Dear Life(105)

And fuck did she just grab it without warning.

“Can we count on another rookie-of-the-year-type season from you?” one of the reporters asks.

I towel off my head and hang the terrycloth over my shoulders as I answer. “I can’t make any predictions about what’s to come this season. All I know is my training regimen, my connection with my team, and my mental game has all stepped up this year.”

The mental game part is a drastic lie, but they don’t have to know that.

“You say your mental game is intact,” a reporter says off to the side. Of course they would pick up on that. “Could you tell us if giving your baby up for adoption is going to affect that?”

The fuck?

Searching the crowd for the person who asked the question, I say, “Where the fuck did you get that information?”

A man off to the right looks around, nervous from the venom spitting out of me. “Uh, I have sources.”

Plowing through the reporters, I grip the man by the collar of his shirt and seethe at him. “What fucking sources?”

“Jace.” Coach comes running toward me and pulls me away from the reporter who adjusts his tie and smirks at me.

“I’m going to take that as a yes,” the reporter assumes.

“Get him the fuck out of here,” I shout, being carried off by my coach and a few players now.

“Barnes, shut your damn mouth and get in my office now.”

Not my best day, my best showing, or my best temperament.

Another fine from the front office, a threat of sending me back down to the minors, and two hours later, I’m pulling my duffel bag out of my car and walking up to my apartment. If I wasn’t going through a living nightmare, the threats my coach sent my way would most likely take action. He doesn’t put up with much. This entire day wasn’t how I planned it. I wasn’t expecting to play like shit, almost plow a member of the press through the locker room wall, and go home alone. And yet, all those things happened tonight.

The walkway to my apartment is dark, but when I reach my front door, a familiar figure sits at my door.

Hollyn.

Curled up, her legs tucked under, and her hair draping around her face, she looks defeated. She can’t stick around for the game but she can come to my temporary apartment after. I want to be the man she needs, the one who’s going to hug her and be understanding, but that man is nowhere to be found right now. Instead, I’m a volatile and angry man with the need to get drunk.

“What are you doing here?” I ask, looking for my house key. “Where’s Daisy?”

From my voice, she stands abruptly. Carefully, she tucks her hair behind her ear and shifts in place.

“She’s taken care of, don’t worry.” She takes a deep breath. “I want to apologize.”

“For what, Hollyn? For giving me the feeling that you actually might want to move on? That maybe, there is a shred of hope for a relationship between us, that maybe, just maybe you might be falling for me like I’ve fallen so fucking hard for you?”

“Jace . . .” Her trembling chin briefly pulls my attention away from being mad, but only briefly.

“Why did you leave, Hollyn?”

Watery eyes meet mine. “It was too much.”

“Yeah, well, that’s life for you, Hollyn.” Frustrated, I grab the back of my neck and look down at her. “Life isn’t some walk in the park where you can make wishes on dandelions. Life is work. Life is a journey of triumphs and sorrows. Of successes and failures. Of learning experiences and growing opportunities. You can’t sit back and expect different results when you’re not doing anything to change.”

“I’m trying,” she cries.

“You say you’re trying, Hollyn. But those are just empty words now.” Closing the distance between us, I point to her chest and say, “In order to grow, you have to try from here.” I touch her heart and then her head. “And here. You can’t just outwardly try, you have to dig deep inside of you and actually want to try. You have to want to make a change. You have to want to let go. From where I stand, I don’t see you actually wanting to let go. And hey, it’s my fault for trying to push you when you weren’t ready. I take the blame. But I can’t journey on this ride anymore. If today isn’t an example of that, I don’t know what is.”

“You aren’t exactly letting go either, Jace,” she counters, her chin lifting as she speaks. “You speak of change, of making a difference in our lives, but you still haven’t gone to visit Hope despite the open invitations from June and Alex. You can’t even talk about her. You can’t talk to me about changing your life when you’re just as stagnant as me.”

“Don’t.” I shake my head. “Don’t turn this on me.”

“Why the hell not? We’ve been in this together since the very beginning. Be honest, right, Jace? Isn’t that the motto our relationship was based upon? Well, this is me being honest. You’re not growing either. Every day, you dive farther and farther into a sorrowful, self-pitying hole. If you were truly interested in making a difference, you would.”

“Not to be a dick, Hollyn, but I just recently gave up my baby. You’ve been grieving for almost two years.”

Stepping back, she folds her arms over her chest. “Not to be a dick? Well, newsflash, that’s a dick thing to say. Fuck you for judging me on my grieving process. You chose to give up your daughter, I had no choice in the matter when Eric was taken away from me.”