Page 46 of Puck, Marry, Kill

But what if I want him? The idea is foreign. Want ... a man?

“You could, if you wanted to.” Trina’s suggestion is casual as can be, as if she’s not reading my mind.

My insecurities spill forth, unbidden and unfiltered. “I’ve spent years putting everyone else first, existing on the half-eatensandwiches that Harley leaves behind on his plate, and making do so he can have what he needs. I’m the type of woman who carries bandages on my person at any given time, in case someone has a boo-boo, for God’s sakes, not the type who dates a professional athlete.” There’s a multitude of reasons for that beyond my lack of self-prioritization and cute wardrobe, but I don’t go into that. Trina knows.

“So? Maybe Dominic likes that you’re caring and well prepared. Like a Girl Scout!” she exclaims, trying to make it sound like a desirable trait.

“And if that’s not enough, I’ve got so much baggage in my head and heart that I need a dump truck to help haul it.”

“Dominic seems pretty capable of carrying some of that,” she offers, flexing her biceps to remind me of Dominic’s strong arms. “And who doesn’t have a history?” Trina rolls her eyes dismissively, as though all my arguments are ridiculous. “Goodness knows I did and Frank didn’t seem to mind.”

Frank is Trina’s husband. They met at the gas station where she was a clerk when he stopped to fill up his semitruck. He proposed within literal hours of their first conversation despite her previous stint in jail and one year of sobriety at the time, and oddly enough, she’d been game, climbing into his rig and into his heart that very day. Their meet-cute is more like a meet-crazy. Of course, that was twenty-five years ago, so I’m not sure her advice is particularly timely. Or trustworthy.

“But—”

This time, Trina doesn’t let me argue. She cuts me off. “Enough. Quit with the pity party.”

That brings me up short. I do not throw pity parties, not even with confetti and streamers. Though that does sound on-brand given I’m the sort that makes life fun, even when it’s swirling down the toilet drain. “I—”

Trina’s not done reading me the riot act, though, and holds up a hand. “And stop with the ‘not enough’ or ‘too much’ bullshit. I knowyou, and know how awesome you are. What’s more, you know it too. Yeah, so what if Dominic’s some famous athlete and you’re a regular mortal? You deserve some fun too. Some carefree happiness.” She dips her chin, daring me to disagree with her when she adds, “And somediiiiiiiick.”

I don’t know about “deserve,” but wanting some fun (and yes ... sex) is definitely true. Still ...

“Okay, not arguing with the rest of it, but what if he goes back home after the season?”

It’s a ridiculous concern. She’s suggesting casual fun and I’ve gone straight to the far end of the realm of possibilities, skipping over steps two through two hundred, and roughly a hundred hockey games including playoffs. But that’s what mothers do, plan for any and every eventuality just in case, and in a way, I think that’s what I’m most scared of. What if I break my own rules for Dominic and it ends up backfiring the way I’ve always feared it would? He’s not only a man, which in my mind translates to manipulative and self-serving, he’s a hockey player, which means he’s a leaver. It took me a long time to be okay on my own, and I don’t know if I can go through that process again, which I inevitably will have to do with a man like Dominic.

It’ll be worse when Dominic is gone because he’s already set the bar infinitely higher than Dad or Tyler ever did.

The whisper in my mind echoes through my heart. The truth is, I already like Dominic more than I should.

“What if you get hit by a bus tomorrow? Or the sky falls, Chicken Little?” Trina counters. “You’ve got to live. Every single day is a gift. Use them. Usehim.” She clamps her hands on my shoulders, nearly hitting me with a carrot in the process. “Maybe you have some fun for a while. Or maybe you fall in love and see what happens. Or maybe a million other things.”

“That’s terrifying,” I admit. I’m not sure which is worse, the idea of having a casual fling with Dominic and then going back to my humdrum life when he moves on, or letting myself take that big leap andfalling into a void of nothingness when he’s gone. On the other hand, I could just ... not. Stay alone, keep my heart protected, and stay steady for Harley. That definitely sounds like the safer option and I like safe. It settles my scarred soul.

“You think this is what I thought my life would end up like?” Shaking her head, Trina says, “No way. Hell no. I thought I’d end up dead before twenty-five, and there was a better than fifty-fifty chance that’s exactly how it was gonna play out. But look at me now. My son is about to be twenty-five years old himself, and that’s some wild shit. Comparatively, this thing with you and Dominic seems pretty normal. Pretty girl, hot guy, meet at a bar and end up falling in love. There’s like a million songs about it.”

She makes it sound reasonable. She makes it sound possible. She makes this little hope inside my heart start to glow a bit brighter.

“You really don’t think this is crazy?”

“I think you’d be crazy if you let this opportunity pass you by,” she sasses. More earnestly, she says, “Don’t let the life you had or the one you have keep you from discovering a completely new and unexpected one that might be everything you’ve ever dreamed of. I could’ve stayed stuck in my addiction and been six feet under years ago. I could’ve told Frank no when he asked me for a cigarette, and I’d still be working at that gas station. But I risked it all ... on me, on him, and on us. And look at me now.” Her smile is bracketed by lines that show the hard life she lived in her younger days as well as the easy one she’s enjoyed since then.

“You do look great,” I tell her honestly. “Happy, which is what matters.”

“Exactly.” She peers at me like she’s reading my mind. “What else is holding you back? Hit me with it.” She waves her hand in a gimme motion.

“I’m scared.” The confession is ripped from my soul, a weakness I’d rather not have at all, but definitely don’t want to admit.

“Of what?”

“Everything.” I sigh. “Myself, him, Tyler. All of it. Of getting my heart broken again.”

Trina presses her lips together, disappointment written in the smoker’s lines around her mouth. “You survived,” she says. Then she repeats it. “You survived.”

I shake my head because she makes it sound like I went through something awful with Tyler, and while yes, he messed up my head, it wasn’t that bad. It could’ve been worse. I’ve always been thankful it wasn’t because getting out of the crap he put me through was hard enough.

“You didn’t deserve any of Tyler’s bullshittery, but you survived,” she says again, not letting me step away from that. “And since then, you’ve done well for yourself, living in the ‘after’ of everything, the pocket of time where you shut down, protect yourself, and try to process what you’ve been through.” She dips down, forcing me to meet her eyes. “It’s time to leave that mental fortress, babe. It’s time to live. Not in the after, just in your life. Taking a chance on Dominic is gonna bring up all that hurt, like bubbles in your belly that make you feel like it’s all happening again even though it’s not. You’ve got to push past that fear. Your life is on the other side of the reflexive panic. Maybe with Dominic, maybe with someone else, maybe just on your own, but the risk is worth it. For your own growth.”