heart
In spring and summer, the garden before me must have been lush, a hidden oasis at odds with the modernity and sharp angles of his house. Even in autumn, heartier, cold-weather plants in muted colors brought life to the space. A gravel path twisted between trees and lower shrubbery, and dormant flowering plants dotted the spaces between. Strands of lights illuminated the tree trunks, the glow extending into the branches of the trees. All different sizes of plants grew together, flowers to herbs to trees, and everything in between.
Light reflected in his eyes as he took it all in. Shoulders slumping, he dropped onto a bench. I followed him, sitting close to block the cold.
“Ash, this is so beautiful. It’s magical.” Awe crept into my voice.
A dark laugh snapped in the cold air. “I’m glad you think so. This—” he gestured around us, “—is all of the times I fucked up. Sort of.”
I tilted my head in question, glancing curiously at the greenery surrounding us in a tiny forest.
“I was thirteen when we moved here. And it was an adjustment. The hockey program out here was so much better than where we lived before, and my parents worked a lot so I could have the opportunity. Nana took me back and forth to practice and games. When I was older, I had a rough few years between school and wanting to have a life. I knew I wanted to play hockey, but I was seventeen and it washard. I had a bad day and swore at Nana over nothing. Broke one of her fancy teacups. Not on purpose, but I still felt like shit.” He glanced down at the mug in his hand as if remembering.
I wanted to saysomething, say he was a kid, he’d made a mistake, he shouldn’t take it so hard, but he needed to get this out.
“My grandfather took me for a drive. We rode around for a while to cool off. And then we stopped, and he told me it was okay to make mistakes, but I had to own up to them. Couldn’t take them out on other people. I wanted to do something to make it right, so I bought Nana a plant from the grocery store. It was halfway dead in a cracked pot, but I was so proud of it. She was so happy when I gave it to her, it became a thing.”
He pointed at an aloe plant the size of a small car right in the center of the garden. A strand of fairy lights ringed the stones building its bed.
“The older I got, the more I screwed up.” He waved at the other plants around the central one. “Those were for Nana, the ones in the middle. The rest… those are for me. When I bought the house, this was a mess. All overgrown. Thorns and roots everywhere. So, I tore it all out.”
Something in my chest ached seeing the beautiful place made from a place of such sadness and hurt. “The rest are from before? What you told me about?”
“Yeah.”
How did a single word convey so much?
Looking around again, I found the different stages of his younger days. In the back, plants were tossed in haphazardly, almost growing on top of each other, all tangled leaves and vines. Closer to the front, they were more spread out, less tangled with better organization.
“The tattoos,” I breathed, recognizing the pattern. “You have something so beautiful to remind you of something causing you pain?”
He winced. “It sounds pretty bad when you put it like that. But… after the photoshoot, which is kind of the benchmark for when things got really bad, I felt… gross. Dirty. I never considered what it might mean after.” His breath was ragged. “I don’t think there’s anything wrong with showing whatever you want. Bodies are bodies, we all have one. But I made the decision when I wasn’t ready to be vulnerable. It happened after the worst mess of my career. And it was a turning point, it made me into a freaking Wagyu filet to people. It was like… seeing my ass in a magazine gave them some right to send me some truly disgusting things. So, the tattoos, it was like starting over in a way. If I didn’t look the way I had before, if my body was different than it had been, it was mine again.”
I couldn’t imagine what it must have been like being so visible and young and having a bad decision thrown back in your face. And choosing to wear a reminder permanently etched on your skin.
“For a while, I went with it. Slept with anyone who threw themself at me. Thought I was supposed to, you know? It was all part of the game. But I hated it.”
He must have hated telling me, and I hated how it still twisted into his veins like it was a part of him. And maybe it was, but I wanted to tear out the hurt the way he’d torn out the dead plants in the garden.
“And then yesterday, when I asked you for—shit I’m sorry, Ash, I didn’t know.”
“You don’t have to keep apologizing, Barnes.”
“I didn’t want to cause?— “
“It’s entirely on me.”
“Ash.” My hand crossed the space between us, resting lightly on his.
“It’s okay. I don’t want to talk about it. Something in me is broken, and I don’t know how to fix it. So… let it go.”
It was like the plant he’d bought for Polly. He needed metaphorical watering and care.
Maybe… maybe I could help. An idea formed in the back of my mind, but now wasn’t the time.
“You’re not broken, Ash.”
“I don’tfeelbroken with you. Except…”
Except.
