Page 77 of Shootout
He picked up a hockey magazine from the coffee table and thumbed through it.
“Banks.” Exasperation flooded through me at his lack of cooperation. “A lapse in judgment? That’s all?”
“Yeah.”
“If I take this job—”
“When you take this job. You can’t turn this down, Jessie. I know how hard opportunities like that are to come by, especially for a woman, and so do you.”
“What does that do to us?” I hedged, trying to force his hand.
Banks’s face turned to stone. I couldn’t read his expression, another source of frustration. “Here’s the out you’ve been looking for. A perfect reason to break up.”
“How is that a perfect reason? You’re not insinuating I’d start up a personal relationship with Rick?”
“I’m insinuating you’d be too busy as a college coach to put time into anyone or anything else. Wild would understand and accept that reason. And if you and Rick—”
“There is no Rick and me. There never will be. Is breaking up what you want?” How did I explain to him that being with him had shown me what a shitty relationship I’d had with Rick? Or did I? He’d made his intentions clear—use the new job to break up and no one could blame us. I waited for his answer, my hands clasped in my lap and my body so tight it felt as if it’d explode.
“We knew our breakup was inevitable. We’ve been presented with the perfect reason.”
I stared at him, longing for some glimpse of emotion, a hint I meant something to him, a telltale sign this wasn’t really what he wanted. I didn’t see it.
“Jessie, I’ve had fun, and so have you. You can’t let our relationship, fake or not, stop you from pursuing your dreams. You’d resent us forever.”
“That’s it? You’ve had fun?” I choked on the last three words and fought back the hot tears welling in my eyes.
He nodded, but this time I caught a flicker of sadness before the stoniness replaced it. I waited for more. The seconds ticked painfully by. He said nothing.
Finally, I stood. “Banks, I’ve enjoyed our time together.” I spoke as if we’d been seatmates on an airplane and were parting ways.
“Goodbye, Jessie. I wish you all the success in the world. You deserve it.”
I hurried out the door before he witnessed the flood of tears and heart-wrenching sobs that racked my body.
ChapterThirty-One
INVASION OF THE SOCKEYES
~~Banks~~
Over the next two days, I’d had no Jessie sightings, texts, or phone calls. She was done with me and had moved on to better and brighter things.
As far as I knew, she’d met with Rick yesterday and accepted his job offer. I couldn’t shake the feeling that he intended to have more than a professional relationship, and the thought rankled me. I’d never been jealous before, but I was now.
I’d been heading down the make-it-permanent path, and she’d been heading down the how-do-I-end-this path. I still didn’t understand how I could’ve misread her so horribly. Deep inside, I wondered if I did or if she panicked and took the easy way out rather than expose her heart to potential damage.
I’d never dealt with personal heartbreak before, but now I understood why she’d avoid going through such debilitating misery again. The pure torturous pain of losing the one I loved had slammed me against the boards to the point where I lay writhing on the ice, unable to muster the energy to stand. I’d rather take ten pucks to the jaw than suffer the emotional agony our breakup caused.
We’d both screwed up and had the responsibility for our mixed-up life together. All I could do was battle through the pain and prevent my despair from affecting my game. Easier said than done, since Jessie was all I thought about.
I moped around my condo that weekend, leaving only to work out and attend practice. No one asked about Jessie, but I caught their sympathetic stares, and I hated being the object of their pity. Word travels fast in a locker room.
Sunday evening, I stared at the blank walls of my condo. Tomorrow morning, we’d fly to Pittsburgh for a three-game road trip back east. I looked forward to getting out of town. I regretted signing the lease on this condo. Jessie lived a floor away, and the odds of dodging her were stacked against me. Every time I boarded the elevator or pulled into the parking garage, I dreaded such an encounter.
Shit.I was a mess, and I had to get my act together.
I exhaled and stared outside. The view outside my floor-to-ceiling windows might as well have been a brick wall for all I cared. I glanced around at the scene before me. Boxes were stacked in one corner of the living room. The lone pieces of furniture were the couch I sat on, a large chair, and the television sitting on a card table.
