He’d been so excited. This had been his surprise.
Then she’d let him walk away, because she was afraid. Afraid to take a shot at having the career she wanted, and afraid to reach out and grab the kind of love she’d always dreamed of.
She’d missed her chance.
She bit back the tears. She didn’t deserve to fall apart. This aching misery she felt was all her doing.
Instead, she turned and walked out the door.
TY SLAMMED HIS STICK INTO THE PENALTY BOX.
Possible concussion his fucking ass. The defender had gotten in his way and he’d fought for the puck, slammed him up against the glass. They’d fought, just like a normal fight in a game. Punches had been thrown and his opponent had gone down like a falling bowling pin, even though Ty swore he hadn’t hit him hard. The guy laid out on the ice had been milking it. This five-minute penalty was bullshit. Anger fueled him and he vowed he’d play tougher the next two periods.
He went into the locker room at the end of the first period, and after the typical pep talk, the coach called him aside.
“You got some issues we need to talk about, Anderson?”
“No. Just trying to win the game.”
“You don’t win the game by knocking out one of the opposing players and taking a five minute. Two penalties and it’s only the first period?”
“Giving my all for the team, coach.”
“All for the team? You’re playing one-man vendetta out there. You have some bug up your ass. Pull it out and play like I know you can play, or I’ll bench you. And if I have to do that in the biggest game of the season you aren’t going to like the consequences.”
The coach walked away. Ty dropped his chin to his chest and took a deep breath.
Shit. His head hadn’t been in the game. He was pissed off and it was affecting his game play. He had to get it under control.
Eddie came in and sat next to him. “Look, man, I know you’re under a lot of pressure. We all are. But whatever’s going on in your head right now, whether it’s the game or something else, it’s affecting your game play at a time that’s kinda critical for the team.”
Ty didn’t say anything. There was nothing to say. Eddie was right. He was letting the team down.
Victor laid his hand on Tyler’s shoulder. “We are your friends. You have a problem, we’re here to listen.”
“That’s true,” Eddie said. “But if it’s personal, leave it in the locker room and play hockey on the ice. You can’t take it out on the other team because we need you to help us win the division. One more game and we’re in.”
Ty nodded. “I got this.”
“Then let’s go kick their asses,” Victor said. “Only, don’t kick their asses so much next time, yes?”
Tyler laughed. “Yeah. Understood.”
Eddie stood. “All right then. Let’s go win this game, and then we’ll go out and get shitfaced after we win the division.”
Ty stood and nodded to his friends. “Sounds like a plan.”
JENNA TENDED BAR AND WATCHED THE ICE WIN THE division championship, wincing when Tyler got that five-minute penalty, knowing he was taking his anger and frustration at her out on another player.
But after that first period he’d come back and played clean and they kicked ass, scoring three goals and clinching the division. The bar had been packed solid and they’d served a ton of drinks and food. The celebration after the game win had been wild and crazy. Jenna had even brought out champagne for everyone in the bar, much to her customers’ delight. Being busy kept her mind occupied so she didn’t have to think about what an utter bitch she’d been yesterday.
After Ty had left she’d gone home and cried until her nose was stuffy and her eyes were swollen, then she’d washed her face and climbed into bed, but she hadn’t been able to sleep. She’d ended up staying up all night, fighting the urge to go into the office and write some music—heart-tearing music about losing someone you loved.
In the end, she’d gone in and scribbled down the words because they were in her head—in her soul—dying to pour out of her. She knew she wouldn’t rest until she wrote them down, until she picked up her guitar and sang some of the songs she’d written about heartbreak. Songs she’d written before she’d ever really been in love, before she’d ever lost someone she truly cared about. As the tears streamed down her face, she realized what a liar she’d been in her music, how her soul had never been in her work before, because now she could feel the words tear through her, could feel the agony of loss like never before. At that moment she honestly felt what it was like to hurt—and to have hurt someone.
Now all she wanted to do was sing and write, to hole up in her room and do nothing but put words to paper, melody to those words. But she was stuck at this goddamn bar, a prisoner of her own making.
A prisoner of her fear.
And lonely as hell.
She pulled her phone out of her pocket, grimacing as she looked at how late it was, yet knowing if the shoe was on the other foot, she’d drop everything to be there for her, no matter what time it was.
She dialed Tara’s cell. Tara answered on the second ring.
“Jenna? What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. Did I wake you?”
“Yeah. But it’s okay. Is it Dad?”
“No, he’s fine. I’m at work, but I need to talk to you. Can I come over? I know it’s really late, so feel free to tell me no.”
“Of course. Come on over. I’ll put some coffee on.”
“Thanks.”
She told her assistant manager she was leaving and he could close up tonight. He assured he could handle it with no problem, since he closed on the nights she had off. She left and headed to Tara and Mick’s house. They’d bought a new place in the country, so it took her about twenty minutes to get there. It was a gated community with huge houses on oversize lots.
Jenna pulled into the driveway and Tara was at the door, waiting for her. She’d thrown on yoga pants and a sweatshirt.
“Coffee’s ready,” she said, leading Jenna into the kitchen.
They took a seat at the table in the nook off the kitchen. Jenna stared into her coffee.
“What’s wrong?”
She told Tara what happened with Ty, what he said to her before he walked out on her.
Tara sipped her coffee and nodded. “I understand all about running away from love. No one knows that better than me. I did my best to try to run away from it with Mick, and I almost lost him.”
“It’s not the same thing. Ty and I just don’t see eye to eye. I think we just want different things.”
Tara laughed. “Honey, I love you like a sister, but that’s the biggest bunch of crap I’ve ever heard.”
Jenna winced at Tara’s brutal honesty. But that’s what she’d come here for.
“I’ve never seen two people more in love with each other, or more stubborn. And I hate to see the two of you break up over fear.”
“You mean my fear.”
“Yes.”
Her shoulders slumped. “I’m the queen of fear. I’m afraid of loving someone, afraid of taking a step to change my life, afraid of failing.”
“Let me ask you a question.” Tara poured another cup of coffee from the carafe on the table, added some cream and a dollop of sugar. “Is Ty’s career as important a factor now as it was when you first started seeing him? If I recall, you were adamant about not getting involved with anyone in sports.”
“Oh, yeah. That. Not at all.”
Tara leaned back in her chair, cup in hand. “Why do you think that is?”
She thought about it for a few seconds before answering. “Likely because it was never a factor in the first place. It was a defense mechanism to keep men away, a good excuse. After all, what kind of men did I know other than men either involved with sports or who loved sports? If I made it a factor, I wouldn’t have to fall in love.”
“But Tyler took that factor out of the equation, didn’t he?”
“Yeah. It didn’t matter what he did for a living, because I saw beyond it.”
“And you love sports.”
Jenna laughed. “I do. You bitch, you knew that.”
Tara gave her a knowing smile. “Of course I knew that.”
“It’s part of who I am, who I’ve always been. Oh, sure, I took dance classes, but that was to appease Mom. I’ve always loved sports. I loved playing basketball with Dad and Mick and Gavin out in the backyard. I love watching football and baseball and hockey.”
“So what’s the real problem?”
“The real problem is and has always been being tied to the bar. That’s the hurdle I’ve been trying to overcome. And Tyler was the one who knew it, who spotted my frustration right off and has been trying to help me find a way to have it all. It was me who was too afraid to take a shot at having everything I ever wanted.”
Tara didn’t say anything.
She laid her head in her hands. “God, I’ve made such a huge mistake. I said such shitty things to him when all he did was try to help me. He offered me the moon and I threw it back in his face and told him to butt out of my life. What am I going to do?”
“Well,” Tara said. “I can speak from experience and tell you it’s never too late to get back what you love. But you’re going to have to be willing to take some risks, Jenna, put yourself out there and be willing to fail.”
She tried to take a sip of coffee, but her hands were shaking so she set the cup on the table.
“I love him. And you’re right. It’s time to stop hiding behind the safety of the familiar. It’s time to stop being afraid.”
She stood and pulled Tara into a hug. “Thank you for being here for me, for being my friend and my sister. I couldn’t do this without you.”
Tara drew away. “Yes, you could. That’s what you need to realize. You can do this yourself. All you have to do is go for it and be willing to fail.”
She left Tara’s house, armed with the knowledge that everything she knew about her life was about to change.
TWENTY-SIX
THE FIRST STEP ON JENNA’S ROAD TO CHANGE WAS TO face her parents. She asked Gavin and Mick over, too, along with Tara and Liz for support.
“You’re not going to tell us you’re pregnant, are you? Gavin asked. “Because I really like Ty and I don’t want to have to kick his ass over this.”
Jenna laughed. “I’m not pregnant. And I kicked Tyler’s ass enough. I don’t think he needs any other family members doing it.”
Her dad frowned. “What does that mean?”
“Nothing. I’ll tell you all about that later. Right now there’s something I need you all to know about me.”
“Is she a lesbian?” Mick asked Tara. “Is this one of those coming out things where she’s going to tell the whole family at once?”
Tara elbowed Mick in the ribs. “Would you just shut up?”
“Jenna isn’t a lesbian,” her mother said. “I’d have known about it years ago if that were the case.”
Jenna rolled her eyes and waited for her family to finish talking about her. “And you all wonder why I never tell you anything.”
“Go ahead, honey,” her mother said. “We’re behind you one hundred percent.”
She sucked in a breath and let it out. “Okay. I’ll be right back.”
Gavin groaned. “I have a game in six hours, Jenna.”
She ran outside and grabbed her guitar, then came in.
“A guitar?” Mick asked. “What’s that for?”
“Shut. Up.” Tara rolled her eyes at Mick.
Jenna got her guitar out of the case, then took a seat in the living room and began to play, figuring that would be better than an explanation. She sang one of the new songs she’d penned the other day, pouring her heart into the song about losing someone because you made a mistake, because you weren’t honest with your feelings. She let her soul and her emotions come through, giving free range to her voice, uncaring what anyone thought at that point because she sang that song for all she had lost, for the pain she had cost someone she cared about. When she was finished, she looked up at the stunned faces of her family, and smiled, blinking away the tears.