After a few seconds, he answers. “I remember. You didn’t know what the hell was going on unless someone scored,” he chuckles. “I remember trying to impress you. I’ve never wanted to score as badly as I did that night. I wanted it to be my best game ever since it was your first game.”
“You didn’t score,” I remind him. “But I was impressed that you stayed on your feet when you kept getting slammed into the boards.” I giggle, remembering how many times he had been hit that night. It was like he had a target on his back.
“It was hard, that’s for sure. I didn’t want to fall in front of you, yet.”
The car grows silent as we get closer to the rink.
“Jax,” I know that I shouldn’t say anything because he needs to focus on his game, but I need to know. “Will we ever get there again? Will we be the couple who got married one morning and didn’t care how everyone said we were crazy?”
“I don’t know, Avery, but I hope so.”
My heart thumps with anticipation of thinking we could be what we once were. I remember Regina’s words. I made a mistake. I want to fight. “I know you don’t want to hear this right now, but I’m sorry, Jax. This is my fault. I know it. I should have been an adult and talked to you. I shouldn’t have let it go on as long as it did. I knew what I was doing was wrong, but I was being selfish. I put myself first, and that wasn’t right. I hope you can forgive me.”
“We’re both to blame. I’m sorry, too.”
“I’m sorry I yelled earlier. You had the right to ask all those questions. You needed to know I’m not knocked up nor do I have some disease. I shouldn’t have yelled.”
He glances at me. “I’m sorry for calling you a whore. I don’t think you are one.” He takes a deep breath, and I can see the pain on his face. “And I’m sorry for making you cry.”
For the rest of the drive, we stay in quiet. I want to hold his hand so badly. I want to touch him. I haven’t had sex with my husband in almost seven months. I miss him.
He pulls into his place at the parking garage, parks, and we walk inside. There are several other players and family members around us.
“Good luck, Jax.” I lean in closer to him, smelling his cologne. “Try to score; Ashton’s up by one.”
He smirks at me. “I’ll try my best.” He leans toward me and I think he may kiss me or at least give me a hug, but he doesn’t. Jax looks at me for moment and then walks away.
Somewhere in all the darkness of yelling, name-calling, and pain, there’s light at the end of it all. I know that he can still feel the love and pull between us. I stand there, watching him stroll down the long corridor, running his hands through his mop of messy black hair, knowing that I’ll continue to do anything for him and our marriage.
As I sit in the players’ family box, a lot of the wives, and kids too, talk to me. I never felt like I fit in because Jax and I don’t have kids. Even though everyone is very kind to me, I could always tell they looked at me differently because I’d kept my career. After telling several of the wives that I’m no longer a nurse, they seem more open to me.
I’m a ball of nerves when the lights go down and the team skates out onto the ice. Like always, my husband, number 87, is last out of the tunnel, bumping fists with the fans leaning over the rail to touch him.
The light blue jerseys stand out against the white of the ice. The crowd cheers as each Gambler is announced, but the roar is louder when Jax appears on the jumbotron. I clap loudly seeing his serious face on the screen as he stretches out on the ice. What is it about Jax stretching that I could stare at all day?
I shake the horny thoughts out of my mind as the crowd dies down before the drop of the puck. With ease, Jax stands up and glides over to center ice.
Game on.
Jax gains possession of the puck, and I can see the intensity in his eyes. He wants to win this game. He wants to lead the league in points, especially if it means beating Ashton.
After a rough first period, both teams are scoreless. The Nebraska Bucks are gunning for Jax. When the second period begins, Jax is quick to score. I jump up, clapping and cheering for him, watching the team celebrate on the ice. Soon after, he catches a breakaway and scores again. I wonder sometimes if he realizes how easy he makes it look.
I’m on the edge of my seat when the third period starts. We’re tied, and I don’t like it. Jax’s face is like stone. You can’t tell if he’s nervous or not. I watch him jump off the bench and push himself to the other side of the ice. He slaps his stick on the ice, yelling for the puck. It’s quickly passed to him, and on one knee, he slaps it into the back of the net.
Hat trick!
The crowd explodes, and I’m yelling at the top of my lungs. Jax has had several in the past, but this one seems more special. We’ve had a rough time, but we can still overcome. My heart is bursting with pride watching the fans throw their hats onto the ice and staring at the replays on the big screen.
That’s my husband.
The smile is still plastered on my face as I lean against his Mustang waiting for him. When he walks out with other teammates, he looks happy and relaxed. He looks like my Jax before I broke his heart.
“Well?” he asks coming up to me.
“It was better than the first game I went to.” I wink at him.
Jax comes closer to me and takes my hand. It’s a small gesture, but it means everything to me. It’s the first time he’s touched me since I told him about my cheating. “Let’s go home.”