Page 35 of Wrong Pucking Jersey

He holds me with everything, hugging me as if our lives depend on it. I know he missed me too.

Missed us.

I don’t regret my decision, even though there are times I wish it never happened, but we needed to part. Had to follow the course of life, or we would have destroyed one another.

Consumed each other with the boiling tornados fighting to rip us apart from the inside out.

“I missed you more, Mikayla. So much more,” he confesses and walks to the bed. He lays me back on the soft sheets.

He’s stripping my dress off, tossing it far away while his eyes never leave mine.

I can see all his emotions while he slowly takes my naked figure in.

Inch by Inch.

Admiring me with so much love.

It’s as though we were never apart, to begin with.

“You’re so beautiful, Mkaykay.” His hand trails down from my lips down to the middle of my cleavage. He’s admiring the tattoo there, the one I’m pretty sure no one but Mack knew about.

Another drunk decision that I was pretty proud of.

It was small, a broken heart that was outlined in red. Between them, there are two hockey sticks crossed. Above is an outlined crown.

The way his eyes soften at the sight of it confirms he knows the hidden meaning of it.

Then he leans forward until his very lips kiss the inked work.

I shiver at his touch, closing my eyes briefly when his lips linger on the tingling flesh.

“It hurt, didn’t it?”

He’s not talking about the tattoo itself.

He’s talking about the events that hurt me enough to get a forever mark to reflect the pain.

“Yes,” I admit.

He sighs against my flesh but eases his way into hugging me. I hug him back without hesitation, wishing we had each other back then when things spiraled out of control.

When the pain of our broken friendships was shattering before our eyes.

When our lives were crumbling just as fast.

When we needed one another, and yet were pushed further away by fate.

“You know we weren’t ready to face that chapter,” he finally admits without moving. He’s pressing his right ear against the spot. Listening to my heart beat wildly against my chest.

“I know.” I’m grown enough now to accept that.

“Doesn’t mean it didn’t hurt,” he acknowledges, which I appreciate madly.

He’s not dismissing my pain. He’s admitting that it was there, and we just weren’t ready to tackle it back then when we weren’t close to the level of maturity we are now.

We’re mature enough to have this very conversation.

That’s an improvement.

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