Who Wouldn't Want To Be Me

The remainder of the season went by fairly uneventfully; Eric obviously hadn’t said anything to Jordan’s brothers, because when the Rangers came to play us Marc was knocking at my apartment door – Jordan in tow – to get his ‘cooking lesson.’ But Eric no longer visited or even said hello after hockey games, and I felt awful because of it. Jordan pretended it didn’t bother him, and did a good job of it too, but I knew it really hurt him that Eric was acting like this. I told him it was more than fine if we told him my secret, if it would clear things up, but Jordan refused, saying that at this point he’d probably just make a big deal out of it too.

So February passed almost without incident – the team was doing good, we were still sitting third in the conference, and I hadn’t had any noticeable run-ins with Talbot when we played Philly. The only rough time was the anniversary of my dad passing away – I’d been given ‘leave’ and hadn’t played two games, and had shut myself up in my room and cried the entire day. I couldn’t even go to the cemetery and take flowers or anything, and it felt like my heart was ripped out of my chest all over again. Jordan, Becka, and the guys tried to sympathize and comfort me, but nothing helped. Finally I’d buried it all inside and showed up for practice two days after, trying to pretend like I was fine.

It felt like I blinked and then March passed, without anything of importance happening. Sure, we were winning a lot of games, Jordan and I were doing well both on and off the ice, but nothing stuck out. I was in a rut of routine, and while Jordan noticed and tried to help I didn’t know what to do, or how to even help myself. I knew the guys worried about me a bit, especially Steve, but I had no consolation for them.

Next thing I knew the playoffs had started, and we took out Tampa Bay in the first round – well deserved payback for them eliminating us last year. We then found ourselves playing Boston who had knocked the Rangers out of the playoffs. Marc and Lindsay came to stay with Jordan for moral support; they both knew how worked up he could get himself. Little did they know that the only thing he was complaining about lately was that they were stifling him and that the two of us couldn’t find any time together with them being here. He meant it in the most loving way, of course, and his grumblings continued to include his parents when they arrived in Pittsburgh to support the only one of their boys still in the playoffs. The Hurricanes hadn’t made it in – undoubtedly a sore spot for Eric, who had taken his family back to Thunder Bay rather than coming to Pittsburgh to cheer on Jordan.

Game six was going to be a big one; the games were split three for Boston and two for us. So if we lost we gave them the series, and if we won we evened it up. Jordan was nervous as hell, and for some reason I was just… the same. The same as I’d been since the very beginning of February after all of this had started.

“Jordan, what are you doing at my place?” I asked, speaking quietly into my phone as I got into my car. I’d opted to stay late after our morning skate and do a little extra conditioning, and had been surprised when he’d called me.

“Just chilling, and waiting for you to get your ass over here; Marc and Lindsay took mom and dad out for the day,” he explained. It made sense; Jordan wasn’t much for spending a lot of time completely by himself these days. It left him too much time to worry about the games. Boston was playing some incredible hockey, and we’d fought tooth and nail for the two wins we’d had.

“I’ll be there soon – I’m just leaving CONSOL,” I answered him, and after we said goodbye hung up. I didn’t like talking on my phone while driving; it made me nervous, especially because it was illegal in Canada. I wasn’t sure about down here, but I didn’t want to find out the hard way.

“What’s going on…” my eyes widened as I took in Jordan’s excited features and then noticed the woman standing next to him. Her eyes were watering as she took in my appearance – including my newly re-shorn hair – and her hand moved to cover her mouth.
“Mom,” I whispered, before flinging myself at her for a hug. She was about two inches shorter than me, and I’d forgotten how amazing it felt to hug her. With work and everything she hadn’t made it out to Pittsburgh yet, and I had missed her a lot.

“Cam, baby I’m so proud of you,” she told me, her voice letting me know she was crying also.

“Mom, how…? When…?” I asked, taking a step back. She pushed my short hair away from my face, and smiled.

“I’d wanted to come out for the first round of the playoffs but my boss was being ridiculous… then Jordan called to see if I planned to come out and arranged everything for me. He picked me up from the airport after your practice and brought me here,” she explained, and it only took an instant for me to find Jordan and pull him into a hug.

“Thank you, thank you so much Jordy,” I whispered, knowing that tears were spilling down my cheeks. He pulled me close to his body and pressed a kiss to my forehead.

“I knew it would mean a lot to you babe. I love you,” he said, and then both of us froze for a moment. We’d never said the ‘L’ word before, and it seemed like it had just slipped out. Had he meant it? Or had it just been a spur-of-the-moment felt right thing?

“I… I love you too Jordy,” I whispered, afraid which it would be. When his face lit up and he pulled me in again I knew he’d meant it. My mom stood watching us with maternal pride, probably glad that there was in fact a girl hiding in me somewhere.

“Do you two want anything to eat? Something to drink?” mom asked, snapping us out of our little moment.

“I can get something mom; what would you like?” I asked, and then eyed the pan of freshly baked cookies sitting on my counter.

“She hasn’t sat down since she got here,” Jordan admitted as he slowly let his arms fall to his sides so I could move to the kitchen. Mom just laughed, and I couldn’t help but join in – she’d never been able to just sit still if there was something she figured she could do to be helpful. I found the kettle to make tea for my mom, and Jordan grabbed two bottles of Gatorade out of the fridge for us to drink, before we settled into the living room.

“So, how has work been?” I asked, sitting in the middle of the couch between the two of them. Mom launched into a description of the past couple weeks – we hadn’t talked on the phone since playoffs had started – before ending with a short rant about her “unprofessional, asshole of a boss” who had started hitting on her. We both laughed, and I felt Jordan wrap his arms around my waist and softly pull me into him until I was leaning against his chest. Mom eyed his grip before raising an eyebrow at me, and my face turned beet red immediately.

“Um, mom, Jordan and I are… together,” I told her, and her eyes lit up.

“Well I was pretty sure about that much – because he knows and all – but sweetie that’s fantastic! Jordan you seem like such a nice boy, I’m glad Cam’s got you around,” she gushed, making Jordan embarrassed as well.

“I’m glad I’ve got her around – I don’t know what I’d do without her most of the time,” he admitted, and I couldn’t resist the opportunity to tease him.

“Starve. Be late to games. Have piles upon piles of unwashed laundry at your house. Not know what your floors look like. Go mad with cabin fever from not leaving your apartment,” I began to list, and Jordan playfully covered my mouth with his hand.

“Shush – that was not an invitation to start picking on me,” he informed me, and I shrugged.

“Could’ve fooled me,” I said, but it came out all mumbled, and mom just laughed at the two of us. Jordan let his hand drop back to its earlier position, before he pressed a kiss to my forehead, leaving a smile on my face.