Page 124 of If All Else Sails
“Wow, okay. So you’re in a panic spiral.”
“It’s less of a spiral and more like a vortex or a sinkhole. A panic sinkhole.”
Jacob chuckles, but it’s kind and gentle. Just like his voice when he speaks. “Hey, I know this is probably scary. For a lot of reasons, not the least of which being that you just now figured out what a good guy Wyatt is.”
“He really is,” I say miserably.
“Why do you sound upset by that?”
I wiggle into my bed, tracing my fingers over the low, curved ceiling above my head. “Because it was easier when Wyatt was a jerk. When he was the guy picking up your sloppy seconds with Grocery Store Girl and—”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Hang on. Is that what you think happened?” Jacob sounds incredulous.
“That is what happened. I should know; I literally walked in on them.”
“Yeah, but you don’t know the whole story. Turns out Grocery Store Girl recognized Wyatt.”
“But he wasn’t even famous!”
“She was some crazed hockey fan and knew of him. And the contract he’d just gotten. Her endgame was Wyatt, not me. And he was shutting it down when you walked in.”
I think back to the night Wyatt and I met, the awkward kitchen incident, trying to reframe it from this perspective. I guess this explanation could make sense.
Unfortunately, if so, it shaped my every interaction after-ward with Wyatt.
“That doesn’t change what he said.”
“What did he say?”
I want to roll my eyes, but of course Wyatt’s words wouldn’t have haunted Jacob. Just me. “He said, ‘Not yoursister.’ Like I was some kind of disgusting virus.”
“Uh, that might have actually been my fault, considering I kind of told him to leave you alone before we got there.”
“Jacob,” I growl.
“Sorry! Don’t worry—he knows now that I wholeheartedly give my stamp of approval. In fact, I’ve already nominated you as couple of the year.”
“We’re not even a couple yet!”
“Ah-ha! I heard theyet.”
“You’re exasperating.”
“And yet lovable,” Jacob says. “Also, don’t worry about my friendship with Wyatt. You know what they say. Bromance before—”
“Don’t say it.”
“Romance. What did you think I was going to say?”
“Not that.” I pause. “So, you think I could handle dating a professional hockey player? Would I have to quit my job? Move? Would I need to worry about women slipping into his DMs?”
Jacob laughs. “Wyatt hates social media. And so far as I know, he’s never hooked up with a fan or had any interest.”
“Really?”
“Maybe you should, I don’t know—be a grown-up and go talk to the guy.”
My brother is right. I should. But after we hang up and I change into the new jersey—hoping it will bring me some kindof luck—and spend a little time overthinking, I instead end up drifting off to sleep.
