Jett

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Jett Page 17

by Sawyer Bennett


  To gauge her reaction.

  She just stands there with a goofy smile—not distress, thank fuck.

  The kiss is brief, because we are in a child’s presence and Emory takes the box from me. “Are you sure you can’t just stay for one? Or a cup of coffee?”

  Glancing down at my watch, knowing I will incur Coach’s wrath if I’m so much as ten seconds late to step on the ice, I decide to risk it. I’ll just have to cut down on my stretches a bit and hope I don’t pull a groin muscle which would suck not only for my gameplay but also for my bedroom play.

  As Emory pours me a cup of coffee, I sit at the table and watch as Felicity takes a chocolate donut from the bag. I ate a hefty omelet about half an hour ago, so I’m not hungry.

  “Guess what?” Felicity says exuberantly while chewing on the donut. A crumb falls out onto the table and I resist the urge to put my fingers under her chin to close her mouth, because I don’t want to temper her excitement.

  “What?” I reply to the little girl sitting across from me. Emory returns to the table, sits coffee in front of me, and takes the chair to my left. She reaches for a croissant and picks a tiny piece off to lay it delicately on her tongue, I quickly avert my eyes from that very pretty, and very talented, tongue.

  “Mummy found a place for me to take lessons.” She’s practically bouncing up and down in her chair. “Miss Nora knows a place not far from here and I’m going to start next week.”

  “That’s fantastic,” I reply, offering my fist across the table for her to bump. She does, and leaves a dab of chocolate on my knuckle, which I surreptitiously wipe on my track pants.

  “I know,” she says, and then jabbers for a solid three minutes about horses. Without sucking in a breath and ignoring her donut, she then launches into a story about a girl in her class named Cicily who is mean to her. Her mum says she needs to ignore the behavior, but her dad says she should confront her. “What do you think I should do?” she asks me.

  My eyes feel like they’re bugging out of my head and I look wildly to Emory who smiles and levels a look at Felicity. “I suggest you listen to my advice, not your father’s.”

  Felicity rolls her eyes at her mom and turns her attention back to me. “Yeah, but what would you do, Jett?”

  I tip my head toward Emory. “I would absolutely listen to your mum.”

  Felicity groans because I didn’t answer the question in quite the way she wanted.

  But no matter, she takes another bite of donut and talks around it. Her ability to float from one subject to another in seamless transition is admirable and she announces, “There’s a daddy/daughter dance tomorrow night, and my daddy’s taking me.”

  It’s said with pride and excitement and my heart hurts a little she’s not had that before. It reaffirms my thinking that no matter Shane’s issues, Emory did right by her daughter in allowing the relationship to begin again.

  I ask a few questions, but Felicity does most of the talking, mainly about her dress and how pretty it is. I glance at Emory as she continues with tiny bites of her croissant, but I note the faint lines of tension around her eyes when Felicity talks about her father.

  Not that Emory is jealous. That’s not it at all.

  It’s that she does and always will continue to bear worry over Shane.

  I listen intently to Felicity, making comments where appropriate and where I have some idea of what I’m talking about. But then it’s time to go because I absolutely cannot be late.

  I take a last sip of coffee, having only finished half a cup, and stand from the table.

  “Thank Jett for the donuts,” Emory instructs her daughter as she too stands. “And when you finish that one, go wash your face and brush your teeth.”

  “Okay, Mummy,” Felicity replies, and then lifts her eyes—same as her mum’s—to me. “Thank you for the donuts, Jett. They’re delicious.”

  “You’re welcome,” I reply with a tip of my head.

  I then nod to Emory’s chair. “Sit back down and finish your breakfast. I’ll let myself out.”

  Once again, she leans into me. That hand on my chest feels perfect. Her lips even better, even though a more chaste kiss has never been had by me.

  “Can’t wait for tomorrow night,” she whispers before pulling back.

  I’m grinning as I head to the door, thinking that more surprise breakfast drop-offs are warranted because it felt fucking great to make Emory and Felicity happy.

  Weird. Making them happy—and they… not just Emory—made me happy.

  I open the door, step out onto the porch and pull it shut behind me without a backward look. I’m afraid if I catch Emory’s eyes on me, I might go back inside.

  I make it all the way down the steps and onto the sidewalk before movement catches my eye.

  A man… slightly shorter than me, thin and I’ll admit… handsome.

  Without a doubt, although I’ve never seen a picture of him nor has Emory described him, I know it’s her ex-husband.

  His eyes are wide as they take me in and then narrow slightly at the implication that I might have stayed the night. While it’s none of his business, I don’t want to cause waves, so I take the offensive.

  Walking his way, I hold my hand out in greeting. “Hey… I’m Jett Olsson.”

  The man glances down to my hand, to the house, then back to me before he takes it. “Shane Kelly.”

  When we release, I throw a thumb over my shoulder toward the door. “I was just stopping by to drop breakfast off to Emory.”

  I don’t include Felicity’s name as I don’t want him to think I’m encroaching on his daughter in any way. Their new relationship is too tenuous to have any jealousies. Not that he would be jealous, but I don’t want to give him an opportunity.

  While he never identified exactly who he is, I let him know I know. “You’re Felicity’s dad, right? She’s just been talking nonstop about you. That’s one happy little girl you got.”

  Good job, Jett. Non-threatening. Complimentary of his parenting. Hoping some points are scored not for future use, but so he doesn’t feel like he has to prove something to me, or more importantly… to Emory.

  For a moment, Shane is confused. You can tell he has no clue how to handle me. I can see he’s still rankled that I was coming out of the house, but the tension in his shoulders seems to have relaxed that I’m only stopping by.

  But just as he’s clearly surprised to see me here, I have no clue why he’s here either. Emory didn’t mention he was coming and, therefore, I’m confident she didn’t know.

  I get nosy on her behalf. “Did she know you were coming by?” I try to sound innocently inquiring, but it’s pretty nosy. “Because she didn’t say anything.”

  Shane shakes his head, a sheepish look. “No, actually. I just thought I’d surprise Felicity and see if I could walk her to school.”

  Again, don’t want to be threatening. Want to be seen as an advocate for their relationship. “Aw, man… she’ll love that. I just had to listen to her yammer about the daddy/daughter dance you’re taking her to tomorrow. She’s beyond excited.”

  That seems to crack the remainder of the ice around Shane, and I can see it in his expression that he’s accepting I’m nothing more than an outside entity to his daughter.

  “She’s such a great kid,” Shane says, and I hear the love in his voice. I also hear regret, but I don’t judge him on it. “This last week being back in her life has been the best seven days I’ve ever had.”

  Interesting. By him admitting to me he’s been absent, he’s silently admitting that he assumes I know about his history. But I don’t go there.

  Merely, I say, “She needed her dad in her life. She needs you.”

  I don’t know what I expected, but it’s not the dour pinch to his mouth from that statement. But it’s not Felicity he’s thinking of, because he says, “Emory doesn’t need me anymore.”

  What the fuck?

  Why would he even make this about his ex-wife—


  Ah, I get it now.

  Me walking out the door—regardless if I stayed the night or just stopped by—is a bitter pill for him apparently. I don’t know if he’s still holding out hope for something with her, or if he’s just expressing his dismay that he doesn’t have her. I’ll tread lightly with him where Felicity is concerned, I won’t do so with Emory.

  She’s mine, and mine alone.

  “No,” I say flatly, my eyes pinned on him. “She doesn’t need you.”

  Shane flinches, as if I’d slapped him.

  Which is ludicrous. If I got violent with him, it wouldn’t be a slap.

  But now I’m the one feeling a bit possessive now that I see he’s got some intentions toward Emory. I make it brutally clear. “She has me.”

  Shane’s neck twists and he looks off to the side, gazing at the street a moment. Finally, he nods and brings his attention back to me. “It’s serious between you.”

  I hadn’t really thought of it by that exact “word”, but I nod. “Yeah. It’s serious.”

  With a loud, suffering sigh, Shane mutters, “I’m not even sure what I’m doing here.”

  I frown at the defeatist tone, and I know exactly what he’s saying, but I play dumb. “You’re here to take Felicity to school.”

  “No,” he grumbles in frustration. “I mean… I’m not sure why I even thought I could be part of their lives again and maybe—”

  “Whoa,” I bark at him, holding a hand up. “Back the fuck up.”

  Shane jerks and takes a wary step back, eyes wide with fear.

  “Your family is gone,” I say to him in a low voice. “You need to accept that. But your daughter is here. She’s in that house right now, ecstatic you’re back in her life. I suggest you focus your energy on her and not on the loss of your wife and the very real truth I’m sure you know deep in your gut that you are never getting her back again. And that would be true whether or not I’m in the picture.”

  Air whistles out of Shane’s teeth as he seems to deflate in front of me. “You’re right,” he murmurs, not letting his gaze drop but holding mine.

  It softens me a little, letting go of the proprietary feeling I’ve got going over Emory and focusing back on Felicity. “Look… Felicity is an amazing kid and she loves you a lot. She’s so grateful to have you back in her life and I know Emory wants you to spend time with her. I’m in full support of that, so I have your back on that. Anything I can do to make it easier for you to have time with her, you let me know.”

  “Really?” he asks, a bit skeptically but I suppose that’s fair play.

  I nod. “Really. In fact, let me know when you want to go, as long as it’s okay with Emory, and I’ll get you and Felicity front row tickets to a game. Behind the scenes tour too.”

  Shane’s face actually lights up and he bobs his head in gratitude. “Thanks, man. That’s really generous.”

  “No worries,” I reply genially, but seriously… that’s all up to Emory if she’ll even let Shane take Felicity to a game. I won’t push her either way, but I’ll gladly provide the tickets and tour if Emory feels comfortable with it. Throwing my head toward my car, I say, “I’ve got to get going or I’m going to be late for practice.”

  Sticking my hand out again, we shake farewell, and I don’t look back as I leave Shane behind. I’ll text Emory later to find out why he stopped by, but I expect he’s testing boundaries to see what he can get away with.

  While Emory welcomed me in happily this morning—I’m sure having nothing to do with the fact I was bearing croissants and donuts—I don’t think she’ll be as accommodating to Shane just dropping by.

  I drive to the arena in a mood that’s hard to describe. I feel like I’m walking on air or something, and I imagine it’s a combination of things. I always get pumped up before a game, but that’s pure adrenaline-fueled competitiveness that lights me up. There’s something softer though surrounding that hyped-up feeling, and I’d almost say it’s like a balm.

  Maybe a knowledge that my life has become richer, that I have someone by my side who cares for me in a way I’ve not been cared for before, and even a bit of hope within me that things will just continue to get better.

  As I enter the locker room to get dressed for our morning skate, I keep all of that to myself. If I start mooning over Emory the way Kane does over his wedding plans, I’ll never hear the end of it from the guys, even those who have each fallen hopelessly in love lately.

  CHAPTER 22

  Emory

  “I can’t fucking stand this,” I mutter as I lean against the kitchen sink, chewing at my thumbnail nervously. My eyes are pinned on Felicity, kneeling on the couch, her belly pressed against the back and her hands holding back the curtains as she stares expectantly out the window for her father—I glance down at my watch—who is now officially twenty minutes late.

  “Call him again,” Jenna advises softly. She’s as worried as I am, pacing back and forth.

  Nabbing the phone off the counter, I dial Shane’s number. It rings twice and goes straight to voice mail.

  This is Shane. Leave a message.

  “Shane,” I hiss into the phone so Felicity can’t hear me, partially turning my body toward the sink. “Where in the hell are you? You’re late and now we’re all starting to get worried. Call me.”

  I disconnect the call, glance over my shoulder to see my daughter still eagerly awaiting her father, and make a quick decision. My fingers fly over the screen of my smartphone as I pull up Safari and google the hotel Shane is staying at. Using the call link, I dial the number.

  “The Orion,” I young male answers the phone. “How may I help you?”

  “Yes,” I say distractedly, because at that moment, Felicity’s head swivels and she looks back at me. Her expression is no longer excited but tinged with worry.

  “Ma’am?” I hear and I jerk my eyes away.

  “Yes, sorry,” I say into the phone, making my voice crisp and professional. “Can you please connect me to Shane Kelly’s room?”

  “Just a minute,” the man replies, and I hear the tapping of fingers on a keyboard. “I’m sorry, but Mr. Kelly checked out this morning.”

  “He… what?” I stammer.

  “It appears he checked out this morning,” the man repeats.

  My eyes snap to Jenna who’s watching me with raised eyebrows. I disconnect the call without a farewell to the helpful clerk, my body feeling slightly numb.

  “He checked out of his hotel,” I whisper to her.

  “Was he planning on it?” Jenna asks, cutting a glance at Felicity who is once again looking out the window.

  “No,” I say harshly. “His parents had paid for it up through the end of the month.”

  Because Shane’s parents do everything for him, especially once he became addicted to drugs. I blame them for a good chunk of his inability to stick to rehab because they were always enabling him. Letting him check out early and come home, paying for his rent, and a car because he couldn’t hold a job.

  “Shit,” I curse low under my breath, and dial Shane again. When his voice mail message ends and I hear a beep, I’m so furious I can barely speak. “You goddamn motherfucker. Your daughter is here waiting for you to take her to a dance and you’re probably off with a needle stuck in your arm somewhere, aren’t you?”

  My eyes fixate on Jenna, because I can’t bear to look at my daughter with her face nearly pressed to the window waiting for her dad. I take in a stuttering breath and let it out, not sure how much time I have left on the voice message. “Shane… we’re done with you. You couldn’t even make it a month since you got out of rehab before the lure of drugs was more important than your daughter. If you’re still in the Phoenix area, which I doubt, don’t bother coming back here. You’re officially not allowed to see Felicity.”

  I jab the disconnect button viciously and tears well in my eyes. Jenna’s hand comes to my shoulder, lays there ever so softly. With the hand holding my phone, I turn it and wipe it over my eyes, d
ispelling any liquid before it can fall.

  “Maybe he moved to a new hotel and he’s running late,” Jenna suggests weakly.

  I shake my head adamantly. “No. He’s using again. I know the signs. Not showing up for something important, refusing to answer the phone. I’m not surprised really… not after yesterday.”

  Jenna nods but she wasn’t here to witness it. She only heard about it second hand from me, but after Jett had left—the taste of butter croissants still on my tongue—Shane had shown up wanting to walk Felicity to school.

  I wasn’t cool with him just showing up unannounced like that, but with great effort I put Felicity above those harsh feelings, knowing she’d love to have her dad walk with her to school.

  Except, after I swallowed my ire and told Shane it was fine to take her, he didn’t seem to want to go.

  He wanted to sit around, eat my croissants and talk about how I’d moved on with Jett. It was wholly inappropriate to talk to me about that, much less in front of Felicity. I told Felicity to go brush her teeth and grab her school bag, and in that minute and a half she was gone, I laid into Shane.

  Not screaming crazy, because I didn’t want Felicity to see me that way even if I felt it, but I made sure that there was absolute clarity about the situation.

  He and I were no more.

  I had moved on a long time ago, and he needed to do the same.

  I reiterated he was welcome to have a place in Felicity’s life but he was not welcome to come and go around my house as he pleased.

  Shane was apologetic. He said I was right and that he was being intrusive.

  He said all the right things, and deep down… I knew he’d been crushed by what I’d said. That no matter how many years had elapsed since we were together, or the fact he killed any love I ever had for him, or that I’ve been clear since the day I separated from him that it was over for good, he still had some expectation.

  Shane still thought… there was a chance for us?

 

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