I stared at the letter until the ink seemed to vibrate against the page. My heart was doing a frantic, uneven rhythm against my ribs that had nothing to do with the practice we just finished. I felt a sudden, sharp spike of insecurity that made my hands shake. I’ve been through this before—the misinterpreted signals, the hope that turns into a punch to the gut when someone tells me I’ve read too much into a friendly gesture. I couldn’t lose Splash, not like this.
“He said I broke him, Logan! What the hell does that mean? Does it mean he’s into me, or is he just… I don’t know, shocked that I’d send a picture like that?” I looked up at Logan, my voice cracking with a vulnerability I usually kept locked behind a joke. “What if I’ve just made everything incredibly awkward? What if he thinks I’m some shallow jock just looking to hook up?”
Logan stopped pulling off his compression shorts and stepped right in front of my locker, his expression shifting fromplayful to serious. “Read me his exact words again, Jackson. Word for word.”
I unfolded the paper, my fingers tracing the lines I’d already memorized.“I think you broke me. I mean… wow, Jackson. That picture. Fuck.”I looked at Logan, desperate for a translation. “Is that flirting? Or is that just… surprise? Maybe he’s offended? He’s a soldier, Logan. He deals with life and death every day. Why would he want to deal with a guy who sends him shirtless photos from his beach house? Oh god, he hasn’t even said that he’s bi or gay!” planting my face in my hands… Fuck.
Donovan sat down on the bench on my other side, leaning in close. “Hayes, look at me. People don’t say ‘wow’ and ‘fuck’ followed by a name unless they’re feeling something. You’re overthinking this because you’re scared. You’ve spent so much time being messed about that you don’t know how to handle it when someone actually sees you.” He reached out and tapped the letter. “He didn’t say ‘don’t do that again.’ He didn’t stop writing. He said you broke him. That’s a reaction. A big one.”
“But what if he’s just being nice because I send him the good cookies?” I persisted, the insecurity a cold weight in my stomach. “I need to know for sure. I can’t just assume.”
Logan rolled his eyes, but his hand on my shoulder was grounding. “Hayes, the man drew a duck wearing hockey skates for you. He’s thousands of miles away in a desert, and he’s thinking about your sport and your face. Now he’s seen your body, and he’s telling you it ‘broke’ him. He’s flirting, you idiot. He’s absolutely, one hundred percent into you.”
I took a deep, shaky breath, letting their words settle. The fear didn’t go away, but it felt manageable now, countered by their certainty. “Ok,” I whispered, looking back at the letter. “Ok. He likes me.” Fuck he might actually like me… try telling my brain that!
22
Letter
Splash,
I had a very high-stakes, incredibly intense meeting today. I was entirely at the mercy of a six-year-old.
My teammate, Logan, do you remember me mentioning him, the defenseman who basically lives on protein shakes, asked me to babysit his daughter, Willow, for a few hours. Splash, this kid completely rules my life, and she knows it. She has these giant bright eyes, she’s currently missing her two front teeth, and she adores me for reasons I will never understand. Personally, I think it’s because I let her paint my fingernails neon pink last summer.
Anyway, I told her we could do whatever she wanted, so naturally, she demanded ice cream. We walked down to this little parlor near the rink. Picture this: I am six-foot-two, weighing over two hundred pounds, wearing a leather jacket,and I am being forcefully dragged down the sidewalk by a tiny girl in a sparkly unicorn tutu and light-up sneakers.
She ordered a waffle cone with three massive scoops of bubblegum ice cream covered in rainbow sprinkles, hot fudge, and gummy bears. It looked like an absolute crime scene. I tried to tell her that the whole thing was going to collapse, but she was having absolutely none of it!
We sat outside on a bench in the sun, and she spent an hour telling me all about her kindergarten class and how a boy named Leo stole her green crayon, so she told him he was officially banned from her birthday party. She is fiercely protective of her crayons, Splash. I told her I highly respected her boundaries.
By the time Logan came to pick her up, she was completely covered in blue sticky syrup, I had a giant smear of chocolate on my favorite shirt, and she fell asleep right against my shoulder while we waited. Holding her like that, my chest just felt so full. It made me realize how much I want a family of my own someday. A real, quiet life away from the noise.
I found myself wishing you were sitting on that bench with us. I think Willow would love you. I told her about my soldier pen pal who draws ducks, and she wants me to ask you if ducks like bubblegum ice cream. Please say no, because I don’t want to have to buy a duck a waffle cone.
I hope this brings a little sunshine your way today. I sent a box of white chocolate macadamia nut cookies this morning. Let me know if they survive Brody.
Jackson
23
Letter
Jackson,
First of all, bubblegum ice cream with gummy bears and hot fudge sounds like an actual bio-hazard. I am entirely on Logan’s side here—you are a terrible influence, and you absolutely deserved to get chocolate on your favorite shirt.
Tell Willow that ducks do not eat bubblegum ice cream. They eat cracked corn and small bugs, but if she ever meets one, she can try offering it a sprinkle. Also, tell her I fully support her operational decision to ban Leo from the birthday party. You have to establish dominance early when it comes to the green crayon.
Your letter got here right after we finished a grueling twelve-hour vehicle maintenance detail in a massive dust storm. My eyes are full of grit, my back is killing me, and I smelled heavily of diesel fuel until about twenty minutes ago.But sitting on my bunk, reading about a six-foot-two hockey player being pushed around by a six-year-old in a sparkly unicorn tutu? It’s the first time I’ve laughed out loud in a week. Brody actually stopped cleaning his rifle to ask what the hell was wrong with me.
He managed to swipe two of the white chocolate macadamia cookies, by the way. He told me to tell you that you’re officially his favorite person on the civilian grid. I think you’ve turned into his secret cookie dealer!
You said you want a quiet life someday, Jackson. Away from the noise. I hope you get that. If anyone deserves a soft porch and a family of their own, it’s the guy who lets a little girl paint his nails neon pink just to make her smile. You have a good heart, Jackson. Don’t let the noise make you forget that.
I don’t have a lot of sunshine to send back to you from this bunk, but I drew a little duck eating an ice cream today.
Splash
