I love my dad, and I know he loves me, but I also know he feels an overwhelming sense of guilt for his absence in my childhood and the pain he caused. He went through a lot of therapy, made the effort to repair our relationship when he returned to our lives, but I think it’s been easier for him with me gone all these years. Sometimes I feel like nothing more than a reminder of his struggles.
I’m glad my sisters got a different version of him, but it doesn’t stop me from wishing our relationship were different now, especially when he eventually walks in the door and my sisters rush him, hugging him.
“Hey, Gare.” He squeezes my shoulder. “Sorry I missed dinner. What are you guys up to?” His eyes are tired and red rimmed, and his gaze doesn’t linger long on mine. My brain tells me to search the air for any hint of vanilla spice, the smoky aroma of his old drink of choice. My heart reminds my brain that we trust him.
“We’re gonna watch Garrett’s girlfriend’s dance recital,” Gabby tells him as I set up the livestream.
“She’s not his girlfriend,” Alexa mumbles.
I shake her knee. “Thanks, Lex.”
I sink into the couch as a group of ballerinas take the stage, and Gabby snuggles into my side, Stephie between my legs on the floor. Alexa looks at me and Gabby and slowly, so damn slowly, starts inching closer.
Grinning, I grab her, jerking her into my side. “Come here, you.”
She giggles, relaxing against me, and my dad smiles down at us.
He claps his fist into his hand as my mom finds a space. “Uh, do you mind if I…join you guys?”
“Of course you can,” I tell him. The way he grins, going instantly from awkward to ecstatic, reminds me so much of myself during those first few encounters with Jennie.
He brews mugs of hot chocolate for everyone, extra marshmallows, and turns the lights out. “Which one is your girlfriend?”
“She’s not my—” I sigh, scrubbing a hand down my face, but when the spotlight illuminates the next dancers, when the music starts and Jennie’s body comes to life, I lean forward. “There she is.”
I’m not sure I’ve ever seen anything so stunning. Draped in a deep emerald dress, long hair braided back with a champagne ribbon, she outshines everyone as she floats across the stage. Every leap, every spin, everything she does looks effortless and natural, exactly like she was born to do it.
Jennie and Simon are an extension of each other, always connected in some way. He seems to know where she is even when he can’t see her, and a strange feeling surges through me, like I want to take her hand and tug her into me, hide her away for only me.
I push the thought from my head, focusing on my favorite person as she dances several times throughout the ninety-minute recital, all while my family comments on how beautifully she moves. When it comes to an end, Jennie the last on stage, my chest swells with pride, and I stay up late so I can tell her just that when she calls.
When Jennie’s bright beam fills my screen, it hits me why sunshine is the perfect nickname for her—because she’s radiating, and when she wears that wide smile, deep dimples pulled in, stormy blue eyes shining with excitement, she fucking glows.
“What did you think?” She might be vibrating.
“You were incredible, Jennie.”
Her eyes spark with excitement. “You really think so?”
“I’m so proud of you. You were breathtaking.”
She fiddles with the bow at the end of her braid. “I was thinking about you up there. I…I wasn’t sure you were still going to watch. You didn’t answer my call last night, so I thought maybe…” She lifts a shoulder and lets it fall. “I donno. Forget it. It’s stupid.”
“Tell me.”
“I don’t know. I guess I thought you went home and maybe forgot about me.” Her face flames and she waves a hand through the air. “Stupid.”
I haven’t quite figured it out, but Jennie brings an ache to my chest that wasn’t there before her. She’s an enigma, this bold, confident woman who refuses to settle yet always seems to be waiting for the other shoe to drop. It’s like she’s expecting me to walk away at any moment, like this relationship isn’t as valuable to me as it is to her.
“Haven’t we already covered that you’re very missable?”
Jennie flips her braid over her shoulder. “So true. You’d never survive without me.”
I chuckle, stretching out on the small bed, folding an arm behind my head. “I’m sorry I missed your call last night. I ate so much lobster I passed out at nine and slept for fourteen hours straight. Did you think I was ignoring your call?”
She pulls her knees to her chest, smile guilty. Her teeth descend on her bottom lip, gnawing until she finally works up the courage to say what she wants to. “Will you do me a favor? When you want to stop this, like if you meet someone and you wanna hook up or date or whatever, will you end this before anything happens with them? I don’t want to feel stupid or anything.”
Her question catches me off guard, but every time she shows me pieces of her vulnerability, I’m surprised. She used to say she wished she could see inside my head, but lately I’m finding I wish I could see inside hers.
“Committed, remember? There won’t be anyone else.”
Jennie rolls her eyes. “Garrett, you’re a rich, professional hockey player. And you’re hot as balls. You’re meeting girls all the time.”
“Sure, and when that’s all they see, they’re not it for me.”
Shame slashes her delicate features. “I didn’t mean…I know there’s more to you than that, Garrett.”
“I don’t want you being insecure about this. Yes, I meet lots of girls, and admittedly, I could do this with any number of them. But there’s a reason I’m doing it with you. I like you, Jennie. You’re fun and you make me laugh. I like to boss you around in the bedroom and you like to boss me around the rest of the time. We’re compatible, and the chemistry is explosive, which is why I think this works so well. On top of that, you’re quickly climbing your way to the top of my best friend list.”
Her nose does that cute wrinkle thing. “You’re just saying that.”
I’m not though. I don’t know when she became my favorite person to hang out with, but she is. I find myself thinking about her when I’m out with the guys after a game, or warming up on the ice. I text her for no reason at all, simply because I like talking to her.
I’m having fun here, seeing my old friends, spending Christmas with my family, but I can’t wait to get home, spend a night reminding Jennie how much I enjoy her company. Because for some fucked-up reason, I think she might see herself as disposable.
“Plus, our snowmen handprints look bomb next to each other on my tree.”
Jennie laughs, and any lingering tension dissipates, her shoulders falling as she chats animatedly about the recital, the dinner Carter took everyone to afterward.
It’s two in the morning here and ten at night there when I ask Jennie, “If you could wake up tomorrow and have the thing you wanted most for Christmas, what would it be?” I regret the words as soon as they leave my mouth, and even more so when Jennie’s gaze flickers, the light in her eyes dimming.