by Gina Azzi
His chuckle, dark and sarcastic, pulled me back to the conversation. “You’re still a boy, huh?”
“Why are you calling? Not get your last check?”
His laughter grows and a slickness coats my stomach, making me uneasy.
“Too easy,” he wheezes. “Your brother”—he pauses and I clutch the phone tighter—“he took a crack at me. Years ago now but caught me square across the jaw. He told me to leave you the fuck alone. Imagine? He always stuck up for you. Always knew where he stood. Not like you, Easton. You’re still so goddamn easy. Rattled by me. By a woman. By a fucking beer.”
“What do you want?” I whisper.
“Nothing. Just wanted to see if you were any different after blowing all that money on help.” He laughs again. “There’s no help that can save you, boy. You’ve got my blood in your veins. Go pour yourself a shot. You’ve got nothing left. No talent, no credibility, and no fucking balls.” His laughter grows and swells, crashing over me like a wave.
For a blink, I’m thirteen again.
My eyebrow is split wide open. Blood streaks down my face, pools in my hands, seeps into the collar of my shirt. It looks worse than it is but it looks bad enough for my head to spin, for floaters to appear in my peripheral vision.
Dad watches me and he fucking laughs.
I swear and take a shot on goal. The puck sails into the net and I breathe out a puff of white smoke.
I glance at the clock. Practice will be starting soon and my head is all over the place. It has been all week. Before I talked to Dad, I was fucked up over Claire. Now, I’m fucked up over everything.
That night, when Claire came home from Rielle’s, I confided in her. I told her more about my childhood, my family, my father. It left me feeling unsettled, like I turned myself inside out and all the secrets I keep hidden were on full display.
I’m in too deep. I care about Claire. I love Claire. Then what the hell is your problem?
I retrieve the puck and start another drill, skating backwards.
I’m on shifting ground. Everything with Claire feels too big, too raw. Too real.
She’s turning my world upside down. She’s making me question my future, my plans, my everything. I find myself thinking of ways to make her stay even though she promised she wouldn’t go.
And then, I find myself thinking of ways to make her leave because why the hell would she stay?
She’s shown you over and over again that she’s in this.
Until she’s not. I mean, one would think their own parents would stick around, right?
You’ve got my blood in your veins.
I cut to the side, spraying ice into the air. My breathing is ragged and sweat drips down my forehead. Still, I feel cold.
“Hey!”
I turn at the sound of Noah’s voice and watch as my brother makes his way toward me. He skates over to where I’m standing, the smile on his face falling as he takes me in.
“What’s going on?” he asks and I don’t miss the tremor of worry in his tone. Or the way his eyes scan me over, looking for signs.
I hate that everyone looks at me like this. As if they’re wondering if I’m even sober, if I care about anything, if I’m really pissed off or blitzed out of my mind. Just like Dad.
I shake my head. “Nothing. I’m good, you?”
Noah frowns. “Try again, East.”
The corner of my mouth ticks up at the seriousness of Noah’s expression. My whole life, he’s the only person I could ever count on. Even now, even though he’s moved out and is having a baby, he still tries his best with me. Even when I don’t deserve it. “I was just thinking about Dad.”
“Dad?” He rears back.
“And Claire.”
His brow furrows. “What do the two of them have in common?”
I think about it and blurt out, “Other than you, they’re the only two people I care if I disappoint.”
We both blink in surprise. I’m rarely forthcoming and it’s even more seldom that I’d be so blunt with the truth. I typically try to share a version of my thoughts without giving them all away.
But right now, I’m confiding in Noah, seeking out my brother’s counsel. Because he’s the dependable Scotch brother and I still need him.
He watches me closely. “Did something happen?”
“What do you mean?”
“Why are you out here before 6 a.m. thinking of Dad? And Claire?”
I sighed. “Dad called me.”
Noah’s eyes widen. “Why? I told him to leave you alone.”
“You don’t have to keep doing that.”
“Doing what?” The confusion in his voice is thick.
“Protecting me. You’re about to become a father and—”
“I’ll always be your brother, Easton.”
The quickness with which he responds settles me some and I lean into the reassurance that Noah still has my back. “I’m messed up, Noah.”
“What? Now?” He grips my elbow but I shake him off.
“Not like that. I mean, my head is all over the place.”
“Stop letting Dad get the best of you.”
“And Claire?” I glance up at him, noting the way understanding floods his features.
“You heard about the job.” His voice is quiet.
Now, I frown. “What job?”
“Huh? Why else would you be twisted up over Claire?”
I work a swallow. “I’m in love with her.”
Noah rears back like I slapped him. “Easton—”
“I’m not joking around. It’s for real. I’ve never felt like this before.”
“But your sponsor said—”
“I never would have made it this far without her.”
Noah grips my shoulder, his eyes peering into mine. “Fuck,” he mutters.
I grin. “Yeah.”
“If you guys can manage these past few months, you can manage long distance.” He squeezes my shoulder.
I shake my head. “What are you talking about?”
Noah leans back and closes his eyes. He tips his head up and swears again before meeting my gaze. “You don’t know. Jesus, East, Claire got a job offer. In New Jersey.”
Time stops. For a second, the entire rink looks distorted. My ears clog, as if I’ve been plunged underwater.
“East?”
Then sound comes roaring back. Suddenly, the ice seems filled with the entire team. Everyone is warming up and I’m huddled in a corner with my brother. We’re getting concerned looks and side glances but no one interrupts us.
My head spins and my chest tightens.
“When did you find out?” I murmur, my tone hard. Controlled.
Noah scrapes a hand over his jaw. “Indy told me a few days ago. I thought you knew. I’m sorry, East. I never would have—” He gestures to the rink. “Not now anyway.”
I shake my head, shake it all off. All week, I’ve been struggling to be completely honest with Claire, even when admitting certain truths was painful. She swore she wouldn’t leave and yet…she accepted a job in New Jersey and didn’t tell me? My hurt is quickly dashed away by anger and I hold onto that. “No, it’s okay. I’m glad you told me.”
He peers at me. “You sure you’re okay?”
I nod and force a grin. “Of course. I’m fine.” I tip my head toward the team. “We better go.”
Noah gives me a long, searching look.
I shut it down. All the emotions. All the questions. I lock it all down and focus on practice. On hockey. It’s the only constant I’ve ever had and in the midst of losing everything, I won’t lose this.
24
Claire
“I feel like we’ve turned a corner,” I explain to Indy on the phone as I close the dishwasher door and press start. I walk back to the island and pick up my coffee mug. “Things just seem different. Better.”
She hums in the background. Her voice is cautious when she says, “That’s great, Claire. Really. I just”—big sigh—“are y
ou sure? You guys keep jumping into things. Are you sure you’re taking time to process? Is Easton?”
I bite my bottom lip, frustrated by her lack of support. “Indy, I’ve known Easton for years. Sure, things seemed to go from zero to a hundred but we have so much history.”
“But you’re not the same people you were five years ago.”
I clamp my mouth shut and squeeze the handle of my mug.
Indy’s just looking out for you. She doesn’t want you to get hurt.
I let out a slow exhale, letting my temper cool.
Why are you so defensive anyway?
“Claire?”
“I’m here.”
“I just, I don’t want you to get hurt. That’s all.” She echoes my thoughts.
“I know. It’s just, I’m happy. Easton makes me happy. We had a long talk and things are good. Being with him is the only thing I have going for me and it seems like everyone is against it.” I plop down on a barstool, frustration causing my emotions to swell. Tears sting my eyes.
“You have a lot going for you, Claire.”
I snort.
“You met Big Roxi last weekend.”
I grin at the reminder. He already messaged me. Maybe I am being a little dramatic. “True.”
“What about the job offer in New Jersey?”
I roll my eyes. “Doing pharmaceutical packaging? Indy, I’ll be bored out of my mind. Besides, I don’t want to work a traditional nine-to-five. I like what I’m doing. I’m making decent money doing it. And I feel like if I keep going, I’ll figure it out.”
“Have you told Easton?”
“About the job? No. Why would I? When I got the offer, he wasn’t speaking to me. And now that we’re back together, it seems like an awful time to move. Besides, I don’t want the job. If it was my dream job, then yeah, I’d talk to him. But why put more pressure on a relationship that is already fragile for something I don’t even want to fight for?”
Indy’s quiet for a long moment. “Yeah, that makes sense. I didn’t think of it like that.”
I’m surprised by the conviction behind her words. She really understands where I’m coming from, which is a relief since my parents sure as hell won’t.
“Just, take things slow, Claire. You and East are new. Your new business venture is new. You—”
“Whoa. There’s no business venture,” I backpedal.
“Why not?”
I sputter, surprised by her challenge. “Are you serious right now?”
“Claire, you’re like my sister. I care about you and I want you to be happy. I’ve watched you try to find your footing since graduation. I had no idea you were so passionate about doing your own thing, and to be honest with you, I think you partly sabotage yourself because you don’t want any of the jobs you’re applying for. If you did, you’d be on your way to New Jersey. You said if it was your dream job, you would be. What’s your dream job?”
I pause, my mug halfway between the island and my mouth. My hand shakes as I give thought to Indy’s question. “To create. Design. Be inspired. I just, I want to feel passionate about the work I’m doing.”
“And do you? With the band logos and the branding?”
“Yes.” My response is a knee-jerk reaction but as soon as I say it, I realize how true it is. My design work fills me with passion and fuels me with purpose.
“Then do it. You should do it.”
I grin, placing my mug down and gripping the edge of the countertop. “You really think so?”
“I really do, Claire. If you do some work for Big Roxi, well, you should start thinking of your work as a business. He’s going to be big time. And so are you.”
I snort.
“If there’s anything I can help with, let me know. Reach out to Aiden. But save marketing for Rielle.”
I laugh. “Thank you, Indy. Your support really…” I roll my eyes. “God, I hate being mushy. But it means a lot.”
“I’m sorry if you felt like you didn’t have it sooner.”
“Nah, I wasn’t as honest with everyone as I should have been.”
“As long as you’re being honest with yourself, Claire. It doesn’t really matter what everyone else thinks or wants.”
“True.”
“Okay, well, this baby has been pressing on my bladder for the last five minutes of our conversation so—”
“Go pee.”
“Call me later?”
“Yeah. Thanks, Indy.”
“‘Bye Claire.”
I hang up the phone and blow out a huge exhale. Easton has been telling me all along to do my own thing. Rielle has helped me brainstorm marketing initiatives. Now, Indy’s telling me to go for it. I grin and slip from the barstool. I want to grab my laptop and work out some logo concepts for my brand: ClaireBear Designs.
My foot is on the first step when the front door swings open and Easton steps over the threshold. Immediately, his eyes find mine and, at the anger in his expression, I freeze, my hand gripping the banister.
“Hey. Practice go okay?” Concern spikes in my chest as my mind jumps to worst-case scenarios.
Easton drops his practice bag on the floor and slips off his coat. He drops it on top of his bag and takes two steps in my direction. I falter, stepping down off the step.
“East?”
“When were you going to tell me?”
I cross my arms over my chest, defensive from the accusation in his tone.
“Tell you what?” I ask.
Disbelief ripples over his expression but it’s quickly stamped out by anger. His mouth is a thin line, his eyes almost wild with intensity. “New Jersey?”
Damn. I hold up a hand. “It’s not what you think.”
“How do you know what I think? Have you bothered to talk to me about it at all?” he snaps, folding his arms across his chest and widening his stance. He looks like the hulk, menacing and furious.
His anger fuels mine and I snap back. “When was I supposed to do that? Last week when I got the offer? Oh wait, you were MIA, hiding out at Panda’s place.”
He snorts, the sound derisive. “How about Saturday night? When I held you in my arms and made love to you and thought we were building a future.”
“We are!”
“Then why didn’t you mention it Sunday morning? When we laid everything on the table and swore to be truthful.”
I wince.
He shakes his head and an expression I can’t read blazes across his face. My heart sinks at the betrayal in his eyes. My stomach twists painfully and I press my hands against it. A sharp pang rips through my ribs, and for a second, I wonder if I’m going to fall over.
Concern flares in Easton’s eyes but the moment I straighten, it clears. He dips his head and lowers his voice. “I told you I’d always put you first. I swore to you that I’d walk away before I ever did something that would hurt you.”
My neck snaps up, confusion blaring in my head. “What are you talking about? How would you hurt me?”
He throws his arms out to his sides, exasperated. “Claire, you can’t just give up on yourself because we’re together.”
“That’s not what I’m doing.”
“Oh really? Passing up on the stable job with the set salary and the benefits your parents have been gunning for? Cooking dinner every night and cleaning the house in your spare time? Not going out with your girlfriends or hitting the clubs with Rielle?”
“That’s not—I’m not—”
“I’m not your pet project,” he bellows.
I rear back as if he slapped me. In a way, his words did. Sharp and raw, they scraped over my skin when he hurled them in my direction.
“Easton, I know that. I never tried to change you.” My voice cracks and he winces.
“I know that, Claire. You tried to change yourself.” His expression is so defeated that I step toward him.
He shakes his head and inches back. The gesture hurts a million times worse than his words, and I wrap my arms around myself
, not caring when the tears I’ve been battling overflow. Two hot tears land on my cheeks and Easton’s gaze zeros in on them.
“Easton, please don’t do this. Don’t do this to me. To us,” I whisper, already knowing what he’s going to say. And I hate it.
“We can’t do this anymore, Claire. You can’t settle for less. I won’t let you.”
“Being with you isn’t settling,” I sob, desperate for him to see reason. “It’s not!”
“And I can’t do the highs and lows,” he continues as if I never spoke. “It’s not good for me, for my recovery.”
Well, fuck. That stops me short. I glare at him. “Are you saying that I’m not good for you? That I’m messing with your recovery?” I ask, needing him to say it before I accept it as his truth.
He hesitates and a flicker of hope flares in my chest. But then he schools his features. He meets my gaze head-on. “I’m saying I can’t do this with you anymore, Claire. We’re not good for each other. You’ll end up resenting me and I’ll only end up hurting you.”
“Like right now?” I gesture toward myself, my face streaming with tears.
Easton doesn’t show any remorse as he bites out, “It will only be worse if we had a year invested in this. At least it was only a couple of months.”
I shake my head, scrubbing the backs of my knuckles across my face. Still, the tears come. My head spins and nausea rolls through my stomach. He’s breaking up with me. He doesn’t want me.
I’m not enough for him.
It’s a sobering and painful realization.
I nod once, dragging my sleeve across my eyes. “Fine. I’ll be out of here tonight.”
Easton sighs, as if I’m being dramatic. “Don’t be ridiculous, Claire. Take your time. You don’t have to—”
“I’m going to pack,” I cut him off, whirl on my heel, and clamor up the stairs.
Stepping into his bedroom feels like death by paper cuts. A million tiny lacerations rip at my heart, shredding it. My hands shake and I feel like I’m going to throw up. Still, I force myself to grab anything my eyes land on that’s mine. I drop them all into my polka dot duffle bag and stuff my clothes into my small suitcase. It takes less time than it should to pack up my life. In an hour, everything I thought I knew has been dashed to hell and everything I was counting on for my future is nonexistent. I fire off a text message and take one last look around the guest bedroom.