Accidentally In Love

"Toews, I want to talk to you after practice," Coach Q said as he wrapped up the morning's film session. I nodded once, though not really caring what he was going to say. I hadn't cared about much of anything in the past couple weeks.

Practice was rough, and if you've seen 'Miracle', you'd understand. For the last forty minutes of practice, there wasn't a puck on the ice. Just skates and our raw determination to not finish last. I waited until the last of my teammates had left the ice, as any good captain should, before skating over to where Coach Q waited for me on the bench.

"What's up?" I asked, trying not to cringe at the dull, lifeless tone in my voice.

"There have been some, er, concerned remarks about you from your teammates." He paused, and when I didn't offer an explanation, he continued. "A little birdie told me you skipped a team dinner. Because you were sore. I believe that as much as I believe Kane doesn't drink during the season. Care to explain?"

"Not really, Coach."

I could tell he was a little taken aback by this, considering I was always aiming to please and usually happy to oblige to most requests. "Well, you'd better shape up. Do something about whatever it is that's got you wacked outta shape. You're the captain here, Jonathan, and your team needs you. The season isn't looking so great right now, and it's really up to you to whip them into shape. And they won't be doing jack until their fearless leader goes back to being a leader. Got it?"

"Yes. Coach," I added as an after thought. "I'll fix it."

"You better," I heard him mumble as I skated away.

---

The locker room was obnoxiously loud, as usual. Only difference was this was the first week I could remember ever being irritated by the noise; the jokes, the banter, the camera flashes, the microphones constantly being shoved in my face. One of the PR girls finally saw one too many grimaces flash across my face as I answered a question, and hustled the media out of the locker room.

"Hey Captain. You seem especially serious lately. What's got you panties in a twist?" Patrick Kane plopped down into his stall next to mine.

I gave him a glare I usually saved for players like Raffi Torres, and went back to peeling off gear.

"Jesus Christ, Tazer. What the hell is wrong? You're really starting to freak the guys out. Did Emma finally realize you might be gay?"

I squeezed my eyes shut as thoughts of Emma, thoughts I'd fought so hard to forget, flooded my brain, pulling me back to the night I came home to an empty apartment. "Jon?" I heard Patrick's voice float in through the onslaught of unwelcome memories.

I finally fought my way back to the surface, and gave Pat a mournful look. "She left me."

"What?" he practically shrieked. The entire locker room simultaneously turned to stare at us. Pat glanced at our teammates, before waving a hand at them. "Go back to scratching your balls, neanderthals." He turned back to me, suddenly serious again. "When? And, more importantly, why?"

"The night we came back from out west. She left her key under the door, and this on my pillow." I handed him Emma's letter, that had been riding around in my coat pocket for the past few weeks. I watched his reaction, knowing if anyone understood what destroyed relationships, it was Pat.

He finally looked up again. "This is bad, bud. Hate to break it to you, but you are in some serious shit. With all the 'please's in here, and the fact that she left dinner, means she still loves you. But she still left, which means whatever the fuck you did to make her want to leave overpowered what was making her want to stay."

"I know." It was the only words I had. After all, I had spent the week after discovering the letter going out of my mind searching for her. I went to the diner, only to get kicked out by Vlad, with Maria screaming at me in Spanish, scolding me for breaking "such a pretty girl's heart". Oh, and she may or may not have cursed me with the power of God. Northwestern wouldn't give out any information on its students, no matter how many strings I pulled. By Friday, I was so exhausted, I'd unofficially given up hope of ever finding her.

Patrick was still sitting besides me, but with a far off look in his eyes. His brows were crinkled in concentration, like he was doing some sort of mental math. He stood up abruptly, and strode out of the room, clad in only his breezers.

I didn't have the energy to wonder what Pat was getting into. I just wanted to get through the week.

---

The arena was packed, the music blaring, bass thumping, crowd roaring. I leaned into the curve of the board as I whipped around the ice, enjoying the mind numbing effect it had on me. I was relatively irked because Patrick Kane and John Scott had been AWOL all afternoon, and when I'd asked Coach Q about it, he said he had already handled it. Handled it my ass. It was game time, and they weren't here.

I'd been skating so fast that it took me four passes by the bench to notice the commotion occurring directly behind it in the seating section. None other than Kaner and Scott were making their way to a deserted row directly behind the glass, hauling something between them. Or someone. The body between them writhed quite violently at one point, trying to free itself from their grasps.

Bucking their hips once, they freed themselves enough to turn toward the ice. My stick clattered on the ice as Emma's eyes stared back out at me.

---

John Scott and Patrick Kane had basically jumped me outside my new apartment. John had scooped me up and threw me in the back seat of Kaner's car, like that was that.

I don't think either of them planned on me putting up such a fight. But growing up with two older brothers taught me to kick and scream until they either put me down or somebody came to my rescue. So far, neither had happened. They'd dragged me through the United Center like it was no big deal, and the security and staff that gave curious look did nothing about it. Fans gave slightly more concerned looks, but since I was with the Patrick Kane, and the beast that was known as John Scott, none approached. So, I was basically helpless as the two of them brought me down front and center behind the Hawks bench.

I gave a good buck of my hips, and Scott lost a little bit of his grip on my legs. On instinct, I writhed against John's loosened grip, and accidentally towards the ice. And there was my Jon, standing stock still in the midst of his flying teammates. I watched as his stick fell from his grasp, and his eyes locked onto mine, mesmerizing me.

"Well, I'll be damned," I heard Pat mutter. "The two are like freaking homing devices."

Some part of my mind registered the clack of heels on cement, and the familiar scent of Abby Sharp's perfume. Jana Hossa's voice snapped me back to reality, and from the fact that both Jon and I looked like total idiots. Not to mention the fact that three weeks ago I'd told him he'd never have to see me again.

"What are you two buffoons doing? Put her down." Her accent, same as her husband's, weighted her command further, only adding to her no-nonsense pose. Only four months after her daughter's birth, and Jana was already rocking her kickass pre-baby body. Abby had basically switched bodies with Jana, and now sported a growing baby bump.

Pat and John set me down in a seat, but didn't move until the women sat down on either side.

"Okay, now the rules are as follows," Pat said. "Number one. She doesn't leave this seat. Under any circumstances. I don't care if she has to pee or get a drink or whatever the hell else girls use as excuses. Number two. Neither of you are allowed to leave these seats." He paused, and revised. "Except for you Abby. You can pee. Your husband would kill me if I damaged your child in any way, shape, or form. And I believe he'll take any excuse to take a swing at me. And,most importantly. Number three. You gotta wear this."

John pulled out a Hawks jersey from a bag, and I'm pretty sure I could actually hear my eyes roll as I saw the number 88 emblazoned on the back. "What do you think you're doing Patrick? Do you want Jon to kill you?" Abby commented.

Well, if him stopping in the middle of center ice didn't end my doubts about him caring still, that sure did.

"I'm a big boy," Pat retorted.

"Yeah. And Jon is bigger," I commented, then blushed slightly when Pat raised an eyebrow. Leave it to a hockey player to find a dirty meaning.

"Whatever. Just wear this. It'll piss him off, and you and I both know he plays a thousand times better when he's pissed off about something involving you."

---

After I recovered from dropping my stick in the middle of the fucking ice, I tried to shake Emma from my head. But I couldn't help it. Every time I looped past I glanced up, just to make sure she was still there.

Abby and Jana flanked her, and appeared to be holding her arms, possibly preventing escape. Someone had given her a Hawks jersey. Emma turned her shoulders slightly, and the number 88 at glared back at me.

What. The. Fuck. Kaner was just asking for it.

---

The game got real ugly, real fast. That dirty player Raffi Torres scored a goal, closely followed by another. With a minute left to go in the first period, Jon skated up to the bench, and we made eye contact again. This time, however, he looked away, fire burning in his eyes.

He and Kane skated a line together multiple times, and almost clicked a few of them, as always. But they were just a little off, and from the stands I could see them talking on the bench, gesturing wildly, making plays on their gloves.

The buzzer sounded, and the Hawks filed into the tunnel silently, mouths set in grim lines.

---

We all threw ourselves into our stalls angrily, frustrated with the ugly turns the game had taken so far. But that was the least of my problems right now. I focused my full-power, one-hundred-percent, Captain Serious glare on Kaner. When he caught my gaze, he visibly recoiled.

"Who the hell do you think you are?" I growled at him. "Why the fuck is she wearing your sweater?"

He shrugged. "Her clothes got a little torn up last night, so I let her borrow it." He had recovered somewhat, replying nonchalantly.

A red haze swam across the room, and I made a motion to start across to Kaner, but Sharpie grabbed my arm, hauling me back. I'm pretty sure I actually snarled at him, but he ignored it. "Not worth it Tazer. Do you really honestly believe she was at Kaner's place?"

"Will you all shut the hell up?!" Coach shouted. The room silenced. "Good. Now you guys are playing like shit. That's just the way it is, and they ain't paying me to sugar coat it. Those guys out there are going to whoop our asses again if you don't start playing like a team. And for the love of God Kaner, leave Jon's girlfriend alone so he can actually think straight." He looked right at me as he said, "I've watched you come off the ice, and every time you look at her. You don't look at her again, you hear me? Give her something to look at you for."

I nodded once. He had a point. If she wouldn't look at me, I was going to give a show she couldn't resist watching.

---

"Holy shit!" Kaner yelled in my ear. "You need to get in trouble more often!"

The United Center was going crazy. First, the assist to Kane. Then my own two goals. If Emma hadn't been watching earlier, she sure as hell was now. I looked up at the Jumbotron as they showed the replayd, and as I made my way to the bench for the typical fist bumps, I glanced ever so briefly up at Emma's seat.

She was standing, but not cheering. Instead, she was just shaking her head, the softest little smirk on her face.

Jackpot