Retrouvailles

If Loren thought her boyfriend had been miserable the afternoon Pittsburgh was ousted from the playoffs, it was nothing compared to the night they both watched Los Angeles win the Stanley Cup. He grumbled the entire time, barking out orders to teammates that weren’t his and critiquing every line change. Loren tried baiting him into choosing sides but he refused. She figured he’d side with New Jersey, with them putting an end to Philly’s run and all, but he cited his inability to root for a team in the same division.

Sidney made the presumably unwise decision to stay at Loren’s place until they were scheduled to leave for Halifax. He had nowhere to be. Martin was instructed that any interviews were to be done over the phone or through e-mail; he was away for personal reasons and wouldn’t be in Pittsburgh for the foreseeable future. No one questioned it. Either they were playing dumb or genuinely didn’t care — the reason for the silence didn’t matter to him.

He found things to keep him busy. Walking around Philadelphia was asking for trouble but by some miracle he was able to keep a low profile. It hadn’t been announced that he was there so no one was looking for him. They had no reason to. Summer was on the horizon so he was able to hide under baseball caps during the day and hooded sweatshirts once the temperature dropped at night.

The transition was seamless. He played the role of unemployed homemaker while Loren was at work, cleaning and cooking and preparing himself for the domesticated life. (Sarah would stop by and give him lessons when she wasn’t busy, cracking jokes the entire time about Loren being able to hire an Olympic athlete to do her housekeeping, asking if Michael Phelps was available to do hers.) On weekends they’d find inconspicuous things to do together — Sidney found museum-hopping to be especially productive, pegging the Franklin Institute his favorite if not only because the planetarium was dark and they could make out like teenagers in a movie theater.

They also went out for ice cream, spent most of their weekends hiding in plain sight at Phillies games, pretended to be interested in the art galleries Sarah suggested, and played 20 Questions over dinner every night, whether it was in Loren’s dining room or an overpriced restaurant paid for with Sidney’s cash.

Although it was a risk, those few weeks in June gave Sidney something he’d never had before: normalcy. Whatever happened with their relationship, if they wound up getting married or broke up a few months down the road, Sidney would always be thankful to Loren for giving him that.

They were scheduled to leave for Nova Scotia in two days. Sidney took a Monday night red-eye back to Pittsburgh to pack the rest of what he wanted to take and was back in Philadelphia Wednesday morning. He’d become a pro at going unnoticed — no one stopped him in either city’s airport. Even the cab drivers treated him like just another customer.

“Is that everything?” Loren asked, staring at the assortment of luggage sitting by her front door. Sidney was taking three suitcases and a carry-on compared to her lone suitcase and small carry-on. Sidney chalked this up to women's clothing being thinner than men’s.

“I think so,” her boyfriend replied, going over the checklist in his head. He had a nice tux to wear to Jordan’s wedding, Loren had taken care of the gift, and if he ran out of clean clothes in the mean time he’d just go shopping. Not that it was likely. Three suitcases worth of clothing would most likely cover it. “You’re sure you’re good for the entire week?”

Loren rolled her eyes. “I double-checked with Brian this morning. I’m good.”

“Does he know why you’re off?”

“He doesn’t care,” she replied, answering his question without having to be too direct. No, Brian didn’t know she was going to Jordan Staal’s wedding, but it wasn’t like he could forbid her from going.

“What if he finds out?”

“Sidney, I came here from Pittsburgh. Of course I’m going to be friends with some of them.”

“Max isn’t going,” he reasoned. Max had been invited but had some other commitment to attend to and wouldn’t be able to make it. “Look, I’m just worried—”

“There’s nothing to worry about,” Loren said, pressing her lips to his to shut him up. “You worry too much.”

In reality they were both worried. Sidney was worried some part of their month together would come down on her. Her logic made sense: of course she would’ve made friends with some of the Penguins during her stint in Pittsburgh and it made sense that they’d invite her to things such as weddings. However, having him stay at her apartment for the last few weeks and go out in public with him wasn’t all that smart in retrospect. Not that it mattered now. In two days they’d be in another country and would have to worry about the Canadian media getting a piece of her.

Loren, on the other hand, was worried sick about meeting his family. She was such a small part of his life that she figured they’d dismiss her, wondering where she fit. He’d won a Stanley Cup and gold medal without her. He rose to the top of the rankings without her. Why get a girlfriend now? She’d heard rumors about his family before. Of course they’d be overprotective and judgmental, but beyond that she didn’t know what to expect. What would his sister think of her? Loren had never had to deal with siblings before. Her last boyfriend, like her, was an only child, and she had a hard enough time around his parents. This was surely going to trigger some sort of aneurysm.

“You all right, babe? You don’t look good.”

“I’m fine,” Loren lied. “Flying makes me nervous.”

“Really? I didn’t know that.”

“Oh yeah. Motion sickness and all that. It’s awful.”

Loren sold it perfectly. That was her job, after all. She could sell a story to anyone about anything and leave no room for discussion. But her job did her no favors in her relationship. She’d never lied to Sidney about anything more than being terrified of meeting his parents and she didn’t intend to. That wasn’t how relationships worked. Sidney subscribed to this as well, always making a point to be honest with her even when it didn’t work out in his favor, like when Loren’s chicken casserole was overcooked and made his mouth drier than the time he was dared to eat half a bag of cotton balls in under a minute in juniors.

“Okay, I’m lying,” she relented. “I’m just…what if they don’t like me?”

“Who?”

“Your family, Sidney.”

His face screamed stupidity. “Why wouldn’t they like you?”

“Because you’re a household name and I make as much money in a year as you make in a week? Probably a day since Reebok got their hands on you.”

“One, they’ll be impressed that you even have a job. Two, my mother’s convinced I’m going to die alone so she’s already on Taylor’s case about giving her grandchildren. Three, they’ll like you. They have no reason not to.”

Loren groaned as she flung herself backwards onto the bed. “Is she going to hound me about grandchildren? I don’t even know if I want kids, Sidney!”

“We’re 24, Loren. No one’s expecting you to give birth next month.”

“How are you not freaking out about this?”

“Because it’s not a big deal,” he answered, laying on his stomach next to her. He pressed a kiss to her forehead, succeeding in taking her down a few notches. “Worst-case scenario is that they don’t like you, and so what?”

“They’re your family. You may say that now but ultimately their opinion’s going to matter.”

Sidney laughed quietly. “You have no idea.”

“Elaborate, O Enlightened One.”

“I’ve always played by their rules, Lo. All my life. My dad played hockey so I did too. But that wasn’t enough. I had to go farther than he did. I had to do better. So my entire life was hockey. My entire life. No hanging out with my friends, no video games or girlfriends or having a normal life.” He sighed, and Loren could tell he’d made those sacrifices to please someone that wasn’t himself. Although it paid off in the long run, it wasn’t always the life he wanted to live. “I finally have something normal. I have you. They can’t make me give that up, too.”

Loren didn’t say anything. She’d had glimpses of the real Sidney Crosby before but they were few and far between — she’d just gotten the entire package. This was something he’d been looking for his whole life, the desire of living a normal life put on the back burner while he achieved everything else in the mean time. He got the Stanley Cup and gold medal out of the way so when the opportunity finally presented itself he wouldn’t be distracted. This relationship took everything he had, but he wasn’t backing down.

“I guess I could be worse,” Loren finally said.

Sidney grinned. “You couldn’t be worse if you tried.”



Loren wouldn’t be back in Pittsburgh long enough to digest it. Flying did make her a bit queasy — she hadn’t completely lied about that — so they decided to drive to Pittsburgh rather than fly there. Five hours in a car together was more of a test than living together had been, and by the time they arrived at Sidney’s house, Loren was ready to take the first flight back to Philadelphia.

They couldn’t agree on a radio station. Sidney preferred to listen to country music while he drove, but country made Loren want to steer the car off the bridge. It seemed like Sidney was perpetually hungry, prompting more pit stops than Loren could understand. Loren had a lead foot and was constantly asking Sidney if he couldn’t drive any faster. When he crumpled his empty McDonald’s bag and tossed it in the back seat, Loren very nearly blew a gasket.

“I’m never driving with you again,” she grumbled, climbing out of the car. They didn’t bother to bring in their suitcases — they’d only be at the house long enough to sleep.

“Give me a break. Driving with you wasn’t much easier.”

“Country music? Really? And do you ever stop eating?”

“Ha! Are you kidding? Sidney, drive faster! Sidney, I have to pee even though I just peed ten minutes ago! Sidney, my knees hurt!”

“My knees did hurt! I was cramped in a car for five hours.”

He rolled his eyes. “I can’t wait to be on a plane with you for two hours.”

“At least planes go over 40 miles per hour!” Loren roared, slamming the car door and glaring daggers at her boyfriend.

Sidney struggled to think up a comeback. It was no secret his on-ice chirping wasn’t very good, so it was no surprise that he couldn’t even get the last word in an argument with his girlfriend.

“Well you…you listen to awful radio stations!” he yelled at her, but she was already in the house and halfway upstairs.

There was nothing he could do but follow behind her, feeling more like a lost puppy with every step. However, those steps also brought about a different revelation: his house felt foreign. After spending so much time in Loren’s apartment, his million-dollar accommodations felt too big. There was too much empty space and not enough character. It was everything you’d expect it to be, right down to the framed memorabilia lining the walls up to the second floor. It was straight out of a catalog, whereas Loren’s apartment told you exactly who she was in a fraction of the square feet.

“What do you want?” Loren huffed as Sidney entered the room.

“This is my house.”

She glared again. “Is it? Sorry, I must’ve missed the Welcome to Stupid Idiot’s House welcome mat at the door.”

Sidney couldn’t help but laugh. This was a scene straight out of a romantic comedy. Someone extremely handsome that didn’t try too hard would play him and someone with perfect 10s all across the board would play Loren.

“You know, you’re really hot when you’re angry.”

Loren rolled her eyes but stopped mid-roll when she realized Sidney was in the middle of taking his shirt off. All of a sudden her mind was too occupied with inappropriate thoughts to remember why she’d been angry with him. And good god, who could ever be mad at someone who looked like that? He was a brick wall of perfect physique, although the months he spent dealing with his concussion had lessened its impact slightly. Not that Loren cared; her mind wasn’t thinking in minor criticisms at the moment.

“Can’t you take your clothes off someplace else?”

Sidney smirked. Maybe he wasn’t the best at flirting or courting women, but he wasn’t oblivious to the power he had over them.

“And miss you being mesmerized by my good looks? Not a chance.”

Loren wanted to say something to knock him down a few notches but, like her boyfriend just a few minutes earlier, came up short. Being cocky was easy because it was justified. No one could wonder why Sidney Crosby thought so highly of himself.

So Loren did the only thing she could think of instead: piss him off.

“Trust me, this isn’t mesmerized. The only time I’ve been mesmerized was the first time I saw Giroux in the locker room without a shirt on. Talk about hot—”

Sidney’s head snapped in her direction so fast she was sure he gave himself another concussion. “What did you just say?”

“He’s so hot,” Loren continued, smirking at how easy it was to rile him up. Of course she’d seen Claude shirtless before but he was nothing compared to Sidney. “I’ve never told you this but his hit on you in game six…oh my god.”

Sidney approached her with steam coming out of his ears. “Don’t you ever talk about that asshole to me.”

“And if I do?”

He almost growled. Just like Loren wasn’t able to remember why she’d been angry with him in the car, Sidney couldn’t think straight at all. Talking like that, Loren was something to dominate. He had to show her why he was better, why Claude Giroux was nothing compared to him.

The way he was looking at her made Loren’s stomach drop. It felt like she was at the top of a roller coaster, about to take the first drop. Only this time she knew what was coming, and it wasn’t more twists and turns.

He pinned her against the dresser. “You think he’s better than me?” Loren didn’t answer, her mind once again swamped with the knowledge of what was about to happen. “Tell me, Loren! Is he better than me?”

Sidney had never been rough with her. By no means was he gentle, but she’d never seen this side of him before. He was someone else on the ice, especially since he’d come back from his concussion, but she wasn’t an opponent.

“I don’t know,” she answered, trying to keep her composure but the way her voice cracked gave her away.

He cursed his luck then, wishing he’d been born a few miles west in Quebec. His French was rusty and mediocre at best, but there were some really disgusting things he wanted to say but couldn’t bring himself to in a language they both understood. Besides, she probably spoke it better than he ever could, spending so much time with Max and Claude.

Regardless, he sat her on top of his dresser and moved between her legs. Poor Loren; she looked like a deer in headlights. He knew he ought to calm himself down, try to get through this with a level head, but he was in full possession mode. Claude wasn’t better than him. No one was better than him, and he was going to show her why. He needed to show her why.

He moved his lips to her ear. “He wouldn’t know what to do with you.”

“He’s French.”

That time he actually did growl. “The French are pussies.” His right hand was wrapped around the back of her neck, guiding her mouth to his, while the other moved down the front of her body. “He couldn’t touch you like this, Loren.”

She gasped in surprise when his hand dipped inside the front of her yoga pants. Everything in her told her to fight. You can’t let him own you. But those thoughts were futile. Every war she could ever wage against Sidney Crosby would be another one in the loss column, but that’s because she wanted it to be. She’d fought him enough in Pittsburgh. Now it was time to enjoy the ride.

Their lips met again, Sidney’s rough with determination and Loren’s slumped in submission. He’d talked her out of her shirt and her pants were at his knees when she finally put him in his place.

“You have no competition, Sidney. You never have.”

It was all he needed — maybe even wanted — to hear. Part of him hoped she’d keep the game going, keep fueling his desire to punish her for trying to belittle him. But as soon as she told him the truth, reality set in. No matter how many trophies he won or highlight reels he worked his way onto, nothing ease the lack of confidence he had in simply being Loren’s other half. Had she kept that game going, kept talking about Giroux like he knew the secret parts of her that Sidney knew like the back of his hand, he wasn’t sure he wouldn’t start believing it.

He didn’t bother with foreplay, just yanked Loren’s pants off and heard them land somewhere behind him, on the other side of his bedroom. The entire situation brought a smirk to his lips. He hadn’t had a naked woman in his bedroom since his concussion, and who better than Loren?

“Fuck, Sidney,” Loren groaned as he moved inside of her. Fucking on top of his dresser was tricky. It wasn’t the most spacious of surfaces but it was good enough. Loren clung to him like doing anything else would send her flying through the wall.

With the way Sidney was ruining her body, that was probably true.

“You’re mine,” he told her, trying to focus on something other than the way it felt to be inside of her. “No one can make you feel like I do.”

When in doubt, fake it.

“Look at me,” Loren ordered, forcing him to do as she said, eyes locked on one another. She pressed her lips to his, keeping them there as long as it took to convince him. “I love you,” she breathed, helping guide him to the release he was desperate for.

If this is what it took to convince him, she had no problem obliging.