Retrouvailles

Sidney thought he must’ve lost his mind. He already pressed his luck once, taking a cab in Philadelphia however many months ago, but this was undoubtedly the dumbest idea he ever had. Wearing nothing but a baseball cap and a zip-up sweatshirt in the airport, then taking a cab to Loren’s apartment…

If he had a death wish, he should’ve rearranged it to knock him out before the playoffs. At least traipsing through Philadelphia would’ve been less embarrassing that way.

But he couldn’t help it. As soon as those tickets to Halifax were in his hand he knew he had to do something, and with the way his relationship seemed to be headed toward a brick wall going 90, it had to be done sooner rather than later. So he purchased another plane ticket and hoped she’d be home. The last time he showed up unannounced he fell asleep in the hallway outside her door. It was a humbling experience, if nothing else. Sidney Crosby, who had all the money in the world, forced out of his girlfriend’s apartment because she still didn’t like him enough to give him a spare key.

What the fuck was I thinking?

If anyone recognized him they let it go—the only upside of taking the red-eye. He was in enemy territory and walking on eggshells but he didn’t come here for a fight. Baggage claim was a breeze, and with it nearing midnight the cabbies had nothing else to do but wait for someone to require their services.

He’d never admit it to anyone but he hated how much he’d grown to enjoy Philadelphia. Not its inhabitants, and especially not its hockey team, but its allure: the history, the museums, the way Broad Street lit up at night and the way those lights reflected on the wall of Loren’s bedroom. God strike him dead for saying it but part of it was starting to feel like home. The part that wasn’t stretched between Nova Scotia and Pittsburgh, at least—the part he’d kept vacant in case he ever fell in love. He had, and now that part was full.

He dug a twenty from his wallet as the cab pulled to the curb in front of Loren’s building. He got his own bags from the trunk, trying to stall as much as he could to let the butterflies die down. Seeing her never got easier. He was always nervous now, vulnerable even. He was always worried he’d say the wrong thing and start an argument or tell her the god’s honest truth in that he hoped she’d quit her job and turn into one of those dutiful WAGs she despised so much.

The elevator chimed as he reached her floor and he walked the familiar route to her apartment. No noise emanated from his side of the door but the apartment next to her’s, Sarah’s, was so loud he wouldn’t have been able to hear anything anyway. He tried his luck with knocking but got no response. He tried calling but she didn’t answer that either. He wondered if he should just walk in—Loren had a bad habit of forgetting to lock the door—but decided that’d be too much. He finally bit the bullet and knocked on Sarah’s.

“Holy shit,” were the first words out of her very drunk mouth once she answered. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”

“Hi, Sarah,” he said, figuring it wouldn’t hurt to be a little respectful. “Would you happen to know where my girlfriend is? I tried knocking but—”

“It’s your lucky day, Sid the Kid,” she slurred, pulling him into her place by the arm of his sweatshirt. “Loren! I have a sur—” She paused to hiccup. “—Surprise for you!”

It was useless. There were so many people jammed into Sarah’s place that he could barely breathe, let alone hear anything other than whatever acid jazz she had playing through the stereo. He’d been to parties before—thanks largely in part to Jordan and Max—but this was some sort of out of body experience. There were people everywhere doing everything: drinking, smoking god knows what, dancing, touching, laughing. But no sign of his girlfriend. Or, even better, any other familiar faces.

Sidney let Sarah drag him through the living room, eventually rounding the corner into the kitchen once their two-person search party yielded no results. That’s when he stopped dead in his tracks, either because his stomach fell straight to the floor or because he suddenly grew so angry he couldn’t tell.

The logical part of him knew he was overreacting, that Loren wasn’t doing anything wrong by sharing a laugh with Claude Giroux and Max Talbot, but he wasn’t thinking logically. They were matadors and he was the bull. His possessiveness toward Loren was primal, immediately igniting his testosterone at the slightest hint of a challenge. This wasn’t a challenge; he’d already won her. If those two goons thought they even had a shot at changing that…

It was more than that, though. Rivalries weren’t left on the ice. Bad blood wasn’t only spilled over 20-minute periods. Max had left, betrayed his city and the logo he came up wearing on his chest. Giroux…well, Giroux was a different story. Giroux was Game 6 hits and subsequent goals. Giroux was the greatest player in the world type of story, a true rising star while Sidney was old news, a story that’d been read hundreds of times and grew stale. Long gone was the washed-up Sidney Crosby era with all its injuries and halted comebacks. Now it was Stamkos and his 60-goal seasons and Kane with his stupid shootout gimmicks. It was Max pouring Loren another drink and her laughing at an undoubtedly brainless joke by Giroux.

Poor Sarah was so drunk she went to announce Sidney’s arrival and puked all over the kitchen floor. Max turned to help her when he noticed who the cat dragged in. All eyes were suddenly on him, all ranging in reaction. Max seemed indifferent, which Sidney expected, but Giroux was seeing red. However, there was a certain humor in his reaction that nearly pushed Sidney over the edge, like the spineless asshat knew something he didn’t. He could hear Giroux chirping him clear as day: “It was me making your girlfriend laugh. It was me giving her rides home from work when you were 300 miles away. It’s me she’s still watching in the playoffs. It’s me that’s here when you’re not.”

“Sidney?” Loren said, pushing herself off the counter. “What are you doing here?”

His jaw was clenched so tightly he almost forgot how to speak. Giroux stayed put, smirking as he shared a look with Max. He had half a mind to put them both in their place when Loren sauntered over, placing a cool hand on his flushed cheek. She was so beautiful, so goddamn perfect.

He spoke so only she could hear. “I needed to see you.”

She nodded, rubbing his cheek with her thumb almost in disbelief. He couldn’t be real. Seeing him for the first time in so long put that little bit of doubt in her mind that he was only a mirage. How did she, of all people, get so lucky?

“Just let me get my things.”

As she went off in search of whatever she’d brought, Max helped Sarah to the bathroom. Sidney had honestly forgotten she was there. He expected a snide comment out of the Flyers breadwinner as soon as no one was around to witness it but Claude stayed quiet, sipping god-knows-what from a Solo cup. Still, Sidney couldn’t help himself.

“You look like you’ve got something to say.”

Giroux chuckled. “Not to you.”

“Got an awful lot to say to my girlfriend though, eh?”

Sidney knew he was swimming in shark-infested waters now. He was on Giroux’s turf, it was him that drew first blood, but he didn’t care. The duo of Frenchmen needed a lesson in respect and he was going to be the one to give it to them. Loren was his. Giroux could have his hits and his goals but Loren was a boundary that was not to be crossed.

“Let it go, man,” Giroux replied. “You don’t wanna do this here.”

Here as in Philadelphia; here as in in front of his girlfriend; here as in where the media would spare him no mercy in making him front-page news for getting his ass kicked at a house party in Flyers territory. No, he didn’t want to do this here, he just wanted to make sure Giroux knew he’d do it eventually, on the ice or off it.

“Just watch yourself,” Sidney warned.

Claude was halfway through rolling his eyes when Loren reappeared, an exasperated look on her face and an oversized purse slung over her shoulder.

“Sorry, Sarah wouldn’t stop throwing up. She’s like a fucking fire hose, it’s disgusting.”

Giroux snorted from his corner of the kitchen and lit up like the Fourth of July as Loren hugged him goodbye, giving him a quick peck on the cheek. It was over almost as quickly as it started, warranting Sidney no time for jealousy, before he was once again being pulled through the apartment the same way he’d come in.

His bags were still outside Loren’s door.

“I wish I would’ve known you were coming,” she said as she stuck the key in the lock, “the place is a mess. I was at the office late all week and I barely had time to clean—”

“Loren,” Sidney said, putting a stop to her tirade. “It looks fine.”

He was lying, of course, and the place was a mess, but the last thing on his mind was how many magazines were strewn across the coffee table or the dirty laundry covering her bedroom floor. None of that mattered to him. All he cared about was finally being with her, being able to touch her and kiss her and talk to her face-to-face. She could’ve lived in a garbage dump and it wouldn’t have made a difference to him.

“You’re right. It’s fine.” She took his bags and put them in the bedroom. “Can I get you anything? You’re probably exhausted. Of course you’re exhausted,” she scolded herself, “you just flew in from Pittsburgh. Water? Beer? I think I might have some wine…”

“Babe, stop. Come here.” Loren kicked off her heels before shuffling over to him, shoulders hunched and feet dragging. He wrapped his arms around her. “It’s late and you’re obviously running on fumes. Why don’t we go to bed and talk in the morning?”

Loren nodded, already knowing she wouldn’t be getting any sleep with the amount of noise still coming from Sarah’s place. She was truly surprised no one had called the police yet.

Neither one bothered rifling through luggage and drawers for anything to change into, just stripped to their underwear and found each other under the sheets, drawn together like magnets. She fit against his chest and for the first time since the last time she was there Sidney felt completely at peace. Nothing in the world mattered other than her.

Loren rolled over and adjusted the crisp sheets, trying to ignore the way her core burst into flames at the slightest hint of skin-on-skin contact. She was on fire, but if she gave into it they’d never sleep. At least not for the next few days. Instead, she settled on rubbing gentle circles into his hipbone, letting the sound of his small breaths lull her to sleep.

“You have no idea how much I missed you,” she spoke into his collarbone.

Part of her was glad he was asleep and couldn’t respond. Being in love still set her on edge, made her feel too vulnerable to be completely at ease with expressing exactly how she felt. But she was assured to know that she still felt it at all, that being apart for any amount of time wasn’t enough to make her stray. She didn’t care why he showed up out of the blue, only that he loved her enough to do it.

How could I have doubted this? was her final thought before falling asleep.