Play the Man

by Jaymee Jacobs

Nick emerged from the room only after Ryan had dressed and left. His chest was tight, and he was feeling lightheaded. The conversation that he had just taken part in had been bad enough; having to admit to his share of Ryan’s misery sucked. However, having to face the team, after he had just ripped that very team apart with his actions and admission of guilt, was worse. Terribly worse. Their eyes were all on him, silently asking Holy fuck—what the hell just happened?!

  With no way to explain to them what had transpired, without dividing the room any further, he simply shook his head and went back to his stall. He was an alternate captain, and he needed to act like one. “Let’s get ready to practice, boys.”

  “We’re still having practice?” Shawn asked, noticing how everyone was on edge. After watching Ryan go after one of his own teammates, no one was feeling a deep sense of camaraderie or good sportsmanship.

  “Of course we’re still having practice,” Nick returned, pulling his practice jersey over his head. “Let’s get out there. Coach is waiting.”

  Once everyone stepped out on the ice and he had some privacy, Nick dug out his cell phone and dialed Jenna’s cell. He hadn’t had any intention to tell Ryan. Nick knew that Jenna wanted to keep him out of it, and he wanted anything that Jenna wanted. But he also hadn’t expected Ryan to show up at practice either. Or for Ryan to then misinterpret something Mike said and jump him, forcing Nick to pry Ryan off the unsuspecting defenseman. None of that was supposed to happen.

  But happen, it did. And now he had to try and fix it. Nick had to tell Jenna that he had told Ryan the whole truth. She had to know that, because Nick knew what the lack of full disclosure could cause. It was keeping a secret that got him into this position in the first place. If he could have admitted his feelings for Jenna, told her flat out and let her be the one to make the decision whether she should leave Ryan or stay with him, then he wouldn’t have bottled it up. Then it wouldn’t have exploded like a shaken-up bottle of Pepsi and gotten them into this sticky situation.

  The phone rang seven times before it went to voicemail. Instead of leaving a message, Nick hung up and called again, only to hear the same thing: seven rings, and then her cheerful voice, recorded at an earlier and happier time, asking him to leave a message at the tone. Maybe she was sleeping. Nick knew she hadn’t slept well since she initially passed out from crying herself into exhaustion. He looked at his phone and wondered what he should do: should he leave a message and hope that she got it before talking to Ryan, or should he leave practice and go back to his apartment to tell her?

  Nick thought about Ryan’s reaction. Nick had never seen him so angry before. Not just angry, but seething. He’d done a good job of reining it in, but he was clearly beyond upset. Who could blame him? Nick understood that Ryan had every reason to hate him right now. Nick had had sex with the woman Ryan had seen himself marrying and starting a family with. That was unforgiveable. And in some cultures, Nick was sure, punishable by death.

  But what was Ryan going to do? Was he upset enough to find Jenna and confront her, or was he mad enough to avoid her altogether until he cooled off, if ever? He didn’t have a sufficient amount of knowledge to make an educated guess about Ryan’s next move, because he’d never seen the normally easy-going forward so distressed.

  Quickly, he glanced toward the runway and the awaiting fresh ice, as well as the group of players who had gathered for the optional skate. They had all looked to him for direction, and he had told them to practice. And once again, Nick found himself at a crossroads. He could either put the team first, which he was used to doing on a regular basis—that is, until about two weeks ago—or he could forget about his professional responsibilities and follow his heart and go tell Jenna.

  Nick came to several conclusions. First, Jenna didn’t choose him. He felt a little jaded; if she didn’t want to be a part of his life, then he shouldn’t feel the need to want to protect her from Ryan’s wrath. He still wanted to, no doubt, but he knew he needed to take a step back and let go of her. The timing was bad for that realization, but he couldn’t keep stringing himself along or coddling her, because her mind was made up and it wasn’t going to change with a simple good gesture. And second, he had gone against the hockey players’ code when he had slept with her, and he needed to concentrate his efforts on the team—his team—again. He needed to stand tall and be the leader he was supposed to be. It wasn’t a way for him to atone for the grievous misstep he’d made two weeks prior, but it was finally a step in the right direction. Nick needed to get his head straight and get his priorities back in order.

  So he left the message. “Jenna? Uh, it’s Nick. Listen, I kind of, um, told... Biggie, I mean Ryan... about us. I mean, that it was me. He showed up at practice, and well, long story short, he knows. And I just wanted you to know. I’ll see you in a few hours, after practice.”

  Setting his phone on silent mode, Nick placed it on the back ledge of the bench at his stall. Then he grabbed his helmet, his gloves, and his stick and headed out on the ice for practice.

  Jenna hadn’t showered, eaten, or slept since Saturday’s fiasco. She wore her misery and guilt on her face in the form of a sad, drawn mouth and dark circles and bags under her eyes. In the matter of just a few days, she had managed to alienate herself from her fiancé and one of her greatest friends. Jenna had spent a lot of time in Nick’s bedroom, lying and wallowing in her self-pity. There had been many times that she had thought about calling Ryan and begging for forgiveness. Or just to hear his voice. But she was terrified, absolutely terrified of what he might say to her. Like he never wanted to hear from her or see her again. Like he hated her. And that was something Jenna couldn’t risk hearing.

  With Nick gone for a few hours, Jenna finally made herself move from the fetal position she had been stuck in. Then she washed the bed sheets. After she’d spent the past forty-eight hours in them, she figured it was the least she could do. Besides, she wasn’t going to spend another night between them. Jenna wasn’t sure where she was going to go or what she was going to do, but neither of those options including staying in Nick’s apartment.

  Jenna was most grateful for Nick’s hospitality. After all, she had called him crying because Ryan had left her, and he had opened his door to her. He had politely insisted that she take his bed while he spent the past two nights on the couch. Nick could have just told her “no” and refused to come to her rescue, but like a prince charming or a white knight, he came running at her beck and call. He wanted to help, and she was abusing that; the cycle of hurt had to end, and Jenna was going to put an end to it. It’s never too late to start doing the right thing. That thought spurred her into getting up and doing something more productive than wallowing.

  It would have been so much easier if she could have accepted Nick’s offer of love and affection and let him whisk her off her feet, like she was certain he was capable of doing, but easier didn’t mean it was possible. Even knowing that Ryan probably wanted absolutely nothing to do with her wasn’t enough to let her contemplate traveling down that avenue. After all, he hadn’t called. Not to make her apologize or to vent his anger. Nothing. Just silence.

  She dragged herself into the bathroom to take a shower, peeled off her smelly, wrinkled clothes, and then tested the hot water as it fell from the showerhead. As she turned around, she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. Disgusted with herself, she threw a towel over her reflection, unable to look at the sight. Next she moved to take off her engagement ring. Jenna never showered while wearing jewelry, and the ring was probably meaningless now, but it was her last bit of hope. Keeping it on her finger, she ducked under the showerhead. It felt good to wash her body clean, seeing as though she couldn’t wipe away her bad conscience.

  Jenna was debating on calling home for a bus ticket or plane fare to go back to New Hampshire. Jenna had nothing of her own out here in Chicago; it was all Ryan’s. His home. His car that he bought for her to drive, which was in her name, but was still purchased with his money. He
paid her cell phone bill, and he supplied all the cash and credit cards she had in her wallet. She couldn’t spend any of that, but calling home and asking her parents for a plane ticket would be like admitting defeat.

  She still had hope. It was ridiculous for her to think that their relationship could be salvaged, because he hadn’t called or made any attempt to contact her. As far as Jenna knew, he was still fuming with anger. And she couldn’t blame him one bit. She had always trusted him when he was out on the road to stay true to her. She’d never worried even when he was in his early twenties and out in Chicago while she was still working toward her undergraduate degree. Never in a million years had she ever considered the silly notion that either one of them would cheat. But yet... it had happened. And no matter the circumstances, she wasn’t going to point fingers or lay the blame anywhere else but with herself.

  Jenna thought that she was being silly by holding out the slightest bit of optimism, since Ryan was only going to squash it in the end. But at that moment, she needed it to keep going. She didn’t know how to live, how to exist, without him. Maybe that was a testament to the fact that they had hardly spent more than two weeks apart from each other ever since they moved in together and she was used to being around him almost constantly. Or maybe it was because she truly needed him. That they had been together so long that they had molded and melded together into one single entity.

  And it wasn’t like Ryan had given her any remote indication that he was willing to forgive her or to try to get past it. There was no reason for Jenna to think they could have a future together. She hadn’t received word from him. He hadn’t even said that he needed time to think or anything—he had just left on Saturday. In fact, she thought he was probably sitting at home, not even caring about where she was.

  When Jenna stepped out of the shower, she realized she had no clothes to change into. She had nothing at Nick’s, except the dirty clothes she had spend the past two days in, and she wasn’t going to put them back on. Taking one last advantage of Nick’s generosity, she slipped into a pair of his sweats, cinching them tightly at the waist, and then pulled a shirt over her head. As she rubbed her hair with a towel, a pounding sound echoed through Nick’s moderately-sized apartment in sync with a staccato beeping of a message alert on her phone. Jenna ignored her phone and padded to the door to deal with the more pressing situation. She stood on her toes to look through the peephole, but she didn’t need to peer through to know who was on the other side.

  “I know you’re in there. Let me in, Jenna, because we need to talk.”

  “Ryan,” she whispered, feeling both glad to see him again but also a little worried. He sounded so angry.

  “Open the door,” Ryan commanded, his voice raw from yelling. He pounded his closed fist against the wooden barrier one more time, demanding entrance. He wasn’t going anywhere until he faced her.

  Jenna’s heart began to race as her fingers fumbled with the deadbolt. This was it; this was the very situation she had been looking forward to and also avoiding. This was her chance to hear Ryan’s verdict, to know her future. And it frightened her, because she was worried he’d kick her ass back to New Hampshire—which was the exact opposite of what she really wanted. Part of her wanted to let him in, and another part of her wanted to keep the door locked. But her hands slid back the chain and then turned the doorknob.

  He pushed the door open, not waiting for Jenna’s slow timidity, and he pushed past her into the living room of Nick’s apartment. She closed the door behind him, and then she waited.

  Ryan continued his anxious behavior: he paced the floor and ran his hand through his hair, not making eye contact with Jenna. He opened his mouth several times, but no words came out. There was so much that he wanted to say, but he was at a loss for words. Finally, he said the two words that had been swarming around in his head—the two words that Jenna had never expected to hear. “Nicholas Martin.”

  She tensed. How did Ryan know? Well, the answer was right in front of her face—only two people had known, and if she hadn’t told Ryan, then Nick must have. Even though she knew that had to be the answer, she was still shocked and surprised, because she had never expected Nick to tell him. In fact, she had told Nick to forget all about it and that she didn’t want to bring him into this.

  But now Nick was involved and right then and there, Jenna felt her reserve of hope evaporate into thin air.

  “Nick Martin,” he repeated, the name leaving his lips as if it were venom. There was a bad taste in his mouth. “Martin?”

  Jenna wanted to cry; her body physically wanted to sob at the amount of pain she was feeling—not her own pain, but the pain she felt from seeing Ryan so torn up inside. She nodded, unable to respond verbally. There was no way to sugarcoat it. An affair was bad enough, but an affair with Nicky—the man who Ryan had always trusted Jenna with—was a thousand times worse.

  Ryan couldn’t find a voice to lend the anguish in his heart. Because it was the man who Ryan had relied on to keep Jenna company when he was out with the guys. He liked knowing that they had each other while he and the boys were out celebrating the wins, because it took some of the pressure off of him. Well, he would have gladly traded that pressure in exchange for avoiding at least a portion of this heartache. If he hadn’t have let them hang out together, would this have been prevented?

  But another question played on his mind: was it his fault? His rational brain told him that the blame rested solely with Jenna, because she was the one who cheated on him. But Nick’s words had stayed with him on the drive over. Had he not been there for her, and that’s why it happened? Regardless... it had been with Nick, and that had gotten under his skin most of all. He was going to be the laughing stock of the dressing room—forget about what he was going to tell his parents and his friends. “Of everyone, why him?”

  Jenna shrugged again, not to be apathetic, but because she didn’t have an answer. If someone else had been there with her after returning from the Art Institute that fateful night, would she have let that other person kiss her? Would she have kissed back? Would they have had sex, too? Or maybe the reason wasn’t Nick; maybe it was the situation. Jenna always had a blast with Nicky when they hung out together, because Nick was a different person than Ryan. It was a nice contrast, being able to talk with Nick and then go home with Ryan—she couldn’t possibly imagine it the other way around, living with Nick and being just friends with Ryan.

  “Jesus, Jenna! I’m freaking out here! Can’t you say something?” he exploded.

  “I already told you that I’m sorry,” she explained. “I’m not more sorry just because you found out who it was, because I can’t possibly be any more sorry. It was the worst mistake of my life to do that to you. I didn’t do it specifically to hurt you, because I never, ever, wanted to hurt you.”

  “Why didn’t you just tell me it was him? When I asked, why didn’t you say so?”

  “Because I knew this would happen. I knew that telling you was going to be painful enough. I didn’t want to make it worse, but I had to tell you. I needed to get it off my chest, and I needed you to know. You had to know, if we were going to get.... Well,” she mumbled, fiddling with the ring around her finger. “I, um.... I guess you want this back.”

  “What?” he asked, not realizing what she was talking about until she pulled off her engagement ring and held it out in front of her. He sucked in a deep breath of air, which in turn burned his lungs. “You’re giving that back to me?”

  Jenna shrugged again, not knowing what else to do. When no other words were spoken, she filled the silence. “I figured you’d want it. Get your money back or something.” She still wanted to cry, but the tears just wouldn’t come. “I guess if it was so hard, then maybe we weren’t supposed to get married.”

  Ryan was frozen. He didn’t know what to do. He was hurt, he was angry, and he was confused as hell; but he didn’t know if any of that meant that their relationship was over or if they’d never have some sort of futur
e. He wasn’t sure if he could get past this, or if he wanted to try. There was simply too much finality in taking back the ring, and he wasn’t sure what he had decided. “I don’t know what I want, Jenna. I’m... I don’t know what I am. I’m mad at you. God, I hate you so much right now. But, believe it or not, I still love you. I wish I could just stop, and I’ve tried, but I can’t. It’s not that easy.”

  She nodded, feeling relieved to know that he still cared but also feeling devastated at his proclamation of hate. Jenna had expected it, but it still hurt to hear it. They were still stuck in limbo, and she detested every minute of it. She felt like she was teetering on the edge of the cliff; Ryan could either save her, or he could push her over the edge. “So, then, what do I do with this?”

  “I guess you can hold on to it,” he replied, grabbing the ring and slipping it on the third finger of her right hand. “I’ve got some thinking to do, I guess. I....” He took a deep breath. “I have to figure out what I want to do.” Ryan turned toward the door. He hadn’t gotten any of the answers that he had been seeking, but he realized that there probably where no answers to his questions that would have made him feel any better anyway.

  “I’m going back to New Hampshire,” Jenna blurted out, catching him as he was leaving the apartment. “Just so you know.”

  “What? Why?”

  “I can’t stay here, Ryan,” she said, swinging her arms out around her. “There’s nowhere for me here.” She meant it. She couldn’t stay in Nick’s apartment, she couldn’t go to the home they once shared because it was Ryan’s, and she couldn’t even bear the thought of living in Chicago without him. Jenna was retreating, but she had nowhere else to go.

  “Go home,” Ryan replied, before he realized that it sounded like he was casting back to the Northeast. “I mean, our home. I haven’t been staying there anyways, so you’ll have it to yourself. Until I decide,” he explained, heading out the door.