Stop Standing There

Skylar and I were talking, and I was relieved. There was still a bit of tension, but we were okay. This was so much better than not talking.

After she had confessed to me what was going on with Chris, I had apologized for everything, and so had she. We hadn't gone into detail, but we both knew what the other meant. After our conversation, I knew I had one other thing to do.

Which is why I now sat on the floor in the Canucks equipment room with the door shut, staring at my cell phone.

I had to do it.

I took a deep breath before dialing the number. I lifted the phone up to my ear, praying that it would go to the answering machine, like most times it did. Not like I called enough to really know anymore...

"Dan White speaking, may I help you?"

He didn't even have my number in the phone?

I cleared my throat. "Hi, Dad. It's Sarah."

"Oh." My dad paused. "What can I do for you today?"

I'm not a business client, Dad.

I closed my eyes as I felt the tears welling up. "Um, nothing."

The line was silent for a moment. "Did you manage to meet with the man about the shipment?"

"No."

"Oh," he said, sounding disappointed. "Well, have you set a date? Have you-"

"I'm not going to."

My father seemed taken aback by my defiant tone.

"Sarah, honey, this is very importa-"

"I'm done."

"... Pardon?"

My eyes shot open and I wiped at my eyes angrily with the back of my hand. "I'm done," I repeated through gritted teeth. "With this business."

"Sarah," my dad said in a firm tone. "You can't just turn your back on the family."

I let out a scoff. "Well, you are my father, I take after you," I spat.

"Sarah!"

"I'm not doing it. Call me when you feel like being my dad again." And with that, I hung up the phone and tossed it at the ground angrily. I stared at it, half hoping it would start buzzing with a call, that it would be my father saying that he was sorry for everything, that he missed me... Anything. But nothing happened.

I tried to compose myself, but I felt shaky. I didn't know whether to scream or cry. But when the door opened and I lifted my head from my arms to see the one person I really didn't want to see me like this, I burst into sobs.

I heard the door click shut and then I felt warmth. A familiar pair of arms pulled me in, and the smell of comfort surrounded me.

I couldn't stop myself from crying. I turned into Max's chest and sobbed with everything I had in me. I hadn't cried - really cried - in a long, long time. And I didn't know how to stop.

After what seemed like hours, the sobbing gradually stopped, and the tears began to dry on my cheeks. My head rested on Max's shoulder, and he had somehow managed to pull me in between his knees. My hand rested on his chest, and his arms were around me tightly. I hadn't noticed, but while I had been crying, he had been gently rocking me back and forth and speaking soothing French words into my hair. I took a deep breath and pulled my face out of his chest, feeling weak.

But I also felt... Cleansed. That cry had been a long time coming.

Max's grip on me didn't loosen, and he peered down at me as I slowly lifted my eyes to meet his. I expected him to ask if I was okay, or something of the sort, but he surprised me as he gently said, "Sarah."

My face caved in again and I let out a tiny, muffled sob. I wiped at my nose with the back of my sleeve, taking in a deep breath to calm myself.

"Sarah," Max repeated as I stayed silent. He paused. "Why can't you let me in?"

My eyes fell to the floor, and I bit my lip. The sincerity of Max's question hit me like a ton of bricks, and my heart sank. What was I doing to this poor man? He cared about me.

And that was terrifying.

"I don't want you to see everything that's wrong with me," I finally mustered up the courage to whisper.

"Why?" Max's voice was quiet and gentle, and it pulled on my heartstrings.

"Because," I continued quietly, still not looking at him, "You'll like me less. I can't... I can't be a burden for you, Max," I nearly pleaded. My eyes finally met his, and his face was serious.

"Sarah," he said again. My heart fluttered each time he said my name. I looked down, and he removed one hand to tilt my chin up, the other resting on my hip. "You are not a burden," he promised. "And if you'd let me, I want to be there for you." I stared at him with disbelief. His hand tucked my hair behind my ear before he gently brushed my cheek with his fingers. "We all 'ave problems, Sarah. Nobody's perfect, remember?" I nodded with a tiny smile. I slowly pushed myself off of him, and he stood up, offering his hands for me to take. He pulled me up, and within seconds he had me backed up against the wall. He took my face in his hands, whispering, "And I don't think it's possible for me not to like you." He gently leaned forward, and my eyes fluttered shut as his lips met mine slowly and firmly, as though he was promising me something.