Curiosity
1/1
“So that’s it? You’re just going to mope around all day?”
Maxim Lapierre didn’t react to the soft, Quebecoise accent that resonated throughout the room; instead he buried his head into the pillow and suppressed the exasperated grunt that was bubbling in his throat. He knew she was aggravated with him and who could really blame her? Ever since his team had been eliminated from the playoffs, he had been a complete and utter pain in the ass to everyone he came into contact with. Last night had been even worse for Max, it was the night the LA Kings beat the New Jersey Devils 1-6 and won the Stanley Cup.
The same team that had eliminated the Canucks from the Playoffs; the same team who had destroyed their chances at even thinking about winning the Stanley Cup.
To say last night had been rough was a colossal understatement.
Max heard her sigh deftly and then he heard nothing at all. It was soundless for a few more moments and he was sure that she had left the room, maybe even the house to escape his abnormal attitude. He flinched dramatically when he felt her small hand touch his back delicately, her fingers rubbed his aching muscles and a wave of tranquility swept through Max. Her touch always seemed to have a comforting result on him and he could never figure out how she managed to be so tolerant with him. She always managed to keep her composure through the toughest times and in all of his time of knowing her, Max had never seen her cry once. He admired that about her, yet he despised it at the same time. Even when she was falling apart at the seam she would always put up this façade instead of just telling Max what was on her distressed mind.
“I guess that’s just what happens when you have a dad like mine.” She had explained to him once, shrugging it off like it was nothing. Max had only met her dad once at a Canucks game and they had immediately taken a disliking to each other. If her dad had a heart, Max never would have known. The older man had been entirely void of all emotion when they had met and rejected any sentiment that had been displayed from Max. The whole experience made Max actually pity his girlfriend for having to grow up with a detached father and a mother who was never emotionally there.
“Please talk to me Maxim, I rather have you mad at me than just completely ignoring me.” She whispers, and Max could feel her pressing her warm cheek to his bare shoulder blade. He felt like instant shit, his girlfriend was trying to help and he just kept pushing her away.
“I’m sorry Izzy,” He finally apologizes for his uncouth and unusual behaviour. He’s usually a loudmouth, sarcastic douchebag who gets off on annoying the hell out of people, Isabelle usually being one of those people. The thought of missing his overconfident attitude had never crossed her mind, but now she missed his sarcastic and crude remarks more than anything.
“Why don’t you come down for breakfast?” Isabelle suggests tenderly and smiles when she hears him chuckle quietly as her lips graze against the smooth flesh on his shoulder, “Maybe you’ll feel better with a full stomach.”
He nods at her suggestion and finally gets up from the bed that he’s been lying in for what seemed like days. Max stares at her back as he follows her through the house and into the kitchen, a signature smirk pulled at the corners of his lips as he stared at her ass in the pair of denim shorts she was wearing. It had been scorching hot in Montreal for the past few weeks, but Max couldn’t complain when Izzy had traded in her jeans and sweats for shorts and dresses.
“Poilu!”
His smirk turned into a full blown grin when he heard the infinitesimal voice, and before he could tell the girl not to call him ‘hairy’ in Quebecoise, the three year old had jumped into his arms and cupped her chubby little hands to both sides of his cheeks.
Max laughed for the first time days, and out of the corner of his eye he could see Isabelle watching the scene unfold with a gleaming smile on her face. It had been the first thing Max learned about Izzy one of their many dates over a year ago; that she had a young daughter by the name of Giselle. Of course he had been terrified; Max had never in his life dated someone with a child, he had been even more horrified once Izzy told him that she had a daughter. Izzy had waited a few weeks before she introduced Max to Giselle, maybe it was out of fear that Max was just going to hurt her like every other man she encountered in life did. Lucky for her, Maxim Lapierre was never one to give up on something he truly believed in.
Apparently Isabelle Lefèvre was someone that Max wasn’t willing to give up on.
It was a story he had heard many times; a woman falling in love with a man who she thinks is ‘the one’, she devotes everything to him while he can’t return any of it, and in the end he uses her and throws her out like a piece of trash. That was Izzy’s story, except she had been thrown to the curb after her boyfriend of four years found out she was pregnant and the child was his.
Max knew he couldn’t leave her after she had told him her story.
It was like a sudden wave of determination that had hit him like a train, but he didn’t know why. Was he so determined to show Izzy that not all men are the same? Or had he been determined to prove something to himself? Max had never been a relationship type of guy, he had a reputation for his ‘whorish ways’, as his friend and teammate Chris Higgins had stated once.
Max wanted to change and show Izzy that she could trust him.
He remembered the first time he had met Giselle, a completely unintentional encounter after the Canucks had won a home game against Toronto. She had managed to wriggle herself free from Isabelle’s arms and snuck her way into the locker room. Nobody had even noticed her as she trotted over to Luongo’s stall and found his helmet. She had been two at the time, completely oblivious of the huge men surrounding her. It was one of her traits that had stunned Max and still did to this day, how she could be so courageous at times. Alex Burrows had been the first to discover the tiny girl in the locker room and he had instantly been laughing uncontrollably when he saw Giselle with Luongo’s helmet on her little head. Luongo had just laughed along with everyone else, not caring that someone was messing with his equipment. It was near impossible to be mad at Giselle, and even some of the other guys on the team had a hard time saying no to her.
He remembered how Giselle looked at him later when Izzy had taken her from the locker room and she had witnessed her mom being kissed on the cheek hastily by Max. Her eyes had been filled to the brim with confusion, hurt, and curiosity, probably wondering who the strange man was and why he was hanging out with his mother. Her curiosity had intensified when Izzy invited him over for dinner that night; the little girl had felt lost in her own home for the first time in her life.
“You’re a curious little thing aren’t you?” Max said when he saw Giselle observing his jersey that had been thrown carelessly over her lap. Her fingers had been tracing the outline of his last name and Max could faintly hear her murmuring something, was she trying to figure out how to pronounce his last name? Izzy had mentioned that she was really smart and she was already trying to learn how to read and how to pronounce bigger words.
Her light brown eyes glared up at him, “You’re hairy little thing aren’t you?” She mocked him in a deep voice and Max was immediately laughing at her feisty attitude.
“Poilu.” Max said simply, peaking her curiosity.
“Huh?”
He smiles at her and points to his beard, “Poilu, it means hairy in French.”
She nods, “Mama knows French.”
Max notices how she doesn’t talk like most kids her age; she doesn’t pronounce words that contain the letter ‘R’ with a ‘W’ instead.
“Hurt?” She asks quietly, and Max is puzzled by her question until she reaches out and touches the scar on the top of his hand. Her fingers trace the scar just like she had been doing with the letters on his jersey; her eyes are completely focused on the opalescent scar
“I got it a couple years ago during a hockey game…do you have any scars?”
She shakes her head but twists her arm around and points to her elbow, “Mama said I was born with it.”
Max cautiously grabs her arm and looks at the small strawberry coloured birth mark on her skin, completely unaware of Izzy who is watching from the entrance of her kitchen with raised eyebrows. She had apologized in advance for anything Giselle might do or say to Maxim, she had always been distrustful towards men. Watching Max and Giselle interact like best friends was a surprise to Isabelle, but she didn’t question it.
Instead, she exhaled a relieved sigh and went back to washing dishes in the kitchen.
“What have I told you about calling me hairy?”
“Don’t.” She answered with a giggle.
Max sets her back down on her feet and she instantly runs over to Izzy who is flipping pancakes and bacon in front of the stovetop.
“I think you’re wearing the wrong shirt Elle.”
Giselle whips around and glares at Max, she’s wearing one of her Canucks shirts that has a large 14 on the back with the last name, ‘Burrows’, displayed across her shoulders. There are many things that Max has learned about Giselle, like how stubborn she is and how she can proficiently refute something copiously when she doesn’t want to admit how accurate it is.
Her tiny crush on Alex Burrows had been one of those things ever since he had bit Patrice Bergeron's finger during last year's Stanley Cup Finals.
Max sits on one of the stools at the marble island and watches the mother and daughter interact with each other; a smile spreads across his face without warning. There was a distinctive and indestructible bond between them and it still astonished Max how much they relied on each other.
After a few minutes Izzy carefully hands Giselle two plates, telling her to be careful. Giselle handed him the bigger plate that had more food on it, and she hopped up onto her seat next to Max. It wasn’t long before Isabelle joined them and took a seat on the other side of Max.
He grinned and realized how content he was to be surrounded by his two favourite girls.
“You coming to bed?”
Isabelle choked back a yawn and nodded her head tiredly. Max had taken them to the Zoo after breakfast and after 7 hours of walking around and chasing Giselle when she got excited from seeing the elephants, she felt dead on her feet. She pushed back the covers on the bed, smiling to herself when she felt Max’s profound eyes burning a hole through her. The navy blue nightgown she was wearing only covered a small portion of her thighs and the hungry look in Maxim’s eyes grew as she crawled under the covers and curled up next to him.
“Mmm,” Max sighed as he played with thin, cotton material, “I like it when you and the WAGs go shopping.”
“Wish I could say the same.” She laughs quietly.
His hand moves from the hemline of the nightgown to her hip, his thumb lazily draws circles over the fabric and Isabelle sighs lethargically. Max watches her as her eyes close and sleep starts to consume her.
Her brown eyes are abruptly wide and stressed, “Giselle-I forgot to read her a bedtime story, she can’t sleep unless--“
“I already read her a bedtime story.” Max responds coolly, “She’s out like a light, don’t worry.”
She relaxes and her body relaxes against his, “When did you become so good at this?”
“I watch Lifetime when you and Giselle aren’t home.” He mutters, now feeling exhausted from the inside out.
“I bet you and Higgy have chick-flick marathons when you’re on the road, huh?” She whispers, and I feel her lips arc into a smile.
“Mhm, do you know how many times we’ve seen Titanic? Every time we watch it Higgy always prays the ship doesn’t hit the iceberg.”
She laughs, “You guys are ridiculous.”
“Ridiculously handsome.” He corrects her, and hisses when she pinches his nipple, “Jesus Christ woman, don’t damage the goods.”
She rolls her eyes, “Not my fault you’re so sensitive.”
He pouts, “I tell all of the guys in the locker room you abuse me.”
“You’re the one who’s always leaving bruises and bite marks on me.” She says with a lighthearted scowl.
“Those are acceptable, sex bruises are always awesome, gotta mark my territory somehow. Y'know bears mark their territory by peeing on trees and shit?”
She snorts as he starts to ramble, "Guess it's a good thing you're not a bear then."
"Or a Boston Bruin--"
She shakes her head and buries her face into the crook of his neck, finally closing her eyes after her giggles subside.
“I love you Max.”
His breath hitched in his throat; he never got tired of hearing her say those lovely words.
“I know I might not be the smartest man, but I really do love you Isabelle.”
He means every single word; he’s never loved another woman like he loves Isabelle. He still couldn’t comprehend why she chose to be with someone like him, he knew he was an egotistical asshole, but she didn’t care. She constantly put up with his unwanted bullshit, and never complained once about it.
It was safe to say Giselle and Isabelle Lefèvre had made him into a decent man.
Maxim Lapierre didn’t react to the soft, Quebecoise accent that resonated throughout the room; instead he buried his head into the pillow and suppressed the exasperated grunt that was bubbling in his throat. He knew she was aggravated with him and who could really blame her? Ever since his team had been eliminated from the playoffs, he had been a complete and utter pain in the ass to everyone he came into contact with. Last night had been even worse for Max, it was the night the LA Kings beat the New Jersey Devils 1-6 and won the Stanley Cup.
The same team that had eliminated the Canucks from the Playoffs; the same team who had destroyed their chances at even thinking about winning the Stanley Cup.
To say last night had been rough was a colossal understatement.
Max heard her sigh deftly and then he heard nothing at all. It was soundless for a few more moments and he was sure that she had left the room, maybe even the house to escape his abnormal attitude. He flinched dramatically when he felt her small hand touch his back delicately, her fingers rubbed his aching muscles and a wave of tranquility swept through Max. Her touch always seemed to have a comforting result on him and he could never figure out how she managed to be so tolerant with him. She always managed to keep her composure through the toughest times and in all of his time of knowing her, Max had never seen her cry once. He admired that about her, yet he despised it at the same time. Even when she was falling apart at the seam she would always put up this façade instead of just telling Max what was on her distressed mind.
“I guess that’s just what happens when you have a dad like mine.” She had explained to him once, shrugging it off like it was nothing. Max had only met her dad once at a Canucks game and they had immediately taken a disliking to each other. If her dad had a heart, Max never would have known. The older man had been entirely void of all emotion when they had met and rejected any sentiment that had been displayed from Max. The whole experience made Max actually pity his girlfriend for having to grow up with a detached father and a mother who was never emotionally there.
“Please talk to me Maxim, I rather have you mad at me than just completely ignoring me.” She whispers, and Max could feel her pressing her warm cheek to his bare shoulder blade. He felt like instant shit, his girlfriend was trying to help and he just kept pushing her away.
“I’m sorry Izzy,” He finally apologizes for his uncouth and unusual behaviour. He’s usually a loudmouth, sarcastic douchebag who gets off on annoying the hell out of people, Isabelle usually being one of those people. The thought of missing his overconfident attitude had never crossed her mind, but now she missed his sarcastic and crude remarks more than anything.
“Why don’t you come down for breakfast?” Isabelle suggests tenderly and smiles when she hears him chuckle quietly as her lips graze against the smooth flesh on his shoulder, “Maybe you’ll feel better with a full stomach.”
He nods at her suggestion and finally gets up from the bed that he’s been lying in for what seemed like days. Max stares at her back as he follows her through the house and into the kitchen, a signature smirk pulled at the corners of his lips as he stared at her ass in the pair of denim shorts she was wearing. It had been scorching hot in Montreal for the past few weeks, but Max couldn’t complain when Izzy had traded in her jeans and sweats for shorts and dresses.
“Poilu!”
His smirk turned into a full blown grin when he heard the infinitesimal voice, and before he could tell the girl not to call him ‘hairy’ in Quebecoise, the three year old had jumped into his arms and cupped her chubby little hands to both sides of his cheeks.
Max laughed for the first time days, and out of the corner of his eye he could see Isabelle watching the scene unfold with a gleaming smile on her face. It had been the first thing Max learned about Izzy one of their many dates over a year ago; that she had a young daughter by the name of Giselle. Of course he had been terrified; Max had never in his life dated someone with a child, he had been even more horrified once Izzy told him that she had a daughter. Izzy had waited a few weeks before she introduced Max to Giselle, maybe it was out of fear that Max was just going to hurt her like every other man she encountered in life did. Lucky for her, Maxim Lapierre was never one to give up on something he truly believed in.
Apparently Isabelle Lefèvre was someone that Max wasn’t willing to give up on.
It was a story he had heard many times; a woman falling in love with a man who she thinks is ‘the one’, she devotes everything to him while he can’t return any of it, and in the end he uses her and throws her out like a piece of trash. That was Izzy’s story, except she had been thrown to the curb after her boyfriend of four years found out she was pregnant and the child was his.
Max knew he couldn’t leave her after she had told him her story.
It was like a sudden wave of determination that had hit him like a train, but he didn’t know why. Was he so determined to show Izzy that not all men are the same? Or had he been determined to prove something to himself? Max had never been a relationship type of guy, he had a reputation for his ‘whorish ways’, as his friend and teammate Chris Higgins had stated once.
Max wanted to change and show Izzy that she could trust him.
He remembered the first time he had met Giselle, a completely unintentional encounter after the Canucks had won a home game against Toronto. She had managed to wriggle herself free from Isabelle’s arms and snuck her way into the locker room. Nobody had even noticed her as she trotted over to Luongo’s stall and found his helmet. She had been two at the time, completely oblivious of the huge men surrounding her. It was one of her traits that had stunned Max and still did to this day, how she could be so courageous at times. Alex Burrows had been the first to discover the tiny girl in the locker room and he had instantly been laughing uncontrollably when he saw Giselle with Luongo’s helmet on her little head. Luongo had just laughed along with everyone else, not caring that someone was messing with his equipment. It was near impossible to be mad at Giselle, and even some of the other guys on the team had a hard time saying no to her.
He remembered how Giselle looked at him later when Izzy had taken her from the locker room and she had witnessed her mom being kissed on the cheek hastily by Max. Her eyes had been filled to the brim with confusion, hurt, and curiosity, probably wondering who the strange man was and why he was hanging out with his mother. Her curiosity had intensified when Izzy invited him over for dinner that night; the little girl had felt lost in her own home for the first time in her life.
“You’re a curious little thing aren’t you?” Max said when he saw Giselle observing his jersey that had been thrown carelessly over her lap. Her fingers had been tracing the outline of his last name and Max could faintly hear her murmuring something, was she trying to figure out how to pronounce his last name? Izzy had mentioned that she was really smart and she was already trying to learn how to read and how to pronounce bigger words.
Her light brown eyes glared up at him, “You’re hairy little thing aren’t you?” She mocked him in a deep voice and Max was immediately laughing at her feisty attitude.
“Poilu.” Max said simply, peaking her curiosity.
“Huh?”
He smiles at her and points to his beard, “Poilu, it means hairy in French.”
She nods, “Mama knows French.”
Max notices how she doesn’t talk like most kids her age; she doesn’t pronounce words that contain the letter ‘R’ with a ‘W’ instead.
“Hurt?” She asks quietly, and Max is puzzled by her question until she reaches out and touches the scar on the top of his hand. Her fingers trace the scar just like she had been doing with the letters on his jersey; her eyes are completely focused on the opalescent scar
“I got it a couple years ago during a hockey game…do you have any scars?”
She shakes her head but twists her arm around and points to her elbow, “Mama said I was born with it.”
Max cautiously grabs her arm and looks at the small strawberry coloured birth mark on her skin, completely unaware of Izzy who is watching from the entrance of her kitchen with raised eyebrows. She had apologized in advance for anything Giselle might do or say to Maxim, she had always been distrustful towards men. Watching Max and Giselle interact like best friends was a surprise to Isabelle, but she didn’t question it.
Instead, she exhaled a relieved sigh and went back to washing dishes in the kitchen.
“What have I told you about calling me hairy?”
“Don’t.” She answered with a giggle.
Max sets her back down on her feet and she instantly runs over to Izzy who is flipping pancakes and bacon in front of the stovetop.
“I think you’re wearing the wrong shirt Elle.”
Giselle whips around and glares at Max, she’s wearing one of her Canucks shirts that has a large 14 on the back with the last name, ‘Burrows’, displayed across her shoulders. There are many things that Max has learned about Giselle, like how stubborn she is and how she can proficiently refute something copiously when she doesn’t want to admit how accurate it is.
Her tiny crush on Alex Burrows had been one of those things ever since he had bit Patrice Bergeron's finger during last year's Stanley Cup Finals.
Max sits on one of the stools at the marble island and watches the mother and daughter interact with each other; a smile spreads across his face without warning. There was a distinctive and indestructible bond between them and it still astonished Max how much they relied on each other.
After a few minutes Izzy carefully hands Giselle two plates, telling her to be careful. Giselle handed him the bigger plate that had more food on it, and she hopped up onto her seat next to Max. It wasn’t long before Isabelle joined them and took a seat on the other side of Max.
He grinned and realized how content he was to be surrounded by his two favourite girls.
****
“You coming to bed?”
Isabelle choked back a yawn and nodded her head tiredly. Max had taken them to the Zoo after breakfast and after 7 hours of walking around and chasing Giselle when she got excited from seeing the elephants, she felt dead on her feet. She pushed back the covers on the bed, smiling to herself when she felt Max’s profound eyes burning a hole through her. The navy blue nightgown she was wearing only covered a small portion of her thighs and the hungry look in Maxim’s eyes grew as she crawled under the covers and curled up next to him.
“Mmm,” Max sighed as he played with thin, cotton material, “I like it when you and the WAGs go shopping.”
“Wish I could say the same.” She laughs quietly.
His hand moves from the hemline of the nightgown to her hip, his thumb lazily draws circles over the fabric and Isabelle sighs lethargically. Max watches her as her eyes close and sleep starts to consume her.
Her brown eyes are abruptly wide and stressed, “Giselle-I forgot to read her a bedtime story, she can’t sleep unless--“
“I already read her a bedtime story.” Max responds coolly, “She’s out like a light, don’t worry.”
She relaxes and her body relaxes against his, “When did you become so good at this?”
“I watch Lifetime when you and Giselle aren’t home.” He mutters, now feeling exhausted from the inside out.
“I bet you and Higgy have chick-flick marathons when you’re on the road, huh?” She whispers, and I feel her lips arc into a smile.
“Mhm, do you know how many times we’ve seen Titanic? Every time we watch it Higgy always prays the ship doesn’t hit the iceberg.”
She laughs, “You guys are ridiculous.”
“Ridiculously handsome.” He corrects her, and hisses when she pinches his nipple, “Jesus Christ woman, don’t damage the goods.”
She rolls her eyes, “Not my fault you’re so sensitive.”
He pouts, “I tell all of the guys in the locker room you abuse me.”
“You’re the one who’s always leaving bruises and bite marks on me.” She says with a lighthearted scowl.
“Those are acceptable, sex bruises are always awesome, gotta mark my territory somehow. Y'know bears mark their territory by peeing on trees and shit?”
She snorts as he starts to ramble, "Guess it's a good thing you're not a bear then."
"Or a Boston Bruin--"
She shakes her head and buries her face into the crook of his neck, finally closing her eyes after her giggles subside.
“I love you Max.”
His breath hitched in his throat; he never got tired of hearing her say those lovely words.
“I know I might not be the smartest man, but I really do love you Isabelle.”
He means every single word; he’s never loved another woman like he loves Isabelle. He still couldn’t comprehend why she chose to be with someone like him, he knew he was an egotistical asshole, but she didn’t care. She constantly put up with his unwanted bullshit, and never complained once about it.
It was safe to say Giselle and Isabelle Lefèvre had made him into a decent man.