Game Changer

by Kelly Jamieson

  “No.” I swipe a hand over my damp brow. “No, you don’t deserve it. I’m sorry.”

  “I wish we’d had this talk years ago. But I’m not blaming you for that. You were a kid. I’m your father. I’m sorry, too.”

  I swallow thickly, my face tight.

  He heaves a sigh and drinks his beer. “What a lot of wasted years. Shit.”

  I choke out a laugh. “Yeah. Shit.” I pause. “Also…what a lot of wasted years for you and Grandpa.”

  Dad’s eyes widen, then narrow. Then he closes them, looking like someone’s jabbing the butt end of a stick into his nads. “Yeah. I know. I regret that, too.” He opens his eyes and his are a little red as he regards me across the table. “I’m proud of you, Jax.”

  I hold his gaze and it’s the most painful thing I’ve ever done. But I sit a little taller. “Thanks, Dad.”

  “And I love you.” His voice has turned gravelly. “It always bothered me that we didn’t spend much time together. I talked to Tori about it, but she couldn’t explain it either. It hurt both of us.”

  I close my eyes, a wave of shame burning through me. “You still talk to Mom?”

  “Not as much anymore. But we have two kids together. We have to talk sometimes.”

  Does he know Mom may be moving here?

  Wait. Is he the reason she’s moving here?

  Whoa.

  No. It can’t be. Just a coincidence. I’m not going to be that kid, yearning and hoping for his parents to get back together. They have separate lives now, and they’re both happy and successful.

  “I asked Mom why you split up once,” I say. “She said the same thing you did—that you weren’t going to talk about it to us kids. I get why, but…”

  “We didn’t want you to blame either of us. It was actually really admirable of your mom, because she could have trashed me to you kids. She probably wanted to.” He chuckles dryly. “But she never did.”

  “I did it myself.” I roll my eyes.

  “Well. Let’s put that behind us.” Dad’s jaw is tight, and I appreciate the effort he’s making. “What’s happening with your contract?”

  “Ugh. Nothing. It’s making me antsy.”

  “I get it. But Paul’s a great agent.”

  “I know. We talked the other day.”

  “What kind of comps are they looking at? Panchyshyn in New York? Gagnon in Boston?”

  “Yeah. Those two for sure.” I shouldn’t be surprised Dad nailed it; after all, he’s in the business too. But he’s a coach, and the fact that he knows the players in the league who are playing like I am and making the kind of money I want to make surprises me a bit.

  We talk more about the contract negotiations. We talk about my photography. We talk about Grandpa, and I can see how hard it is for Dad. We even talk about Chelsea, and he says how good she is for Dad and how she’s taking care of him and the business and basically fixing the family.

  “We hated Chelsea,” I say glumly. “We all thought she married Grandpa for his money.”

  Dad grimaces. “Yeah. I misjudged her. For years. Christ.” He rubs his face. “Like I said, I’ve made some mistakes in my life.”

  “You know what Mom says about mistakes.”

  “No. I don’t.”

  I grin. “If you make a mistake, there are three things you should do about it: admit it, learn from it, and don’t repeat it.”

  Dad laughs. “Like I said, she’s a smart woman. Honestly, admitting to mistakes is the hardest part. But I’m getting there.”

  “Have you told Chelsea that?”

  His face changes, his jaw slackening. He shifts on his chair. “No.”

  I tilt my head.

  “Guess I should do that, huh?”

  Our eyes meet and we share a smile.

  Dad lifts his beer. “Thanks, son.”

  I clink mine against his in a toast. “To not wasting time and missing out.”

  Molly

  Jax and I board the boat in Huntington Beach Sunday afternoon and find seats at the front. The bow of the ship. Forward. Whatever. I don’t know much about boats. Also this isn’t a ship, it’s a catamaran.

  I’m bouncing in my seat, looking all around, taking in the boat and the harbor. “I hope we see whales!”

  “No guarantee,” Jax says, smiling. “But I hope so too.”

  The air is fresh and cool, the sun warm. I brought a hoodie in case it’s chilly out on the ocean.

  The first animals we encounter are sea lions, sunning themselves on rocks in the harbor as we slowly cruise out.

  “They’re so cute! Look at their faces,” I say to Jax. I watch in fascination as we sail by them. He snaps a bunch of pictures.

  Out of the harbor, the catamaran picks up speed. My hair is blowing all over the place, in my eyes and my mouth, and I futilely try to keep it back. It’s barely long enough for a ponytail, even if I had a hair tie.

  Jax disappears inside the catamaran, and returns with a baseball cap with the name of the tour company and a whale embroidered on it. “Here.” He gives me the hat and holds my hair back as I pull it down.

  “Thank you!” I am now free of hair blowing in my face. That was so thoughtful of him.

  The tour guide is speaking over a sound system, telling us what kinds of whales and other marine life we may see on the cruise. I look back to the shore, already distant, then turn my face to the sun. The ocean stretches all around us, shimmering cobalt, the Channel Islands shadowy in the distance, achingly beautiful and awe-inspiring.

  “Blue whale season is typically from May through November,” the guide tells us. “Blue whales are the largest mammal on earth, weighing up to three hundred thousand pounds and reaching up to one hundred ten feet long as adults. That’s approximately the length of three school buses.”

  I shiver with excitement.

  Jax has his camera ready to capture images of whatever we see, with a super long lens. He showed me a bunch of pictures he took on the helicopter trip yesterday and then Catalina Island, and they were amazing.

  “Unfortunately, the blue whale species is on the federally endangered species list. We’ll talk more about blue whale endangerment and the threats this species faces today.”

  “Oh no. I hate it that they’re endangered.” I pout at Jax. “Humans suck.”

  He snaps a picture of me and I roll my eyes.

  “Can I get some of your pictures from today?” I ask. “I want to show my students what I did over the summer. They’d love hearing about whales and dolphins.”

  “Of course.”

  We cruise along for a while and then the boat slows.

  “Okay, folks, on the port side of the boat—that’s the left side for those who may not know—we have a pod of common dolphins.”

  Jax and I are seated near the left side, so we jump to the railing to peer over.

  I point excitedly. “There!”

  Jax has his camera focused, clicking away.

  The dolphins are swimming fast, and some are jumping out of the water. I clap with delight at their acrobatics. “There are so many of them!”

  A lightness fills my chest and I bounce on my tiptoes. I try to take a few pictures with my phone, but I know they’ll suck compared to Jax’s. Everyone around is excited, too, lots of kids overjoyed to see the playful creatures.

  The dolphins accompany the boat, and I happily watch them until our guide announces we should look out at three o’clock where he’s spotted a spout of water, which is likely a whale, and they’re heading toward it.

  Jax and I stay by the railing. I’m holding my breath in anticipation. It seems to take a long time and I’ve almost given up, when water erupts near the boat. Everyone shouts and my eyes widen.

  The whale comes to the surface and the boat gets closer still. Jax is taking pictures like crazy and I’m breathless and laughing as I see the curve of the back of the huge mammal.

  “It’s a blue whale,” the guide says. “A small one.”

  “That
’s small?” I smile. “Wow.”

  The surface of the water bubbles and sparkles as he goes down, but another spout announces him and then his shiny back arcs out of the water again, graceful and majestic. I’m lost in wonderment.

  There’s another spray of water, a whoosh of air, the whale coming even closer to the stopped boat.

  “He’s really curious about us,” the guide says.

  As he surfaces again, everyone on the boat oohs and ahhs.

  “Unbelievable,” Jax says, a huge grin on his face.

  I take my eyes off the whale briefly to watch Jax, who’s as delighted and mesmerized as I am. I love his smile, the way it lights up his eyes. My heart skips a beat. I take another picture with my phone, this time of him.

  I turn back to the whale, gripping the railing, blinking fiercely. So much beauty.

  The next time the whale dives down, his tail comes out of the water resplendently. It’s an amazing moment.

  “If we don’t see anything else, this trip was worth it,” I say to Jax a while later when the whale has disappeared deep into the ocean.

  “Totally. That was fantastic.”

  But we also see a humpback whale, and more dolphins, this time bottlenose dolphins that are even cuter than the common dolphins.

  “I want one of those!” I tell Jax, making him laugh.

  “Sure, you can keep it in your bathtub in Chicago.”

  “Ha ha. Okay, okay, I can’t have one. But I can dream. They’re amazing!”

  We return to the harbor after about two and half hours out on the ocean. My skin feels tight from the wind and maybe a little sunburnt, even though I used sunscreen, and my hair is tangled beneath the baseball cap, but I feel blissful and contented.

  “Thank you so much for bringing me here,” I tell Jax as we make our way to the car in the nearby parking lot. “That was one of the best experiences of my life.”

  He doesn’t say anything for a few seconds, then replies gruffly, “Good. I loved it too.”

  13

  Jax

  It’s our last night here in California.

  We’re in bed together, with those goddamn pillows between us. Quiet darkness settles over us.

  “Jax?”

  I turn at Molly’s whisper. My eyes have adjusted to the dark, and I can just make out her face on the pillow. She’s lying on her side, facing me. “Yeah?”

  “Thank you for bringing me here. It’s been an amazing trip.”

  “It has.” I didn’t think it was a good idea, but I have to admit I’ve had fun with Molly. I’ve spent time with my family and time alone with her, and time with her and my family. Grandpa loves her, and so does everyone else, apparently, since Molly, Everly, Taylor and Lacey have all connected on social media like best buddies.

  “I’m so glad I had this time to process things after the wedding. You’ve been so kind to me.”

  I roll to my side, pull my arm from beneath the duvet and reach over to close my fingers around hers where they rest on her pillow. “I haven’t done anything.”

  “You have, and you know it. I just want you to know I appreciate it. I feel like…” She pauses. “Like we’re better friends now. Right?”

  Friends.

  I really like Molly. I do consider her a friend. But over the past week, getting to know her better, spending time in close proximity with her, I have many distinctly unfriendlike ideas about her. Fantasies. Even dreams about her. I want to do dirty things with her, things I definitely wouldn’t do with a friend.

  Her fingers move under mine, turning so we’re holding hands. Heat sweeps through my body, straight to my dick. I push a pillow down so there’s nothing between our faces and we’re looking at each other in the shadows. There’s not much distance between us. I want to taste her mouth. Lick inside. Devour her.

  My heart thuds erratically against my ribs, so hard I think she can hear it.

  “Yeah,” I finally rasp out. “Friends.”

  She swallows. Moments accumulate, hot and heavy and brimming with emotion. Her lips part. My mouth is ravenous for her. My body vibrates with repressed need.

  “Jax…”

  “Mmmm.”

  Her lips curve up at the corners into the sweetest smile. “Thank you again.”

  My head moves on my pillow in acknowledgement. Words pile up in my brain but I don’t know which ones to say. I don’t know anything right now. “It was my pleasure, Molly. Really.” After another moment of silence, I say, “My dad didn’t cheat on my mom.”

  I hear her suck in a breath. “What? Really?”

  “Yeah. I asked him about it.”

  I’d told her that we had a nice trip to Catalina and a good talk, but not the details. I haven’t really figured out how I feel about it or what to do about it, since my entire belief system about love and marriage has been based on this illusion. But now, here in the darkness, in bed, it feels safe to tell her. I want to tell her.

  “How do you feel about that?” she asks quietly.

  “I’m still not sure.” I tell her about why I believed that all these years and what Dad said.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispers, her fingers tightening on mine. “I’m sorry you’ve missed out on the kind of relationship with your dad that you should have had.”

  “Yeah.” An invisible fist squeezes my throat. “I’m sorry too. It was my fault, though.”

  “Not entirely. He could have sat down with you and asked you what was going on.”

  “He wasn’t around much.”

  “Well, that’s on him, too. You were a kid.”

  My heart expands at how she’s trying to make me feel better. “I guess we’re both responsible.”

  “The good thing is, you’ve straightened it out now, and you can build a relationship with him.”

  “Yeah. He’s going to try to come to Chicago or maybe even to the lake while I’m there so we can hang out more.”

  “That’s so great. I’m happy for you.”

  “Thanks. I probably wouldn’t have done that if it weren’t for you.”

  Our eyes meet and hold again. Unspoken words flow between us, a thrumming cord of connection and understanding.

  “I don’t want to go home tomorrow,” she blurts out.

  I kind of feel that way, too. “I know. But we have to.”

  “I’m dreading the rest of the summer, back in my apartment, doing nothing. That wasn’t how my summer was supposed to be.” Her voice trembles and I feel the emotion radiating off her.

  My heart contracts sharply. If I was staying in Chicago, I could make sure she’s okay. Maybe go out to the odd trivia night. But I’m leaving again in a couple of days. How can I make it better? “Come with me to Canada.”

  The air goes very still around us and Molly is motionless too, staring at me.

  Did I really just say that?

  After a drawn-out moment, she says, “I can’t do that.”

  “Why not?” Why am I pushing this? I tried to discourage her from coming with me to California, now I’m inviting her to come to Canada.

  “Because…I already imposed on you and your family once. I can’t do it again.”

  “You’re not imposing at all.” I smile. “My family freakin’ loves you. And I just told you I had fun too. We’ll have fun in the boreal forest.”

  Her forehead furrows. “Forest? For real? I’m kind of a city girl.”

  I chuckle. “I’m kidding. There’s lots of forest if we want to go hiking, but my grandparents’ cottage has all the amenities.”

  She falls silent again, seemingly contemplating this.

  “It’ll just be me at the cottage, mostly,” I continue. “My grandparents and my mom are coming for a few days later in July. Maybe my dad. So you’re not imposing.” I pause. “You can even have your own bedroom.”

  “Oh, well then, why didn’t you say that?” She laughs softly. “Really, Jax?”

  “Yes, really. You don’t have to stay the whole summer, like I am. I mean, I
’ll be back in Chicago mid-August to start skating and working out. But you could come back whenever you want.”

  “I suppose. School doesn’t start again until after Labor Day.” She blinks a few times. “I know I have to talk to Steve, but he won’t be back until July 5, I think.”

  “You can fly back to Chicago after that, if you want.”

  “I know I have to deal with things.”

  “Yeah.”

  Her smile deepens. “Okay. I’ll come with you.” Then her eyes close, her long eyelashes sweeping her cheeks, and her mouth relaxes. I watch her face for a long time in the dark, as her breathing grows deeper, until I fall asleep, too.

  Holding her hand.

  In the morning, I awaken to find Molly snuggled up against me and my arm over her hip. For a few seconds, I enjoy it, reveling in the feel of a soft, warm woman against me, her silky hair so close to me, her scent in my nose. Then reality bites me in the ass.

  Jesus! Did I do this?

  She wakes up too. Slowly. Then her eyes fly open and she jerks back.

  Our eyes meet.

  The room is still dark, the curtains drawn over the window and sliding door.

  My body goes electric, heat burning over my skin. “God. I’m sorry, Molly.” I release her and shift myself away.

  “It’s okay.” She blinks, pushing back too.

  The pillows are amassed at the foot of the bed. “I don’t know how that happened. I’m so sorry.”

  “It’s okay,” she says again. “I don’t feel violated.”

  Her attempt at humor lightens the air in the room. A little. My morning wood is throbbing and it’s all I can do to stop myself from reaching for her and rolling her under me.

  “Good,” I manage to say. “Me either.”

  She chuckles. “We were asleep. It was just…”

  Okay, I don’t know if it was me or her who shoved the pillows out of the way. I don’t know if she rolled into me, or I pulled her over. What I do know is, I wanted that, and somehow in my sleep it happened and it was probably my fault.