Kelly Jamieson - Breakaway

A son to teach how to play hockey.

Maybe a girl. But girls could play hockey too.

But not now. Not now. Not now.

He lifted his head and looked at Brianne.

“I can’t do it alone,” she whispered. “I need you, Jase.”

She held out a hand.

He ached. He hesitated. But the despair and pleading in her eyes tugged at something inside him. They’d done this together. Created a baby together. He rose up, walked over to her and sat down beside her. She turned into him and he hugged her, holding her against him, her face pressed to his chest, his cheek to her hair.

Guilt weighted heavy on his shoulders—a feeling like he was cheating on Remi. But Brianne needed him. Man, did she need him. More than he wanted to be needed and a battle raged inside him over who he owed more to, over what he was supposed to do, over whether he had it in him to do the right thing—or whether he had it in him to even know what the right thing was.

His life was so fucked up.

Remi looked at her watch again. Seven o’clock and Jason still hadn’t called. She’d assumed they would spend the evening together, as they had been lately. Where was he?

She rubbed her neck and shoulders. She’d spent the afternoon grading papers and planning a big class project she was going to get the kids working on next week. Her mind kept veering off, though, thinking about selling the house, thinking about moving in with Jason… Pinwheels spun in her tummy every time she thought about that. God. Live with Jason. Could she do it?

She was in love with him, wanted to be with him. But how hypocritical was it of her to tell Jasmine she shouldn’t buy a house with Ethan and then move in with a man she’d only known a few weeks? She pressed her fingers between her eyes where tiny hammers had started thumping.

She got up from the kitchen table where she’d been working and stretched, then sighed. Maybe she should call Jason and see what had happened to him. She hoped everything was okay.

Her heart stuttered. Maybe he’d been hurt in practice that morning. God. He could be sitting in a hospital right now.

She punched in his cell phone number. Waited. “The cellular customer you are calling is not available.”

She looked at her phone with a frown. He had his cell phone off? That was unusual. She called the number at his apartment, but it rang and then went to voice mail.

Should she leave a message? Sure, why not. “Hi Jase, it’s me. It’s just after seven, just wondering what happened to you. If you get this, give me a call and let me know you’re okay. Bye.”

She hoped that sounded casual enough.

She walked to the front window to look out on the dark street, as if Jason might just drive up at any minute. What if he regretted making that impulsive offer of moving in together? Was he avoiding her? She rolled her eyes. Even if he did have second thoughts, surely he was mature enough to just tell her. She could take it. All he had to say was, “Hey, let’s not rush things” and she’d be fine. She didn’t want to rush things either.

In fact, she wasn’t even sure if she’d do it. If she had to sell the house—and that was just one more thing she was undecided on—it would probably be better for her to get her own apartment or something. It would be the sensible, responsible thing to do.

She’d always been sensible and responsible.

Since she’d met Jason, she’d done things she’d never have dreamed of—picking up a guy and taking him home, hot sexual adventures, flying off to California for a sexy weekend. Crazy. Moving in with him would be the craziest thing of all.

But there was no denying how much she wanted that. How much she wanted to wake up with him every morning, to go to bed with him every night, to cheer him on and share his triumphs and yes, his losses, because he would have those. To be there for him.

She’d come a long way from wanting nothing to do with him because of paparazzi stalkers, aggressive female fans and a huge paycheck. Now—she loved him. None of that mattered.

She also had to admit she liked how he was there for her. How supportive he’d been when Kyle had been freaking out, even though she’d been annoyed at him. How steady he’d been when she’d been ambushed by Jasmine’s request. She’d been thinking about it all week and she longed for him to be there so she could share all her confused feelings about selling the house. How it was more than just a house, it was their home. But yet, if Jasmine and Kyle didn’t live there anymore, there was no real logical, rational reason not to sell it. Truthfully, the cash would help pay for Kyle’s tuition. Or she could insist he invest it and save it as a down payment on a home of his own one day.

But Jason wasn’t there to talk to about it.

She moved away from the window to wander around her house, straightening things, wiping the counter that was already spotless, staring into space.

Maybe she could find a movie on TV to keep her occupied for a while. She sat down on the couch and flicked through the channels, finding a chick flick she’d already seen, but hey, without Jason there, it was a good time to watch it again.

She fell asleep with the television on and woke up feeling groggy and disoriented. She still hadn’t heard from Jason. And she didn’t hear from him all day Sunday either, until her cell phone rang at nearly ten o’clock when she was getting ready for bed, heart heavy and aching, stomach cramped with worry.

“Hello?”

“Hi.” It was Jason. She recognized his voice even in that one word.

“Jase. Where are you?”

“St. Louis.”

“Oh.”

“I…” He stopped. “I’m sorry I didn’t call you yesterday. Uh…something came up and…I’m really sorry, Remi.”

“Is everything okay, Jase? You sound funny.” She pushed her bangs off her face. Something clutched at her heart and squeezed, sending scary feelings through her, shivery, worried feelings.

“I’m okay. I just wanted to call you. I wanted to…” He stopped again. “Fuck. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

“Listen, I’ll call you when I get back.”

“Sure. That’s fine.” Her stomach churned. Something felt wrong. He did not sound like himself. “Good luck tomorrow night. I’ll be watching.”

“Thanks, Remi.” There was a long pause, then he said, “I love you, Remi.”

“Oh.” Her heart squeezed. “I love you too.”

She hung up with trembling fingers, closing her burning eyes. She’d go to bed, get a good night’s sleep and in the morning everything would be fine.

But Monday morning she discovered how not fine things were. Skimming through the morning paper while she drank coffee, she flipped the page and her eyes were immediately drawn to a small headline—“Chicago Wolves player arrested for disorderly conduct.”

She leaned forward, frowning. “Saturday night, Chicago Wolves center Jase Heller was arrested at Sage Restaurant. According to restaurant manager Brian Smythe, Heller had arrived at the restaurant with a group of teammates at about nine o’clock. When advised of the dress code by the hostess and told that he could not enter the restaurant wearing blue jeans, Heller became angry and argumentative. When Mr. Smythe reinforced the restaurant policy and again told Heller he could not enter wearing blue jeans, Heller stripped off his jeans and walked into the restaurant in his underwear. Restaurant personnel asked Heller to leave, but he refused. Police were called and Heller was arrested and charged with disorderly conduct, public intoxication and resisting arrest. He was later released on bail.”

Remi sat frozen in her chair, her coffee forgotten. What the hell? Arrested? He’d taken off his pants in a classy restaurant and made a scene?