Chapter 21

Chapter

Twenty-One

Rhonda

Rhonda parked at the curb in front of Tina's house. It was an older split-level, but someone along the way had brought it into the 21st century with a modern, minimalist facelift.

Her hands shook as she fumbled with her keys. She'd been a mess all afternoon, and seeing Darcy and then Jordan took her scrambled insides and threw them in the blender. She rarely needed to talk to someone. But if she didn’t get this out of her system, she was going to word vomit all over the next solicitor that stopped at her door selling Christmas light installation.

Desperate times.

Darcy, even if he didn’t do it intentionally, was going to give this away to the Snowballs. She’d heard them shit talking before games in the past, and the Snowballs were set to play Pucks Deep that week. It was too good. If Darcy could fuel the fire before a rivalry game, he sure as hell would.

And this would fuel the fire.

Rhonda strode up the sidewalk and knocked before she could second guess herself.

Tina opened the door, and her eyes lit up. "Girl!" She jumped forward and wrapped Rhonda in her arms, getting her bare feet wet on the snow-soaked welcome mat. She stepped back and waved her in, leaving dirty footprints on the wood floor in the entry.

Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes as she followed Tina into the kitchen. She gripped her purse strap tighter.

“Anne! The prodigal has returned!” Tina shouted.

Rhonda laughed, but it came out sounding more like a dying seal. She rubbed her hands together, and only then noticed they were shaking. She shoved them in her coat pockets.

She loved their style. They’d been roommates for years, and their preferences had blended into one cozy, modern, vintage conglomeration. A funky lamp with a stained glass shade sat on the side table, and the sofa was covered in colourful throw pillows and a patchwork quilt. Rhonda wanted them to adopt her. For real.

Anne stood at the island with her laptop, and she slammed it shut as Rhonda walked in.

“I didn’t mean to interrupt.” Rhonda sat on a stool at the counter.

“Are you kidding? Anne’s always looking for a chance to ditch work.” Tina reached into a cupboard for glasses.

Rhonda grinned. “You kind of sound like an old married couple.”

Tina filled the glasses with water. “Whatever. I see Anne about as much as I see you these days.”

“Ah. Time with Gary?” Rhonda waggled an eyebrow.

Anne scoffed. “I’m gone, like, two nights a week.”

“And he stays over. I did not need to know what brand of boxers he wears.”

Anne laughed out loud. “I thought you were at work!”

Rhonda's throat tightened. The pricking sensation at the door turned into full-on burning, like she was huffing onion. She looked from Anne to Tina, her stomach knotting. Her brain screamed at her to shut it down. To shove everything back into the box and slap a lid on it.

“It’s Jordan,” she blurted.

Anne frowned.

Tina set the glasses down on the counter in front of them. “Do we know a Jordan?”

“Medicine Hat Guy. Parking Lot Guy. It’s Jordan Wheatfill. He’s the?—”

“Captain of Pucks Deep!?” Anne’s voice lifted an octave at the end of that sentence.

“Wait, Hat Guy and Parking Lot Guy are the same guy?” Tina demanded.

Rhonda groaned and dropped her head over her folded arms. She nodded, her forehead rubbing over her sleeves. “And now he’s also His Apartment Guy. And My House Guy?—”

“Shut the front door. You’ve been seeing him?” Tina pulled up a stool, her voice hushed even though they were the only people in the house.

“Wait, is he—oh my hell, he’s Text Chain Guy. Rhonda, is he?—?”

“YES.” Rhonda wiped her eyes and forced her head up. “I thought I was texting Jenna, but I saved his name in my phone as ‘J’ and?—”

“You saved his phone number? ” Tina stared at her with wide eyes.

"It wasn’t like that! He works at Rocky Ridge, and I needed to get an ‘in’ with the doctor there, so when he gave me his number at Dusty Rose?—”

“Okay, stop!” Anne stood up and walked to the fridge. She pulled out half a pumpkin pie and a canister of whipped cream. She set the pie on the island and motioned for Tina to get plates, then flipped off the cap on the cream and held it up. “Open.”

Rhonda tipped her head back, and almost choked with laughter as Anne pressed the nozzle, filling her mouth with fluffy cream. She blinked back tears and tried to swallow while Tina dished up pie on white plates with roosters on them and the words, “Nice Cock.”

“Gift exchange?” Rhonda asked.

Tina laughed. “Too bad you missed it.”

Rhonda had missed the team white elephant the year before, but this year she was ready. The pair of boxers that said, “I licked it so it’s mine” sat in the back of her closet.

Anne passed out forks and added a dollop of whipped cream to each piece of pie, then took a bite. “Okay. Start from the beginning.”

So she did. Rhonda told them about how she’d thought Jordan was from Grande Prairie, which they already knew, but then she saw him that night in the bar and found out he was on Pucks Deep. She told them how he slipped her his number on a napkin, then about her allergic reaction and seeing him at urgent care, and on and on until she finally landed with her taking the weirdest charcuterie collection to his doorstep.

When she was finished, Anne licked her fork and shot Tina a look.

Tina looked very seriously at Rhonda. “You broke your rules.”

Rhonda took another bite of pie. Both of their pieces were gone, but she’d been blabbing the whole time. “Yeah.”

“You like him.”

Rhonda shoved another bite in her mouth, and her eyes welled with tears. “Yeah.”

Anne got a look on her face like the rabbit in Bambi. All heart eyes and thumping foot. “You can’t stop thinking about him.”

Rhonda groaned and took a drink of water. “I need to make it stop!” She set her glass down and pulled at her shirt. “It’s like this burning in my chest, and I feel too hot, and then I’m constantly shaking, and I feel sick—like really sick—and?—”

“Holy shit. You’re falling for him. Hard.” Tina whispered.

That’s when she started to cry. Big, fat tears rolled onto her cheeks, and Anne grabbed onto her, pulling her face straight down to her boobs.

Rhonda didn’t care. She sobbed into her bosom like a five-year-old, letting Anne stroke her hair. “I think I’m dying!” She knew what all of this must look like to her emotionally stable, relationship capable friends, but death felt like the most real possibility at the moment.

She couldn’t think straight. Didn’t care about anything like she used to. Her thoughts ignored any of the important things in her life, instead orbiting anything Jordan related she could grasp onto.

“I think I’m depressed. Or maybe I have an anxiety disorder?” She pulled her head up, her face streaked with tears. “Maybe I just need to get on some medication or?—”

“No!” Anne shook her shoulders. “This is normal, okay? This is what all of us feel like all the time! ”

“What is it Brett always says?” Tina snapped her fingers. “That sober acronym . . ."

“Oh yeah! ‘Son Of a Bitch, Everything’s Real.’” Anne laughed. “Yes, that’s exactly it.” Her eyes snapped back to Rhonda. “You’re getting sober.”

Rhonda blinked. Sure, she drank socially, but she wasn’t out of control. “I don’t have a drinking problem.”

Anne motioned for her to take another bite of pie while Tina handed her a tissue to wipe her eyes. “No, babe. You have a control problem.”

Rhonda chewed, the warm spices diffusing over her tongue. “What?”

Tina gave a hesitant smile. “You’ve been white knuckling for a long time.”

“I don’t get it.” Rhonda looked between the two of them. Wasn’t being in charge of your life a good thing? "Get it under control" was a literal life success strategy.

“Besides this, when was the last time you told somebody—anybody—how you really felt about something?” Tina asked.

Rhonda frowned. “I tell you guys what I think all the time.”

“Yeah, what you think. But what about how you feel?” Anne let that settle in a moment. “You talk about your work, about the people you meet, the asshole doctors. We joke about it, we laugh, but I have no idea what it actually feels like for you. Do you ever feel scared? Lonely when you’re on those trips by yourself?”

Rhonda opened her mouth, then closed it again. Yes. She felt those things. But that wasn’t something she would ever say out loud.

Tina rested her elbows on the counter. “Or when you talk about the guys you sleep with. You have the best stories, hilarious. But what about when you walk out the door? What about when you were sitting at Country and Jenna’s wedding? You didn’t say a word about that?—”

“I was happy for them,” Rhonda interjected.

“Yeah, I know, but you also got completely hammered after the reception.” Anne held out the whipped cream, but Rhonda shook her head.

“Okay.” Rhonda’s head was spinning. “Okay,” she repeated. “So what you’re saying is . . . people talk about those things.”

“Yes.” Anne nodded her head.

“But I’ve never talked about those things.” Her hands were clammy. She set her fork down next to her plate.

“Right, because it makes you uncomfortable. So we usually . . ." Tina shrugged and looked at Anne.

Rhonda looked between the two of them. “You talk about that? But just not with me?”

They nodded in unison. “But not because we don’t want to,” Tina said.

Rhonda exhaled. “Because I don’t want to.”

“Exactly.” Anne gave an apologetic smile. “But it’s not a bad thing?—”

“It sounds like a bad thing.” Rhonda pushed up from her stool. “I need to lie down.” She stalked into the living room. Anne and Tina followed, sitting in the chairs across from the couch as she plopped down and lay back on the pillows.

Rhonda felt like she was drowning, swirling around in a cesspool of emotion that had never made it past the floodgates. At least, not for a very long time. “I’m a bad friend.”

“No. Never,” Anne said vehemently.

Rhonda stared at the ceiling, her thoughts fragmenting, spinning.

“Feelings are a good thing.” Tina leaned back in her chair.

Rhonda turned her head. “How? All this feels like is a liability.”

Anne frowned. “With us?”

Rhonda ran a hand through her hair. “With everyone! He’s Jordan freaking Wheatfill! You know exactly how everyone on the Snowballs would react.”

Tina made a face, and Anne smacked her leg. “What? She’s not wrong.”

“Okay, fair, but that’s not really the point.” Anne turned back to Rhonda. “Let’s worry about that later. Why does this feel like a liability not because he’s Jordan freaking Wheatfill.”

Rhonda considered this. “Everything in here,” she motioned at her midsection, “is making me crazy. It’s not like I don’t have feelings. I just don't let them get out of control." She twisted a curl through her fingers. "I've always been able to shut them down. Especially with men. If I ever feel more than just that tingle of excitement, I think about all the ways it could go wrong, and poof. It's gone."

Tina blinked. "So you’re sabotaging."

"Protecting is a better word, I think?" Rhonda grinned sheepishly. Her throat tightened. This was when she’d normally crack a joke. Talk about some guy who hit on her at a luncheon. Instead she drew a shaky breath and said, “I don’t think I trust myself.”

Tina leaned in. “Please tell me we’re going to talk about your daddy issues.”

Rhonda scoffed. “How the hell?—?”

“Oh, c’mon! Anytime he comes up, you bolt so fast?—”

“I don’t bolt!”

Tina laughed. “You’re like ‘squirrel!’ And don’t get me wrong, I love the squirrel stories, they’re usually your best.”

Rhonda shot up on the couch. “So all this time, you guys have been looking at me knowing I’m a trash fire, and you never said anything?”

“BABE.” Tina pointed out at the patio. “We tried, if you remember? That whole relationship conversation?”

Anne shifted uncomfortably. “It didn’t go over well.”

Rhonda swallowed. Hard. “Okay.” She nodded. That was fair. She had gotten sulky. And told them they were trying to control her life and make her fit their relationship mould. “Okay.”

Tina motioned for her to continue. “Daddy issues. Please.”

Rhonda snorted. “Fine!” She ran her hands over her knees, staring at the coffee table. “I thought he was a saint. Like, a literal hero, you know? He always solved everything. Fixed everything. But then I came home for Christmas one year, and . . . It was like my rose coloured glasses were smashed. All those things he did, the compliments, the stepping in to solve things, they were just ways to get what he wanted."

Anne's eyes softened. "Rhonda, that's . . . I'm so sorry."

Tina nodded. "That's a lot to unpack."

Rhonda's fingers dug into the couch cushion. "I don't know how to explain it. He'd buy Mom flowers, but only if she did something he liked. He'd take us out to dinner, but only if we all acted perfect in public. It wasn't about us, it was about him." Rhonda's voice cracked. "I thought I was so smart. So aware. But I missed it. All those years, I missed it."

Tina shook her head. “You weren’t supposed to see it. He was your dad. That’s on him.”

“Yeah, but it doesn’t make me any better at seeing reality.” She grabbed a pillow and held it to her chest. “I'm terrified that I'm going to make the same mistake my mom made. That I'm going to be used. That I already am being used."

“So you sleep with people,” Tina said, matter-of-factly, and a switch flipped in her head.

Mother. SO SHE SLEPT WITH PEOPLE. That was exactly it. Use them before they could use her. Get what she wanted so she didn’t have to wonder whether there would be a cost.

“Holy shit.” Rhonda studied the wood grain of the table like it was a commissions statement. “I think I need to go.” She stood up, her head spinning a little.

“Are you okay?” Tina asked, at the same time Anne squeaked, “Do you hate us?”

Rhonda laughed. “Yes, and no.” She rounded the table and pulled both of them into a hug. “Thank you.” She extracted herself and strode to the entry to put on her shoes. “Seriously, Thank you.”

_____

Rhonda stepped out of her car, keys jangling in her hand as she locked the doors. She hesitated in the parking lot, unwilling to walk into the Ice Centre just yet. She’d spent hours over the past few days on the phone with her mom. Not talking about bills or work. Not talking about anything except for her growing up and the way her mom had dealt with her broken marriage.

Rhonda wanted to know everything. How her mom had fallen for her father in the first place and, most importantly, why she stayed.

Since that moment in Anne and Tina’s apartment, everything in her life looked different. Some of it less shiny. Some of it brighter than it had been in years.

But that didn’t mean she knew what to do with it.

Rhonda drew a steadying breath and started toward the entrance, her boots crunching on the packed snow. The nervous energy that had been plaguing her all week hummed like static in her veins. Admitting to Tina and Anne that she had feelings for Jordan had shaken her like a snow globe and nothing inside her had settled.

She’d lived her whole life navigating casual relationships, and this? Whatever the hell this aching, collapsing, burning feeling was whenever she thought about Jordan? This was uncharted territory.

The doors to the Ice Centre swung open, and a blast of warm air hit her as she entered. She walked through the entry and into the stands, the roar of the crowd washing over her like a wave.

She scanned the sea of baby blue jerseys until she spotted Kelty’s jet-black hair and Jenna’s good-luck toque. Rhonda descended the stairs and scooted past other fans toward their group. Melissa was already there, and the two of them screamed like school girls, bouncing and hugging each other.

She hugged Jenna first. “Are you okay?”

Jenna nodded, a sadness sitting behind her eyes. “It’ll happen. When it’s right.” Her face lit up. “Did I tell you? Tyler has a lawyer friend. She’s coming to Calgary for some work thing, and she’s meeting with us. She’s done adoption work before.”

“That’s amazing. You’re a warrior.” Rhonda gave her one more hug, then sat in an open seat on the other side of her before people got pissed off that she was blocking their view.

She got a little choked up at Amaya and Bailey sitting with Aelin with their “Go, Daddy!” sign. It was adorable, but that plus seeing Jenna was too much.

It was like a valve had been opened on Monday, and she couldn’t shut it off. A constant flood of emotions wreaked havoc on her system at all hours of the day. She probably wasn’t fit for human interaction at the moment.

Her mom had been nineteen when she met her dad. She’d only been in one other relationship.

Rhonda cheered as the Snowballs took the ice, her claps half-hearted compared to the enthusiasm around her. Her stomach churned as she glanced down the row. Jenna, Anne, Emma, and Penny were all decked out in Snowballs jerseys, their energy infectious.

Her dad showered her in gifts and never let her give anything in return.

Rhonda’s eyes migrated to the opposite side of the ice. Jordan Wheatfill, with the “C” on his jersey. The guy the entire Snowballs fan section loved to hate. He skated out with long, deliberate strides, his presence commanding. He’d leaned down and picked up the gifts she brought. He hadn’t told her she couldn’t bring him something. He’d let her say thank you.

Jordan skated into position for a face-off with Sean, his eyes locked on the puck. Rhonda's breath caught in her throat as she watched his muscles tense, his stick poised. The referee dropped the puck, and in an instant, Jordan snapped it back to his defenceman.

Rhonda glanced at Anne and Tina, trying to play it cool, but by the glints in their eyes, they knew exactly what was going on in her head. She shoved a handful of popcorn into her mouth, hoping the crunch would drown out the sound of her pulse thudding in her ears.

Her mom didn’t want to have kids right away, and her dad told her she wouldn’t get pregnant if they used condoms. He said he knew her cycle, and she believed him.

Rhonda had an education. She knew her own body. She’d pick up on a red flag like that, wouldn’t she?

"Nice pass!" Melissa yelled, and Rhonda nodded, her mouth too full to respond. As she swallowed, she kept her eyes on Jordan. He skated hard, weaving through defenders like they were practice pylons.

Her breath hitched as he approached the blue line and wound up for a slap shot. The puck soared through the air, and Rhonda's heart leapt into her throat. The goalie deflected it with his pads, but Jordan was right there for the rebound. He flicked it back, and the puck ricocheted off the post.

“Aww, what was that!” Penny yelled as Jordan knocked someone into the boards. Rhonda forgot to breath.

“That was a nice save,” Tina said.

"Jordan is playing dirty though," Jenna noted with a frown. Every muscle in Rhonda’s body tensed.

Aelin leaned forward. “Who’s Jordan?”

Jenna pointed. "Captain of Pucks Deep. He’s always taking cheap shots behind the ref's back."

Rhonda glanced at Jenna, her face neutral. “He’s just doing what everyone else out there is doing.” She shrugged like she didn’t have an opinion one way or another. "Trying to get under their skin."

Jenna shot her a confused look. Rhonda reached for more popcorn, and when Brett scuffled in the neutral zone she yelled, "Did you see that hit? Our boys aren't messing around tonight!" Hoping her voice was loud enough to deflect any suspicion.

The game intensified, and the insults hurled at Jordan from her friends cut deeper than she expected. She swallowed hard, cheering when she was supposed to and laughing when the others did, but every comment about Jordan playing dirty felt personal.

A few minutes into the second period, the tension between Jordan and Country that had been simmering under the surface finally boiled over. Jordan jostled with Country near the boards, their sticks clattering together. She barely registered the puck soaring down the ice. The two men exchanged heated words, their faces inches apart, and then it happened.

Jordan dropped his gloves, and Country did the same. Rhonda's breath caught in her throat as the two men lunged at each other. They grabbed onto each other's jerseys, fists flying.

The crowd erupted, but Jenna's reaction was immediate. "What the hell are they doing?" She jumped to her feet, her hands clenching into fists at her sides.

Rhonda's heart jolted in her chest as Jordan and Country grappled with each other. Jordan landed a solid punch to Country's jaw, and Rhonda winced. Country retaliated with a blow to Jordan's midsection.

"Get off him!” Jenna stood up and looked like she was about to jump over the boards.

Her dad never did anything he wanted and always made sure to blame her mother for it.

Jordan did what he wanted. He coached. He played hockey. He went out with his friends.

The referees skated over, trying to separate the two men. It was like watching a car crash in slow motion. She knew she should look away, but she couldn't. Every punch, every shove felt like a physical blow to her own body.

Had she enjoyed this before? How could Jenna watch this night after night, knowing the man she l?—

Rhonda stopped that thought short, a lump forming in her throat. What had Tina said? Falling hard. Love.

No, not that. It couldn’t be that.

Finally, the referees managed to pull them apart. Jordan and Country were both breathing heavily, their faces flushed, blood smeared on their faces.

"Unbelievable," Jenna muttered, shaking her head. She folded her arms over her chest, her eyes narrowing as she watched them skate off to their respective benches.

Rhonda's hands were trembling, and she shoved them into her pockets. She tried to join in as her friends started cheering for the Snowballs again, but her voice faltered. She couldn’t look at Anne and Tina. She couldn’t look at anyone.

The score was two to two as the third period wound down, the Snowballs mounted one final offensive push. They passed the puck with precision, weaving through Pucks Deep's defence. Her heart raced as the puck found its way to Sean. He wound up and took a slap shot, the puck rocketing toward the net.

Time seemed to slow as the puck flew through the air, and then it was past the goalie, hitting the back of the net with a satisfying thud. The arena exploded with cheers, and Rhonda jumped to her feet with everyone else.

When the final buzzer sounded, she tried to be happy. She tried to match the energy of her friends. She faked it all the way out of the arena and while they waited at the top of the stairs, her legs buzzing. She’d tried to leave twice already, but kept being pulled into conversations.

She shifted her weight from one foot to the other, biting her lip as she watched the first players ascend, and she knew it was him before she saw his face. Her breath caught in her throat.

Jordan.

Her heart stopped. He had a cut across his left eye, a thin line of dried blood. His hair was damp, just like the first time she’d seen him behind that hotel room door. Rhonda's fingers twitched, and she fought the urge to rush to the stairs and check if he was okay.

That ache inside her grew until it choked off her air. And then the Snowballs appeared. Aelin and the girls ran to Ryan, and the fans erupted in celebration.

Jordan walked past, his eyes flicking up for the briefest moment.

Her hands twitched, but she stood frozen to the concrete floor. And then he was gone, absorbed into the crowd with the other players.

And Rhonda added a new attribute to her wildly expanding sense of self.

Cowardice.