The Crosby Life

I had Sidney drive me home right after the game. I couldn’t put up with any other person besides my family. Especially the media. Oh how I hate the media at the moment. I didn’t want to, and couldn’t, answer any questions about the season, or myself.
Sidney stopped in front of Marc and mine’s large home, and he touched my scarred wrist gently. “Take care of yourself, ok?” he said, concern leaking into his voice.
I nodded and got out without a word.
I walked into the house numbly, turned off the alarm and let the dog out of the laundry room where he stays when we are gone. I made my way up the stairs with Riley following behind me, and I ditched my clothes for a pair of Marc’s super large pajama pants and one of his shirts that I swim in.
I crawled into bed, and the moment my head hit the pillow, I started bawling and just couldn’t stop. The pain was just too much...
Marc and Nealer arrived home just an hour later, and Marc was in the room in record time. “Sierra?” he asked quietly.
I stayed silent, holding back my sobs so it made it look like I was sleeping. I fooled my fiance pretty well, because he stayed a few moments longer before closing the door behind him as he left.
As soon as the door closed, however, I let my silent sobs continue.
Marc-Andre came to bed just after midnight, and I was still awake. I felt his fingers touch my arm gently, but I just stayed on the edge of the bed, as far away from anyone as I could be.
I heard him sigh, and tears threaten to break through my facade because I felt guilty. But I just didn’t want to be touched right now.
I stayed awake with my silent weeping until about two in the morning in which I got out of bed quietly and made my way down the stairs.
I flicked the kitchen lights on and opened the patio door to the cool Spring night. Riley rushed outside and I climbed up onto the counter to reach for the bottle of whiskey that we had stashed up there after we took it from Max during a party.
I sat down on the step after closing the door behind me, and fought with the bottle before getting it open. I took a long, deep chug of it, cringing and practically choking on it as it made it’s way down into my system. I never drink anything more than just a fruity drink. And whiskey is hardcore. But right now, I just didn’t care.
I’m not entirely sure how long I sat there in the dark watching Riley and drinking the whiskey before the back door opened. I was about three-fourths of the way done with the bottle though.
I tensed instantly at the open door, and I felt a strong hand grasp the bottle in my hands and eased it free from me with ease. “Since when do you drink?” James Neal asked me, the concern leaking from his pretty eyes.
I avoided his gaze, sure that my eyes were as red as the shirt he was wearing, from crying and from the alcohol. “Since now,” I grumbled, throwing a ball for the dog to go fetch.
He sighed and sat next to me, putting the cap on. “You shouldn’t do this to yourself.”
“Do what?”
“Hurt yourself like this. Retiring was your decision.”
“I didn’t expect for the season to end so soon, Neal!” I snarled. He flinched and I lowered my gaze in shame. “I’m sorry.”
James wrapped his arm around my shoulders, pulling me close to him. My body automatically snuggled into him against my will. “It’s ok. I can’t say that I understand how you feel, but I get the picture. Sierra, you can’t beat yourself up. You are one of the best hockey players to go down in history. You should be proud.”
I nodded. “Hockey has been my life for as long as I remember.”
“Like any of us. And we will all retire at some point.” He smiled easily as he tossed the ball again for Riley. “You still have us.”
I nodded again.
“And Flower is really worried about you,” he said suddenly. “He’s concerned about your wellbeing, and right now, after seeing you devour that whiskey, I am too. Don’t push him away. He loves you so much, Erra.”
Tears stung my eyes again. “I’m sorry...”
James turned his cheek to look behind him and stood up as I put my head in my hands, letting my sobs take over once again. But a familiar figure replaced Nealer’s spot, and his strong arms wrapped around my body tightly and securely, as if he was holding my body together with just his arms.
“I’m so sorry,” I sobbed into his neck once I wrapped my arms around him.
“Shhh,” he soothed. “It’s ok. It’s ok.”
“I’m sorry,” I whimpered.
Marc held me so tightly it hurt, but I wasn’t complaining. It was that type of reassurance that I needed. “Stop apologizing. I understand why you’re upset,” he replied in French, stroking my hair gently. “I’m here for you, my love. I know it’s hard, but we will get through this together. Ok? You’ll always have me. You’ll always have everyone.”
I nodded, feeling myself calm down a little. “Hockey is my life.”
“And it always will be,” he said gently. “You’re still going to be with the team. You’ll be on the ice with us.” He said that in English.
“You’ll still have to put up with us, and you’ll get to boss us around even more now because if we don’t listen to your instruction, we could get hurt,” Nealer chimed in.
I smiled a bit at that. “True.”
“And when we have children, no doubt they’ll play hockey too. You’ll be the best hockey mom.”
I chuckled ever so slightly. “Hockey isn’t leaving my life, is it?”
“No, my love. You are just entering into a different part of hockey. You will still be playing with us in practice. Just not in actual games. Just think of it that way.”
I nodded and wiped my eyes. “Ok.”
Marc-Andre smiled gently and kissed my tear-soaked cheek. “Je t’aime, my beautiful.”
“Je t’aime aussi.” I sniffed. “Can we stay out here for a little longer?”
“Of course.”

Marc-Andre’s PoV:
I held her tightly in my arms in the chilly air until she eventually fell asleep. Nealer left us a while ago.
Carefully, I shifted her weight in my lap so I could pick her up easier. I called to Riley and he came running inside, leading the way up the stairs into our room and settling at the foot of the bed.
I laid her and covered her warmly, sliding in next to her and holding her closely to me. I absently stroked her hair gently, the curls as silky as ever.
Just from her body language, I could tell that Sierra was feeling a little better. That made me feel better in turn. I knew it would be hard once our season ended, but I didn’t think it would be this hard. However, I’m not that surprised.
She just needs to know I am here for her, and now she does. Hockey isn’t leaving her life at all. If anything, hockey is more of her life because she just isn’t a player now. She’ll be something more to the team. A person we have to come to for injuries and advice. She’s apart of the management now...
The thought of some of the guys going to her for advice made me chuckle in the quiet room. Sierra just rolled over and snuggled into me more.
My beautiful angel. Time will heal her wounds, but for now, we all just need to be here for her.

Sierra’s PoV:
I woke up without my man next to me, and a killer headache. As much as I wanted to lie in bed for the rest of the day, I just couldn’t. Plus, the smell of French toast hauled my ass out of bed.
I made my way downstairs and saw Nealer and Jordan in the kitchen, laughing. As I made my way in, James looked at me. “How’re you feeling?”
“Like shit,” I mumbled, collapsing in a chair next to me.”
“Drink this,” the brunette forward said, sliding a glass with something pink and thick in it.
“A smoothie?”
“It’s a hangover cure!” James defended himself despite the look of doubt that I was sure read all across my face. “Just drink it.”
So I did, and it was good.
“Where’s Marc?”
“He had to meet with his sister to see if she will drive up to Quebec with your dog since you guys are flying.”
“I see.” I turned to Jordan. “Morning.”
“Good morning,” he said with that bright smile I love. His smile always made things better, even if just a bit. “I heard about your whiskey adventure,” he teased. “Sounds fun.”
I grumbled. “It wasn’t.”
An unreadable look passed his blue eyes, and he suddenly held out his large hand to me. “Come here.” I gave him a questioning look. “Come here,” he repeated, a little more firmly.
I obeyed him and took his hand. He pulled me to him gently and forced me to sit in his lap as he wrapped his arms around me. I rested my head back against him, sighing softly as he hugged me close and rested his chin on my head.
His fingers absently rubbed my scarred wrist. “I know you’re upset, Erra,” he said gently. I couldn’t help but notice as James tried to busy himself. “But we are all still here for you. And it’s not like you’re leaving us. Just doing a different position, right?”
“Right.”
“You still have to put up with us and our crazy antics.” I grinned a bit. “And think of it this way. The team that you played with last night will be your team forever.”
“What do you mean?” I asked, sitting up and turning to face him, staring into his eyes in confusion.
Jordan smiled. “You are retiring as a hockey player, which means the 2010-2011 Pittsburgh Penguins is the last team you played for. And that means that we are your team forever. The guys you played with last night, plus Sid and Geno, will forever be your last teammates, or to make it sound more special, your forever teammates.”
A sudden realization came over me. “I said almost the same thing to Billy when he retired in December,” I said in awe, shocked that Jordan remembered that.
“Exactly.” He smiled. “We forever will be your teammates, because we are the last ones you played with. We are your team.”
I smiled gently, a real, serene smile. “You’re right,” I said softly, tears falling gently in my eyes. But for the first time in twenty four hours, they weren’t tears of anguish. They were tears of sadness still, yes, yet these tears held the love I felt for my teammates. The teammates, as Jordan says, that will forever be mine.
“Thank you.”
Jordan wiped my tears away with his finger and planted a kiss on my cheek. “We all love you Sierra, just like we know you love us.”
I smiled a little wider now and stared at the picture hanging on the wall behind Jordan. It was the picture we took just before Playoffs began as a team. Our team picture.
Those men in the picture are my brothers, just like all the teammates in the past. But that picture holds more meaning now. Those in that particular picture are more than just brothers. They are my last teammates. My last brothers on ice. Sure, there will be more, but no one will be able to take their place.
My last teammates. I chuckled silently. No, my forever teammates. They are my teammates for the rest of eternity.