Tied Up in You

by Erin Fletcher

  “You make it look easy,” I said.

  “Don’t worry. You’ll catch on. So,” she said, “how’s Jackson doing on his college applications? Please tell me he’s being as stubborn about it as Pierce. I can’t be the only one who has to put up with this.”

  The question made me do the auditory version of a double take. Pierce was applying to colleges? When Jackson and I talked about college applications, it was always about me, not him. “But Jackson’s hoping to be drafted. He’s not interested in playing for a university. He wants to play for the NHL.”

  “Well, of course he does, and obviously we hope that’s what happens, but what if he doesn’t?”

  I’d never really thought about it before. “Why is Pierce applying to universities? He’s NTDP’s best player. He’s definitely going to be drafted, isn’t he?”

  Lia took a sip of her hot chocolate. “Did you see any of the games earlier this season? Not pretty. Nothing is guaranteed. Plus there’s always the possibility he’ll get hurt and won’t be able to play anymore. Not a possibility any of us want to think about, but still. I convinced him to send in a few applications. Talk to a few coaches. He’ll commit somewhere, and then obviously if he gets drafted, things will change.”

  “How many NTDP players usually get drafted?”

  Lia shrugged. “Depends on the year. Some years, it’s been a lot. Some years, especially years with bad seasons, hardly anyone. I take it from your questions that Jackson isn’t very far along in the application process?”

  “Actually, I’m not sure he’s anywhere in that process,” I said. “He’s never talked to me about needing a backup plan before.”

  “Of course not,” Lia said. “Jackson’s confident and optimistic. The last thing he wants to think about is not having his dreams come true. But if he doesn’t get drafted and he’s not committed to a college team, the chances of him being able to enter the NHL as a free agent…”

  I nodded. Not very good. Hopefully Jackson’s mom was already on this, because it wasn’t a conversation that I saw going very well.

  At that moment, the door that led to the locker room of the main rink opened, and Jackson came running out. I hoped the fluttery feeling I got in my chest every time I saw him would never go away. He’d changed out of his shirt and tie and into his game jersey and equipment, but was still in socks, carrying his skates in his hands.

  “Aren’t you supposed to be warming up?” Lia asked.

  He slid over to us and held up his skates. “Blades are dull. Gotta hit the pro shop to have them sharpened real quick.”

  “Mmhmm,” Lia said, folding her arms over her chest. “Or you wanted to come check on Malina.”

  “Nah,” he said. “But since I’m here…” He looked over at me.

  “I’m fine.” I held up my cup. “We’re drinking hot chocolate and talking about you and Pierce.”

  “All good things, I hope.”

  “I’m telling her all of your secrets,” Lia said.

  But Jackson only grinned. “She’s my best friend. She already knows all my secrets.”

  “I guess I’ll have to make some up, then. Now go sharpen those skates before Coach figures out what you’re really up to. I’m taking good care of Malina.”

  “She is,” I promised.

  He bent down and gave me a quick kiss. “Good. Just making sure.” Then he ran off to the pro shop, skate laces trailing behind him.

  Lia poked her thumbnail into the rim of her cup, making a design. “I’ve seen that boy with a lot of girls, but I’ve never seen him like that before.”

  Despite the stress of the day and the cold in the arena, that comment warmed me from the inside out like no hot chocolate ever could.

  Unfortunately, our hot chocolate was the best thing that happened in the rink that night. NTDP lost. Three to two. Jackson let in two terrible shots before being pulled for the rest of the game. When he and Pierce walked out of the locker room after the game, hockey bags slung over their shoulders, neither of them looked thrilled.

  But Jackson immediately asked, “How’s Tutu?”

  “She’s resting,” I said, which was the most recent update I’d gotten from my mom. “Sorry about the loss.”

  “If I could have just made one more shot,” Pierce said, as if the two he did make didn’t mean anything.

  “That one was all my fault,” Jackson said. “The shots I missed were terrible.”

  “Hey,” Lia said, “the other team was good. You guys had an off night. Better luck next time, right?”

  Pierce put an arm around his girlfriend. “I nominate you to give post-game locker room talks from now on. You didn’t drop the f-bomb even once, unlike our coach.”

  Lia laughed. “Nomination accepted. Are you headed to dinner with the team?”

  “Yeah,” Pierce said. He nodded at Jackson. “You in, man?”

  My heart sank. The thought of having to leave Jackson, to go home to an empty house, was one I’d been trying to avoid.

  Jackson immediately looked to me. “Nah, I think I’ll skip this one. I’m going to stay with Malina.”

  My heart lifted, but I squashed it back down. I couldn’t pull him away from a team event. I’d distracted him enough lately. “No, it’s okay. I’ll be fine. I’ll catch up with you tomorrow.”

  “It’s not mandatory,” Jackson said. “I’ll catch the next one.”

  “You sure?” Pierce asked.

  “Positive. Don’t have too much fun without me.”

  “Never.”

  Pierce and Jackson exchanged a fist bump. Lia squeezed my shoulder. “Let me know about your grandma, okay?”

  “Sure. Thank you for hanging out with me. I appreciate it.”

  “Anytime.”

  We all said good-bye and headed out to the parking lot, where it was not only cold but windy. I stuffed my hands farther into my pockets for warmth.

  “You okay after that loss?” I asked Jackson once we were alone.

  He sighed. “Yeah. I will be. Are you doing okay?”

  “Yeah.” Despite the loss, the hockey game had been a good distraction for me. While he drove me home, I further distracted myself from worrying about Tutu by asking questions about NTDP players and hockey.

  “The other guys have it easier,” Jackson said in response to an NHL question as we turned into my neighborhood. “There can be eighteen skaters dressed for an NHL game, but only two goalies. If I would have known those odds, I might have kept playing left wing, you know?”

  I didn’t respond because a text came through from my mom. My lungs tightened, and I braced myself for bad news.

  “Malina?” Jackson asked. “Everything okay?”

  Instead of answering, I opened the text. It was a picture, so I clicked it and turned my phone to make it as large as possible. It was Tutu in a hospital bed, surrounded by all kinds of tubes and wires and machines, but smiling and making the “I love you” sign with her right hand. Gratitude made me collapse back against my seat. I choked out something that was half cry, half laugh. Like with the first stroke, her smile looked a little unnatural, but she was okay. She was going to be okay.

  “What’s wrong?” he demanded.

  “Nothing, sorry,” I said. We slowed for a stop sign, and I held the phone up for him to see.

  He smiled. “She’s awake? That’s a good thing, right?”

  “I think so,” I said, and thumbed out a quick response to my mom before we pulled into my driveway.

  “That Tutu is one tough cookie,” Jackson said as we got out of the car and headed up to the front door. “Probably wouldn’t have been a terrible hockey player back in the day.”

  Though I couldn’t picture Tutu on skates, he was probably right. I unlocked the front door and let us inside. As I took off my shoes and coat, the quiet and emptiness in the house were almost palpable. Sure, I’d had Jackson over without my family around in the past, but that was before. It felt different now.

  “Do you want something t
o eat?” I asked.

  “No, thanks,” Jackson said, heading over to the couch.

  For a second, I just stood there, mouth agape. “I think that’s the first time you’ve ever turned down food.”

  He laughed. “I guess there really is a first time for everything.”

  He patted the couch next to him, and I sat close. He reached up and tucked my hair behind my ear, toying with the strands.

  “I’m glad Tutu’s okay. I’m glad you were at my game. But most of all, I’m glad me and you are you and me.”

  I nodded to all three, my pulse picking up speed every time his hand brushed against my neck. “Me, too.”

  He leaned in and kissed me, skipping soft and sweet and going straight for deep and hot. The sharp and cool taste of mint on his tongue made me shiver. When he kissed his way down my neck to my collarbone, my heart threatened to beat right out of my rib cage. When he touched me—his hands on my neck and then sliding down my back and then slipping under the bottom of my shirt—his touch was confident yet careful and left goose bumps in its wake.

  Feeling a little bit brave, I pushed him onto his back and climbed on top of him. He moaned his approval and pulled me close again, our chests rising and falling quickly against each other. Though we’d known each other for years, there was still so much to explore, and each new discovery was intoxicating—the patch of freckles on his left shoulder that I hadn’t noticed before, the strong muscles in his chest and abs, the sensitive spot on his neck that made him gasp when I kissed him there. I drank it all in.

  Soon we were both shirtless, and he was on top of me, kissing his way down my neck to my chest and back up again. I knew the science behind kissing—that oxytocin and dopamine were the reason for the flooding warmth and attraction and intense happiness I felt right then—but it didn’t feel like science. It felt like magic. I let myself enjoy every touch until I tried to shift and put the attention back on him, and he suddenly backed off.

  “Sorry, sorry,” he said, gasping for air. “Need to take a break.”

  As much as I wanted to protest, it was pretty clear why he needed a break. It was nice knowing he didn’t want to take things too far too soon, either.

  “Okay,” I said. I slipped my shirt back on and curled up next to him, which wasn’t quite as nice as the kissing, but was a close second. His heart was still pounding against his rib cage.

  “Can you think about hockey?” I asked.

  “What?”

  “You know, most guys think about baseball, but you know a lot more about hockey. Does thinking about that help…you know…distract you?”

  He gave a breathy laugh. “Can’t say I’ve ever tried it. Math is usually what works for me.”

  “Math?”

  I felt his nod more than I saw it.

  “I start doubling numbers. You know, two doubled is four, four doubled is eight, eight doubled is sixteen. By the time I get above sixteen thousand, I’m good.”

  I frowned and looked up at him. “You can double that high in your head?”

  “It’s not that hard. It doesn’t take that many doubles.”

  “Yeah, but I’m not sure I could do that. You’re smarter than you let on, aren’t you?”

  “I’m good at thinking things through. I did well in math when it was calculations. That changed when we had to start studying equations and rules and stuff. I couldn’t be bothered after that.”

  “So you are smarter than you let on.”

  “Shh,” he said, placing one finger lightly over my lips. “Don’t tell anyone.”

  I laughed and put my head back on his chest. His breathing and pulse were slowing back to normal. “Don’t worry. Your secret’s safe with me. But speaking of being smart… Lia mentioned she’s having a hard time getting Pierce to apply for college. Which made me realize something.”

  “That Pierce Miller is going to be drafted straight to the NHL and get to play next year without having to step foot in a college classroom?”

  I rolled my eyes. Clearly the two were in cahoots. “No. I realized I haven’t talked to you about applying for colleges.”

  “Man, you really know how to kill the mood.”

  “Jackson, seriously. Have you applied anywhere? Because I feel like that’s something you would have asked for my help with or at least talked to me about.”

  He shrugged. “I’ve talked to a couple of coaches who might want me to play for them.”

  The fact that he hadn’t even mentioned that to me stung—a reminder of exactly how much we’d grown apart this year. “And?” I prodded when it became clear he wasn’t going to offer more information. “What did you think? Have you applied to any them? Gone on any campus tours?”

  He scoffed. “I don’t have time for that. It’s the middle of the season. Have you seen our practice, game, and off-ice schedule? There’s barely time left for school and sleep. And what little time is left, I want to spend with you.”

  He leaned over to kiss my neck again. My heart wanted to let him, but my brain knew this conversation needed to happen. I pulled away.

  “Jackson,” I said. “You can’t flirt your way out of this one. If you wait until the season’s over, it’s going to be too late. You’re going to have to think about this. Work on it.”

  “You sound like my mom,” he grumbled.

  “No, I sound like your reasonable, mature friend who wants you to succeed. Very different.”

  “If you say so.” He squeezed my hand and then yawned. “It’s late.”

  “Yeah,” I said, feeling a twinge of disappointment that the kissing portion of the evening was probably over. “I have my interview in the morning.”

  “Okay,” he said, but didn’t make a move to get up off the couch.

  “Are you going to go home?” I asked.

  He smiled a little. “Actually, I might have told my mom I was staying at Pierce’s house after the game. Which I can go do if you want. But if you want me to stay here so you don’t have to be all alone…”

  My heart lifted. That was exactly what I wanted. “Just sleep?”

  “Just sleep,” he promised. “But I’ll be here if you need anything.”

  I leaned over and kissed him in response.

  Chapter Twenty

  Jackson

  Was it easy to stop myself from going too far with Malina? Hell no. But I did, because I wanted things with her to be different. So that’s how I found myself in Malina’s twin bed that wasn’t really big enough for one of us, let alone both of us, doing nothing more than holding her and stroking my fingers up and down her arm. We both smelled like the cinnamon toothpaste in her bathroom drawer. There were glow-in-the-dark stars on the ceiling, but not just stars. Constellations. Correct constellations. I remembered she had to buy three packs to make sure she had enough of the right size stars. I loved her for that detail.

  “Are you comfortable?” I asked. I was wrapped around her in a way that probably meant my arm was going to fall asleep, but I’d worry about that later.

  Her head was resting against my bare chest, and she nodded. “Very.”

  “Good.”

  She shifted a little and nuzzled against me. “Jackson?”

  “Yeah?”

  “When do you have to leave again?”

  I sighed. I didn’t want to have this conversation. Yes, Malina knew I traveled a lot, but having a friend who traveled was different from having a boyfriend who traveled. Yes, I’d had girlfriends while traveling before. Lots of them. But none of them had worked out. I wanted this thing with Malina to work. I needed it to work in a way I hadn’t needed any other relationship to work. She felt like a part of me, and losing her would be like losing a limb. And not a toe or a finger or something. Like a whole leg.

  “Next week,” I said. “Travel is kind of crazy coming up. I think I’m in Vancouver, Milwaukee, Des Moines, Pittsburg, and Montreal. Lots of away games. This week is really the last ‘vacation’ I get all season.”

  “Oh.” She
didn’t say anything else for a minute. “What about Thanksgiving? You’ll be home then, right?”

  The hope in her voice crushed me with guilt. “We’re scheduled to get home late Wednesday night, then I’m spending half the day with my mom and half the day with my dad, then we leave again Friday morning.” As much as I didn’t want that to sound like “I don’t have time to spend with you,” that was exactly what it ended up sounding like. Most of the time, I was the guy who broke up with girls right before holidays so I wouldn’t have to worry about plans and gifts and all of that. This was the first holiday season that I actually wanted to spend time with someone, but my schedule wouldn’t allow it. “Sorry, but—”

  “It’s fine,” she said around a yawn. “We’ll see each other when you get home. And you’ll have some home games in December, right? And some time off over Christmas and New Year’s?”

  “Yeah,” I said, but I was lying. There were a couple of home games, and I did get a little time off, but not very much. When I thought about after the holidays, my schedule got even worse. It was the heart of hockey season, plus playoffs, plus our international tournament. The pressure would also be on the closer we got to the NHL draft, too. Not to mention, what would happen at the end of the season? At the end of the year? Malina would be off to…somewhere, and where would I be?

  Normally, this would be when I’d say it wasn’t worth it, that we should break up and save ourselves the trouble, but that was the last thing I wanted to do. Instead, I found myself wanting to find, or make, some kind of reality in which Malina and I could be together despite all of those challenges.

  If only it were that easy.

  “Jackson?” Malina asked.

  The way she said my name made it pretty clear it wasn’t the first time she’d said it. “Sorry, what?”

  “Thank you. For this. For tonight.”

  I pushed all of that stuff about the future aside and kissed the top of her head. “You’re welcome.”