I shake my head, remembering the way she’d looked at me in the coffee shop, cautious but not cold. “I don’t know if it even made a difference. She listened, she was... kind about it. But how do you undo years of damage with one conversation?” I pause, then add, “I did ask if she’s single, though.”
“No way.” Niall actually stops jogging entirely.
“Maybe that was stupid.” I cringe, remembering how her eyebrows had shot up.
“No, no. You gotta take your shot when you have the chance.” He starts moving again, and I fall into step beside him. “She’s been single since I’ve known her, by the way. Chronically single. Though she does have...” He trails off, wrestling with whether to continue.
“What?” This time I can’t stop myself from looking at him, my stomach clenching.
He shakes his head like he’s already said too much. “Shehas... flings. Nothing ever serious. A few dates here and there, but she never lets anyone get close.”
“Oh.” Heat creeps up my neck and into my face despite the cold air. I really don’t want to think about Devin with other men. I know I haven’t been single all the years we’ve been apart, and I assume she would have dated too, but still... I quickly change the subject. “I went to that yoga class Sophie told me about, and Devin was filling in for the teacher. That’s how we ended up having coffee.”
“How was the class? Ready to jog again?” Niall picks up the pace slightly.
“Yeah.” We move from walking back into an easy jog, our shoes slapping against the wet pavement in rhythm. “It was good. It, uh, brought back a lot of memories afterward.”
“Uh oh. Good or bad?”
“Both.” I squint at the gray sky, heavy with the promise of more snow. “It reminded me of this time when she was cutting back on yoga to prevent flares and I told her that she needed to do the opposite and exercise more so that she could have more energy. She explained that it’s different with CFS, that pushing through actually makes things worse, and I said that was bullshit.” The word is heavy and prickly on my tongue. I hate repeating it now, evidence of my stupidity and cruelty back then.
Niall sucks in a sharp breath through his teeth. “Yikes. Damn, Oliver.”
“Yeah.” I shake my head, disgust sitting like lead in my stomach. “I meant it then, when I said it. I was so sure I knew better. But when I was thinking about it last night I remembered what happened the day before. My dad found me in the locker room after a game and told me that if I gave up pizza I would be faster on the ice.”
The locker room smelled like sweat and that industrial disinfectant they always used. Dad’s hand was heavy on my shoulder, his fingers digging in just enough to hurt. ‘Youwant to make it to the NHL or not?’ he’d said, loud enough for teammates to hear. I can still feel the burn of embarrassment, the way my jaw clenched so tight my teeth ached.
“I didn’t even eat pizza that often. Maybe once a month. I made one stupid Instagram post about it being my cheat food, and...”
“And then, frustrated after what your dad said, you took it out on Devin because you didn’t feel you could stand up to your dad.” Niall’s not asking, just stating facts. “So instead, you convinced yourself that what he said had to be right, and you went about spreading that perspective. You told Devin she wasn’t doing enough because you’d been taught you weren’t doing enough.”
“I...” The truth of it sits heavy on my chest.
“It’s pretty simple math.” His voice is matter-of-fact, not cruel, but it still stings.
“Yeah.” My head hangs heavy, my running shoes making depressive slaps against the sidewalk.
“Did you tell Devin about what your dad said?”
“No.” I wipe sweat from my brow, which collects even in the dead of winter. “I thought she might agree with my dad, and that was always my worst fear. That she’d look at me the way he did—like I was weak, undisciplined. I couldn’t stand the thought of her taking his side, of having literally no one who thought I was enough as I was.”
He hums in acknowledgement. “I gotta say, you just telling this story shows that you have a hell of a lot more emotional awareness now than you did then. You’ve grown a lot.”
“In some ways.” I bite the inside of my cheek until I taste copper. “I had another panic attack. It was before the first practice. Devin saw it.”
“Hey, that’s good!” His exuberance takes me by surprise, and I nearly trip over my own feet.
“Uh, okay?”
“You’re a complex person like anyone else, Oliver, but you also used to have this way of expressing yourself in tough times that was—okay, it was pretty basic.”
“Please elaborate,” I say dryly.
“You would either get angry or shut down. Those were your two settings. Mad or mute. So it’s good that Devin saw you in some other state. It shows that there’s more to you. That you’re capable of vulnerability.”
“I guess,” I mumble, remembering how gentle and patient she was with me when she could have just turned around and walked out of the room. The way she’d just sat with me and made sure I was okay.
“Maybe it’s time to share everything you just told me with Devin. What have you got to lose?”
