Page 38 of Body Check

fifteen

. . .

Jason

They tell you in divorce circles is that you’ll eventually, get back on the dating horse, and when you do, you’ll experience the cycle of grief all over again. I didn’t believe them. I was stronger than that.

But it’s been three days since Amelia wrecked my world, and I still don’t know how I feel about it.

Harper was supposed to be my forever, and even though she’s happier without me, and I’m doing fine on my own without her… A part of me thought I would never be able to move on again. That I’d never experience new again.

I don’t miss her. I grieved for our relationship. I truly thought I’d moved on.

But fooling around with Amelia made one thing clear: I never thought I’d be happy with another person again. It was a self-limiting belief. I didn’t trust myself.

As much as I want another chance with Amelia, it’s not a good idea. Not while she works for the team. And especially not with me looking into her bedroom window every night.

Trudging through my apartment, I do my best not to look to my left as I turn on the coffeemaker and set a bagel to toast. I don’t look over when I wash the dishes I didn’t take care of last night. And I force my eyes not to rise as I eat my breakfast.

Fuck it. I look over.

And then my chest fucking pangs, like I’m a heartbroken teenager.

Amelia paces the living room of her apartment, holding baby Ainsley in the air and bouncing her. Tyler lounges on the couch behind her, holding a cup of coffee to his lips, and as I watch, Brandon crosses the space to sit beside his husband, wrapping his arm around Tyler’s shoulders.

She’s happy. They all are.

Our encounter in the PT bay was hot as hell, but it can’t happen again. It’s a bad idea. Doesn’t keep me from wanting it, though.

Being with Amelia was like breathing fresh air, like finding a heated building in the middle of a blizzard. I didn’t realize how frozen I was until I thawed. She helped me thaw.

And now… where does that leave us?

If she didn’t work for the team, I’d still want to pursue. Our being in close proximity, working together, and traveling together is a big part of our electric connection. If we weren’t confined to tight spaces over and over again, I don’t know if we’d combust, or if it would be a long, drawn-out slow burn.

One thing’s for certain: there would definitely be fireworks.

And I certainly can’t ask her to leave her job so we can be together. Do I even want us to be together? Can’t it just be a one-and-done, and we go our separate ways now that we both got what we wanted?

No. There’s a fire simmering in my veins, burning me up from the inside out. I want another round with her. I want ten more. A hundred more. I don’t know if I’ll ever get enough of her.

There’s a knock on my door, and I flinch at the sound. It’s ten o’clock on our day off. Who the fuck is seeking me out now?

Reluctantly, I open the door, glaring at the interloper daring to interrupt me.

Ryan Logan, the team’s best defenseman, flinches. “Fuck. This is a bad idea.”

I blow out a breath. “Did you ask her out?”

“No.” He sighs. “I don’t know how much longer I can keep doing this.”

“Come on in.”

Holding the door open, I usher him in, and then head over to the sofa. The TV is on ESPN, as usual, but the volume is muted. I fucking hate the talking heads. All they do is rip us apart.

Thank goodness our team’s station isn’t bad. Jared Aviyente, the team’s sportscaster, does a decent job analyzing our plays without making us feel like dog shit for messing up.

Because we all mess up sometimes. We’re human.