Carry You Home

We kill the hour and a half that separates our hotel check in time and our dinner reservation by taking a walk to Point State Park. I remember a time...even just three shorts months ago...when we used to just tear each others clothes off and ravage one another the second we managed to get behind closed doors. It had been that way with us from the beginning; the overwhelming lust and desire that we stirred inside of each other, the all consuming want and need and intense sexual attraction that had brought us together in the first place. Sex had always been a huge part of who we were. As individuals. As a couple. We've always enjoyed it and we've always been extremely good at it. There'd even been a time where it had been all that had mattered to us. Content in the slightly twisted and warped world of 'friends with benefits' that we'd created for ourselves. It had been all we'd needed at the time. Neither of us had been too interested in a serious commitment; she was all the way in Montreal at university and I'd been in Pittsburgh sowing my wild oats all over the Steel City. And in many 'ports of call'. It had been an arrangement that we'd both agreed on and neither and ever felt forced to renegotiate the terms of involvement. Being away from one another for so long had just made the sex even more incredible when we'd finally managed to hook up. We dedicated the summer months to each other (we went on vacations or visited one another in our hometowns) and in our second year 'together' she'd begun making regular trips to Pittsburgh during the hockey season. Whenever she could get away -whether it was a long weekend up in Canada and she was able to get away from work and school or she was on 'reading week'- she would grab the first available flight down.

I suppose that's when we started venturing into 'couple-dom'. Suddenly, without even discussing it or really thinking about it, things had stopped revolving solely around sex. Sure, we had it as often as possible and the physical chemistry that existed between us was just as powerful and undeniable as when we'd first met, but suddenly there was more to us. All of my other 'lady friends' ceased to exist when Sloan was in town; much to their dismay. We were actually learning and discovering other things about each other besides our favourite positions and all those secret, magic spots that, when manipulated through kissing or suckling or simple touching, drove us insane with need. We had deep and meaningful discussions and shared our deepest and darkest secrets and found out what really made each other tick. And we acted as if we were together. Venturing out into public as opposed to just locking ourselves behind closed doors and feasting on one another and surviving on take out. We went on dates; quiet, romantic dinners at quaint neighbourhood restaurant and more lighthearted fare like bowling and the movies. We hit up the night clubs with the boys and their significant others and spent the majority of the night making out in the VIP sections and in turn, pissing off a lot of fan girls and women that I'd taken home just months before. We even held hands when walking down the street and never shied away from public displays of affection. And on those occasions when she'd come down to accompany me to charity events (I'd always called Sloan first and made the proper arrangements if she could swing it and only resorted to one of my other girls or even going solo if she couldn't) I'd never thought twice about introducing her as my girlfriend. I couldn't exactly tell the big wigs within the Penguins organization or local celebrities or politicians that she was my fuck buddy. No matter what words I'd used to sugar coat it.

The transition for us had been smooth and simple. I don't even think we realized that we'd made it. One minute we were one thing and the next we were another. It may have taken us a couple of years to actually come on and admit to our true feelings and what we really wanted from each other, but we'd been playing the part for a hell of a long time.

She's the first -and only- woman that I'd been involved with sexually but had found myself so comfortable with in other aspects of my life. We'd always had fun together; she laughed at my dumb jokes and teased me about my often tattered and choppy English -'you and your missing H's and your lack of plurals'- and was always a good sport when it came to whatever crazy idea I conjured up. She's all woman, but when I tell you that she swears like a drunken sailor and can nearly drunk me under the table...

Sloan is so much more than just my wife. She's my best friend. My lover. My most loyal and trusted confidant and biggest supporter.

Or at least she had been up until I'd gone and fucked that all up.

Things had been...awkward... back at the hotel. I can't remember the last time (or if there ever was one) that she'd been that tense around me. Where she'd turned into a skittish, nervous wreck the second we found ourselves alone together. The old Sloan and Max would have been all over each other; clothes would have been flying the second the door closed behind us. Now it's like we're complete strangers. There's so much tension and so much that's been left unsaid and problems left unsolved that we don't even know how to act around one another.

It had reminded me of the night of my senior prom in high school when my then girlfriend had agreed to get a room together after the dance. All of the 'cool kids' were doing it; failing into the 'everyone does this on prom night!' and simultaneously losing their virginities. Everything had been good to go; the ex had talked about it for weeks before and had been a cock tease for even longer. Leading me down the proverbial garden path for nearly six months and never letting me get off but always promising me that she'd give in when the 'moment was perfect'. In the end, she'd bailed on me. Turned into a frigid, meek and mild little thing the second I start rounding third base. A week later, I'd banged her older sister out of revenge.

Sloan had reminded me of that night. How she'd toured the executive suite and made rambling observations about the 'ambiance' and the view from our balcony and then totally shut me down the second I even tried to kiss her.

“Let's go for a walk!” she'd suggested, and had tried to brush off completely shutting me down by playfully tugging on my tie. “It's a beautiful night for a walk!”

I hadn't even gotten the chance to argue or even beg her to stay and hear me out. All I'd gotten was a kiss on the cheek before she hurried out of the room.

If I had my way, we'd be back in our suite hashing things out. Getting everything out in the open so that I could head to Philadelphia with a totally clean slate. And maybe with my wife and little boy in tow. We'd have one of our epic 'knock 'em down, drag 'em out' battles and it would either end with hotel staff calling security or the two of us launching into the mother of all 'make up sex' session. No in between, no shades of grey. One or the other. There's less than forty eight hours before I leave Pittsburgh and it seems like there's still so much we need to figure out yet not enough time to do it. Tomorrow afternoon we'd set aside to take little Max to the zoo; one last outing as a family before our lives officially start that trek down an entirely different path than the one we'd had our hearts set on. In the evening, I'd planned on making my rounds to a few of my teammates to say my goodbyes. It always seems like there's something continuously coming between Sloan and I when we need to work shit out. Some kind of unseen yet unbeatable force working against us.

*****

“Remember how we used to come here all the time?” Sloan asks, as she makes her way around the ledge surrounding Point State Park's fountain in her bare feet, a hand on the back of my neck for balance. It's the first words she's spoken to me since we'd left the hotel; I had considered it a small miracle that she had at even let me hold her hand on the way over here. “This used to be my favourite place to come in the entire city.”

She's always been extremely easy to please. Never the type that needed to be showered with expensive, materialistic objects to make her happy. The type of woman that gets excited over a bouquet of flowers you picked up from a street vendor or teary eyed because of the verse inside of a greeting card. Not that her 'no frills' personality has ever stopped me from spoiling her as often and as much as I possibly can. It's just nice to know that it's not expected me of and that when I do give her something, it's appreciated. There's too many WAGs that are the total opposite.

“Used to be?” I peer up at her and switch her shoes -an impossibly sexy pair of white strappy sandals- from one hand to the other. “It's not like that now? You don't like to come here anymore?”

“We don't come here like we used to. I used to always talk you into bringing me here. And you always used to bitch and moan about how boring it was. That there were 'a million and one other things to do than walk around some park'. Yeah...that's because your idea of quality time used to be christening and rechristening every possible surface in the house.”

We both laugh at that. It's a remarkably accurate statement. Before we had the baby, sex was the best way to spend a day off. The perfect prescription for all of that lingering adrenaline still trickling through your veins after hard fought battles on the ice. It was a way of 'rediscovering' each other after a long and trying road trip and showing someone exactly how much you missed them. Words could only do so much. Physically proving it to them? There was nothing better. Once you start having kids, everything begins to change. Right from the time that test comes back positive. If it's not the incessant puking and the aches and pains and agony that put sex on the back burner, it's the schedule that the baby puts up on the second he enters the world. The every three hour feedings and the hell lack of sleep plays on your system and the fact that you're constantly covered in spit up makes you feel less than desirable. I love my boy, don't get me wrong. But parenthood changes your entire life. You're not free to come and go as you please anymore. There's no such things as quiet, alone time.

“That was the old Max,” I grin. “The evil one.”

“What ever happened to him? You didn't kill him did you? Is he just on an extremely long vacation or is it permanent? Because I miss the old Max. The one that used to tease me about my freckles and my red hair and called me Strawberry Shortcake all the time.”

“I haven't called you that in a long time. Way before we even get married. I haven't called you Strawberry Shortcake since you threatened to punch me in the face for doing it.”

“I was eighteen. I thought I was grown up and far removed from silly little nicknames. Now I realize just how much I actually miss it. How much I miss a lot of things.”

There's a lot of things that she's holding back. That she's too apprehensive to say out of fear of making our problems even worse. The things she's missing extend far beyond the silly pet name I adopted for her or the lame jokes I used to crack about her freckles and her red hair. I know that she has an extensive list that she could choose from and a part of me wishes that she'd just get it all out in the open so that we could start dealing with it all. Instead it hangs over us; a looming black cloud that we simply can't shake.

“Remember the time that I fell in?” she giggles at the memory. “That first night of celebrating the Cup win? We were both so drunk and we stumbled down here and you were too slow on the uptake to stop me from falling on my ass in the water?”

“In my defence, I was really, really, really hammered. And you were trying to do those cartwheels and those...whatever you want to call them...”

“Walkovers,” she finishes for me.

“...on the ledge. Unleashing your inner Olympic gymnast. It's your own fault you fell in.”

“The best part was what happened afterwards,” she declares. “Do you remember? How we took one of those cable cars up Mount Washington at two in the morning?”

“I remember how you jumped me before the thing even got going,” I chuckle. “How you couldn't keep your hands off of me. That's a running theme with you, huh? Even when you were seventeen? Seducing me like that?”

“I was as close to eighteen as I could get when we first met. I was almost legal. Good thing daddy didn't find out about that and call the cops on you, huh?” she playfully tousles my hair. “And as for that incident in the cable car, you seduced me. I merely kissed you. You were the one that shoved your hand up my skirt and...”

“Taking the cable cars up Mount Washington was your idea. Not to mention you weren't wearing any underwear,” I point out. “And I distinctly remember you having underwear on when you left the house.”

“I took them off in the bathroom of the bar,” she admits. “Shoved them in my purse. I figured if I was going to at least try and live out one of my wildest and dirtiest fantasies...”

“Aside from the one involving the bedroom windows and people on the sidewalk watching us,” I tease, and a slight blush creeps into her cheeks.

“...I figured I should make things simple for you. Give you easy access. I notice you didn't say no.”

“Why would I have said no? Public sex with my insanely hot girlfriend? That's a win-win situation right there.”

“We used to do the the craziest things,” she says wistfully. “We used to be so spur of the moment and wild. Always up for anything. And now we're just...”

“Boring,” I finish for her. “Predictable.”

She nods in agreement.

“That doesn't have to be a bad thing, Sloan. I don't think it's a bad thing. So what if things are routine and familiar? That's kind of nice, don't you think? After years of not knowing exactly where we stood with each other? I don't know about you...” stepping in front of her, I place my hands on her side and turn her towards me. “...but I kind of like the way things are. Or the way they used to be before things got all fucked up. Sharing a bed with the same person night after night, having you to come home to, seeing your things in the closet and smelling you on the sheets and the pillows. Putting up with you talking in your sleep and hogging all the blankets.”

“You're the blanket hogger,” she laughs, and I slide my hands around to the small of her back and draw her into me. “Not to mention you snore like a freight train.”

“I don't snore.”

“Like a freight train,” she stresses, and nods enthusiastically when I shake my head in denial. “And you're right...” she lays her hands along my cheeks and places a chaste kiss on my lips. “...those things are nice. I like the way they are, too. Or at least the way they used to be.”

“They can go back to being that way, Sloan. The way things are right now? This isn't permanent. You're not going to hate me forever. You're not...”

“I don't hate you, Max. I don't like what you've done. But that doesn't mean I hate you. How could I ever feel that way about you? You're my husband. The father of my child. Of all my future children. Not to mention you're my first...and only...of a lot of things.”

It's not something that needs to be expanded on. She doesn't need to clarify exactly what she means. It's always been a big deal to me...filled me with a sense of pride and possession...that I'm the only man that she's ever been with. No one has ever touched her in the way I have. And no one else ever will.

“I don't know how many times I need to tell you,” she laments, as she traces the outer edges of my ears with the sides of her thumbs. “This isn't about not loving you, Max. It's about...”

“...teaching me a lesson,” I grumble. “I think it's been taught, Sloan. I think I've learned. You really think the last two months hasn't completely sucked? That the way things are between us hasn't made me realize what an asshole I am?”

“...it's about loving myself more,” she concludes. “I love you to the ends of the earth. My world has revolved around you for so long. And I wouldn't give you up for anything. No matter how hard things have been. And God knows that our son is the light of my life. But somewhere along the line...” she sighs. “...somewhere along the line I lost a piece of myself. All I've been is Max Talbot's wife. That's it. I want to be Sloan for a little while.”

“And you can't be that way in Philadelphia? Why do you need to stay behind? Why can't you just...?”

“I'm going back to work,” she announces. “At the end of September. It's only part time. But they're hiring speech therapists at UPMC and Nathalie Lemieux knows people and she put in a good word for me and...”

“We talked about this,” I remind her. “After you had Max, we agreed that you wouldn't go back to work until he started school full time. We...”

“And that would never have happened because we probably would have had another baby by then. Us being apart from each other...it gives me time to do things I couldn't do before. That I've wanted to do. I'll work part time and I'll still do things for your organization and the website, but...”

“What about the baby? You know how I feel about nannies and day cares and all of that. How I want him with you. Not strangers. You...”

“There's empty spots at the UPMC daycare centres. They said there'd be room for him when I was ready. It's right at my work. It's not like I'd be far from him.”

“Sloan...”

“Please...” she silences me with a kiss. “...please, Max. This is something I need to do. I need to feel like I'm something more than a wife and a mother. That I'm worth more than that.”

“You are,” I insist. “You're worth more than that to me. Isn't that enough?”

“There was a time where it would have been. But now...I don't know how else to explain it. I know it's not what you want. That you're slightly old fashioned when it comes to a woman staying home and raising kids. And there was a time where that was totally okay with me. But now...” she presses her lips to my forehead. “...I just need to do this. For me. And I'll feel better about it if you at least tell me that you'll support me. That you might not like it, but you'll have my back. This isn't a long term thing. It's only a six month contract, so...”

“Six months? We already talked about you being in Philly at the start of the second half of the season. We...” I sigh heavily and briefly close my eyes. All of my mother's advice about giving Sloan some space -and all of her warnings about what would happen if I didn't- ringing in my ears. I don't want to lose her. I have every intention on spending the rest of my life with her. What's six months? We spent four years living in separate countries. At least there's only a few hours between us. “Fine...” I open my eyes and give a reassuring yet slightly shaky smile. “...if this is what you want.”

She kisses me; long and slow and soft. Simple and sweet yet enough to take my breath away. “You know what I really want?” she asks, her eyes sparkling mischievously. “What I really, really, really want?”

“Besides that Turtles cheesecake at the Capital Grille you've been going on about for the past two weeks?” I tease, and curling an arm around her waist, effortlessly lift her up from the fountain's edge and place her on the ground.

“Yeah...besides that...” she chews on her bottom lip, hooks a finger around my belt buckle and yanks me into her. “...I want a long deserved replay of that night in the cable car.”

“Now that...” I smirk and drop a kiss on the top of her head. “...I can do. Think you could do something for me? If you're not starting at UPMC until the end of September?”

She nods.

“Come to Philadelphia until then. It's three weeks, Sloan. Three weeks extra that I'll get with you and the baby. Can you give me that? I'm not asking you to change your mind about this work thing and I'm not going to pressure you into moving down permanently. I just want those three weeks with you guys. That's it. You think you can do that for me?”

“Just for the three weeks?”

“I promise me I won't get on your case about staying. I'm not totally on board with you guys staying here or this job and daycare stuff, but I'll support you. Just give me that extra time with you. That's all I want.”

Smiling, she places her hands on shoulders and stands on her tiptoes to kiss me. It's a non verbal agreement. And to be honest, I don't need her to say a thing.

“Now let's go and get something to eat,” I say, and entwining my fingers with hers, lead her away from the fountain. “Sooner we eat, sooner we get on to knocking boots.”

“Now there's the old Max,” she says. “I knew he'd come out to play sooner or later.”

“You can have him for the rest of the night if you want,” I offer. “Is that what you want? The old Max? The insanely pervy and dirty one?”

“More dirtier and perverted the better,” she declares, and I wrap an arm around her waist and pull her into me; her ass settling quite nicely against the front of my dress pants.

“Be careful what you wish for,” I growl in her ear, and then nip at the side of her throat.

“Maybe you should be careful what you wish for,” she winks at me over her shoulder and then wriggles away from me. “Or you might not get that steak dinner you've been dying for.”

“Who needs steak? I have pussy. Pussy is my favourite meal. I love it so much, it should be a food group.”

She laughs – a genuine laugh that I haven't heard in a long time- and childishly and playfully skips away from me. “If you catch up to me, you can eat it as much as you like,” she promises.

I've always loved a challenge.