“Hey, what are you doing?” Jax walks into the kitchen.
“Well, boss, I’m working,” I joke with him, but he only gives me a small smile. I guess he isn’t the joking mood. “Hey, would you be interested in being a spokesperson for bacon-scented aftershave?” I giggle, rolling my eyes.
Jax turns up his nose and scrunches his face. “That exists? Who the hell would want that? It’s a definite no. Is that the kinds of emails I get?”
“Oh, yes, and all the crazy fans who want your jock strap or hockey socks.” I gag at the thought. I’ve smelt him after games. That’s not a sweet smell.
“Seriously? You have to be kidding. There’s no way anyone would want that, or at least, be crazy enough to write an email saying so.”
I bring up the last message I deleted from a fan showing him how desperately she wants his jockstrap. “See?”
“Well, I’ll be damned.” He shakes his head after reading it. “Crazy and gross.”
“This isn’t even half of it, but there are some sweet ones, and it’s those I send small gifts to.”
“Like what? Show me.”
“Alright, come on.” I don’t think he believes me. I walk across the house to the side we hardly use. It’s the smaller guest bedroom, and there are over twenty boxes of Jax’s merchandise. There are a lot of 8x10 photos of him in his hockey gear. Those I send out the most. Then there are some shirts, hats, and even a few bobbleheads. I leave those for the younger kids.
“See? All this stuff you sign, I keep and send to your fans. The post office usually hates me on Mondays because that’s when I mail it out. I send about thirty to fifty packages a week.” I look up at him and he’s staring at me. “You didn’t know?”
“No. You never said you did it and I don’t really do the bills, so I wouldn’t have seen the charges.” He doesn’t seem pleased. He looks upset.
“Jax,” I say his name in a softer tone. “How cool would it have been when you were a kid to get a signed picture of your favorite player? I mean, a lot of those emails are from kids that say how much they love you and started playing hockey because of you. I know that I’ve complained about it, but this part is fun. I would have been excited if *N’Sync had sent me a photo,” I try to joke with him.
“Yeah, I guess you’re right. This is a good thing that you’re doing, Avery.”
I shrug like it’s not a big deal because it really isn’t. “Actually, you’re doing it.” I look up at him. “You really didn’t know?”
“No, I wasn’t paying attention to that either.”
I look back down at the boxes. I know there’s an alternate meaning, but I don’t want to deal with that right now. “Um, today isn’t that busy for you. You have practice and then a workout. Of course, your game is tonight, too. That’s it. Much of the afternoon is free for you to do whatever you need. I’m running to the grocery store, do you need anything?”
“I don’t think so.”
I nod and turn to walk out.
“Do you want to have a late lunch with me?”
I stop and turn to him. “Um, sure. Sounds great. I need to get back to work before my boss fires me.” I smile brightly at him. It’s starting to feel like us again.
Chapter Nine
Jax
After practice, I lift weights, thinking about all that has happened. I’m still not so sure about Avery’s new “job.” I really don’t want to call it that. I don’t want her to call me 'boss', either, even though she’s just joking. However, she does seem happier, and that’s what matters. There’s one word from our discussion that has been a headline, large and in the way, in my head.
You can trust me.
Can I? Do I? I don’t even really know what happened. I don’t know at all. And damn it, I want to. No, I don’t want to know, but I need to know. How much did she have to drink? Did he know she was married? Was she wearing her ring? How long was she with him? Did he wear a condom? What if she got pregnant or what if he had an STD or something? Am I going to have to spend the rest of my life wondering if the next time she has one too many drinks during a rough patch that she’s going to fuck the first man who comes up to her?
I do trust her. I trust her with handling our money, paperwork, and emails. I trust her with all of those everyday things. But I don’t trust her with my love. Not right now. How can I? Hell, I’m starting to think I don’t trust myself either. I couldn’t keep her happy.
Sighing, I set the weights down. That’s enough for today. I shower and text Avery that I’m on my way and will pick up something. By the time I get home, all those thoughts have played constantly in my head and I’m on edge. Avery seems to notice my mood, but she doesn’t say anything other than ‘hey’. We sit down and I can’t stop the words.
“I need to know what happened.” I close my eyes and take a deep breath. “Every last thing, Avery.”
“Jax,” she shakes her head, “You don’t want to know this.”