"How old was she?" Rhonda asked.
"Forty-four."
"She beat it?"
Jenna nodded and sank back into the water, shivering as heat diffused over her shoulders and neck. "She beat it." Anne, Tina, and Melissa were silent. They knew what plot point was coming next in her sad little story. "I went in and did some genetic testing. To see if I had the same markers my mom did, which I didn't."
"That's a relief." Rhonda took a sip of her wine.
Jenna sighed. "Yep. But I found out I had Turner Syndrome."
Rhonda frowned. "What's that?"
"She's missing an X chromosome," Anne answered, and Rhonda gasped.
"It's not as bad as it sounds."
"Good, 'cause it sounds like half your DNA is missing."
Jenna laughed. That was exactly the thought she'd had when the doctor had started explaining everything to her. "It explains why I've always been so small, why I suck at math, and why I've never had a regular period."
Rhonda looked relieved. "That's it? That's all it does?"
Tina exhaled. "That's not all of it."
"It's different for everyone. I'm lucky in a lot of ways, I don't have a learning disability or anything, and so far it seems like most body systems are working normally. But my ovaries never fully developed. It's extremely unlikely that I'll ever be able to have kids. That's why Gentry and I broke up."
"Slight clarification. That's why you broke up with Gentry," Tina murmured.
"Wait, you broke up with him because you couldn't have kids? Weren't you only part way through university?" Rhonda set her tumbler on the side of the tub.
Jenna groaned. "You guys don't understand. All Gentry talked about was his plan for playing in the NHL, then going back to the ranch and having a gaggle of kids, and teaching them to ride horses and play hockey. It was literally his only life plan."
"Did you tell him?" Rhonda asked. Tina pursed her lips, Anne reached for her drink, and Melissa popped bubbles forming on the surface of the water. "Holy shit, you didn't tell him."
"I—"
"You broke up with him without telling him why?"
"No, I gave him a reason?—"
"What was it?"
Jenna's heart started to race. She knew exactly how her friends felt about the excuses she'd given Gentry. She'd been on the phone with Anne and Tina almost every night, and the number of times she'd ignored them when they'd said, "Jenna you have to tell him," was almost comical. "I told him I was too distracted. That long distance wasn't working for me."
Rhonda's eyes widened. "But you told him later, right?"
Jenna took a long sip of her wine and shook her head. "I didn't ever have the chance. I tried telling him once, months later, but he wouldn't answer my calls."
"Well, no shit."
"Okay, yeah. I know it sounds bad, but at the time, I was reeling, too. I'd made plans with him. I'd imagined us on that ranch together, and I was devastated—" Jenna's voice caught, her emotions bowling over her for the second time that week. Melissa scooted over and put an arm around her shoulders. "I should've told him. I know I should've, but at the time, I couldn't bring myself to do it. I could barely believe it was real for myself."
"And now?" Anne asked.
And now. Jenna had accepted her reality, but she hadn't allowed herself to create any new dreams to replace the ones she'd had with Gentry. She'd thrown herself fully into work, which was why it had been such a blow when Carson Hart had gotten the full-time sportscasting gig instead of her. It had happened over and over again. She'd done well as a reporter and had even gotten a temporary spot at the desk once, but the only full-time offer she'd gotten at Globespan was a morning show segment centred on books and hobbies. She loved books, but sitting next to other women who folded their legs just so was not her idea of an end goal in broadcasting.
She'd spent her life living and breathing hockey. She knew the game inside and out, both through playing herself and consuming every scrap of information her dad fed to her from the time she was old enough to hold her head up. Her dad would've never said it out loud, but as a hockey player himself, all he'd wanted was a son to train up. What he'd gotten was a son who loved basketball and a girl who barely made the growth chart and had the skeleton of a bird. That hadn't stopped either of them from making the best of it.
