Chapter 22

This is a pretty fluffy chapter, but I figured I'd update it before I leave for Maine. I know I've been totally neglecting this story, so I'd feel really bad if when I leave for a week and half, I hadn't updated it. Anyway, enjoy! (:
-Jenna


On February 15th, 2009, a few days after my worrisome physical therapy, the Pittsburgh Penguins fired Michel Therrien and hired, in his place, Dan Bylsma, as Interim Head Coach. All of the guys, Sidney included, thought he was exactly what the team needed. I had started to go to their games again, dragging my brace with me. Mario and Nathalie were always happy to see me, saying that if I wasn’t there for Sidney during the losing streak, they didn’t know what he would have done. I always smiled and thanked them graciously.

The first game I went back to, I watched them lose to New York in a shootout, the first game Byslma coached. Compared to how they had been playing, like students from a school for the blind, they looked amazing.

I hobbled down to the locker room after the game, expecting the worst from him, but I got a happy, smiling, Sidney. Not grumpy, I-hate-the-world, Sidney.

“You look beautiful,” he said, wrapping me up in a hug.

“Thanks. You do know you lost, right?” I questioned, slightly confused.

“Yeah, but you did see how we played, didn’t you!?” he exclaimed, holding me away from him. “What’d I tell you about us turning it around?” he asked excitedly. I thought for a minute he was going to pick me up off the ground, and then I’d have to start screaming.

“You’re right, you guys did play amazing,” I said. He pulled me back to him again, burying his face in my hair.

“Let’s go back to my place,” he whispered in my ear, nipping at it a little.

“Sidney, I don’t know…” I trailed off, looking at his pleading face. I knew all too well what would go down at his house, and I wasn’t too sure I wanted to take part in it, but then again, he was in a good mood. I guess I had to take advantage of it. “Fine.”

“I need a little more enthusiasm than that once we get home,” he said, kissing my neck. I figured I’d play along.

“Oh Sidney! I’ve never wanted you more!” I practically yelled in the hallway, causing it to echo and reverberate off the walls. I even threw in a moan for effect. Everyone in the hallway looked at us and whistled. Sidney flushed a shade of pink and I just laughed at him. “You set yourself up for that one.”


“Shut up,” he growled in my ear, dragging me down the hallway and out to his car. “You’ll pay for that.”

“Oh, I’m so scared,” I joked, hopping up into the Range Rover.

“You should be,” he said, starting the car.

“I am,” I said with mock seriousness, as he leaned over to kiss me, burning a fire on my lips. “Oh God, you haven’t kissed me like that in a long time,” I whispered, taking his face in my hands once he pulled away. “Where have you been all this time?”

“Vacation,” he uttered quickly before kissing me again with even more fire. “Forget going home,” he said against my neck, and before I knew it, we were in the trunk of his car, getting undressed. I wanted to say that someone could and would walk by, someone would see us, but this passion? I hadn’t felt this in at least 2 months. Maybe it was the fact that I was on crutches for 6 weeks, or the fact that the Penguins lost almost every game they played, but now I had my Sidney back, and I didn’t intend to let him go.
-
I was curled up against Sidney, my eyes closed, after the best sex of my life, when I heard a tap on the glass. I couldn’t exactly see who it was; the windows were fogged up like in those sappy love movies. I never actually thought that that would happen, but apparently it happens. Sidney sat up and looked at the blurry figure illuminated by the harsh street lights standing outside the car.

“Hold on,” he murmured to me, sitting up and pulling his shirt and pants on. He crawled up to the front seat and turned the key once in the ignition before rolling the window down, letting the cold February air rush through the car, and revealing one Kris Letang.

“Dude. Why are you so sweaty?” was the first thing out of his mouth when he saw Sidney.

“Duh, we just played a hockey game…” Sidney said, blushing and trailing off.

“Jess’s in there isn’t she?” he asked, sticking his head through the window and looking back in my direction. I ducked behind the last row of seats and listened.

“No,” Sidney said a little too quickly.

“She is. I hope you used our gifts,” Kris said with a snigger. His gifts? What gifts?

I heard a sigh and assumed it was Sidney’s. “Yeah man, I did.”

“I knew it,” he exclaimed, like in those detective games when they find out Ms. Scarlett killed someone in the ballroom with a revolver.

“What’d you want?” Sidney asked, exasperated.

“Just to see if you were in here,” he said. “I thought you’d left and I saw your car and didn’t know if you had.”

“I haven’t left yet, thanks for asking. I’ll see you tomorrow,” Sidney said, rolling up the window with Kris’s head still inside.

“Bye Jess!” he called into the car. I forgot I was hiding for a second and answered.

“Bye Kris.” Dumb.

“Ha! You think I’m dumb. See you later man,” Kris said, pulling his head out of the window and walking away.

Sidney crawled back into the backseat with me and wrapped me up in his arms, burying his face in my hair.

“Mmm, I love you,” he mumbled. “I know I haven’t said that enough lately, but I really do. Don’t ever doubt it.”

“I know,” I replied, snuggling closer to him. “I love you too.”

So...

I'm not sure if anyone's noticed, but I've been totally stalled for ideas lately. I did have a totally stellar idea pop into my head about a new story. So I've started writing it. You can find it here: http://steelcitystory.blogspot.com

Let me know what you think!

Chapter 20

“Sidney Crosby is a wuss,” was all Ken said to me when I walked, more like hobbled, into Physical Therapy on a bright day, early in February. The Steelers had just won the Super Bowl and all of Pittsburgh was riding high except for the members of the Penguins, who continued their atrocious losing streak.

“Ken! Stop insulting my boyfriend. My God,” I said with exasperation as Dan, a physical therapist in training, led me to my usual table. He gave me a sympathetic look as if to say, “I’m sorry he’s such a dick.” I actually didn’t mind being teased. It made physical therapy so much easier to get through.

“So how’s school going?” Dan asked as he got me everything I needed for my exercises.

“Horrible,” I sighed. “I can’t get anything done because of this stupid brace. It’s just too hard to get everything together. And Sidney hasn’t been in a great mood lately because of how they’re losing, so I feel bad if I ask him…” I trailed off. I was making myself sad about everything that had been happening. My grades were slipping, and Sid and I hadn’t been doing too well, what with the team’s losing. He always came home in a bad mood and I was always scared to bother him.

“It’ll get better,” Dan said before walking off to help another patient. I did my exercises with thoughts flying through my head about Sidney and I and where we stood relationship-wise. Our relationship was still intact, I mean, we had sex almost everyday, but that was usually a direct result of him yelling at me about minding my own business when I asked about his games, and then some 20 minutes him later apologizing to me. But sex isn’t everything in a relationship. Our communication level had dropped tremendously. It seemed like he was always in a bad mood, and I never wanted to bother him. My thoughts were then interrupted by Ken coming over to work out my knee.

“How’re you doing Miss Crosby!?” he boomed at me as he walked up. I had taken to wearing a Penguins shirt or a Crosby shirt every time I went to physical therapy.

“Fine,” I snapped at him before surrendering my knee to him.

“Ohh, a little touchy today are we?” he asked mockingly. I glared at him and he recoiled a bit. “Sorry, sorry. So, how’s the knee been? Giving you any trouble?”

“No,” I said with a huge sigh for emphasis. I plopped myself back on the table and let my head rest on the pillow.

“Then what’s the problem?” he asked, concerned.

“Nothing’s the problem,” I said with a grimace as he began to stretch my knee.

“Trouble in paradise?” he asked with a laugh and a smile.

“Not really…” I trailed off. I wasn’t about to talk to Ken about Sid. He hated him. There was silence for awhile as Ken worked on my knee.

“Did he give you that necklace?” he asked, pushing on my knee. One thing about Ken is that he had the eyes of a hawk. He definitely noticed when I wore my Sidney Crosby brand sweatpants and that brought on the ongoing argument about who’s better. Ovechkin or Crosby.

“Yes. He did,” I replied stiffly. “It was a Christmas gift.”

“He obviously cares about you if he’s taken care of you during your surgery, and as a plus, he got you that necklace.”

“Alright Ken. How about I ask about your personal life now? So how’s the wife?” I said sarcastically with an edge to my voice.

“Barbara’s fine,” he replied. I just sat there in stunned silence. Ken and Barbara? Barbie and Ken? Honestly?

“Your wife’s name is Barbara?” I asked in amazement.

“Yeah,” he said, giving me a look. “What’s wrong with that?”

“Uh, Barbie and Ken? Ever heard that one before?” I asked, raising my eyebrows at him. Dan had wandered back over by now and was doubled over in laughter.
“Oh, good one Crosby,” he mocked. “I’m sure before you actually met Sidney, you had a poster of him on your ceiling and everyday you’d wake up and say, ‘Good morning Sidney! I love you!’ and blow him a kiss.” Dan was now on the floor in laughter and I was on the verge of tears, laughing so hard. All of this nonsense took away from the fact that my life was falling apart. I looked forward to going to physical therapy and joking around with Ken and Dan. It was an escape from the arguments that were waiting for me back at Sidney’s house.
-
“Sidney?” I called timidly when I walked into his house a few hours later. I knew he was there somewhere, they didn’t have practice. I walked down the hall and into the living room where I saw him on the couch, hands over his face. “Sidney?” I asked again, this time a little softer. He sat up and looked at me, surprised by my entrance.

“Hey babe,” he said, getting up from where he was sitting and greeting me with a kiss. I was surprised, to say the least, by his gesture. I stepped back and looked at him. He looked a little weary and tired.

“What’s wrong?” I asked concerned.

“Nothing’s wrong. I actually think that things are going to turn around for us here in the next few weeks.”

“You’re sure?” I asked, skeptical.

“Weren’t you the one who said nothing’s ever for sure?” he countered, making me laugh a little at what I said about my knee. “I just have a feeling. Go with me on this one, OK?”

“That’s what I’m here for,” I said as he pulled me into a massive hug.

Chapter 19

“Todd!” I moaned from the training table as I did one of my most dreaded exercises. Leg lifts. “This hurts!”

“Then don’t do it,” he stated matter-of-factly, reading something on his computer. I was sitting in the training room at school doing my exercises. I was spending more time at my dorm than at Sid’s house now that school had started back up a few weeks ago, but I only went all the way down to the Fitness Center because I hated doing the exercises in my room on the gross carpet where at least thirty drunk kids have thrown up in the course of this building’s existence.

“Todd!” I whined. “If I don’t do them, then I can’t get cleared!” My crutches were propped against the wall and my knee brace was occupying a whole other table entirely.

“Well then, I guess you should do them,” was all he said, still reading his computer screen. I grumbled a little about them before settling in to push through the rest. I always saved the worst for last, and I was near the end, so they were getting increasingly more painful. Out of nowhere, Todd suddenly spoke. “I didn’t know Sid hurt his knee,” he said quizzically, turning around to look at me. I just sat there. This was the first I heard about it.

“I, uh, didn’t know he hurt himself,” I stated blankly. For some reason, him not telling me about his injury stung. “I have to go,” I said, and numbly grabbed my brace and crutches. I had the brace on in record time and was out the door before Todd could think twice about what had just occurred. I ripped my phone out of the big bag I had started to drag around with me, punched the numbers 87 and pushed send. It rang a few times before he picked up.

“Hey,” he said into my ear. He sounded tired, but I didn’t care. I was mad and hurt.

“When were you going to tell me you hurt your knee?” I practically screamed into the phone, causing people to look at me like I had just escaped from the looney bin. There was a deep sigh on his end that caused the sound to crackle in my ear.

“I was looking out for your safety,” he stated. “You have your own knee to worry about. I can handle this myself.”

Despite the fact that he meant well, I was still angry. “I’m upset now Sidney! I had to find out from Todd. Did you really think you could keep this from me?” The only response I got was a slight sigh. “Did you?” The tone in my voice softened. I just wanted him to talk to me now. I wanted to hear his voice say he’s alright.

“I’m sorry,” he said softly. “I didn’t want you to worry about me. You have your own issues.”

“Don’t feel like you can’t tell me these things,” I said softly. “Just because I have my own knee to worry about doesn’t mean I don’t care about yours.”

“I’m sorry I was trying to do what I think is best for us,” he said huffily. I was totally taken aback by his sudden defensiveness.

“Sidney-“ I started, but he cut me off.

“I can take care of us,” he said quickly.

“I never said you couldn’t,” I said, trying to placate him.

“Then let me handle this.”

“Fine,” I said slowly. I took a chance on my next words. “I’m coming over. I need to see your knee myself.”

“I’m fine,” he said sharply.

“I’m still coming over,” I insisted.

“Fine. Do whatever the hell you want,” he spat into the phone.

“I’ll be there in ten!” I said as cheerily as possible.

“I love you,” he said grumpily. I returned the words and hung up my phone, throwing it back in my bag where it would probably take 30 minutes to find next time I needed it.
-
I showed up at his house some 20 minutes later, having had to convince Melissa that taking me to Sidney’s house was a good idea, and when I rang the doorbell, it took him quite some time to answer it. I just stood there waiting, inspecting his storm door that was calling out to me, “WASH ME!” He finally opened it, and I noticed he had an ice-pack on his right knee. He opened the door for me and I hobbled over the threshold down the hallway and into the living room where I had spent at least a month of my life. I plopped down on the couch that doubled as my bed, and patted the spot next to me.

“Sit. Show me your knee,” I said. He gave me a look that said, “I’m too tired to care.” He sat and rolled up the sweats to his muscular thigh. He proceeded to unwrap the ace bandage that was keeping the ice pack in place. It revealed a big ugly bruise encompassing his whole knee, the color of an angry plum, if plums could be angry. I lightly brushed my fingertips over it and he winced. “What’d you do?!” I asked, astounded.

“I got jammed into the boards in my last game. I didn’t think much of it, but now it’s killing me.”

“Did you show the trainer?” I asked. Hockey players have a tendency to hide their injuries and play them off as less severe than they actually are. I wanted him to be OK. I didn’t want him to end up like me, on crutches for months.

“Yes. They took an MRI, but all the knee checks came out find. My knee’s still tight. They say all the ligaments are intact.” I mulled this over, thinking about my own knee. The thought of him having to go through what I did killed me.

“I really hope you’re OK,” I said, melting into him. “I’m just worried you’ll have to go through what I did. It all seems so similar.” I was starting to get upset, actually upset, and he picked up on it. Despite his crappy mood, he was still the Sidney I knew, and he wrapped his arm around my shoulders and brought me to his chest.

“I’ll be alright,” he said gruffly. “This is why I didn’t want to tell you,” he said, kissing my temple. I looked down and all I could see was the huge brace on my knee and the ice pack on his.

“Look at us,” I said with a laugh. “We’re like broken toys. Like Woody and Jessie from Toy Story.” I didn’t think he’d get the reference, but he laughed a genuine laugh, not that fake tin-y laugh he does, but his actual girlish laugh. That alone made me feel better. Just hearing his laugh made me laugh, and before I knew it, we were both laughing uncontrollably. Our laughter slowly died away, and I somehow ended up in his lap.

“Oh, I like you,” he suddenly said, catching me off guard.

“Well, I love you.”

Chapter 18

“Bye Geno! Thanks for helping Sid out,” I said as he got his coat and was walking out the door.

“You welcome,” he said with his signature chipped-tooth grin before shutting the door. I turned my attention to Sid who was busying himself over the stove getting everything ready.

“I’m not really dressed for a nice dinner…” I said, looking down at my hoodie and sweatpants.

“I took care of that,” he said with a smile as he turned around, roast in hand. It looked absolutely delicious and I wanted to eat it right then and there.

“You know, I don’t think I actually need to look too nice,” I said, crutching myself closer to the plate of food, and trying to grab some before Sid pulled it out of my reach and glared at me.

“Upstairs, in my room. Go,” he barked at me.

“Fine… What’s in your room?” I asked as I headed up the stairs one at a time on my crutches.

“You’ll see,” was all I heard him say. I got myself up the stairs, grumbling about how he was making me go all the way up the stairs for some stupid surprise. I didn’t realize how beautiful his stupid surprise was until I got myself in his room where a cream dress was waiting for me on his bed. It was a strapless, knee length, form fitting dress with cream flowers embroidered around the bust area. It was absolutely gorgeous and I couldn’t believe he would go to such lengths to make me happy. I sat on the side of his bed and proceeded to wrestle with the dress to get it on. Once I did, I stood up and looked at myself in the mirror. Even with my hair pulled back in a greasy ponytail, and a huge knee brace occupying my right leg, I thought I looked gorgeous. I got myself down the stairs as quickly as possible by sliding down on my butt, causing the dress to ride up. I crutched myself into the kitchen where Sid was still standing over the stove with something in his hand. I didn’t care what he was doing, I needed to say this.“I love you.” He turned around to look at me, and I thought he was about to say something, but I had to get this out before I thought better of it. “You go out and buy me this dress while I’m a lump on the couch. You feed me everyday and make sure I get to the bathroom OK. You held my puke bags for me and I can never re-pay you for what you’ve done,” I gasped, on the verge of tears. I legitimately hate Mother Nature and hormones.

“You just did,” he said, before coming over to me. “Why do you think I’ve done all this for you?” he asked, looking me in the eyes. “I love you. Just hearing you say those words makes everything I’ve done worth it.”

“Thank you,” I whispered into his chest as he pulled me into a hug, being careful of my leg.“Now, I helped make the roast, and I made the mashed potatoes and corn all by myself,” he said like a little kid, and led me into the dining room. I was still a sniffling mess and I had to stop for a second to wipe my eyes. I always thought saying I love you would be cute and romantic. At least that’s how it was when I said it to Steven, but thanks to my period, I could no longer control my emotions.

“This is so nice Sid!” I gushed when I saw his dining room done up with candles and roses.

“All for you,” he said in my ear and kissed me on the cheek.

“Thank you,” I whispered for the second time in five minutes. I could feel the tears coming on again. I stifled them and sat in the chair he indicated.

“To us,” he said when he had poured both of us a flute of champagne.

“To us,” I echoed before digging into what looked like a delicious meal.

After dinner, I laid out on the couch, Sid right next to me for the first time in a week. We were lying face to face, his arms around me, making sure I wouldn’t topple off the couch at any given moment. It wasn’t one of those make-out moments, it was more like a moment of understanding, just lying on the couch. Words weren’t needed for the understanding we had. Despite the fact that I had known him for a little more than a month, there was no doubt that I loved him. He’s the cheese to my macaroni, and without his help, I would be nowhere. Behind me on the TV, I heard “FIVE! FOUR! THREE! TWO! ONE!” By the time I craned my neck around to look, the ball had already dropped. I looked back at Sid, inches from me.

“Happy New Year,” he whispered before he kissed me sweetly.

Chapter 17

The first week after surgery was an excruciating smudge on my memory. I was always one of those do it yourself people, and having to have someone else do everything for me was killer. Even though I was extremely grateful that Sid put his things on hold for me, it killed me to not be able to do anything.
My nauseous-ness didn’t cease for at least three days, so every time I got up and moved, I took a bag with me, preparing myself for the inevitable anesthesia induced vomiting. Everyday I’d feel just fine on the couch, eating and joking with Sid when he was home, but as soon as it came to getting up to go to the bathroom, my day would be ruined. I took to drinking very little fluids to keep myself from having to move.
The office chair was still my preferred choice of mobility seeing as my hip was sore from where they injected the blocking agents. Anytime I tried to raise my leg myself, I’d have to stop due to an immense amount of pain that would shoot up my hip and through my torso. It seemed as if everything but my knee hurt; my hand hurt from where they initially tried to put the IV, my hip hurt, and my head hurt.
-
Christmas was a dull blur due to an excessive amount of pain-killers I had taken the night before. The block had worn off on my knee in the middle of the night and I had woken up on the couch in tear-worthy pain.
“Sidney!” I screamed, even though he was asleep on the next couch over. He sat up and looked around before realizing it was me that had yelled.
“I’m here! What is it?!” he asked, right by my side within seconds. Tears were leaking out of my eyes by now.
“My knee hurts!” I wailed. “I need my pain-killers! Now!” He had moved them back into the kitchen because I hadn’t needed them, but at my words, he was sprinting into the kitchen, feverishly looking through the cabinet with his other medications. As soon as he found them he was back by my side unscrewing the cap. I was close to sobs by this point. The pain from my knee was radiating up and down my leg; it honestly felt like someone was trying to drive an ice pick under my knee cap.
“Here,” he said handing me a pill and a bottle of water.
“I’m going to need more than this,” I managed between the waves of pain.
“Here’s another,” he said without hesitation. I put both pills on my tongue, took a swig of water and swallowed before I had time to think about how big the pills were. He stood over me until the drugs kicked in and I felt myself getting woozy and finally drifting back off to sleep.
-
Exactly a week after my surgery, Sid drove me to my physical therapy appointment. I had yet to bend my knee and I was not looking forward to doing so. Sid walked me in and sat with me until they called me into a high-ceilinged room with multiple training tables, all with pillows.
“Don’t be nervous,” he said, picking up on the fact that I was practically shaking. “I’ll be in the car when you’re done.” He kissed my forehead before I crutched myself through the doors and over to a curtained off table where I was told Ken would see me shortly. Ken? What kind of a name is that? I’ve never met a Ken in my life. Like Malibu Barbie and Ken. I busied myself with picking at my hangnails that had gotten out of control the past week and staring around at the small area I was in. There was hand sanitizer on the wall to my right and a chair on my left. Just as I was beginning to inspect the ceiling and the array of lights, Ken walked into my little cubicle of cloth. He was relatively tall with short brown hair and a mulberry colored birthmark residing on one side of his neck. He wore wire glasses and had a serious air about him.
“Alright, so you had knee surgery when?” he asked, pulling up a rolling chair I failed to notice. I swallowed and took a breath.
“A week ago.”
“How’s it feel?” he asked, his seriousness abating a bit.
“Pretty good… I haven’t bent it, so I don’t really know. It feels fine just sitting here,” I rambled. I had to make myself shut up. Whenever I’m nervous, I ramble, and something about being there in such a tiny space with a not unattractive man, getting ready to do excruciating physical therapy, made me nervous. He just looked at me and laughed, all seriousness gone. It was then that I noticed the gold band on his left ring finger, and for some reason, that relieved some of the nervous energy I had.
“Alright, we’re going to start off with some simple things like heel slides and leg extensions,” he said, getting up and moving the curtain back to its original resting place against the wall. “Why’s that on your brace?” he asked, getting up and really looking at it for the first time.
“It’s a dish towel. The brace was hurting, so I put a dish towel to keep it from rubbing and chaffing. It looks dumb, I know, but it helps…” I trailed off. I was rambling again.
“I know what it is. I just had no idea why it was there,” he stated, with a small laugh. I just nodded in agreement. He assigned me my exercises and before I knew it, and with a minimal amount of pain, I was done and had my brace back on, ready to leave.
“I’ll see you in a few days,” Ken said as I crutched outside to where Sidney was waiting in the Range Rover. I still couldn’t get over the name Ken. I backed into the door leading outside to open it and made my way to the car. Snow was beginning to fall, and it just dawned on me that it was New Years Eve. The days had blurred together and I was losing track of time.
“It’s New Years Eve,” I said to Sidney as I got myself in the car.
“I know,” he said, kissing me quickly. “We’re going to have some fun.”
“Sid, I can barely move. I’m not going to have some awkward sex with you,” I snapped.
“I never said anything about sex,” he said grinning at me.
“Oh, well, what do you have in mind?” I asked him.
“You’ll just have to wait and see,” he said and kissed me again before driving in the direction of his house.
-
Nothing really special jumped out at me when we got back to his house, other than the fact that I had practically moved in without having to lift a finger. Every time Melissa brought me something, she’d bring another change of clothes along with my iPod or whatever it was that I demanded.
“So what’s the surprise?” I asked him as I plopped myself down on his couch and arranged my foot up on a pillow.
“I have to make it first,” he said. “Don’t be so pushy.”
“Oh, so you’re making it…” I said with a neutral tone, trailing off, letting him draw his own conclusions as to what I meant by it. It could have meant multiple things, one of which: Gross. Whatever it is I don’t want it now. Another: Yippee! There’s nothing I enjoy more than something made by Sidney Crosby. Or even this: I’d rather choke on a spoon. He chose to think that I was insulting him, and he was right.
“Your attempt at pancakes wasn’t so good on Christmas,” I said, backing up my insult.
“I got Geno to help me this time,” he said defensively. “He’s a good cook.”
“So are you hiding him in a closet or something?” I asked jokingly, but when Sid’s face turned a bright fuchsia, I knew he wasn’t kidding. “Sidney Crosby!” I said with a smile. “You snuck a Russian hockey player in to help you make me dinner? That’s actually really sweet,” I said, my tone softening. “So where is he? I’ve never met him,” I said, but then realized that I probably looked like a mess.
“I’ll go get him,” Sid said, excited that I wasn’t mad at him. Even I couldn’t predict how my emotions and personality would be day-to-day, and it didn’t help that I had gotten my period a few days before. I was at the mercy of Mother Nature and the hormonal roller coaster I was now forced to ride. I would be happy to ride a roller coaster any day, but if it was accompanied by hormones, I’d have to pass. Sid came down the stairs with Evgeni Malkin in tow. It was then that I realized just how short Sid really was. Geno towered over Sid at six foot three, and Sid was, at best, 5’11”. I was normally on the more generous side of 5’10”, but I never thought anything of it since Sid and I are the same height, and I never felt the need to wear heels, so it never really mattered to me.
“I cook food,” were the first words out of Geno’s mouth when he saw me. He flashed his crooked grin and continued in his broken English. “Sid say he need help. I say I cook,” he said with a shrug.
“Thanks Geno. I really appreciate you helping Rachael Ray over here,” I said with a laugh. Sid just glared at me and Geno looked confused. “That’s a compliment to you Geno,” I said, and he smiled at me while Sid shot me another look.
“So, Geno, help me out here man,” Sid said, tearing his gaze away from mine. “I need help with this roast.”
“I cook,” was all I heard Geno say before I decided I needed a nap.
-
I awoke to the smell of cooking roast, not burning roast, around 6:00 and looked towards the kitchen to make sure I was in the right house. Then I remembered Sidney wasn’t really cooking. It was Geno’s work.
“How’re you boys doing in there?” I yelled in the general direction of the kitchen as I turned on the TV to get ready to watch the ball drop.
“Good!” a mixture of Sid and Geno’s voices yelled back at me.
“It smells good,” I remarked from my place on the couch.
“30 minutes more!” Geno yelled from the kitchen. I settled myself into the couch to wait out the 30 minutes until it was time for me to do my favorite activity: eat.

Chapter 16

Jess's Point of View
The first thing I did when I got to Sid’s house from the hospital was open the door of his Range Rover and puke. “Oh God,” I moaned to myself. Sid got out of the car and stepped over my puke to rub my back.
“Dr. Carr said that you’d be nauseous.”
“He could have warned me beforehand,” I said, anger and frustration filling my voice.
“Don’t worry,” Sid said, his voice washing over me and soothing my rigid body. “Now come on, sit up, let’s get you inside eh?”
“Can’t I just sit here?” I whined, sitting back in the seat.
“We have the couch all set up and everything inside, come on.”
“Fine.” I ran my hand over my mouth to wipe up any excess vomit on my face as Sid handed me my crutches. I grabbed my leg and swung it out the door to leg it clunk against the side of the Range Rover. Sidney grimaced as I stepped down with one foot onto the pavement. I got the crutches in place and attempted to get up his front walk, but couldn’t. My right leg just dragged along the ground, making it difficult to move forward. “Sid, I can’t do this,” I said, defeated.
“I can carry you,” he offered. I thought about it for a second, but that seemed too hard.
“Do you have like, a roll-y desk chair or something?” I asked, slightly dizzy from my attempts at movement, grabbing his mailbox for stability.
“Yeah, hold on.” He ran in the house and returned seconds later with a huge office chair. “Here, sit down and hold your leg up, I’ll push you inside.” He got me all the way up the walk to the stairs, where he had to stop for a break. “You know, you’re not light,” he said, and sat down on the steps.
“Imagine carrying me. Now get me in the house. I’m getting woozy,” I snapped. These meds did not have a nice side effect on my attitude. He seemed to be sympathetic to my needs because he picked himself up off of the steps and proceeded to drag me up them in the chair. We must have been a sight. Him pushing me in one of the biggest chairs I’ve ever seen in my life, and me holding my right leg out straight in front of me. Attractive. He managed to get me to the couch where I promptly collapsed and fell asleep courtesy of the medications that were still wearing off.
When I woke up it was around 7:00, there was a blanket draped on top of me and a note taped to my forehead. I pulled it off, dazed and confused. In a quick scrawl, it read:
Hey baby, I hope you’re OK. I had to leave for my game. The remote’s on your lap. I’m on FSN. I talked to Melissa and she agreed to be on call in case you need anything. I’ll be home around 11. Your pain meds are on the table near your head and your crutches are lying on the ground in front of the couch. There’s bottled water next to the pills.
-Sid
I looked around. Everything was exactly where he said it would be. The water and pills were on the end table. The crutches were on the floor, and the remote was in fact, in my lap. I taped the note onto the closest wall I could reach, to remind me that someone would always be looking out for me. My next move was to grab the remote and switch on the TV to FSN. The game was just starting. I made it through the first period before dozing off again to be woken up by Sid slamming the door.
“We lost,” he said upon throwing down his bag.
“How do you know I didn’t watch it?” I asked groggily.
“You look like you just woke up,” he said, coming over and sitting in the desk chair used as my means of transportation.
“Yeah, that could be a clue,” I managed before letting my head fall back onto the pillow. “I’m hungry…” I started, but he cut me off.
“Should you be eating? You threw up as soon as I got you home…”
“I feel fine. I’m really hungry!” I complained, putting as much emphasis on really as possible.
“Fine. Do you want apple sauce?” he asked, walking over to the kitchen and rummaging through the pantry.
“YES! That sounds amazing!” I said, rearranging my leg on the pillow it was propped up on. He grabbed the apple sauce and a spoon and brought it over to me. “Thanks,” I said, ripping the top off and shoveling it into my mouth.
“Slow down,” he said, leaning back in the desk chair. He looked extremely tired.
“So, how was your game,” I asked warily.
“Horrible,” he said, eyes closed, head back in the chair. I left it at that, not wanting him to blow up at me. For the past few days, he’s been blunt and to the point. There hasn’t been any joking or having fun, but then again, it was Sid. His lack of participation in extra curricular activities annoyed me sometimes and I found myself pressing him to go out and have fun.
“I have to go to the bathroom,” I said suddenly, staring at him, and more importantly the chair. He opened his eyes and brought his head forward, but it took him a second to process what I needed him to do.
“Oh, OK, here, sit. I’ll push you,” he said, scrambling out of the chair. I butt-hopped my way into the chair with the help of my arms and he pushed me through the kitchen to the bathroom. About halfway there, I started to get extremely hot, my skin got clammy and my head began to spin, and I don’t think it was due to the medications.
“Sid,” I said, panic filling my voice.
“What?! What is it?” he asked, stopping my forward motion and coming around to look at my face which I could imagine was like a ghost. I had that horrible gut feeling and my lips began to tingle.
“Get me a bag,” I said, trying to keep my mouth closed.
“What?” he asked, clearly confused.
“A plastic bag. I need a bag,” I said as quickly as possible. He whipped one out of what seemed to me, his back pocket, and the second my hands opened it, I had my head in it and I was throwing up all the apple sauce I had just eaten. I hunched over myself, right leg straight out on the floor in front of me. I groaned and sat up. Sid was there with a wet paper towel to wipe my face. “Thanks,” I mumbled into the towel. He didn’t say anything about the fact that he told me not to eat the applesauce; he just took the towel out of my hands and pushed me the rest of the way to the bathroom.
“Can you do it yourself?” he asked, hovering beside me as I hopped on one foot into the bathroom using the doorframe and the bathroom counter as support.
“I think I’ve got it,” I said as I plopped myself down on the toilet, with my sweatpants still on. “I just need to figure out how to get these off…” I said, looking down at my legs before looking back up at Sid. His eyes were gleaming and I realized why he was so mopey the past few days.
“You’re mad because we won’t have sex for awhile,” I said matter-of-factly. His face burned a bright red and he looked at the floor.
“That’s not why…” he said, clearly embarrassed.
“Yes it is. We can’t do anything physical until I can walk,” I stated as I began to shimmy the sweatpants off.
“No! Well, that is playing a part,” he admitted. “We’ve been losing, and you and I can’t do anything, you know, fun, for awhile.” I had the sweatpants to mid-thigh by the time he was done talking and looked up at him for help. I decided to ignore the “fun” comment for now. “But I can always help you undress,” he said, his normal tone coming back.
“You’re so horrible. Just get my sweatpants off.”
“You got it,” he said and leaned in to kiss me. I pulled away from him and he stopped, puzzled.
“Are you forgetting I just puked in a trash bag?” I asked, slightly amused.
“Oh, I well… I’m tired,” he stated as he yanked my sweats down to my ankles, revealing a huge knee brace with a water bag underneath it to ice my knee.
“Oh God,” I moaned, taking in the contraption for the first time. “This doesn’t even look good! I look like I just had my whole leg repaired!”
“Don’t worry,” he said, repeating a phrase of mine I had been telling him lately. “You’ll get through this. I’m here for you.” He placed a kiss on my cheek before backing out of the bathroom and leaving me alone.
How was I going to manage this? I asked myself, still staring at the huge ominous brace that now resided on my leg.

Chapter 15

*I'm so sorry it took me so long to post an update. I had a basketball camp and work to take care of first. Sorry, but that's priority. Now, I feel like I'm on a role. Here's another chapter. :)

Jess's Point of View
The day of my surgery, I awoke to the smell of waffles and an empty, hungry stomach, but because I had to have general anesthesia, I couldn’t eat anything. All I could have was water, which didn’t really do much to ease the hunger pangs that were coming every few minutes. I rolled over in bed to see that Sid wasn’t there. I didn’t really want to go downstairs and be tempted by the food I could smell all the way up here, so I just laid there, wrapped up tightly in the blankets until around 10:00 when Sid came upstairs. He had cleared it with Therrien to miss their morning skate today so he could take me to the hospital. I watched him walk down the hallway towards his room, and I realized I wouldn’t be walking for quite some time. He wandered into the room, probably to see if I was awake yet, and upon discovering that I was, he crawled back into bed with me without a word. I felt his arms encompass my waist and pull me to him, creating one of the safest places I could ever be.
“It’s really happening today,” I whispered into his chest, the gravity of the situation finally hitting me. All his stress, everything he was worried about, suddenly made sense to me.
He didn’t say anything, but just stroked my back and placed kisses along my neck and shoulder to soothe me. I was still anxious and nervous, but just having him there created an altogether better atmosphere.
At 11:00, we left for the hospital. I held his hand the whole way there, my knuckles turning white from the pressure I was exerting. Words weren’t exchanged on the ride there; all he did was draw soothing circles on the back of my hand with his thumb. I had a blanket wrapped around me, longing for the feeling of Sid’s arms in its place. When we got to the hospital, I got out of the car and just stood there, looking at the building, a knot building in the pit of my stomach.
“Jess?” Sid asked, coming around the front of the car to me.
“I can’t do it,” I said, anxiety ripping through my voice. I ran my hands through my already tangled hair and paced in a circle. “This-this is way too hard,” I stuttered. I began to feel light-headed and I had to lean against the Range Rover to steady myself. I bet it was from the lack of food. Sid took me in his arms, creating the feeling I wanted most, and said, “Jess, listen, we’ve been over this. You have to do this. You can do it. I promise you’ll be OK. I’ll be here with you every step of the way.” My head was buried in the crook of his shoulder and I could feel the tears coming on, running off the material of his windbreaker.
“I’m sorry! I’m so sorry!” I sniffled. “I can do this. I’ve got this.” I pulled myself together and wiped my eyes off, tightening the blanket around me, and walked into the hospital, with Sid’s arm around my waist. Once inside, I couldn’t sit still. I was walking around all the chairs they had set up in the waiting area, biting my nails, a habit I had long since stopped. Sid was at the reception desk talking to the women about how long my surgery would take and all the other essential details.
“Jess Spade?” A woman called when I was on my 5th lap around the chairs, a smile on her face. How the fuck could she be smiling? I asked myself. My stomach dropped and Sid led me through the door the woman was holding open for me, his right arm around my waist, and his left hand holding my own left hand out in front of me. I stood there in a daze until she directed me to the left, to a curtained-off room where she then told me to change into a hospital gown before leaving us there in the confines of this little room.
“Come on baby,” Sid said, picking up the bag that held the gown while I sat on the bed. I let him pull my shirt over my head and unclasp my bra as my hands deftly pulled my sweats off. I felt like I was undressing myself for my own funeral. There was such a sickly feeling in the air; I could feel it closing in on me, like it was trying to suffocate me. I finally got the gown on myself and was lying on the bed with Sid hovering over me, holding my hand, when the nurse came back. The first thing she did when she walked back into the room was hook up the heart monitor. To my surprise, my heart wasn’t racing like I thought it would be, it seemed to be beating pretty calmly.
“Now, I have to put the IV in,” she said, unwrapping what looked to be a very large needle.
“Oh God,” I said, trying to stay calm, but by looking at the heart monitor, anyone could tell I wasn’t. It looked like I was seizing, but really, I was just extremely scared.
“I need you to make a fist with your hand so I can find a vein,” the nurse, whose nametag read Julie, said. I squeezed my eyes shut, and made the fist, tears leaking out of my tightly shut eyes. I felt Sid’s hands on my face, wiping the tears away, and willing me to be brave. My breathing was coming quickly now as Julie pushed into the crook of my arm with the needle. I shuddered and opened my eyes, but as I did, I began to feel woozy.
“I’m going to give you the drugs now so you can relax,” she said.
“But, no. I want. Sidney, stay,” was all I could manage before my stomach dropped like I was on a roller coaster and everything went black.
-
Sidney’s Point of View
I sat by her until it was time for her surgery and the nurses threw me out. My stomach was doing flips in the waiting room, and I was making the same rounds she had before she went back. I was walking around those same chairs, biting my own nails. What if something goes wrong? What if they can’t fix her knee? All theses questions were flashing through my mind, and I couldn’t control them. They kept coming. What if she can’t walk again? What if she can’t play basketball anymore? I had to sit. I knew those weren't going to happen, but I couldn't keep myself from thinking them. I leaned over in the chair, my face in my hands, trying to calm myself down. I looked at the clock. 1:00; her surgery started at 12:00. The women had said the surgery took about 2 hours. Only one hour left.
-
Jess’s Point of View
When I came to, my doctor was standing over me.
“Did you fix my meniscus?” I asked, barely conscious. If he fixed it, that meant I was on crutches for 3 weeks, if not, only 1.
“I was able to fix your meniscus and your ACL,” he said, sympathy in his voice. I couldn’t keep myself awake any longer, and I succumbed to the blackness of morphine once again.
-
“Can you help her put her clothes and everything back on?” I heard a nurse ask when I resurfaced from the blackness.
“Yeah, I can do it,” I heard Sidney say. He sounded tired. I opened my eyes, and he was right there. I wanted to cry, sob, knowing that now was the hardest part of this whole ordeal.
“I can’t feel my leg. I can’t move it,” I said, the panic rising up my throat, constricting what voice I had left.
“They blocked your leg completely when you were out. They said the feeling would return in a few days,” he said as he took my clothes out of the bag the hospital gown was in hours ago. My stomach felt like someone was squeezing it, not a queasy feeling, but the feeling you get right before you cry. I squeezed my eyes as tight as possible, trying to keep myself from crying, and laid there as Sid got all of my clothes out. At one point, I had to help get the sweats on over the huge brace that was now occupying my right knee by actually, physically lifting my right leg myself; just grabbing it and pulling up to move it. I slipped the gown over my head and grabbed for my bra and T-shirt. Sid handed me the bra and slid the shirt over my head after I had the bra on. “Are you ready?” he asked, holding my hand for the first time in what seemed like ages. I nodded, even though I was still dizzy. I just wanted to go back to his house and relax. We planned that I wouldn’t stay in the dorm with Melissa because I would be too much trouble to have there in that small space.
How they got me out of the bed is still a mystery to me. I must have sat up and dragged my leg off the side of the bed because the next thing I knew I was being wheeled outside to Sid’s Range Rover that was conveniently parked right outside the door, and on my way to Sidney’s house, where, little did know, the worst was yet to come.

Chapter 14

Jess’s Point of View
My hair was a sweaty mess and I felt absolutely gross, but that didn’t take away from the fact that I had just had the best sex of my life. I was curled up against Sid, my head resting on his outstretched arm, pillows and blankets strewn around us like a bomb had just been dropped onto the bed.
“So what’re we getting for lunch?” I asked, my stomach growling to validate my question.
“You’re always hungry,” Sid said with a laugh. “Do you even realize we just had sex?”
“Of course I do,” I replied. “And now I’m realizing sex makes me hungry.” I rolled on top of him and kissed him softly.
“Everything makes you hungry,” he said into my mouth, kissing me back and running his hands along my bare back. “Just once more,” he growled softly into my ear.
“Feed me first,” I replied, resting my head on his chest.
“Mmm, how about a sandwich from Panera Bread?” he asked.
“That sounds like just what I need,” I said before rolling off of him and flitting into the bathroom to take a shower.
“Jess!” I could hear him behind me, mumbling and complaining about my leaving him alone in bed.
-
“This is probably the best sandwich I’ve ever had,” I said, my mouth full of the sandwich I was speaking of. Sid just looked at me and his eyes said, “You’re ridiculous.”
“You’re going to balloon up after your surgery,” he actually stated.
I swallowed the gob of food in my mouth and looked at him, shock on my face. “Sid, you know I don’t like to talk about it…” I said, putting my sandwich down.
“We have to talk about in Jess. Whether it be about your horrible eating habits, or what’s going to happen that day. Your surgery is less than a week away. We need a plan,” he said, suddenly sounding exhausted, running his hands over his face.
“Stop it. Can’t we talk about this later? Maybe when we get back to Pittsburgh?” I pleaded, a sad and somber feeling suddenly overcoming our conversation. The euphoria I was feeling moments ago due to the amazing sex I had just been apart of was gone and had been replaced by a horrible feeling in the pit of my stomach like that of seasickness. “I just want to worry about now. Isn’t that what you said you liked about me? That I don’t worry about it?” I asked, reaching for his hands. “Now you, don’t worry about. Please? I’ll take care of it. All I need from you is some support and comfort.” That seemed to calm him down a little bit. This whole surgery seemed like the ebb and flow of the ocean: one minute I was having a breakdown, the next he was having a breakdown.
“I can do that,” he said, kissing my hand. “Can you do something for me now though?” he asked.
“What?”
“Finish that sandwich so we can go back to the room and take care of some unfinished business,” he said, a smile enveloping his face.
“Oh, I whatever could it be?” I asked, playing the role of the dumb blonde.
“Let’s just say that it involves you, and me, and no clothes,” he said, his eyes suddenly lighting up like a raging forest fire.
“In that case…” I said, getting up from my seat and dumping my food in the trash. “I can get something else later.”
-
That night, the Penguins beat the Thrashers 6-3 and Sid got an assist, so I could expect him to be in a good mood afterwards.
“Hey babe,” he said when he walked into the hotel room after the game. I hadn’t been in the mood to actually go to the arena after our fun-filled afternoon of staying in bed with him, so I hung around the hotel and watched it in the lobby.
“Oh, so now I’m a babe?” I asked playfully.
“Yes, you are,” he said softly before kissing my lips as I stood up to greet him.
“Mmm, you smell really good,” I said when I pulled away. “And, wait, did you use less gel in your hair?!” He looked away sheepishly.
“I know you don’t like all the gel, so I figured I’d try to do without it,” he explained.
“How sweet,” I said with a slight hint of sarcasm in my voice. He picked up on it and gave me a look before pulling me down onto the bed with him.
“You’ll pay for that,” he said, a devilish grin on his face.
-
Sid’s Point of View
Jess’s surgery was quickly approaching, and I was so apprehensive about it, it was driving me insane. On the other hand, Jess, as always, was her happy-go-lucky self and didn’t have a care in the world. Every time I started to get upset about it, she would calm me down and somehow, it would always work. I just couldn’t say no to her and her words. I lived from game to game, counting down how many more I had to play until her surgery. Anyone who didn’t know better would have thought that I was the one having surgery.
“Play amazing,” she said to me on the 20th, the day after we got back from Atlanta, and the day that we played the Maple Leafs at home.
“Are you sure you don’t want to come?” I asked for what seemed like the twentieth time.
“No. You go, have fun. I have to clean up my dorm anyway and Melissa has been getting mad at me for never being around anymore.”
“OK. I’ll call you after the game,” I said, kissing her quickly before getting into the Range Rover. She stood in the same spot watching me drive away, a smile on her face, before she turned around and walked back into her dorm.
-
When I walked into the locker room I was still thinking about Jess, and I guess it was written all over my face.
“Dude, stop thinking about her for one second,” Max said when I sat down in my stall.
“I can’t,” I stated honestly.
“Oh, so you, you know, love her?” Max prodded.
“I really like her,” I said, starting to get all my gear out.
“You should tell her,” Max said, all but yelling it across the room.
“When have you ever told a girl you love them?” I shot at him.
“True, true,” he said, shaking his head. “But if you do love her, you should tell her,” he finished, finally turning away from me to bother someone else.
-
Jess’s Point of View
“Hey,” I said to Melissa as I opened the door to our dorm.
“Hey, how’s Sid?” she asked, cleaning up a pile of books and papers in the corner of our room.
“He’s good.” I paused for a second thinking over what I was about to say. “I really like him Melissa,” I said quietly.
She looked up from the pile of crap and took in my face. She set down the books she was holding and stood up. “I know that look,” she said when she was at eye level. “You love him,” she said simply.
I shrugged, unsure of what to say to that. I knew that I really liked him. I knew there was something really special about him that kept me coming back, but I just couldn’t put my finger on it. I knew that what I felt for him was extremely strong, but love? “Really?” I asked her, skeptical.
“That’s the same look you got when you were with Steven. You loved him didn’t you?”
“I guess…” I trailed off, letting her draw her own conclusions.
“Have you slept together yet?” I couldn’t control the blush I felt coming on. Her mouth gaped open and she practically yelled, “You have haven’t you!?”
“Yeah. When we were in Atlanta,” I said sheepishly.
“Girl, you’re in deep now. I know I’m not one to talk about sleeping with guys, but I can tell, you like him, and he likes you. He’s good for you. Just let this happen.” And with that, she resumed her organizing.
Melissa left me a lot to think about as I cleaned up my side of the room. I found a lot of interesting things as I was cleaning. Some things I had completely forgotten about, like my shirt that I had bought years ago at Old Navy that said Crosby St. Gallery on it. It was old and ratty, but I decided that the next time Sid and I went out, I’d wear it and see what his reaction was. “Don’t wear that piece of shit!” Melissa yelled when I showed it to her. If his reaction was anything like Melissa’s, I’d be in trouble and would most likely be given a new shirt, which would most likely lead to a make-out session, which would then most likely lead to a quickie in the storage room. I made a mental note to wear it on every date if that happened to be the scenario that played out. By the time I was done cleaning, the question of whether I loved him or not was not the most prominent thing on my mind. I made another mental note to clean whenever I had a problem.
-
The Penguins lost to the Maple Leafs, one of the worst teams in the NHL, 7-3. Needless to say, I was not looking forward to Sid’s call, if I even got one. I wasn’t getting my hopes up, but around midnight, my phone went off to NeverShoutNever.
My heart was racing. My mind was screaming, “You’ve got, your whole life to do these things.” My legs were shaking, my hands, were searching for her, in the backseat of my car. I just lost time. And I can’t believe it.
I let it play through once before answering it because one, I didn’t want to hear him yell at me, and two, I really like that song.
“Hello?” I asked timidly into my phone.
“I’m coming to get you,” he said, frustration filling his voice.
“Am I allowed to ask why?” I said without even thinking about it.
“I need to talk to someone. I need you with me right now,” he said, and for once, I felt like he needed my help, not the other way around.
“OK, I’ll be ready,” I said before hanging up.
He was there in less than 10 minutes. I was standing in the lobby watching for his familiar car to pull into the parking lot along with about 5 other people who had realized that when I walked downstairs, Sidney would show up sooner or later. When he pulled in, I was out the door and down the steps, standing by his car as he pulled to an abrupt halt.
“If you drive like that all the way back to your house, I’m leaving now,” I said as I got in the car and fastened my seatbelt. He just snorted at me and pulled out of the parking lot. I was waiting for him to blow up, and a little ways down the street, he did.
“We’ve been playing like shit,” he said, eyes fixed on the road.
“You just beat Atlanta,” I said, trying to help.
“We’ve only won 2 out of our last 6 games Jess!” he yelled. “We can’t even beat the Goddamn Maple Leafs.”
“You’re just in a slump. You’ll come out of it,” I said encouragingly, trying to put my hand on his arm, but he jerked it away.
“What if we don’t?!” he yelled. “How are we going to get back to the cup?” he said, sounding defeated as we finally pulled up to his house. “Hos, Bugsy, they’re all gone. All of them. We’re a more depleted, pathetic version of what we were last year.”
“Hey,” I said, putting my hand on his, this time he let me. “You’ll be alright. You’re 21 years old. You can barely drink, and all you’re thinking about is the cup. You have 20 more years to worry about it.”
“I have to do this…” he trailed off and unbuckled his seatbelt, but stayed in his seat.
“What are you trying to prove?” I said, my temper suddenly flaring up at how selfish he was being. “That you’re Sidney fucking Crosby? We all know you’re amazing.” I paused. “I know you’re amazing. And really, since when do you care what other people think?”
He looked down at his hands that were in his lap, and then looked up at me. “You’re right. I need to calm down. I just, you’re surgery’s coming up, and we’re not doing well, and I’m just stressed. I’m sorry,” he said and leaned over to kiss me. I smiled into his lips.
“Thank you for coming over to the “happy” side,” I joked as we got out of the car. “You really need to lighten up.”
“Oh really?” he questioned as he unlocked the door.
“Yes, really,” I said, walking over the threshold and down the hall into his living room. He followed me, minus his dress coat, and now sporting a loose tie. I felt his hands slip my arms out of the jacket I was wearing. He threw it over the back of a nearby chair and then slid his hands around my waist, pulling me to him.
“I think I’ve got the perfect way to unwind, right here in front of me,” he whispered against my neck.
“Well show me,” I said as we tumbled down onto the couch.