Buckshot

Kimberly got out to her car that night safely. But her car wouldn’t start (again) and the cold Chicago rain started to pour down on top of her. Digging her phone out from her purse, she dialed the nearest cab company and headed home, thanking all that did not suck in the world for a heater.

She paid the taxi out of the money that Viktor gave her and trudged her frigid body up 3 flights of stairs to her apartment, where she peeled off the jacket she had bundled around her, Stalberg’s jersey, and the soggy shoes she wore. The heat in her apartment only sort of worked and Kimberly’s teeth started to chatter. She was going to get sick, she could feel it. And so, with that in mind, she peeled off her clothes and jumped in the shower, the hot water on full blast until she couldn’t stand it anymore. Minutes later, she dried her hair and found her fuzzy bathrobe before she plunked down on the couch with a glass of wine.

Tonight had been a total clusterfuck, if she were honest. And she was honest. She didn’t want to come between Patrick and his happiness (even if that were with Nicki), and she hoped she was doing the right thing.

She wasn’t going to worry about it tonight, though. She was still cold, and she was tired and the day had been long.

_____________________________________

Patrick was livid. Livid wasn’t the word for it. He was one angry motherfucker. Not that he’d ever fucked a mother (that he knew of) but that was beside the point. Kimberly took the cowardly way out and left him a fucking note of all things and played like the situation would be normal? Get real. And then there was Nicki. What the fuck did she say that prompted Kimberly to leave that note?
He held down the #2 button (Kimberly liked to joke and say he picked the number because she was "the shit") on his speed dial and waited while it rang.

“Hey, you’ve reached the voicemail of Kimberly Faulkner, leave a message and I’ll get back to you soon.”

“Call me.” Patrick said and ended the call.

He looked at the time and decided to just go home; he wasn’t in the mood to party. When he walked in the door, Nicki was red faced and stomping around the apartment.

“What’s your problem?” He asked, not remotely in the mood for her shenanigans.

“My problem?” She asked incredulously. “My problem is those two bratty sisters of yours, Patrick. God, couldn’t you have gotten them a hotel room?”

“What’s going on?” He asked again, trying to be patient. He was growing tired of her shit, growing tired of her whining, of the fact that she just couldn't seem to get along with anyone that he liked, growing tired of her in general.

“Every time I try to do something nice, they throw it back in my face, Patrick. I can’t take it anymore.” She whined.

He fumed, tired of all of the estrogen fueled problems he was having. Maybe a road trip would do him well next week.

“Look, just go to your place. I’ll talk to them, okay?” He said as calmly as possible, kissing her cheek and ushering her out. He closed and locked the door swiftly, jerking his tie off and shrugging off his coat as he moved down the hall.

He stopped at the room his two sisters shared and knocked.

“Come in, Pat.” Erica said, opening it.

“What the fuck is going on,sis?” He asked, his hands going to his hips.

“Ask your girlfriend.” Jessica, who was usually the sweeter and quieter of the two said, her words laced with venom.

Patrick raised his eyebrow as he plunked down into the computer chair. “Just tell me, I’m tired and I’m ready to go to bed.”

“Nicki is up to something Patrick. I can feel it. “ Erica said.

“Is this just because you don’t like her?” Patrick asked.

Erica rolled her eyes and flopped back on the bed. “No. Buck left around the 2nd intermission and
Nicki came in being overly sweet to us.”

“What made it even more awkward was that Harper kept giving Nicki the nastiest glares, too.” Jessica said

Patrick groaned and ran his hand over his face. “Fucking estrogen.”

Erica giggled and threw her pillow at her brother. “You can call everyone tomorrow. Go to sleep, bro. Things will be better in the morning.”

Except that things were infinitely worse in the morning. Buckshot wasn’t at the arena for work and she never ever missed a day. After trying multiple times and failing to reach Kimberly, he called Harper.

“Kane, why are you calling my girlfriend?’ Jonathan answered.

“I can’t reach Buck and she went all chickenshit on me last night. I need to talk to her.” Kane grumbled, picking up a cup of coffee from the café around the corner from Kimberly’s.

“So go to her house,eh, dipshit. “ Patrick could practically hear Jonathan roll his eyes.

“I’m going, assface.” Kane said. “But I wanted Harper’s side of the story from last night. Apparently shit went down and my sisters don’t have all of the details.”

“Fucking women, eh?” Jonathan sighed.

“Right?” Kane said as he nodded at Kimberly’s doorman and clicked the elevator button. “Look man, I’m going to lose signal in a second. Tell Harper to text me.”

“ I will. Good luck, bro.” Jonathan hung up before Patrick could say thanks.
He knocked on Buck’s door, to no avail and knocked again. “Buck, it’s me. Open up.”
Except she didn’t. So Patrick fished his keys out of his pocket and opened up the door.

“Buck?” He called and there was no answer.

The apartment was quiet and the blanket was gone off of the couch. Stalberg’s jersey was hanging across the back of the chair and was still damp from where she must have washed it. He walked back to her room where he pushed the door open with a creak. Under a pile of blankets was a Kimberly-sized lump.

“Buck, are you alive?” He asked as he sat on the edge of her bed.

“Barely. “ She mumbled her voice laced with the stuffiness of a cold “Just chilly, you might want to keep your distance, I might be contagious.”

“Nah, I’ve had my flu shots, thanks.” Patrick said setting her coffee down on the nightstand. “I’ve brought you coffee.”

“Thanks.” She said, trying to situate her body to an upright position. “Ugh, I feel like shit.”

He handed her the cup of coffee and she sipped, sighing when the heat of it warmed her slightly.

“So are we going to talk about this?” Kane asked, never one to beat around the bush.

Kimberly bowed her head and closed her eyes with an exhale. She really didn’t feel like talking about it. She just wanted to be quiet for a while, but if Patrick wanted to talk , she would talk. Her amber eyes looked into his denim blue ones as she nodded.

“So what’s with the break up letter?” Patrick asked scooting her over so that he could lean against the pillows too. “I mean I came back to my locker after one hell of a game, ready to go out and party when I saw this piece of paper poking out of my jacket pocket. Imagine my surprise when my best friend in the whole world decides to tell me she doesn’t want to spend time with me outside of an office situation. That stings a little, Buck.”

Kimberly slumped down a little more. “I didn’t mean to hurt you Patrick. After talking to Nicki last night I realized that I might actually be in the way. I just want you to be happy, and if that means taking some time to work on things with her, I’m okay with that.”

The moment was tense as Patrick ruminated on her words. Kimberly felt even crappier knowing that she had hurt his feelings. That was the last thing she wanted to do. She sipped on her coffee as they sat there in silence for a good five, maybe ten minutes.

“You know what makes me happy?” Patrick said finally, causing Kimberly to spook a little and spill some of her coffee on her hand.

She shook the liquid off and wiped her hand on the afghan she’d pulled over her earlier.

“What’s that?” Kimberly asked

“Ice cream.” Patrick said. “What makes you happy, Buck?”

“Puppies and wide open spaces.” She spoke back. “What else makes you happy?”

“Winning hockey games, really hot mind- blowing sex, being able to talk to my best friend about anything, not being controlled, the fact that you never once have tried to control me- even if you nag me to death.” Patrick said, pressing the length of his legs that were on top of the covers against hers.

“So what are you saying?” Kimberly asked

“Nothing yet.” Patrick was honest. “But I want to know what Nicki said to you to make you feel like you can’t even talk to me, to make you feel like you had to run before you could talk to me.”

Kimberly’s eyes started to water, and her face turned a shade of red that Patrick didn’t see often.

“Patrick, please don’t make me.” She said on the verge of crying. “I don’t want to be in the middle of you and Nicki.”

Patrick had to giggle. “Nicki doesn’t share anyway. There’s no way you could get in the middle. You’d have to be on the outside.”

Kimberly’s face reddened at his insinuation, and she bopped him in the face with her pillow “Jerk. You know what I mean.”

The thing was Patrick did know, and he also knew what Nicki was capable of. What he didn’t know however, was why he had stuck with her for this long.