No Excuses

I leaned forward, pressing my elbows into my knees. My chin was cupped in the palms of my hands, curled fingers hiding everything from my nose down as I stared at the ice at Rogers Arena in horror and utter desolation. The disgusting display below me had me on the edge of tears. I had been telling myself, Nancy Burrows and Sammie Billings - who were sitting on either side of me - that everything would be alright. They'd come back and they'd win. Everything would work out. It had to.

I pulled the long sleeves of Ryan's jersey from game two down over my hands and rubbed my face before returning to my statue-like position. Sam stared at the ice, occasionally letting a "fuck" or "goddammit" fly. Nancy didn't seem to move at all. I wondered if she was even still breathing. She seemed to be in complete disbelief of what she was seeing.

I regained some hope as Zdeno Chara, the behemoth defenseman from Boston, took a seat in the penalty box. With the man advantage, there was a chance to pull within one. They could do it, I knew they could. Nancy remained still and silent, watching her husband below. My breath caught in my lungs as I saw Patrice Bergeron making a beeline for Roberto Luongo with the puck on his stick.

"Fuck...fuck...no...come on, Erry...Come on...come--"

Sam and I both screamed, "FUCK!" as Christian fell onto Bergeron, who toppled into Lu and the puck slid into the back of the net. I was on my feet, Ryan's jersey hanging on my frame as I screamed, "INTERFERENCE! HOW THE HELL WAS HE GOING TO STOP THAT?!" At least on a penalty shot, Roberto would have had a chance.

A Bruins fan in front of us turned, a trolling grin on his face, to look at Sam. Immediately, my mind went to the beer she held in her hand. Sam's temper wasn't one to be provoked to begin with, but under the influence of alcohol and hockey, she was more dangerous than a charging rhinoceros. Maxim had trained her well.

"Well, sweet cheeks," he said in a greasy voice to match his grimy smile, "lookee there." He pointed at the celebration taking place below. "Maybe your man could learn a thing or two about real goal celebrations. I always knew those French motherfuckers were all f -"

Whatever he thought of French Canadians, we'd never know. Sam's beer flew from the cup in her hand to the douche bag's face and jersey. I jumped to grab her as she tried to jump on the asshole making fun of her boyfriend. I knew there were good and bad fans in every franchise, but I had no idea how we always seemed to be surrounded by the awful ones.

"Sam, NO!"

Gina Luongo jumped up on Sammie's right and threw her arms around her waist while I tried to hold her arms. Sam might have been small, but there was no way this asshole would have left the arena in one piece. Sam fought against us to get at him, but Gina and I held fast.

"Come on, Sam," I begged, trying to calm her down. "Come on. Max needs you out here cheering for him, not downstairs where he can't hear you." I said that as much for myself as I did for her. I wanted to rip the douche bag limb from limb.

Sammie did manage to get a good solid kick at his back in as we finally were able to get Sam back into her seat. However, I then heard something that not only made my stomach turn, but I felt the color drain from my face.

"Jeff...shit, Jeff..." Another Bruins fan, this one sitting next to the one now sopping with beer, elbowed his friend while rubbing his neck. "Jeff, my neck hurts like hell, man."

"Jeff" burst out laughing.

Neither one of them were laughing when the four of us - Nancy, Sammie, Gina and myself - were on our feet, screaming at him, beers flying. I was out of my mind with rage at the joke against poor Mason Raymond who, as a text from his wife Megan informed me, was in a terrible amount of pain after he came out to salute the crowd. She told me he could barely move back in the medical room.

Tears of rage spilled over as my fist balled up on it's own accord and collided with the side of "Jeff'"s face. He tumbled into his seat, holding his face while his friends shoved back at us.

The ushers we on us in seconds. They obviously knew who we were and calmly pulled us away from the Bruins fans before sending us downstairs to watch the rest of the game. An older usher, Robert, shook his head. "I know what you ladies were doing, but the last thing we need is a mass fight breaking out." We were escorted down to the Zamboni entrance where two ushers stood guard over us. Clearly, they thought we were going to jump into the crowd and start decapitating anyone in a Boston sweater.

I frowned as Sam crossed her arms and swayed side to side and Gina covered her face. We were all worried. A look up at the clock only helped to stir up my nerves and the beers I had already consumed.

Sam planted herself next to me and let her head rest on my arm. Despite everything Ryan had done and the mess everyone had been tangled in, Sammie and I had managed to be ok. We were working on actually becoming friends. We weren't hostile towards each other, but it had taken me a few days to warm back up to her after everything had gotten out. If the boys hadn't been in the midst of a Stanley Cup run, Ryan would have spent a week or two on the couch. As it was, he slept in the guest room until I could look at him without wanting to send him to practice with a new black eye

And really, when it came down to it, I couldn't be angry at Sammie. It wasn't as though I was completely innocent in any way, shape or form. Sam wasn't the one who broke up Ryan's marriage. He'd cheated on Andrea with her, yeah, but in the end I was the one he left her for. Hell, we had started messing around shortly after they started coming in for counseling. That couch Andrea had raved about loving wasn't anywhere nearly as clean as she thought it was. There were a few times Ryan had shown up on my lunch hour or in between appointments and we'd done the deed right there on the couch. Even my desk and the wall of bookshelves had been defiled before their time in counseling came to an abrupt stop.

I bounced up and down on the balls of my feet as I ran my fingers through my hair, staring at the ice. The second period was winding down and I was starting to dread the third. I had a terrible feeling that I couldn't pinpoint. Somehow I knew that by the end of those final twenty minutes...

Knock it off, Sienna. Stop it.

The buzzer sounded and I moved with Sammie, Gina and Nancy out of the way of the Zambonis. We headed down to the player's lounge where some of the other WAGs were watching out for the little ones. Megan had offered to watch Makayla and little Ryan until the third so they "wouldn't learn any new words." Clearly, Megan had never really paid any attention to the things being said at any other home game.

Makayla ran over and wrapped her arms around my legs. I gently tugged on one of her bouncy little pigtails and bent down to plant a kiss on the top of her head. "Ready to go watch Daddy upstairs?" That was a stupid question. Makayla's favorite thing was watching her dad play. He took her to the rink constantly and she was almost more heartbroken than the guys when the season ended. "But, Mommy," she'd cried last year. "I wanna watch Daddyyyyyyy!" She'd watch other hockey, but there was nothing she loved more than seeing her daddy on the screen.

She nodded her head and grabbed my hand. "Daddy, Daddy, Daddy!" she cheered before trying to drag me off towards the stairs. Megan laughed and handed me my sleeping infant. I hated taking him upstairs with all the noise with how young he was, but I wanted him to be there if the hockey gods granted us a miracle.

"He's been great, Sienna," she promised. "Mason was getting a kick out of him. You might have put more ideas in his head," she lamented as her two-year-old twins chased each other around the room. "I'm not really sure I'm ready for that."

Just then, we heard Mason yell, "No, no! No! Guys, I love you, but no!" We turned just in time to see the twins trying to climb up to hug their suffering father. Megan ran towards her family, reaching to grab the twins. Gina called out, "We'll see you after the game!" and we headed back upstairs to catch the final period.

As expected, Makayla bounced, danced and cheered her way through the third. She was screaming for Ryan, booed with the crowd, and informed the refs that there were "big meanies!" when they sent Jannik Hansen to the penalty box. The poor little thing was terrified of Zdeno Chara. When he finished a check in front of her, she let out a shriek and ran back to hold my legs.

Little Ryan was better than I imagined. He slept on, waking only when his older sister yelled as Denns Seidenberg hit Manny Malhotra. Makayla adored Manny and if she had been about twelve years older, she'd have been screaming more than "you big poopie head jerk!" Jerk alone was one of those words Ryan didn't like her saying. I let it slide.

Granted, if she were twelve years older, she also probably would have been batting her eyelashes at him. She had informed me the night he came back that he was her boyfriend and she was in love with him. Makayla just didn't care that he was married and had his own little boy; Manny would be hers. He would always skate with her and play around when Ryan would bring her to practices and she was convinced she would marry him one day. When we had gone to visit him after the hit that nearly blinded him, she had curled up next to him and cried and told him she'd beat up whoever hit him.

Manny played along with her. "My hero!" he'd exclaimed before kissing her cheek. She'd insisted as I washed her face that night before bed that I could never wash her cheek again. Ryan said he'd have to have a little talk with his teammate about breaking his daughter's heart.

Something told me that his daughter's heart - along with every other blue and green heart in Vancouver that night - was about to be broken into a million pieces. As the clock wound down and our boys just couldn't beat Thomas, I felt Makayla grab onto my jersey and bury her face. I knew it wouldn't be long before her little body would start to shake with sobs and I wrapped my arm over her shoulder to pull her close. Gina covered her face with her hands, fully aware that this would come back as her husband's fault. Nancy's head drooped and I saw her own shoulders begin to shake. Sammie looked numb. She stared at the ice as the Bruins began to celebrate and I watched as her eyes closed slowly in disbelief.

As for myself, I bit my lip as my chin began to quiver. They had all worked so hard. I knew Ryan was hurting both physically and emotionally. He had refused to tell me what was injured, preferring to ignore it unless the team doctors brought it up. But as the Bruins jumped on one another, their fans celebrating in the stands, I saw Ryan's glove cover his face and I knew, just knew that he was crying. That was all it took for the tears to spill over and poor Makayla to lose it.

Her body shook as she wailed into my jersey and I bent down to pick her up as well. She looked out at the ice, still crying, and screamed at the object of her nightmares, "I HATE YOU, CHAWA!" Her little voice barely carried, but her pronunciation of the defenseman's name brought a small smile to Gina's face. "You tell him, honey," she encouraged through her own tears. "Tell him." I could only imagine what she would have said if she had seen her daddy crying.

As the boys left the ice, we headed down to the lounge to wait for them. Makayla curled up on my lap, her sniffles still shaking her body. The tears had subsided, but I knew she was close to crying again. Any sign of tears from Manny or Ryan and she'd be a wailing mess all over again.

We sat in silence, no one daring to break the heavy veil. As our men slowly started to trickle in to pick up their girlfriends, wives and families, I watched the faces around me. Christian Erhoff was hooking his arm into a sling. Ryan had mentioned something about the shots Christian had before every game and the surgery he would more than likely need. Alex Edler's fingers were taped together to hold two broken ones steady. Chris Higgins hobbled in next, his foot still not quite right. I wondered if it was broken.

Then my warrior walked in. I wondered if he would tell me yet what was nagging him. He had refused to talk about his injuries on the record I had overheard Higgy telling Megan and Mason. He didn't want to make excuses.

Makayla jumped from my lap and ran to him, tears streaming down her face again. He knelt down as she reached him and hoisted her up. She snuggled into his chest and sniffled as I stood up and went to meet him. Ryan wrapped his other arm around me and pulled me into him before kissing the top of my head. None of us said anything. There was nothing to say.

I overheard Jeff Tambellini talking to Manny behind us and perked my ears to listen in. "They were shooting up, what? Six guys today?" he asked his teammate. "And fucking Kes over there," he added. "I think every stride hurt him. He never showed it. He never talked about it. We never heard about it all day and this guy is a true warrior. The fact he even came back is mind-blowing."

I looked up at my boyfriend and the father of my son as he leaned down enough to press his lips to mine. He kissed Makayla's forehead before saying, "Come on. Let's go home."

***

I had sworn we were going to win. The boys had been working their asses off. I must have watched at least a third of the team being shot up with some type of pain killer or other medication before the game. I had refused to tell anyone - Sienna included - what was really wrong with me. I hadn't wanted Boston to target it and I didn't want to make excuses. Tambellini had been right: ever stride did hurt me. It hurt like a fucking bitch. I pushed through it, though. I pushed and pushed and we still lost.

But what hurt even more than watching Boston lift the Cup on our ice was watching my little girl cry as she clung to my dress shirt after the game. She knew what the Stanley Cup was all about. She knew how much it meant. To watch how hurt she was broke my heart all over again.

And Sienna...After everything I'd put her through, she was still there. I had looked over to the Zamboni entrance and I could see her holding Makayla and Ryan to see tears streaming down her face. We'd let the city down, but we'd also let our families down.

I stretched out on the deck chair out back and closed my eyes. I could still see everything. The way Roberto slumped in his crease. The devastation on Lappy's face. The way the Bruins had taken over our arena. Everything had crumbled down.

I dug the heels of my hands into my eyes before I opened them, trying to wash away everything from tonight. I let out a long breath and leaned over to pick up the bottle of Crown Royal from the deck. Removing the top, I put the bottle to my lips and took a drink. The alcohol went down smoothly and I let my head drop back against the cushion.

The clouds were strange with the lingering lights from the fires downtown. I couldn't help but feel like I'd help to start those riots. Maybe if I'd been able to score one fucking goal, none of this would have happened. Maybe then -

I turned to look as the glass door slid open and Sienna stepped outside, still wearing my jersey. She pushed it shut before coming over to join me on the large chair. As Sienna curled up next to me, I slid my arm around her, holding her close, before taking another drink of Crown.

"Are the kids asleep?" I asked. Poor Makayla had taken forever to get into bed. She'd been crying off and on since we'd gotten home and had insisted that she sleep in her jersey. Ryan had been completely zonked by the time the front door opened. Something told me sleep was going to be something I wouldn't get much of that night.

Sienna nodded and looked out at the backyard. "They're both out. I finally gave in and let Makayla sleep in whatever the hell she wanted. She refused to take the jersey off. She screamed every time I touched it."

I ran my fingers along her arm and looked down with as much of a smile as I could muster. "Well, to be fair, you're still wearing yours."

She stuck her tongue out at me before noticing the bottle in my other hand. "Ryan, please tell me you're not mixing booze and your pain meds."

Busted.

I let out a sigh and tilted the bottle towards my lips again. "Ryan James, please..." I looked down at her and took a deep breath. She shook her head. "Please. Just think about Derek. I know you don't want to talk about whatever the hell your injury was, but that doesn't mean you're not on painkillers."

She was right. I was so pissed that she was right. I wanted to drown out everything. It wasn't even just losing the Stanley Cup, it was everything else that had happened during the playoffs. It was my injury. It was everything with how I'd treated Sammie. It was the way I'd completely broken my friend and teammate along the way.

Sammie had told Lappy everything. Or close to everything. She didn't tell him that I was in on the plan, only that I was the lowlife she'd slept with who had knocked her up. When she'd decided to skip town, she told me where she was going along with her flight before telling me to never contact her again. I'd run off to Lappy and confessed before telling him that if he really felt everything he said he did, he'd better get his ass off to the airport and stop her.

They'd been together ever since.

That wasn't to say everything had been mended. Yeah, Sienna and Sammie got along, but Lappy fucking hated me. It wasn't even so much what we had done to him with the plan. It had everything to do with how I'd handled the situation with Sam to begin with. We'd been warned by Coach "no bullshit" in the locker room, but that was the extent of it. We didn't hang out anymore. Higgy had told me that Lappy "respected me as a leader and an alternate captain," but that was absolutely it.

I let my head tilt down to rest on Sienna's and her arm that rested on my chest traced lazy circles over the skin visible through my unbuttoned shirt. After setting the bottle of Crown back on the deck, I reached over and ran my fingers through her long, brown hair. Her body rose and fell with both of our breaths and I tipped my head to press a kiss into her hair.

She snuggled into me and I finally snapped. I felt an overflow of emotions that had been pooling up inside me explode as though a dam had broken. I didn't deserve any of this. "I'm a fucking failure," I exclaim, burying my face in her hair. "I'm a terrible, disgusting excuse for a human being. Why the hell do you put up with me, Sienna? Why are you still here? I treat people like absolute shit and scum. I pulled all that shit behind your back with Sam and Lappy, but you're still here. I let an entire city down. I-"

Sienna silenced me by pressing her lips to mine. Her warm kiss sent shivers down my spine the way it always had and - I hoped - always would. I slid my hand to cup her neck and pulled her closer as I held her lips to mine. When we finally pulled apart, she ran her hand over the now clean-shaven skin on my face.

"You're not a failure," she began. Her eyes glistened as she shook her head. "Not even close. You have a city that loves you. You have a hockey team who looks to you as a leader. You have two beautiful children who love and adore you. Who look up to you." She ran her fingers through my hair. "And you have a girlfriend who, no matter what stupid thing you do, loves you more than life." Sienna's smile warmed my heart and she added, "That's why I'm still here. That's why I stayed. Because I love you."

I shook my head, guilt and doubt completely overtaking me. "I don't deserve it, Sienna. I'm a miserable excuse for a man. I hurt people. I use people. I've got a kid out there I've never met. I've never even gotten to..." I paused, emotion once again threatening to encompass my body. I'd cried once already that night. I didn't think I could handle doing it again.

Sienna rolled over to straddle my legs - avoiding my throbbing hip, but still causing me to wince - and took my face in her hands. Her soft hands held my rough cheeks and she rubbed the pad of her thumb over my skin. "Ryan, you deserve some happiness at least. Look what you do for the kids, for me." I started to protest, but she held a finger to my lips. "As for your other son," she gave me a soft smile and said, "he's your first born son. You have every reason to want to meet him. Whether you do or not is entirely up to you. No matter what decision you make, I'm going to support you. I'm going to be here for you. I'm not leaving you."

I don't think Sienna knew exactly how much those words meant to me. I had, admittedly, been only able to love myself for a long time. I loved my kids, that was never a question. But to me, that was a different kind of love. But now, looking at my beautiful girlfriend who had stood by me despite every shitty thing I'd done to both her and those around me, I realized that I loved her more than I had thought possible after losing Sammie. Everything had come crashing down after that. I'd had to lie about love, I'd ruined relationships...I was more fucked up than I ever thought possible. But here I was, realizing that for some fucked up reason, Sienna still loved me...and that gave me hope that maybe I could remember what love was.

But then there was my friend. I'd completely decimated my relationship with Lappy and I didn't know if there was any way he'd ever forgive me. I wouldn't blame him if he didn't. He'd trusted me and I'd completely ruined everything with him.

"I just don't know anymore, Sienna," I started before she climbed off the chair and grabbed my hand.

"Come with me." She led me into the quiet house and I slid the door shut behind us. The family dog slept under the kitchen table, oblivious to the world. Some watch dog. He'd probably just lick an intruder to death, anyway. Sienna led the way back the darkened hall and up the carpet covered stairs. I wasn't sure where we were going, but a part of me - for the first time in...potentially since I'd hit puberty - hoped she wasn't taking me to our bedroom. I was in absolutely no condition for sex. My hip couldn't handle it.

We walked right past our bedroom and stopped at the first door after it. Sienna held a finger up to her lips and softly opened the door. A beam of moonlight lit the floor of my little girl's bedroom. Makayla slept soundly, her little stuff orca wrapped under her arm. I'd bought her the little Fin look alike the day she was born and she'd slept with him since. Sure enough, her little jersey was still on. I smiled and crossed my arms while I watched her sleep.

After a few minutes, Sienna rubbed my arm. I turned to look at her and she held a finger to her lips before leading me back to the hall. Across from Makayla's room, another door was slightly ajar. Sienna pushed it open and I saw my little boy - I had to remember that he wasn't my firstborn and the guilt came flooding back - sleeping soundly. I stood there, watching his little chest rise and fall in his Canucks sleeper and Sienna came to stand next to me. I wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her close before I pressed a kiss to her forehead. We created the little body in front of us. He was all ours. The loss tonight, the mistakes I'd made in the past...nothing changed that. Makayla would still love me despite the Stanley Cup heading out to Boston as she slept.

Sienna and I left Ryan's room and as she tugged the door nearly shut, I pulled her into me and kissed her like I had when I had first met her. She let a small gasp slide before returning my enthusiasm. As she pulled away, she looked up and gave me a smile. "I still love you, the kids still love you...hell, the dog still loves you, Ryan." I gave her a small smile before she continued, "It hurts. It does. It all hurts. But there's next season, Ryan, to win the Cup." She trailed her fingertips down the side of my cheek and I leaned my face into her hand. 'As for everything else...you can fix it. I know you can. It's going to take time and a lot of work, but it'll all work out. I know it will."

Sienna was right. I had my demons and my personal struggles and I knew nothing would ever be the same again. I had to deal with the decisions I'd made and the effects they'd had on my friends and family. One day, I'd make good by the firstborn son I'd never met. I'd make good to my friends. More than anything, I'd find a way to make up for being a prick to my family. I wished there was a quick fix, but I knew there never would be. This was going to take a hell of a lot of time and I'd never be whole again. The people I'd hurt would never be whole again. I had to own up to the awful things I'd done. I had a hell of a lot of regrets in my life, but I wouldn't be going on with any excuses.

No excuses.