“Can I get your autograph, Mr. Fournier?” I hear from behind me. I only give a quick glance over my shoulder, keeping my hands firmly gripped to Annabelle’s waist as she navigates a horizontal rope bridge that sits a few feet off the ground. “Sure thing. Give me just a second.”
I walk with Annabelle along the entire length of the bridge, the kid asking for an autograph following along with me. As Annabelle hops down, I glance over at Jules, who’s pushing Levy on a tire swing. Beyond her, Kate and Zack are standing atop a wide slide built into a little hill, watching as Ben and Rocco take turns sliding down it and running back up the hill again.
“I want to do it again,” Annabelle says as she tugs on the hem of my shirt.
“Anything for you, cutie,” I say as I ruffle her hair. “Give me just a second.”
I turn to the kid. A boy, maybe about ten. His parents are hovering close by, looking worried they may be imposing. And they sort of are, but it’s what you do when you’re in my position. You never take for granted any child who might be looking up to you as a role model. If I were to be an ass to this kid, tell him I’m too busy, what does that teach him?
To be an asshole.
I take a moment, sign the autograph, and then pose for a few pictures, all while Annabelle watches me carefully. When I’m done, I take her by the hand and lead her back to the beginning of the rope bridge. It’s a moderately chilly day for North Carolina, which means mid-fifties for December, hence there aren’t a ton of people out here today.
“Why did you write on that piece of paper?” she asks me as I lift her back up. She places her feet carefully, one in front of the other, her hands holding on to the ropes at her side. My hands go back to her waist as she starts walking it.
“You know I play hockey, right?” I ask her. “As my job.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Well, I have fans…and they like to collect my signature or take pictures with me,” I explain to her.
“What’s a fan?” she asks, not taking her eyes off her feet, but truly invested in the conversation.
I laugh and try to give the simplest explanation. “A fan is someone that really, really likes me.”
“Then I’m your fan too,” she says, and fuck…if that doesn’t cause my heart to melt.
Seems it’s been doing that a lot around these kids, the more I spend time with them. Jules has done just a remarkable job of keeping them centered and grounded. They’re good kids—not without some faults, but for the most part my day is always better anytime I can spend with them.
A glance back over at Jules and I see her watching us, a light smile on her face. I wink at her. Her smile doesn’t lessen but it doesn’t get any brighter either as she turns back to give another push to Levy.
Something’s wrong with her.
I have no clue what it is, because when I ask her she insists nothing is wrong.
But I know differently. She’s been a little distant since I got back from Chicago yesterday. Hell, the distance actually started when I was in Chicago, because for the first time ever, she didn’t answer the phone when I called her. It has become our ritual when I’m at an away game: I call her as soon as I make it back to the hotel and we talk about the game: She’d taken to watching my games with fervor, chattering away at me excitedly if we won, or with softly empathetic tones if we lost. But she didn’t pick up the phone the other night and it made me wonder.
If I’d had my way about things, I would have preferred to spend today alone with her. We’d talked about it earlier this week, because Kate and Zack were going to use his day off today to take Ben to the Durham Life and Science museum. They’d invited Annabelle, Levy, and Rocco to go along and thus it was the perfect opportunity for me and Jules to have a day to ourselves. I figured maybe we’d go out to lunch, and then perhaps back to my house, where we’d spend the rest of the day in bed.
Good plan, except Jules didn’t want to do that. Instead she wanted to go with the kids, and I wasn’t about to tell her no. Spending time with them was just as important to me, and I figured that one day Jules would be mine in all ways. That might mean moving in together or it might mean marriage, but for now I had to take what I could get from her and it didn’t bother me in the slightest. As long as we could be together, it didn’t matter if it was when I was balls deep in her or hanging out with her and the kids.
Any Jules time was perfect time.
Except when she’s like this.
Distant.
Closed off.
Unapproachable.
I have no fucking clue what’s going on, but figure I’ll try again tonight after the kids go to bed. I’m staying the night whether she likes it or not, and I’m willing to battle a sore back from her couch.
Annabelle jumps down at the end of the ladder and yells, “Again.”
“Of course, again,” I tell her.
I glance again at Jules as she pushes Levy on the tire swing, and hesitate when I see him grab the ropes and pull himself up to a standing position.
“Levy,” Jules snaps at him. “Sit back down.”
He doesn’t obey and instead uses leverage on the peak of the back swing to propel the swing higher.
“Watch, Aunt Jules,” he exclaims when at the peak of the front swing he launches himself off the tire. He doesn’t get much air but I’ll admit my heart jumps into my throat as I watch him hurtle toward the ground, where thankfully he lands with grace on his two feet.
I start to lift Annabelle up the ladder, but Jules is stalking toward Levy, her face a mask of fury that stops me. She reaches him, grabs him by the arm and leans over to get in his face, where she yells, “Damn it, Levy. When I tell you to do something, you better damn well do it.”
To perhaps any other parent, this wouldn’t seem like an over-the-top reaction for a child who doesn’t listen and willingly does something stupid where they could be hurt. But not once since we’ve been together have I ever heard Jules yell at one of the kids. And it’s not just that she yelled, but that she did it while holding on to his arm and with anger vibrating from every pore on her body. She yelled loud, and it garnered the attention of everyone in the vicinity.
“I’m sorry, Aunt Jules,” Levy says, the tears immediately welling up in his eyes.
I start walking their way and then pick up the pace when she tells him furiously, “I’m so tired of you not listening to me. Just sick and tired of it.”
She says this last part as she releases his arm and practically snarls at him, “Come on. We’re going home. If you can’t behave, you don’t deserve to play out here.”
“Whoa,” I say softly as I reach her, my hand going to her lower back. I note Zack and Kate watching with worried eyes, and they start to come down the hill now that they’ve heard Jules proclaim we’re leaving. I drop my voice lower and lean in toward Jules’ ear. “Babe…let’s just calm down.”
She spins on me, Levy forgotten. “Don’t tell me to calm down, Max. I don’t need your patronization.”
“Hey,” I say softly, my hand coming to her cheek. “I’m not patronizing you. I’m sorry. If you want to go, we’ll go.”
Jules doesn’t meet my gaze but her eyes take in Levy crying, Zack and Kate hovering nearby, and a few other parents in the area watching carefully.
Finally, her eyes lift to mine and it’s a gut punch when I see the self-loathing in them burning through the layer of tears that are welling up. She whispers to me with a husky voice on the verge of a meltdown. A small voice. “Can you take me home?”
I nod and turn to Kate. “Mind taking the kids for the rest of the day? I’ll come pick them up a little later.”
Kate nods, holds her arms out silently, telling the kids to gather near her. “Come on, kiddos…why don’t we go get some hot chocolate.”
They all walk toward Kate as Jules stares blankly at my chest. I reach down to take her hand, but she suddenly spins from me, rushes over to Levy and drops down before him on her knees. She wraps her arms around him and pulls him into a hug, squeezing him hard and whispering fiercely, “I’m sorry I yelled at you. You just scared me and it made me angry but I shouldn’t have done that.”
When she pulls back, Levy smiles at her and then throws his arms around her neck for another hug. “It’s okay. I shouldn’t have jumped.”
She nods her understanding and releases him. She then gives Rocco and Annabelle hugs too, and a murmur of thanks to Kate and Zack before turning back to me.
“Come on.” I hold my hand out to her. “Let me take you to lunch. We’ll relax, maybe have a few beers and talk.”
She takes my hand but she shakes her head. “I don’t want to go out. Just to my place.”
Her voice is still so small but it’s also firm.
While I’d rather not have her go to the apartment to sulk, I’m not going to argue with her either. I have a sinking feeling that things are definitely off between us, so I need to give her the room to air those things as she sees fit.
The ride back to Jules’ apartment was silent and tense. I had no clue how to go about effectuating conversation. Had no clue if she was receptive to it.
Ultimately, I decided to hold my tongue until we got to her place, because I suspected that my attention should be on her fully and not on the road while I was driving.
When we walk in, she immediately goes to the refrigerator. “Want something to drink?”
“I’m good,” I tell her and watch as she opens the door, stares for a few moments at the inside, and then closes it with a sigh, not taking anything out.
When she turns to me, her face is worried. “I was awful to Levy.”
“You were a mother to Levy,” I correct as I walk to the couch and sit down. I pat the cushion beside me and she trudges my way, shoulders slumped.
When she sits down, I note it’s not right beside me but rather she leaves about a foot between us. I let it go and turn to face her. “What’s going on, Jules? And don’t give me that ‘nothing’s wrong’ shit you’ve been handing me since I got back from Chicago.”
She stares down at her lap a moment, and I think she may indeed tell me nothing’s wrong, but then she murmurs, “I don’t want to go to that charity gala next weekend.”
“What?” I ask, completely taken aback. Of all the things I thought might be bothering her, this wasn’t at the top of my imaginative list.
Jules angles her head and brings her eyes to mine. “I don’t want to go to the gala,” she repeats.
“Okay,” I respond slowly, sensing that this is just a front for what’s really going on. “Want to tell me why?”
“It’s just…overwhelming to me.”
“I’ll be by your side the entire time,” I provide, hoping to not necessarily coax her into going, but rather trying to get to the root of the true issue.
“I know,” she says with a frustrated huff. “I just…I don’t like being on display like that.”
“On display?” I ask, confused. No clue what she’s talking about. “You wouldn’t be.”
Her eyes harden somewhat and she says, “Let me be clearer then. I don’t like people looking at me with you and second-guessing my motives to be there by your side.”
And understanding hits me. “Is this because of what Luc said at Thanksgiving? Because I thought we were past that.”
It’s true. We haven’t talked about that since, just as we’ve had no further conversation about her moving in with me, despite the fact I’ve brought it up twice and only got an “I’m still thinking about it” from her.
“It’s not that,” she mutters, her gaze dropping again.
My hand goes to her jaw and I make her look up at me. I lean in closer and urge her, “Then tell me what it is.”
I’m stunned when Jules jerks her face away from me and shoots up off the couch, only to spin back around and face me with her arms outstretched in a plea for understanding.
“It’s everything, Max,” she says desperately. “You’re rich and I’m poor. Women slipping you their phone numbers and bikini models at fancy photo shoots for hot bachelor competitions. It’s people judging me…writing terrible things about me that I can’t defend. It’s your teammates’ wives and girlfriends who don’t even have the grace to whisper behind my back that I can’t afford designer clothes, but instead snidely tell it to my face. It’s about being out in fucking public and having your fans accost me, telling me I’m not good enough for you and calling me a fucking gold digger to my face.”
“What?” I snarl as I come off the couch. “When did that happen?”
Jules seems to deflate in front of me, her anger expended by her rant. She lets out a pained breath and drops her eyes to the floor, “It doesn’t matter.”
“It does matter,” I insist as my hands come to her shoulders.
She raises her face, and my stomach pitches when I see a flatness there I’ve never seen before. “It doesn’t matter because nothing can be done about it. It’s something I have to accept, and Max…I’m sorry, but it’s just not easy to be with you sometimes.”
“Jules,” I say softly as I pull her into me. I wrap my arms carefully around her, cocooning her in safety.
She turns her head and rests her cheek against my chest. I’m partially relieved when her arms come around my waist and gather me tight.
“Did you ever have something really good happen to you?” Jules murmurs as we hold each other. “Something so fucking fantastic that you start to worry about when that bubble will burst, and then you start worrying about the pain it will cause you. And you don’t want pain. You’re tired of it so you want to avoid it at all costs. So you end up not enjoying that really great thing because all you can think about is the inevitability of its loss and what that will do to you.”
“You’re not going to lose me,” I assure her.
“Maybe not,” she agrees. “But I can’t help but worry about it constantly. I can’t help being sensitive to what others are saying, and fuck, Max…I don’t even want to go out in public with you. It’s just not easy, and I really need easy in my life right now.”
I don’t even know what to fucking say to any of this. I have no clue how to alleviate her worries. But apparently I haven’t heard it all, because she pulls away from me slightly and releases her hold. I do the same, sensing she needs a bit of space.
Jules steps back, puts her hands in her pockets and says, “Dwayne wrote me. He’s contacted an attorney and he says he’s going to petition the court to terminate my guardianship.”
“That will never fucking happen,” I growl, suddenly forgetting everything else that Jules told me, and I know that this wave of protectiveness that just burst forth is not only for Jules but for those kids.
She gives me a sad smile. “It’s just another thing in my life that I have to deal with, and I will deal with it. But…I need to make my life easier so I can keep my head clear. If I have to battle for those kids—”
“Are you saying you want to break up?” I cut in, needing to know exactly where the fuck she’s going with this.
My knees almost buckle when she shakes her head and says, “No. That’s not what I’m saying. But I do think things have moved fast, and I have so many other things going on, that I’m not really sure what I want. I guess if I had to pinpoint what would be the best thing, it would be for us to maybe slow down a bit.”
“Slow down?” I ask, my tongue thick and my head spinning as to what this means.
“I need some space,” she says sadly. “I need to prioritize and those kids have to come first. So I don’t want to have to be worrying about buying ball gowns or going out to lunch with you, constantly worried that someone’s going to come up and say terrible things to me. I just need a little bit of peace in my life right now so I can focus on the important things.”
Those important things not including me, I think bitterly.
“That sounds an awful lot like we’re breaking up,” I say harshly.
“No, Max,” she says, and I have to admit, her voice sounds strong and steady. “I just want things to slow down. I don’t want to go to that gala…it’s simply too stressful for me. And I don’t want to discuss moving in together. And I don’t want to go to Houlihan’s with you after a game, and I don’t even want to show my face at the arena to watch you in a game, because it stresses me out constantly worrying what people think. It stresses me out to be on guard all the time, waiting for someone to attack me, and let’s not even get into the fact I’m now worried that the kids will somehow get dragged into the spotlight and that is something I cannot ever let happen.”
I finally reach my breaking point in this crazy conversation. “For fuck’s sake, Jules. At some point you can’t lead your life worried about what others think.”
“You’re right,” she says softly. “And maybe if my life were normal, I’d have a bit more fortitude to push past this. But my life isn’t normal. It’s messy and stressful and tiring and I can’t handle one more thing. So I have to cut out some of that mess.”
“You need to cut me out,” I throw out.
“No,” she says again firmly.
“Oh, I get it,” I say with a sarcastic smile. “You still want to see me, but you won’t go out in public with me and you won’t come to my games to support me. You only want it to be secretive, right? Maybe I come over here for dinner, or you come to my house once a week and we’ll fuck. Is that it?”
“God no,” she exclaims, taking a step toward me. “It’s not like that.”
“Let me see if I can get this straight,” I say, trying to force my voice to be calm. “You don’t want to go to any events with me, right?”
She gives a small nod.
“Or out to lunch or dinner? Anywhere in public basically.”
Another nod, her mouth drawing into a frown.
“Don’t want to come to my games?”
“Just until things settle down,” she says softly.
“And when might that be, Jules?” I murmur. “Because your life is messy, yes, but it could be that way for a very long time. Fuck…it might be messy until those kids come of age and leave home. Want me to wait that long? Keep you hidden in my room and bring you out to fuck you periodically, but otherwise keep you a secret?”
“That’s not how it would be,” she maintains, her voice sounding a bit panic-stricken. “I’m not saying it right.”
“No, Jules, you’re saying it right. I understand. You don’t have it within you to put aside some of this petty bullshit a handful of people have lobbed your way. You don’t have it within you to focus on what matters.”
“That’s what I’m doing!” she cries out in frustration.
“But I’m not included in that small circle of things you’re focusing on,” I point out.
She almost growls in annoyance at me. “Max…I feel like someone’s tied lead weights to my feet and then went and dumped me in the ocean. I’m getting pulled down and I can’t fight my way back up because the weight is too fucking heavy.”
I huff out a breath of frustration, jam my hands down into my pockets. “I’ve tried to help you cut that rope repeatedly, Jules, but you won’t let me. I’m strong enough to pull you back up but you won’t let me.”
“I know. I get that—” she says, but I cut her off.
“More importantly, your little analogy about the weight and the rope…well, you pretty much are saying I’m dragging you down. Clearly I can’t help take the weight off if I’m the one adding to it.”
She opens her mouth to argue against that but then just as quickly shuts it. Her eyes drop to the floor and her shoulders slump farther. She gives me no further argument and that’s fine.
I don’t have it in me to keep going around in circles with her.
“I’m going to head out,” I say softly, turning toward the door. When I reach it, I hesitate just a moment. I don’t look back at her, but I leave the ball in her court. “If you change your mind and figure there’s room for me in your life, let me know.”
“Max, there is room,” she says desperately.
“Not enough,” I say as I open the door and step through it, pulling it shut quietly behind me.