Page 70 of If All Else Sails
At some point during his warning, Jacob had told me his sister was pretty. But calling Josie pretty is like saying a sunset is cute or the Grand Canyon is big.
Prettywas not nearly a grand enough word to encompass the reality of the situation. Stepping out of the car, I felt like someone had whacked me in the head with one of those oversize fairground hammers used to test your strength.
Awkwardness, in a heavier dose than the usual amount I experiencewhen meeting new people, struck me mute as I reached out to shake Josie’s hand. I felt uncomfortable and idiotic, and it was made even worse by the way she flinched, like she had some reason to be afraid of me.
Guess Jacob was right about his sister hating jocks. Or...something. There was definitely something there.
But if her brother had no clue, it wasn’t like I was going to figure it out when we’d barely met. Still, I wondered.
Things went downhill from there. From the flinch to the KITCHEN INCIDENT, which is still how I think of it—in all caps. Thanks to Jacob’s ridiculous grocery store hookup, every person in the Rowland household got the wrong impression of me. One I managed to correct—with everyone but Josie.
The truth, which I never did get to fully explain to Josie, was that the woman from the grocery store recognized me at the jump. I wasn’t well known then—not unless you followed college hockey or NHL draft news. But Grocery Store Girl, as Jacob referred to her, did both. She was fully aware I’d signed my first contract to play for Edmonton, which meant she was aware of the dollar signs on my contract. And the signing bonus.
I ignored her when she approached us in the frozen dessert aisle, but Jacob did the opposite and decided to bring her home. Looking back on it, I suspect she figured she’d use him to get to me. Which she attempted to do when I came down to the kitchen and she tried to make a move. Only seconds before Josie also walked in.
I realize in hindsight what came out of my mouth—She came on to mefollowed byNot yoursister—was very easily misconstrued.
But there was no misunderstanding Josie’s words:I would never.
For years those words have bounced around in my head.They’ve finally lost most of their sharp edges, like stones in a tumbler, worn smooth over time and with force.
But I still feel them—even now as I remember that night. And Josie’s face when she said them—the embarrassment, the disgust, the vehemence.
She went back to college the next day before I could work up the courage or find the right words to explain what I’d said. And the next time I saw Josie, she was closed off. Detached and cool. Barely made eye contact. Said little more than hello. I couldn’t find a good way to work an explanation into a conversation when there was no conversation.
And so on it went. For years.
Now, that night seems like stagnant water under the bridge. I’d still like to address it.
But I don’t know how without revealing how much it’s bothered me ever since.
Or revealing why what Josie thinks about me matters so much.
She glances up now, catching me watching her. I look away.
The elevator doors slide open, and I see Dr. Parminder standing just across from the elevator, a little out of breath, like he ran down the stairs.
“Did we forget something?” Josie asks.
He readies his dimples, aims, and fires. “My phone number.”
Bold move, Doctor. Bold move.
At least he did ask when we came in today if Josie was my girlfriend. When she laughed and said no, I guess he took that to mean she’s fair game.
What he didn’t ask was whether I’m interested. Which I guess would have been a little outside of his professional scope, but then—so is this. I hope he can feel my stare burning into him. But he doesn’t seem to.
“Oh?” Josie takes a step back. Actually, not back. A step closer to me. Her gaze flicks my way, and I swear, she looks almost like she’s asking for help.
Or...is she asking my permission?
I’m not entirely sure, so I say nothing. But I do shift closer to her.
“I guess it would be good to call you if I have any questions about Wyatt’s recovery,” Josie says.
“That and so I can take you to dinner sometime,” Dr. Dimples says easily. “Give me your phone, and I’ll shoot a text to myself.” He holds out his hand, still grinning.
“You know what?” Josie says. “I think it’s actually best if we keep things strictly professional. I’ll be coming in with Wyatt for his sessions and—”
