I'd Lie

A week after the shootout loss to Montreal, I'm standing at the airport with Patrice waiting for them to call his flight to Canada. Over the past week, I've been trying to think of a way to tell him how I feel, but unfortunately I ran out of time. When the boarding call for his flight was made, he gives me a tight hug before walking towards the boarding gate. A voice in my head screams now and I know that it's either now or never; I'm not going to see him for a couple of months and if there's ever a chance of telling him right now's my last shot. I want to move my legs, I want to stop him from leaving, but my legs stayed glued to the spot.Taking a deep breath, I call out his name and he turns around to look at me, waving. This time, I manage to make my legs move and I run towards him. Patrice drops his backpack on the ground next to him, giving me a confused look before crushing my body to his in a tight hug. He can read me better than anyone else but when it comes to my heart he's clueless. It was times like these that made me wish he could read my heart because he if could I wouldn't be so damn nervous right now.

"Cameron, what's wrong?" he asks me gently as people walk around us. I take a deep breath and pray for a miracle.

"Stay here," I plead and Patrice just shakes his head.

"I've got to go back home and besides maybe if I'm not here you'll get a better shot at that guy you broke up with Wes for. Are you ever going to tell me who he is or am I going to have to find out when the two of you are engaged? At least tell me a little bit about he before I go. I promise, we have time,"

"I could tell you all this stuff but you'd already know it. He plays hockey, his favorite color's green, and he's born on the 24th. He's got one of the nicest sisters I know and he's got this amazing pair of brown eyes that I could stare into all day. I'm completely in love with him but he doesn't know it and it just kills me. My first thought when I see him is my God he's beautiful and I guess now I'm just praying for a miracle,"

"Do I know him?" Patrice asks, holding onto me a little tighter. I shake my head in frustration, sometimes he can be so oblivious.

"I really hope so. You'd know him better than anyone else,"

"I'm in love with this girl," he starts. I frown and pull away from him but he continues on. "She's always there for me when I need her the most, no matter how many times I try to push her away for convince her that I'm fine. She's at almost every one of my home games, she always sits right behind the Bruins bench and her hazel eyes change colors depending on her mood. I'm pretty sure her favorite number's 37, but I'm only thinking that because it's the number she always wears to my games. I couldn't tell you her favorite color but what I can tell you is what I feel when I'm with her. All of my problems melt down to nothing and when I'm talking to her, it's just the two of us. Nothing else matters. She knows me better than my own sister and I wish I had the perfect moment to tell her how I really feel,"

"This girl is extremely lucky, whoever she is..." I trailed off realized that he had just described me.

"Yeah, she is. Do you think I could make things work with her?" he asked, hopeful.

"I don't know, do you think I've got a shot to make this work with him?" I counter, frowning when the final boarding call was announced. "I guess that means you have to go,"

"Yeah," Patrice replies, picking up his bag and slinging it over his shoulder. I watch him walk away for the second time before realizing what I have to do. If he's not going to come out and say it, I am.

"Patrice, wait," I scream, running towards him once again. People glare at me and hop out of my way as he turns to face me, opening his arms to me. I throw myself into his arms pulling his body as close to mine as I can. I know what I have to do and I take a deep breath.

"What's wrong now, Cammie?" he asks gently, holding me closer if that's at all possible. I look up at him, tears forming in my eyes, I'm not entirely sure why I'm crying but I am.

"You can't leave," I tell him, burying my face in his chest. "Don't leave,"

"I have to leave, I have to go back home and see my family,"

"But, I love you," I say, pulling away to see his reaction. A look of shock is etched into his face but he is completely silent. I wish he'd say something, I'd even settle for 'I'm sorry but I don't love you like that' at the moment, as long as I knew exactly what was running through his mind. A minute slowly passes and when he doesn't say anything I realize that I should probably let him get on the plane to Canada. At least he knows what I feel now and he's got the whole summer to think it over and see if it's what he really wanted. I sighed and pull myself out of his grasp so he can head down the terminal. "I just thought I'd get that off my chest. Guess I'll see you once training starts up again, don't be a stranger, keep in touch," I said dejectedly before I turn around and walk away. I don't know why, but him saying nothing felt worse than if he would have actually said something. I keep my head down as I walk, hoping no one can see the tears that are now falling down my face. Hearing the sound of footsteps behind me doesn't even get me to turn around, I double my pace wanting to get out of the airport as quickly as I can. I get as far as the end of the boarding area before I feel someone grab my arm.

"Cameron, wait," Patrice tells me, desperately. I refuse to turn around and instead, fight to break free. Something tells me it's rejection and I don't know if I'm ready to start my summer off like that. "Damnit, Cammie, would you just look at me?" I stop fighting as I hear the desperation in his voice and turn around, our faces only mere inches apart.

"Sir, you've got less than a minute before we shut the gate and the plane takes off," the front gate attendant informs Patrice. He nods and waves her off.

"I know, I need to take care of some things first. If I miss the plane, I'll just catch the next one," he tells her and she huffs, rolling her eyes.

"Go ahead and tell me, I can handle the truth," I whisper.

"What are you talking about, the truth?" he asks, confused.

"I'll just make it easier for you, I'm sorry you don't feel the same way. Just let me go now so I can mope about it in peace, go catch your plane, don't miss it because of me," I said, turning and attempting to twist my way free. Rejection hurts and the last thing I want to do now is have Patrice see me cry.

"I thought you loved me?" he states, tightening his grip on my arm, pulling me closer to him.

"I did," I replied, and he cringes at the past tense.

"You don't anymore?"

"Sir, I'm serious. This plane will leave without you," the gate attendant interrupts.

"Then let it leave. I'll make arrangements to catch a different flight," he tells her before turning back to me. "You were saying?"

"You're not in love with me, I get it. We're just going to be friends. I'm sorry, for everything," I sniffed, successfully breaking free of his grip and walking away.

"Cameron, wait," he pleaded. I shake my head and run, dodging people as I head towards the escalators that will bring be back to the lower level of Boston-Logan. I nearly have a foot planted firmly on the first step when he grabs my arm and gently turns me around to face him. I look at him with a mix of confusion and surprise and he doesn't say anything. We stare at each other for a couple more seconds before he crushes me to his body and I'm crying again, not really knowing why.

"I'm tired of just standing here and waiting for you to give me an answer," I say, my voice muffled by the fabric of his shirt.

"I know," he shoots back, pulling away and wiping the remaining tears from my face, letting his hand linger on my cheek. "And I'm sorry,"

"I am too,"

"You don't need to be sorry that you loved me,"

"I didn't just love you, I was in love with you. The difference between the two is about a million miles,"

"What changed?"

"When you didn't love me back,"

Patrice sighs and brushes a loose lock of hair out of my face. "Cameron, I love you, too,"

"What?"

"J'taime. Le amo. I love you," Patrice smiles, looking at me. "I really hope I don't have to spell it out for you because I can't say it in any other languages and my Spanish is lacking as it is,"

"You love me?" I ask, incredulously. I felt like the world around me had just stopped moving and everything came down to Patrice and I.

"I love you. I'm in love with you. I'm not going to Canada without you,"

"Then don't go to Canada," I whisper before leaning up on my toes to kiss him lightly. When I pull away, Patrice bends down to capture my lips again, giving me a breathtaking kiss. After air becomes a necessity, he leans his forehead on mine, our faces still mere inches apart.

"I'm not going unless you're there. Where you are is where I want to be,"