“On Thanksgiving?”
“Yeah.”
She furrows her brow. “Is it because of things with your mom?”
I’m tense all over; everything in me wants to lash out and tell her this is none of her fucking business. That’s what I tell everyone who tries to go there. But I don’t want to hurt Miranda.
“Look…family gatherings, and holidays in general…they’re just not my thing.”
“Bullshit. Eating pie and watching that dog show is everyone’s thing.”
I sigh heavily. “Miranda…this time of year is hard for me.”
“Why?” she asks softly.
I just shake my head, my throat tight.
“Because of your brother?”
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
“You don’t want to now, or…ever?”
I turn away, overwhelmed by the emotions coursing through me. “I have to go to practice.”
She’s quiet as I walk over to a table and pick up my car keys and wallet. When I look at her, I see disappointment and doubt. Disappointment in me and doubt in us. Both caused by me.
“I have a home game tomorrow night,” I say. “Will you come?”
“I have other plans.” Her tone is steady.
It’s like she just put up an invisible shield, and I can’t really blame her for that.
“Miranda…”
She goes to her cleaning cart and takes off a stack of white towels.
“Wednesday night,” I say.
“Paige and I are leaving for home as soon as I get off work.”
“Fuck.” It comes out louder and angrier than I meant it to. “When will you be back?”
“Saturday.”
I just shake my head. I have to fly out for a road trip that morning.
“I need to work, Jake. Just go.”
I don’t want to go, but what else is there to say? It’s not like I’m going to spill my guts here and now. Even though I care about Miranda, there are parts of myself I don’t share with anyone.
I open the door and walk out, closing it softly behind me. The tension and anger press down on my chest even harder now, because I think I might have just ruined things with the best woman I’ve ever known.
Chapter 18
Miranda
Paige drives us home in the beat-up Honda she’s had since high school. She gives up on conversation after about half an hour and turns on music instead. I’m not ready to talk about the way I left things with Jake because I’m still replaying our conversation in my head and thinking about it. But even after a few hours, I’m still not any clearer on anything.
It had seemed like a good time to put our cards on the table. I figured if he met my family he’d find a reason to bolt, but I hadn’t expected him to say he’d rather not meet them at all.
“Not a word about Jake,” I tell Paige as she pulls up in front of our parents’ home.
“Got it.”
She doesn’t press me, probably because she knows I’ll tell her about things in my own time.
My mood lightens as soon as we walk inside the house. It feels good to be back at the home I grew up in. I’ve missed my mom’s warm laugh and my dad’s corny jokes.
Jake creeps back into my thoughts, though. As my family gathers around the table in my parents’ tiny dining room, sitting elbow to elbow, I think about Jake alone in his massive suite at the Dupont.
We haven’t spoken since our argument Monday. He texted me yesterday but I didn’t respond. I decided I need some distance. If I open myself up to a man who doesn’t want to open himself up in return, I’ll end up hurt again.
“Are you girls seeing anyone?” my aunt Maryanne asks me and Paige.
I shove a roll into my mouth and look at Paige expectantly. She kicks me beneath the table.
“No,” she says, drawing a collective groan of disapproval.
“Are all the men up there sickos?” Uncle Jerry asks.
I’ve swallowed my food, so I clear my throat and take this one. “No, they’re not all sickos. I mean, some of them are, but—”
“Has anyone gotten fresh with you?” Uncle Jerry demands. “Because if they have, I’ll come up there and—”
“No,” I assure him. “We’re fine. Both of us are in school and working, you know. We just don’t have time for dating.”
Grandma Sandy throws her hands in the air. “Well, you girls aren’t getting any younger! Your parents want grandbabies.”
“Someday,” my mom says. “We’re very proud of the girls for working their way through school.”
“Not in my day,” Grandma Sandy says, shaking her head so hard her gray curls bounce. “No, thank you. I was proud to be a wife and mother. That should be enough.”
Paige sighs heavily.
“Is there pecan pie?” I ask.
Mom is trying not to smile at my effort to avoid this conversation with her mother-in-law.
“Yes. And pumpkin and cherry, too.”
“One of each for me,” Paige says.
“Are you girls eating enough?” Grandpa Will asks.
“Of course,” Paige tells him. “Don’t worry about us.”
I pick up an empty bowl from the table and follow my mom into the kitchen. After I set it on the counter, I stare out the window over the sink for a couple minutes.
“What’s on your mind, Miranda?” Mom asks, cutting the pumpkin pie into neat slices.
I turn toward her and shrug. “Just a guy I’m sort of seeing.”
Her face lights up and I put my hands up. “It’s nothing big. Don’t say anything to anyone else.”
She sets the knife down and focuses on me. “You seem troubled about it.”
“I guess. I just worry that I’m setting myself up for heartbreak.”
“Why?”
“He’s not like anyone I’ve ever dated, Mom. He’s famous. He’s a professional hockey player. Women throw themselves at him.”
“And does he respond?”
“How can I know? I’m at home with my nose in a textbook while he’s on the road.”
She furrows her brow. “Well, has he given you reason to distrust him?”
“Not exactly, but…come on, Mom. A hotel maid and a hockey player? You have to admit that’s an odd match.”