Play the Man Page 10

  “Keep it down, will ya? This is exactly why I didn’t want to bring Marty into our home.”

  “What? You didn’t want him, or any of your teammates, to think that we fight? Or were you worried they’d find out how you can’t keep your promises?”

  “I’m going to practice.”

  “Oh, yeah, that’s it, Ryan! Avoid the problem, just like always, and maybe it will go away,” she spat out angrily. He shot a look at her and left without saying another word.

  Nick hadn’t had a decent, home-cooked breakfast since before he left his family home in Kamloops, British Columbia to train for the season. Frozen waffles, yes. Ordered waffles in restaurants, yes. But fresh, homemade waffles.... When he smelled it, he thought he was in Heaven. The delicious scent instantly woke him up. It took him a moment to place where he was, that he was not, in fact, in Heaven. The incredible headache, however, gave him a clue to what happened, but things were still fuzzy and hazy for him.

  He followed his nose until he was at the bottom of the staircase in the living room, ready to enter the kitchen. Nick heard it all. His foggy mind didn’t take in the words right away, but the tension was palpable so he waited in the living room and debated on whether or not he should go back to his temporary bedroom to try to give them some privacy. Before he had a chance to make a decision, Ryan sped by, grabbed his keys from the table, and hurried out the door without even noticing that Nick was there.

  Jenna turned her attention back to the waffle maker. She was lost in her thoughts, feeling angry and sad but mostly frustrated and fed up. She wanted to know that Ryan cared about her, and Ryan was making it impossible to think so or feel that way. In fact, she was starting to think it was pointless. Jenna wondered if it was possible to love someone and still not be able to make it work. The Beatles sang “All You Need Is Love,” but maybe it took more than just love.

  As she worked in the kitchen, Nick hovered in the doorway and wondered if he should say something. And if he decided to say something, what should he say? Before he could make up his mind—it seemed this concussion made it difficult for him to make decisions—Jenna turned around and spotted him.

  “Good morning, Nicky. I didn’t think you’d be up on your own accord. I hope, uh, Ryan and I didn’t wake you up.”

  “Nah. I smelled food.” He looked at her and examined her face for the distress he expected to spy, but there wasn’t a trace of it. She hid it well, and Nick wasn’t sure how he felt about that.

  “Well, eat up,” she sighed, knowing that there was going to be a lot of food left over since Ryan wasn’t joining them. She placed a plate heaped with food on the table for Nick before she ventured back into the laundry room to switch loads.

  Nick thought it was impolite to not wait for Jenna to join him before starting to eat, but his stomach was gurgling and he couldn’t resist digging in. He couldn’t sit in front of food like this and not eat it; he was too impatient. As he ate, his eyes fell on the mail on the table and spotted the note from the Art Institute of Chicago, the very one Jenna had mentioned to Ryan. In between bites, he picked it up and looked at it.

  “I didn’t know you liked art, Nicky,” she said, looking over his shoulder and startling him.

  He felt like he was caught with his hand in the cookie jar, fondling the piece of paper that, while causing Jenna and Ryan so much grief, was somehow causing him a twisted sense of relief. Nick honestly wanted Jenna to be happy, and he was sure that Ryan was not the key to that. “Oh, uh, I was just looking at this. I don’t really know anything about art.”

  “It’s not as difficult as people think it is,” she sighed. “It’s not all Jackson Pollock and abstract art.”

  “Are you going to go?” he asked, trying to appear nonchalant.

  “Yes. Whether or not I can find someone to go with me is another story, but I can’t not go. It’s Caravaggio, who’s one of the greatest painters ever, in my opinion. It’s not necessarily my favorite of his paintings, but still.... It’s Caravaggio,” she laughed. “It’s on loan from the National Gallery in London. I mean, what other chance will I have to see it?”

  “Well, you could go to London. Just an idea,” he smirked.

  She scrunched up her face, as if that thought had never occurred to her. “And how would I do that?”

  “Usually, normal people would buy a plane ticket,” Nick told her with a smirk.

  “With what? Ryan’s money?” Jenna shook her head. “It wouldn’t feel right. I didn’t earn it. He pays the rent and he buys the groceries, even though I’m the one who ends up writing the checks and doing the shopping. I know he likes to spend his money, and he likes to spend it on me, and it would be different if he and I were making the trip together. But I just can’t say, ‘Hey, Ryan! Let’s go take a trip to England so I can go see some art!’ I can’t even drag him to the museums here.” She bit her lip in disbelief that she made that confession. Jenna didn’t like the idea of outsiders knowing about their fights and problems just as much as Ryan didn’t, but it just kind of slipped out. When Nick didn’t immediately reply, Jenna felt relieved. “You’ve zoned out on me, Nicky. I’ll stop rambling. Just eat.”

  Nick, however, hadn’t zoned out; he was paying close attention to her, so much so that it made his head hurt even worse. “I’ll go with you.”

  “Hmm?” she asked, grabbing a piece of sausage and taking a bite.

  “To the show or whatever. You need someone to go with you to look at art, and I’m telling you I’ll go.”

  “That’s really sweet of you to offer, Nicky, but I’m pretty sure that’s the concussion talking.”

  “Nah, I mean it.”

  “How about, let’s see how you feel this weekend, and if you’re doing better and you still think going to an art museum with me is a good idea, we’ll go, okay?”

  Nick smiled. “Okay.”

  Chapter 11

  Nick and Jenna finished their breakfasts in silence. His head was killing him from concentrating so much. Jenna cleared the table and gave him a couple Advil without him having to ask for it. She could tell he was in pain. Nick walked out of the kitchen and lay on the couch in the living room. After she washed the dishes and retrieved the load of laundry from the dryer, Jenna joined him on the couch, nudging him.

  “No napping yet, Nicky. Here, help me match some socks.”

  He reluctantly sat up and dug through the laundry basket, pairing socks based on their colors and patterns. It was a simple task that he could handle despite his pounding headache, much like the Go Fish! game they played during the night. That is, until he reached in and grabbed something that was red, lacy, and not a sock.

  “Look what I found!” he laughed, even though every chuckle made his temples throb.

  Jenna turned her head and saw Nick holding up her thong in the air, waving it around like he won a game of Capture the Flag, and the color she turned was only a shade or two lighter than the material in his hand. She snatched it away from him and shoved it in her pocket. “Geez, Nicky. You act like you’ve never seen women’s underwear before.”

  “I haven’t seen yours, Jenna,” he said with a smirk. “At least not on you. Then again, I’d rather see them off you.”

  “Nicky!” Her mouth fell open. “You’re just as bad as Frazier! I can’t wait for you to recover from your concussion if this is how you’re going to act.”

  “Aww, come on, Jenna. Don’t be mad at me.”

  She pursed her lips together and stole a glance at him. With his lop-sided grin and his cowlick sticking up, Nick looked innocent and harmless. “I’m not mad. Geez Louise, now you sound like Ryan.”

  “I’m not like Ryan,” Nick huffed, his mood completing a 180 as he grew angry at the comparison.

  “I know,” she sighed. “I’m just frustrated.”

  He paused, unsure of how to proceed. He wanted to ask her about what was going on, but he didn’t really want to know. “Do you want to talk about it?”

  “There’s nothing muc
h to talk about, Nicky. He acts like I’m dragging him, kicking and screaming, all the way to the altar. Well, if he really doesn’t want to get married, I’m not going to make him,” she blurted out, not caring at this point that she was airing her dirty laundry as they folded her clean clothes. It felt good to get his off her chest. “I’ve given him the task of narrowing down his part of the guest list, and you’d think it’s like I asked him to pick up Willis Tower and throw it to Mars.”

  Nick cleared his throat and tried to look like he was remaining neutral. “So, I take it he wants to invite a lot of people.”

  “He’d probably invite Gary Bettman if I’d let him. It’s ridiculous, the amount of people he wants there. He thinks it’s because I want to keep the price tag small, but I just don’t see the need to invite hundreds and hundreds of people,” Jenna said angrily, throwing a pair of socks into the basket.

  Nick stayed silent and continued to listen as Jenna talked, complained, yelled, and even came close to tears as she vented for a good, long time. He was confused, and not just because of the concussion. In Nick’s estimation, Ryan was a useless chump, and he didn’t deserve Jenna if he was going to treat her like this. But it was also clearly evident that Jenna still loved him; that’s why Ryan was able to upset her this much. After all, it was because she loved him and wanted so badly to marry him that his hesitance and apathy distressed her. Why she still loved him despite all these problems and hurdles was what confused him. Nick wanted to tell her that Ryan wasn’t worth her wasted time and energy, and his concussion—and therefore his diminished mental acuity—almost let that happen. However, his headache worsened even more as he tried to gain her favor by paying close attention, preventing him from speaking his mind.

  “I didn’t mean to dump all this on you, Nicky. I don’t want to add my headache to your own. Why don’t you go take a nap?” Jenna suggested.

  “No, I’m fine,” he replied.

  Before she could encourage him further, Ryan arrived back home after practice. Jenna couldn’t believe how the time had flown by. Alex showed up with him, and Jenna was in disbelief that Ryan brought him home, too. Ryan, who was angry about Nick being in their house in case he might witness a fight, was acting like a hypocrite by inviting Alex into their battlefield. Jenna knew Ryan’s motivation; she would be even more averse to fighting if Alex was around, and Ryan knew that. She just couldn’t believe the lengths to which Ryan was going in order to avoid the inevitable.

  “What’s up, Gollum?” Alex asked, bursting in through the door right behind Ryan.

  “What did you just call me, Frazier?” she fired back at him, squinting at him.

  “Gollum. You know, like from The Lord of the Rings? ‘Precious.’ That ring’s turning you into a total bitch.”

  Ryan yelled at Alex, saying that he went too far and that he needed to take it back and apologize, but Jenna didn’t even notice that Ryan stuck up for her for once. All she thought about was how Ryan must have vented to Alex. She was feeling bad enough for talking to Nick about her problems, but it bothered her to know that Ryan was doing it, too—especially since she didn’t think Ryan had anything worth venting about. “Fuck you both,” she spat out, grabbing the basket of folded clothes and retreating upstairs. Nick followed to comfort her, but there wasn’t anything he could do to ease her mind. She was too worried that maybe the ring on her finger was evil and bringing about the doom of her formerly beautiful relationship with Ryan.

  Jenna couldn’t believe she was finally standing in front of the Caravaggio painting that had been in the back of her mind for the past several days. The painting that had sparked the grudge between her and Ryan as kind of the “last straw” that broke the camel’s back. That just epitomized their relationship: Ryan was so reluctant to devote his time to something Jenna cared so greatly about. She was drawing the line, refusing to budge on the matter until he let her know that he was willing to sacrifice his time for her. Hell, she didn’t think it was supposed to be that much of a sacrifice if he loved her. She was also waiting for a sign to know if it was time to simply call it quits, label this a lesson learned, and move on.

  She stood by herself and admired the painting, taking in the deep reds and dark browns and contemplating the moment Caravaggio captured on his canvas: Jesus revealing himself to two of his disciples. A moment of clarity and revelation for the two disciples, which Jenna was desperate for. She was feeling so confused herself, so unsure, and she wished that someone would appear to her and point her in the right direction, tell her if it was worth it to try and stick it out with Ryan or end it. She was at her wit’s end with him, but she couldn’t deny that he still held her heart.

  The past four days had been hell on her. She and Ryan were barely on speaking terms beyond the necessary communications; they were civil in front of Nick and Ryan’s other teammates, and she even went to his home game on Saturday night. In addition, keeping a constant eye on Nick had exhausted her. She hadn’t been able to sleep through an entire night since Tuesday, and her schedule didn’t allow many naps. Nick had been reevaluated on Saturday, and the trainers and doctors had told her that while he didn’t need continuous observation anymore, he still needed to have someone nearby, so he was still staying with them.

  “Jenna?”

  As the voice pulled Jenna out of her thoughts, she looked around her and spied her friend. “Katie, hey,” she said.

  “I didn’t know you were going to be here,” Katie replied with a smile. “We should have come together! Maybe we can get a drink or something afterward.”

  “Oh, I’m not here alone,” Jenna told her. “He went to the restroom, but he’s around here somewhere,” she added, looking around her for her escort. As if by sixth sense, he joined her.

  “You must be Ryan! It’s nice to meet you,” Katie greeted him, reaching her hand out.

  “I’m not Ryan,” Nick replied, hiding his irritation and taking her hand in his. “Nicholas. It’s nice to meet you, too.”

  “Well, isn’t my face red,” she mumbled with a blush. Her assumption wasn’t much of a leap though, because they looked like they were a couple out on a date: Nick was dressed in a black suit, a black shirt, and a lavender tie, and Jenna wore a purple knee-length dress and black kitten heels. They matched, although it hadn’t been planned that way.

  “Honest mistake, Katie,” Jenna said, trying to reassure her. Without getting into the details, she explained, “Nicky’s a friend. He’s been sick and staying with me and Ryan, and he’s been cooped up in the house since Thursday and needed to get out for a while.”

  Katie smiled and addressed Nick. “Wow, and your idea of your first night back out on the town includes the Art Institute? Be still my beating heart!”

  Nick gave her a crooked smile. “Well, Jenna really wanted to come here, and it sounded like a fun change of pace.” Both Nick and Jenna left out that they were so dressed up because they were headed out to dinner later at this Italian restaurant that Nick insisted was the best place in Chicago. They were making it an evening-long thing, just the two of them, each trying to find their own escape from the way the thought of Ryan hung over their heads.

  She smiled at Jenna and Nick, feeling like an intruder. “Well, uh, I’m gonna go check out the James Castle exhibition. I guess I’ll see you in class tomorrow. It was nice meeting you, Nicholas.”

  Jenna said her goodbyes, and Nick nodded at Katie as she left the room and headed elsewhere in the depths of the Institute. Nick asked her, “So, I take it she’s a graduate student like you?”

  “Yeah. She’s fresh out of her undergrad. Katie’s, like, the one friend I have outside of Ryan’s hockey world.”

  “What about me?” Nick asked, feeling a little hurt. Now that his concussion symptoms had passed, he was back to his old self—controlled and calm. Luckily for Nick, Jenna had chalked up all his crazy actions, admissions, and confessions as a side effect of the head injury instead of as his own very real feelings. He covered those same fe
elings up again and tried to pretend they didn’t exist. Nick was still crazy about her. Even more so, in fact, since she opened up about all her worries and troubles and fears and trusted him. However, he couldn’t tell her how he felt. He was stuck between a rock and a hard place, wanting so badly to open up about his own thoughts and emotions, but he couldn’t as Jenna’s friend, or as Ryan’s friend and teammate; Nick had everything to lose in this situation.

  “We’re friends, Nicky. You know that. But you were Ryan’s friend first. Katie’s the only person who’s solely on my side.”

  Nick nodded, wanting so badly to tell her that he, too, was solely on her side. He had a responsibility to Ryan, but that was nothing like what he felt toward Jenna.

  When Jenna and Nick returned home from their night out, they trudged into the living room feeling sated from a delicious, decadent meal. They had talked and laughed over dinner, allowing Jenna to push her worries out of her mind for a few hours. The night, however, had only multiplied Nick’s problems. He now felt even more drawn to Jenna, but he still couldn’t act on his feelings. He thought that Jenna could be a shot at love and happiness, but pursuing her would cause infinite problems in every other facet of his life.

  All the lights in the house were off, and the place was quiet. Ryan wasn’t home, and he didn’t leave a note, send her a message, or call to let her know where he was. His inconsideration irked Jenna, and her good mood was instantly ruined. “What do you wanna bet he’s out with Frazier?”

  Nick couldn’t stand it; the pot was starting to boil and bubble over. “Stop it, Jenna! I can’t just sit by and watch this anymore.”

  “Nicky,” Jenna eked out, wondering where this outburst came from. “I’m sorry. I realize I’ve put you in a bad position. I.... It’s not fair that I complain about your captain in front of you.” She felt ashamed of herself for not being able to solve her problems on her own, which was putting Nick into a position where he felt the need to take sides. That was never her intention. She abruptly turned away from him and headed up the stairs to her bedroom, where she slipped out of her heels and sat on the edge of the bed.