Second City.

“Bristol,” Dan tried shaking his squirming wife awake as she gripped the pillow tight, tears streaming from her closed eyes. He was growing nervous; what hell could possibly be going on her mind to cause her so much pain and paralyzing fear in her sleep? Shaking harder, Dan kneeled on the bed placing dry kisses to her dampened forehead. “Bristol, c’mon babe, wake up.”

Her eyes flew open, bloodshot and reading terror. With no realization she was back in reality, Dan was shocked when the back of her hand collided hard with his cheek. “Holy shit,” closing her eyes, Bristol hoisted herself out of bed without another word and darted straight into the bathroom. Through the open door he could hear as she tossed the lid of toilet up and begin to violently up-chuck the contents of that morning’s breakfast. Concerned about her actions and still in shock over the backhanded slap, Daniel eased his way off the bed and paced to the entryway of the bathroom.

“Are you okay?” He asked. Bristol flushed the toilet as she rested her back against the beige painted wall and wiping her mouth with the palm of her hand.

“Yeah,” she answered back. “Just a nightmare. Did I slap you?”

Dan nodded slowly, both creeped out and concerned about this rare episode. Sure she had had nightmares in the past but nothing as severe as this one. Helping Bristol to her feet, she stumbled to the sink noting his eyes were still glued to her every move. Assuring Dan she was fine, Bristol ran her toothbrush under cold water before brushing the foul taste out of her mouth. “If you don’t mind, I’m going to take a shower.” Her voice was still shaky and coated with a tone he had never heard before. As she stood with her back against the vanity, he realized she was waiting for him to leave before undressing. That was the biggest clue something other than a sleep terror was up—she never asked him to leave the room before undressing. Giving her the privacy Bristol requested Dan disappeared in to the kitchen in hopes of finding a quick snack.

Allowing the hot water to beat down her body, Bristol rested her forehead against the ceramic tile. Her head pounded and her stomach churned; the need to vomit suddenly arising once more. What had caused her dream of such horrible actions from Dan? He had never once laid a finger on her nor would he ever dare. She didn’t think of the fact it could have been her guilty conscience to tell Dan of the thousand pound weight on her back. In reality she was afraid to tell him of her mistake, because she feared that was the way he would react to such news. But the fact her ex-husband was involved made absolutely no sense.

Hearing Dan knock on the bathroom door with the knuckle of his index finger, Bristol spat the running shower water from her mouth. He asked again if she was okay, which she answered with one word. “Yeah.” While she appreciated his worry about her anxiety, Bristol wished he would just leave her alone for at least a minute. Rinsing the soap suds off her milky skin and the conditioner from her hair, Bristol wished she could stay under the hot spray all night, but duty called for her to put on a front and act as the happy and carefree wife of a hockey player. If it weren’t for the fact tonight was the home opener, she would go straight to bed.

Her wet feet made deep impressions in the plush bath mat she stepped out of the shower. A fresh towel was waiting for her on the rack and she pulled it down, hugging it close her body. Bristol muttered an f-bomb as she picked her watch up off the vanity and looked at the time. They should have let five minutes ago. Brushing out her hair quickly, Bristol lathered up in coco-butter and dashed out in to the bedroom. Dan stood in front of the full length mirror in the closet fixing his tie, eyeing Bristol as she dropped her towel. “Stop looking at my ass.” She warned, slipping into a pair of panties and a bra. Spinning around, Bristol placed her hands on her hips. “I need a sweater to wear.”

Pulling a red jersey off a hanger, Dan handed it over but not without a kiss first. Slapping her ass playfully, he told her to hurry up.

They left twenty minutes later than they should have, but Dan wasn’t too worried about the time seeing as to he didn’t have to bother dressing. He reminded himself there was only one game left in the suspension; the anxiety of finally being able to play was growing fierce. At the United Center, Dan dropped Bristol off at the corner of Madison and Damen. She was meeting Adrienne at the G gate doors and he had to park in the garage. “Do you have everything?” He asked, stopping Bristol from exiting the Hummer. “Tickets, cash, ID, cell phone…”

“Yes, yes, yes and yes, I have it all. Stop worrying. Adrienne and I will meet you outside the changing room after the game. Have fun in the press box.” She joked, leaning over the center counsel and pressing a goodbye kiss to his awaiting lips. Getting out of the car, Bristol slid the strap of her bag over her shoulder and waved before following the mass crowd to the arena.

Just as she said she was Adrienne stood several feet away from the door with her arms crossed over her chest and a Toews sweater draped over her back. She waved Bristol over upon spotting her sister and annoying said, “You’re late, as usual.”

“I had a rough afternoon, okay. Cut me some slack.” Fishing the tickets out of her bag, Bristol handed one over to Adrienne as they got in line at the door.

Once inside the girls quickly realized there was no time to stop and purchase any concessions if they planned on being in their seats during the National Anthem. Navigating their way to section 122, they excused themselves while slipping through the fourth row to seats twelve and thirteen. It was Bristol who took seat thirteen to commemorate the number which was stitched on her back. She suddenly realized all the motions and petitions she filed in court during her divorce were well worth getting half the season tickets. If only she had known earlier in her life that the seat she had sat in for so many years was the number which her husband swore to always wear.

“Why aren’t we sitting up there?” Adrienne pointed up to a suite. With her sister now married to member of the team, Adrienne had expected to be sitting up top, enjoying the game from a view in which she could see the entire ice.

“Because I fought long and hard for these seats and I only got 41 games. You bet your ass I’m going to use them and enjoy it.” Looking up, Bristol clapped but didn’t cheer as the guys took the ice. She was too busy scanning the several boxes searching for just the slightest glimpse of Dan. If it were up to her, Dan would be sitting beside her—not Adrienne. She was still pissed at her big-mouthed sister.

•••

The energy in the Madhouse was electrifying as the buzzer went off starting the third period. Six goals had been scored—four of which Kane and Toews netted. Bristol was eager to see if either would get a hat trick; what an amazing start that would be to the season. She could see the ambition clearly on every one of the guys faces as Sharp’s line took their respective places at center ice. They were in no shape to be embarrassed this season as they had been last. A proved championship team and rested from their long summer, only time and attitude would tell if they were once again Stanley Cup contenders.

Bristol sat in her cushioned seat on her left side, leaning away from Adrienne. She chewed on the end of the straw to her five-dollar Coke, anxiously looking to the jumbotron as Keith’s remaining minute of a cross-checking penalty was added to the clock. Little words had been spoken between Bristol and Adrienne—she couldn’t really sum any good words together without them even sounding harsh. The only time she exchanged words with Adrienne was when she told her she was going to the bathroom or when a Blackhawks goal was scored.

“Who else knows?” Bristol asked, turning to her sister and placing her empty cup on the sticky floor. When she was answered with a confusing look, Bristol repeated herself.

Using her free hand to fluff her hair at the roots, Adrienne tried to play if off like she had not the slightest idea was being asked. Trying to ignore the question all together wasn’t an option. At some point she’d have to own up to the mistake she had made no more than a couple of hours after giving her word to Bristol. Pretending she was watching the puck—and comprehending what was actually going on—Adrienne gave an answer without the slightest bit of remorse. “Just Patrick and Jonathan. But I’m sure Pat told some more people and that, my sister, is out of my hands.”

Fighting the urge to flip the open bottle of water of Adrienne’s hand, Bristol tried her best to stay as calm and as rational as possible. The last thing she needed was to embarrass not only herself but her husband and his teammates by being the instigator of a hair pulling cat fight.

“How’d it even happen? What were the three of you doing that was necessary for you to bring up the one thing that could ruin my life?”

“I was at the store this morning when I ran into Toews. Patrick was helping him shop and we just started talking. It just slipped out; I’m sorry, Bristol, I really am.”

Shaking her head, Bristol had a hard time believing the apology spewing from her mouth was genuine and not just Adrienne making she feel better. It was the same old routine with her; Bristol knew there was the reason she had cut ties with Adrienne months before leaving for Philly and her awareness of nobody’s feelings but her own was why. She was sick of hearing the ‘I’m Sorry’s’, for once she wanted Adrienne to fess up and admit her guilt.

“C’mon Bristol, face it; you having Briere’s baby probably is the best thing. Everyone knows you and Dan aren’t going to make it until ‘death do you part’. The last thing you need is fighting over custody when you divorce and he’s traded off to another city come January. Do you really want your kid being shipped off to different states just to see his father? I don’t even know the guy but I pretty fuckin’ sure Danny would make a hell of a better father than the prick you married.”

There was no stopping the tears which skated from her lids. Bristol had finally reached her breaking point. Grabbing her bag and standing up—the time couldn’t have come at a more opportune time as everyone around them did just that to cheer for another goal scored by Hossa. Looking down at Adrienne, Bristol spoke just loud enough to be heard over Chelsea Dagger. “I should tear your eyes out for what you just said, but how will you be able to look at yourself in the morning?” Wiping the tears from her flushed cheeks, Bristol decided it was time to go. Head upstairs and be at the one place she should have been all along—Daniel’s side. “You can find your own ride home; selfish bitch.”