Ours

When Rory and Matt landed in Duluth, she felt twenty all over again. The feelings of exhaustion and nausea just added to the memories.

The moment they stepped out of the airport, the air smacked Rory in the face, stinging the bare skin of her face with needles of cold. She sucked in a breath of frigid air, squinting against the gray light. “J-Jesus,” she said, teeth chattering. “Has Hell frozen over?”

Matt laughed, wrapping an arm around her. “It’s just Minnesota.”

“Just Minnesota? It’s like, twenty degrees out here.”

“Probably more like ten with the wind chill.”

Rory shuddered. It would have seemed theatrical, if it wasn’t so true; she was shaking all the way down to her toes, her muscles tensed up. And she seemed like the only one, too. There were people coming and going from cabs and cars, hefting luggage and talking loudly on cell phones; yet everyone seemed completely unaffected. She shook her head. Minn-sanity.

Matt crooked his elbow around her neck, and pulled her close for a quick kiss. “I’ll keep you warm.”

“Ooh, baby.” She laughed as he slipped his hand beneath her coat, warm fingers skimming over her back. Her breath hitched, and she leaned into him, her head on his shoulder. “You know what would really make me warm, though?”

“What?” Their words collided in the air as frost.

Rory smiled. “The heater in the rental car.”

He looked down, making a face at her. She replied by sticking her tongue out.

“You don’t mind waiting here? It’s just across the street.”

Rory shook her head. He kissed her cheek, unwinding his arms from around her, and stepping off the curb and into the parking lot. “Be careful!” she called.

He looked back once, smiling. He jogged through cars, weaving in and out across the parking lot until she couldn’t see him anymore. She stood there in her boots with their suitcases surrounding her like a fortified wall, protecting her from the wind. Twisting her scarf into a knot, she pulled the fabric up over her mouth, clenching her teeth to stop the chattering. A second later, she yawned.

Matt had come home just after midnight the night before, slipping in bed beside her. She distinctly remembered talking to him, but she had been so tired, she couldn't remember much else. When he shook her awake at five in the morning, she wanted to punch him in the face. As far as she was concerned, it wasn’t acceptable to be happy before eight in the morning. She didn’t talk to him the entire way to the airport.

The moment she was seated on their flight, she fell asleep. She dreamt of babies and finding a hidden stash of tacos in her purse, at least one of which she desperately wanted to happen. She had no time to enjoy it, though, because soon enough, Matt was shaking her awake again for their layover in Chicago. That time, she did punch him in the arm, but he wasn’t even fazed. A moment later, he promised to buy her lunch. They dined on hot dogs without ketchup before running back to their terminal. They took off again, and she passed out once more.

The last thing she remembered was Matt asking if she was nervous, to which she didn’t reply. He should know that she was. It was never easy for Rory to meet parents, and he'd already gotten it out of the way, meeting her and some of her extended family within two days of knowing her. She hadn’t had any friends to really practice with, and the day she had dreaded for five years was looming before her.

As best as she could with gloved hands, Rory pulled her cell phone out of her pocket, turning it on. She had just three text messages; she scrolled through them idly.

Vero: Hey, how are you feeling?

Dad: You guys get to Minn okay?

The last text message was from Neal; it was a picture of Ottawa from their runway. His hand was in it, flashing a peace sign. She rolled her eyes. Been there, done that, she typed back. She answered Vero with a :/, unsure of what else there was to say. Her dad was the only one she called, but he didn’t answer. She left a voicemail.

“Hey, Dad. I’m calling you from Hell, also known as Duluth, Minnesota. Did you know it’s like ten degrees here? It’s crazy! It reminds me of that time we went to Russia. Now that was cold.” She cleared her throat. “Anyway, things are great. We’re about to drive to Virginia right now -- the town, obviously, not the state -- where I officially get to meet Mr. and Mrs. Niskanen face-to-face. I…” She looked up, across the lot, swallowing hard. “I’m nervous, I won’t lie. But hey, if he can meet and deal with you and Uncle Ian, I should be fine, right?” She laughed. “Anyway, uh...call me when you get this. It'd be nice to have someone on my side to talk to." And maybe when you call me back, your voice will be enough to keep me sane, to keep me from bursting into tears at any second. God, who knew being an adult would be this hard?

A silver car pulled up to the curb, honking once at her. Matt was in the driver’s seat; Rory’s heart skidded around in her chest, “Anyway, love you, bye!” She hung up her phone and jammed it back in her pocket, heart racing much too fast to be normal.

By then, Matt was out of the car and putting their luggage in the trunk. “Your dad?”

Rory nodded, reaching for a couple of the bags to help him. “He didn’t answer, though. Watch, I bet he snuck across the border to see the All-Star Game. I bet James is going to send me a text later of a picture of the two of them partying.”

Matt laughed. Rory went to reach for a suitcase, straining despite the fact that it wasn’t heavy. Matt must’ve noticed how tired the simple action made her, because he took it from her easily.

“It’s all right, babe, I’ve got it.”

Rory nodded, leaning against the car. She blew out a breath, inhaling another through her nose. The dreary snow-filled skyline spun before her, and she blinked rapidly, trying to control the dizziness threatening to pitch her to the sidewalk. World's Worst Decision-Making Award goes to me.

Matt frowned, glancing over at her. “You okay?”

Silently, she nodded. Ignoring the way her knees were knocking together, she pulled the passenger door open and slipped inside. She leaned back in her seat, closing her eyes and laying her hands over her abdomen. The hot dog from Chicago was churning in her stomach. She had no idea what she was doing, and the panic was already threatening to overwhelm her. Matt, my dad, Matt's parents... The list kept going. How am I supposed to tell all these people? How am I supposed to tell them I'm having a baby when I can't even look my reflection in the eye and tell myself?

Matt slid into the driver's seat, and glanced over at her. "You sure you're okay? Because--"

Without waiting to hear the rest of that, Rory opened her door, leaned out, and vomited on the sidewalk.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Matt felt twenty-one all over again, as he and Rory drove through the wilds of Minnesota. This time, however, the skies weren’t a summer blue, and snow blanketed the ground. The roads were clear, but muddy snow banks rose up on either side, stifling the landscape in shades of grey and white. Frost blossomed around the edges of the windshield, melting from the heat of their car.

Nostalgia buffeted his system, as he remembered the summer they’d met. She had crash-landed in his life -- literally -- and from that moment on, he was smitten. Well, except for the few minutes where he had to clean her vomit off himself in the Duluth hospital parking lot. At least this time, she'd managed to open the door in time.

"What is it about Minnesota?" he'd asked her, after she rinsed her mouth out with a bottle of water. "Did you hate it here that much?"

Her only answer had been to glare at him and toss the bottle of water back at him.

That had been nearly an hour ago. Now he smiled, remembering those days, how she had cried when they sewed up the cut on her forehead in the hospital. It was the only time he had ever seen her cry in the five years they’d been together, and he didn’t mean the couple of times she’d sniffled in front of movies, he meant a full-out cry with tears rolling down her cheeks and everything. He had been too afraid to hold her hand, then, scared of what he felt for a girl he had just met.

Now, he was afraid again. It wasn’t just that he was about ten minutes away from the house he’d grown up in. It would be easy for him to pretend he wasn’t nervous, but that just wasn’t the case. His parents were good people, but the guys had a point. His parents were hard-working, down-to-earth, blue collar, traditional. He had no idea how they would react to this girl of his, with her red lipstick, loud laugh, and unconventional life. His dad was sure to be thrilled. Already Matt could picture their first moment alone together, with his dad clapping him on the back in excitement, congratulating him on landing such “a good-lookin’ gal.”

His mom was a different story entirely. When Matt had been growing up, she had always babied him. It made sense, considering he was their only child. He had never really appreciated it until he’d gone away to college, where there wasn’t someone to cook his meals, do his laundry, or talk with about girls in a serious way. He talked to Mason Raymond, his old roommate, but Mason didn’t exactly offer what Matt considered a wise opinion, not like his mom did. She had always been the one to warn him away from certain girls… and Rory was exactly the type she warned him against.

But I’m her only child, he thought. I can change her mind. He always had a knack for that, blinking his big, dark eyes up at her, asking for an extra cookie, an extra hour on the rink in the backyard, another few minutes before bedtime. Hopefully, it would work again when he asked for his grandmother’s ring.

Matt glanced at Rory out of the corner of his eye. She had fallen asleep again, her head pillowed on her arm against the window. He frowned slightly, watching her breathe evenly. The trip wasn’t the only thing worrying him. Her habits lately -- sleeping, eating, and otherwise -- were making him anxious. She kept insisting she was fine, but something was off. And he hoped more than anything that it wasn’t to do with them, that it wasn’t something serious, that it was something they could work through and move past. He had already almost lost her; he wasn’t about to go through with that again. Just the thought made his hands tighten on the wheel.

A few minutes later, Matt pulled the car into his parents’ winding driveway. Their vehicles were missing; he frowned as he put it in park, and pulled the key out of the ignition. He reached for her arm, lightly touching her shoulder.

She stirred, blinking at him with sleepy eyes. “Ugh, what?”

“We’re here.”

She looked up, squinting against all the white, before burying her face beneath her arm. “No,” she said, her voice muffled.

Matt laughed. “No?”

“No.”

“You have to leave the car eventually.” God forbid we ever have kids, because they will be stubborn.

"Ugh, stupid boyfriend, voice of reason." She groaned, before sitting up and stretching. Her joints creaked, and she massaged the muscles of her neck, wincing. “I feel like I haven’t slept at all.”

Matt tried not to sound worried, and failed. “You’ve been uncharacteristically tired lately.”

She turned her face away as she unbuckled her seatbelt and reached for her purse. “It’s just the jetlag.”

“You sure? Because--”

“Matt, I’m fine.” There was an edge to her voice, a finality. He watched as she got out of the car without waiting for him, setting her purse on the hood and doing some stretches.

Something’s wrong here. I just wish she would tell me what.

He got out of the car, pulling his old house key out of his pocket. It was almost strange to be standing back in front of the place he’d grown up in. He had so many memories connected to the two-story home and its surrounding amenities: the backyard, with that one tree he loved to climb and the small rink his father would set up in the winter; the sidewalk out front, cracked from so many comings and goings; the dented black mailbox with Niskanen painted on it in crooked letters. He remembered when he was a kid, everything had been so big, but now he had a house of his own and life wasn’t as scary as he’d thought it would be. At least, not with a girl like Rory.

He stared up at the dark windows, biting his lip. “My parents aren’t home.”

Rory glanced over at him, tightening her scarf. “How do you know?”

“Trust me, they would have been out here already.”

“So where are they?”

“I don’t know.” He moved around the front of the car, offering her a hand. “Let’s find out.”

They made their way over the carefully snow-shoveled drive, and up the icy steps. When he finally managed to get the door unlocked, Rory practically ran inside. For someone who had lived in northern New York, so close to the Canadian border, she was incredibly sensitive to the cold. It made him wonder how she had ever survived in Greenland or Russia.

The lights were off when Matt stepped inside, wiping the snow from his boots. The living room was exactly as he remembered: beige carpet, brown striped couches, his dad’s favorite recliner by the window, and pictures of Matt himself everywhere, fighting for space along the walls and above the fireplace. At least they had upgraded their TV from the old box that was older than Matt, the one that had still been sitting there the last time he had seen them.

“Wow,” Rory said, her voice hushed. She was looking at the pictures. “It’s lucky they’re your parents, or this might be a little creepy.”

Matt rolled his eyes, before going back out to get their luggage. It only took him two trips, no more than five minutes, but by the second time he came in, Rory was gone.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Matt went back through the front door to get their luggage, and Rory turned to inspect the multitudes of pictures. The newest ones were hanging nearest the door. She smiled faintly at the sight of him in his Penguins uniform. Her favorite were the dark blue Winter Classic jerseys; she loved the way his name looked stretching across his shoulders in that font. As she made her way around the living room, there were pictures from Dallas, from Iowa, from his college days, and all the way on the other side of the room, Matt as a child.

Those were the ones she was the most interested in. She had lived through the other moments, alongside him for the last five years. Even when there were times when she thought it was crazy, what they were doing, she still stuck around just because she knew: Matt was hers.

The moment she saw Matt grinning like a fool in a picture with his father, no more than eight years old, she knew it was a mistake. Immediately, her eyes welled with tears. She could hear Matt coming back up the porch stairs, but in a second, he was gone again. She glanced over her shoulder; her suitcase was sitting there by the couch. She sniffled, and looked back at the pictures. The one hanging just over her head was of Matt as a toddler, wearing a jersey that fell all the way down to his tiny skates. It hung loose off his arms, but the expression on his face was one of pure happiness. Rory smiled, one tear spilling over and down her cheek.

That sort of joyful innocence was what made her love Matt so much. He was the pride of his parents, raised with so much overflowing love that naturally, he was the perfect guy. She envied him that, but she was happy that he hadn’t had to go through the things she had, practically raising herself.

If I have this baby, I want he or she to be raised just like this.

She didn’t even realize she’d thought it until she froze, staring wide-eyed at the walls of pictures. That only made her cry more. Wiping at her cheeks furiously, she ran down the hallway, opening random doors until she found a bathroom. She locked herself in, sitting on the edge of the bathtub and crying silently into her hands.

Even worse than the indecision were the thoughts that kept hitting her when she least expected it, wracking her with a surge of hormones. They were the what if thoughts, and she wished she had left them in Pittsburgh, because they were what hurt the most. In her mind’s eye, she could see it: a little girl with dark curls, just like the two of them, her dark eyes a perfect match to Matt’s; or a little boy with a toothy grin, being taught how to skate for the first time. It was a daunting prospect, but she couldn’t stop herself from thinking it all the same.

There was a soft knock on the door. It made her jump anyway. “Babe?”

She ripped off some toilet paper, scrubbing at her face and trying to stem the flow. “Yeah?”

“Are you all right?”

“Yeah, I just--”

“Are you crying?”

Damn it. “Kind of, yeah. I, uh…stubbed my toe on the couch!”

“Do you want me to come in there?”

“No! No, I’m fine. It barely even hurts anymore. Can you just, uh, give me a few minutes?”

“Yeah, of course. I’ll take our stuff upstairs.”

“Thanks!”

Come on, pull it together. She cleaned up as best as she could, glad that she wasn’t wearing any makeup. She had just splashed water on her face and finished drying it off when her cell phone vibrated inside her pocket. She pulled it out, checking the number. She sniffled.

“Hey. How’s Mexico?”

“Warm. Marc says he wants to learn how to surf, but I have forbidden it until after the wedding. How are you? I just got your message, and I am worried about you, chérie.”

Rory almost started crying again, but she suppressed the urge, until it was all but nonexistent. “I’m okay. I’m just trying to figure everything out.”

“Have you met his parents yet?”

“No, they aren’t here. I don’t know where they are, since I’m kind of hiding in the bathroom.” Rory quickly recounted what had happened so far on their trip, while Vero waited patiently on the other line. “I’m being stupid, aren’t I?”

“Of course not! You’re pregnant, it’s normal to go through these things. The first thing I think you should focus on is meeting his parents. Once you have that out of the way, find a way to get Matt alone and just tell him.”

“You’re right. I need to take this just one step at a time.” She took a deep breath. Easier said than done.

They chatted for a few more minutes about the best Mexican food before hanging up. Examining her reflection one last time, Rory held tight to her phone, and left the bathroom. She hung her coat up on the rack by the front door, pulling her gloves and scarf off and shoving them in the pockets. When she wandered into the kitchen, she found Matt bent over, examining the contents of the refrigerator. When he heard her approach, he looked up.

She started laughing in spite of herself. “You have chocolate on your face.”

On the second shelf, there was a plate of strawberries, drizzled in chocolate. Two of them were missing, and Matt had a smear of chocolate at the corner of his mouth. Grinning, he grabbed one more and handed it to her. She popped it into her mouth, closing her eyes.

“Mmm,” she said, flavors bursting on her tongue. “So good.”

“My mom will be glad you think so. But she’s probably going to be annoyed some are missing.”

“Well, it’s your fault. Speaking of which, where are your parents?”

He closed the refrigerator, pulling a piece of paper off of it. “Matt, if you and Rory get home before us, we went grocery shopping. Mom’s going to make a big dinner tomorrow night, and she wanted to have everything ready in advance. Make yourselves at home and she says don’t touch the strawberries, Matthew. Love, Dad.”

Rory snorted. “So of course, that’s the first thing you did.”

“Well, yeah. I never got much of a chance to rebel as a kid, so I have to make up for wasted time with you.” He crumpled the piece of paper, throwing it into the garbage can. “How’s your toe?”

“Better now. I’m just clumsy.”

“Little bit. Want anything to drink, while we’re in here?”

Rory shook her head, swiveling to look around at the kitchen. It was small, but homey. The floor was clean white tile, the refrigerator one of the older models with a freezer on top, covered in magnets and pictures of family. Above the porcelain sink, there was a little window with blue checkered curtains hanging halfway down. Beyond the L-shaped counters was a small white table with four chairs. It was all so cute; Rory felt like she was in a Barbie dream house.

She tried to imagine Matt growing up there, doing his homework at that table and stooping low in front of the refrigerator in the middle of the night, just like he had been moments before. She smiled.

“So, what do you think?” Matt sounded hesitant.

Rory turned, looking at him. He still had chocolate on his mouth. I think I love you. Grabbing him by his shirt, she pulled him towards her. Standing on her tiptoes, she kissed the corner of his mouth, touching her tongue to the chocolate. He turned his head, cupping her cheek and kissing her fully. He slipped his tongue into her mouth, and she made a noise, wrapping her arms around him. He backed her up against the counter, and she dug her fingernails into back.

“Matt,” she breathed, as he trailed kisses down her neck. “What about your parents?”

“What about them?” Grasping her by the hips, he lifted her up, sitting her on the counter. She managed a laugh, her heart racing. “They’re not here.”

"Good point." They kissed, Matt threading his fingers through her hair, brushing it back from her face. She slipped her hands beneath his t-shirt, her fingers trailing over the hard planes of his body. When her fingers skittered low over his abdomen, he bit her lip.

“You taste like chocolate,” Rory said, as Matt’s hands drifted to her shirt. He began unbuttoning it, one at a time, brushing his fingers over her breasts.

When her shirt was open to her bellybutton, he smiled and leaned in. “So do you.”

He shoved her shirt off her shoulders, and she wrapped her legs around his waist. She placed her palms flat against the countertop, bracing herself as he kissed her neck again, moving down to her collarbone. Her hormones were on overdrive, speeding her down a wild road at two hundred miles an hour, but she just wanted him, right then, right there. The idea that it was his childhood home made it even stronger; there was something so dirty about it that she couldn’t get enough. But there was too much clothing between them, and she groaned in frustration, eagerly reaching for his belt when...

...a car door slammed shut from outside.

Matt froze. Rather than chocolate, he now had lipstick smeared across his mouth. “Did you hear that?”

“No, Matt. Come on, let’s--” She reached for his belt again, but he grabbed her hand.

“Hang on, Ro.”

They both paused, listening. There was a clinking sound, followed by the doorknob jiggling, and the soft murmur of voices. The front door opened.

Matt took two giant steps backward, nearly taking Rory with him. She half-slid, half-fell to her feet, wobbling for a second. She yanked her shirt back on her shoulders, fumbling with the buttons, before--

“Matt!”

An older couple strolled into view, both of them toting grocery bags. Chuck, Matt’s dad, was a tall man with dark hair that was graying at the temples, but he still looked very lively and energetic. His light eyes were wrinkled at the corners, especially when he smiled. Like he was doing now. Linda, on the other hand, was shorter, her hair pulled back into a practical ponytail. Her eyes were wide, her mouth hanging open. Once she had managed to assess the situation, she closed her mouth and pursed her lips. That was a look Rory knew well; she called it, The Instant Disapproval.

They stopped dead when they saw their son and some disheveled girl standing several feet away from him in their kitchen.

Well, may as well go for it. Rory and Matt exchanged a quick glance, before she stepped forward and smiled. She extended a hand. “Hi, I’m Rory Montgomery. We’ve spoken before, I’m--”

“Matt’s girlfriend.” Linda’s smile was fixed, stuck in place. “Yes, it’s so…lovely to finally meet you.” Chuck took the grocery bags from his wife’s hands, and set them on the counter where Rory had just been. Gingerly, Linda shook Rory’s hand, releasing her fingers quickly like she was afraid she might catch something.

Chuck stepped forward and shook her hand. His fingers were callused, but he exuded an aura of comfort. As if he could read her mind, he quickly stooped and hugged her. She was surprised for all of one second, before she hugged him back.

"Your shirt's open," he whispered in her ear.

She blushed. "Thanks." Already she liked him.

They separated, and there was a beat of awkward silence. Rory glanced down, catching the flash of purple that meant her bra was exposed. She was trying to think of a way to button it correctly without anyone noticing, but all eyes were on her.

“So! Were the, uh, roads bad?” Linda asked, the question directed at Rory. Rory frowned, looking to Matt, but he was busy staring at his father, as Chuck gestured to his son that there was lipstick on his mouth. Matt’s cheeks were red, and as stealthily as he could, he wiped his mouth on his sleeve when his mom wasn’t looking.

Oh my god. I said Duluth was Hell, but this, this is the real thing. “No, they weren’t that bad at all. We had a…nice trip,” she finished badly.

Matt cleared his throat. “Were there more groceries?”

Chuck shook his head.

Another lengthy silence followed. Linda looked between the four of them, being careful not to stare when her eyes moved over Rory.

“Well,” she said, her smile not quite reaching her eyes. “Isn’t this going to be fun?”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“They hate me.”

Matt picked up one of the pillows on the bed, tossing it onto the floor. He waited for Rory to do the same, as they both pulled down the bedspread.

"My dad likes you."

Rory rolled her eyes. "Fine. Your mom hates me."

“She doesn't hate you. They just walked in on an awkward moment--”

“Awkward does not even begin to cover it. Apocalyptically mortifying would be more appropriate, I think.” She shuddered dramatically, shaking her head. "And why can't I sleep in here with you? What's the big deal?"

"They don't think it's appropriate."

"That's what I don't get. They have to know we're having sex. More importantly, they have to know that you're having sex. Please tell me they don't think you're still a virgin."

It was Matt's turn to make a face. "Of course they know I'm not a virgin. And even if they did before, they know after that winning display in the kitchen that I'm not. They just think it's better if--"

"They," Rory echoed, nose wrinkling in distaste. "You keep saying they, but it's really your mom, isn't it? Your dad seems really cool, but your mom clearly wears the pants in this relationship, and I bet she told him she didn't want you sleeping with me, the STD-carrying bride of Satan. So now I have to go sleep in an attic--"

"It's not an attic--"

"--where I'll probably get bitten by some new breed of mutant mosquito and die." She sat down on the bed, flopping backwards. "That's it. I give up."

Matt sat down beside her, reclining on his side, leaning on his elbow to look down at her. "You can't give up. We're here for the entire week."

"Ugh." She rolled over, headbutting his chest. "What if we promise to just sleep? No sex. Celibacy for a week."

"Yeah, because that's working out really well so far."

Rory stared up at him. "First of all, you had chocolate on your mouth. You should know better than to tempt me. Secondly, they weren't here. That was different. Now they're here, and it's just weird."

"How is it weird?"

"They're your parents. That's not something you should talk about."

Matt raised his eyebrows. "That's pretty chivalrous, coming from you."

"Well, my dad never asked, so I never told. It's just kind of an unspoken thing. I mean, he knows, obviously, but..." She sighed. "I just don't know, Matt. It doesn't make any sense to me. What more could we possibly do now that--?" Suddenly she broke off.

Matt frowned, his hands slowing. “Now that what?"

She bit her lip, before shaking her head. Rolling over, she sat up and ran a hand through her hair. “Nothing, never mind. I’m going to go brush my teeth.” She gathered up an armful of tubes and bottles covered in labels mostly unfamiliar to him, and slipped out of the door.

Matt sighed. The evening had been apocalyptically mortifying, as much as he wanted to pretend otherwise. He and Rory had helped his parents put the groceries away in near silence. Every now and again, his mom would ask a question, out of politeness and a hatred for silence more than anything, before that tension would slip right back into the air. Because the big dinner his mom was fixing was the next night, it wasn’t really required for him and Rory to stick around and do the whole “talking thing”, as she referred to it. Luckily, his parents understood, saying they had spent the day traveling and should get an early night. The moment they could, they escaped up the stairs. Matt gave her a quick tour, before she announced she was exhausted and wanted to go to sleep.

But that's when he'd had to break it to her, that each of them would be sleeping alone, she in the guest room (that was not an attic) and he in his own room.

He stood beside his bed, leaning his knees against the mattress. It had been a long, weird road he’d traveled since he had last stood there. In just five years, he had played for four different teams in three different leagues. Had she been anyone else, Rory might not have been able to handle it.

Lucky for him, she was used to traveling. He smiled, remembering when he had told her that Dallas had traded him to Pittsburgh. At first, she had been sad for him, for what he had been hoping for in Texas, but once the acceptance set in, she was all smiles. “You’re going to love it there,” she had told him, hugging him tightly. “I know you hate cities, but it’s a great place. This is going to be amazing!” He was glad she was there; he wouldn’t have known what to do without her.

Against all odds, they were together, five years later. He still didn't know what he'd do without her, which was why he was determined to make it official.

He checked his phone while he waited for Rory, sitting on the edge of his bed. He had a couple pictures of Ottawa from Kris and James, but the most prevalent messages were from the other guys on the team.

Fleury: Did you do it??

Engelland: Let us know when you propose, dude!

Cooke: Is Rory the future Mrs. Niskanen yet?

Matt rolled his eyes. They were like a bunch of gossiping girls in high school; he could picture them acting out that scene in Grease. He made a face when he realized he had made that connection; Rory’s fault, for constantly singing that song around the house when he was getting ready before practices. She had laughingly proclaimed it their song the last time he'd made the mistaking of watching the movie with her, and it had stuck. Shaking his head, he told them all to mind their own business, and shut his phone off.

It wasn’t like he was just going to get down on one knee in his driveway the moment they pulled up. He needed the ring first, which was going to be even more difficult to get out of his mom, now that she had seen Rory’s favorite “extra-curricular activity” almost happen in her kitchen. He was still going to try, though, because the next part of his plan was set to happen the very next morning.

When Rory finally returned from the bathroom, moisturized and with fresh breath, she immediately proclaimed her exhaustion and yawned wide enough for him to see her molars. If he hadn’t known any better, he would’ve assumed she hadn’t slept at all in the last couple of days. Her health lately had been bothering him, but how could he fix it when she constantly said nothing was wrong, that she was fine? He made a mental note to sneak away at some point during the next week and Google it, to see if he could figure out what was wrong. He walked her down the hall to the small guest room, surprised when she didn't protest any more.

Matt reached out and pulled her in close outside the door, nuzzling her head. She made a purring sound in the back of her throat, wrapping her arms around him.

He waited a beat, before saying, “So I was thinking…”

“Mmph, no more talking, Matt. I’m tired.”

“It’s about tomorrow.”

“Oh." She looked up at him. "Then what?”

“I was thinking we could go skating on the old rink I used to practice on. The one my dad used to build in the backyard would be too small for us, but they have another one at a park a couple blocks away.”

“Aw, reliving your childhood?”

Something like that. “Did you bring your skates?”

“Nope.” She raised her eyebrows. "Maybe if you'd told me..."

He made a face at her. "My mom has a pair you can borrow. You two probably have the same foot size.”

She made a slight tch sound. “Will she let me, after today?”

“She’ll let you. I promise.” He kissed her twice, once quickly, once slowly, the taste of her still on his lips even as he walked back to his own bedroom and climbed into his bed, alone.

Matt laid awake, listening for Rory, for noise in the house. He couldn't sleep just yet, though he was exhausted; he couldn't stop thinking about the next morning. His heart hammered so hard, so loudly, every time he thought about getting on one knee, that he was surprised the entire neighborhood didn't wake up and complain about the noise.

My mom has to let you borrow the skates, he thought, closing his eyes. You’ll be family soon.