Ticking Bombs & False Alarms

Warm Chicago air caressed my bare arms as I followed the flow of people towards my apartment, ignoring the unrelenting ring of my cell phone. I pulled the black pencil skirt down further on my tan legs as I dodged a man leaning to pick up his fallen briefcase. Sipping from the Starbucks’ cup in my hand, I erased the new voicemail with a sigh. Marcus Neilson had been trying to reach me for the past two weeks and little did he know, I had no desire to reestablish contact with my estranged father. He had walked out of my life seven years ago and there was no reason present in my mind to hear him out now. Forcing a relationship sounded like worse torture than the nonexistent one we had now.

The apartment building across the street was small compared to the skyscrapers surrounding it, regardless of the fourteen floors it contained inside. I quickly followed a man crossing the street, my heels clicking against the pavement as I matched his ridiculously long stride in order to blend in with him. Cursing genetics that barely made me taller than a ten year old, I stumbled into the stopped man in front of me as I stepped onto the sidewalk.

“Did you want an autograph?” Large hands covered me arms to steady my body as I looked down at the spilled coffee on my white blouse. Naturally, nothing about this day was going right.

“Should I?” I shook hot liquid off of my hand before studying the man in front of me. He couldn’t have been more than a few years older than myself and his body was relaxed but there was a tension in his arms that a normal male his age just didn’t have. His muscles stretched the black t-shirt he wore, muscles he could have only gotten by working to keep himself at his physical peak. His jeans fit his legs, hugging his strong thighs in a way that made a woman stop and take notice, myself included. I met his brown eyes, blinking in surprise when I was greeted by a cool gaze. His body may have been relaxed but those eyes were anything but. There was irritation there that made my previous assumption of composure a flawed theory. He towered over me, confusion briefly lightening his eyes as I stepped closer to him to avoid a hurried business man.

“Well, you were following me for a few blocks,” He chuckled, the laughter not reaching his eyes but his strong jaw stayed locked in a crooked grin. “I’d rather not have you follow me the rest of the way. Your feet would be killing you in those shoes.” I raised an eyebrow, shuffling my feet as he mentioned the heels, calling attention to the fact my feet had been killing me for an hour now. His warm hands dropped my arms as if he suddenly realized he still held them before he repeated his question again.

“Did you want that autograph?”

“Look, sugar,” I began, “Not to bruise your ego or anything, but I don’t know who you are. I live here.” I raised a hand, emphasizing my point before walking around him. It was only when I entered the building I dared to look behind me at the controlled man I had left in my street that I discovered that he followed me inside. His hands went up in mock surrender, pushing the button to call the elevator.

“I live here, too.” The man answered my unasked question as I stared at him. The displeasure from only moments earlier had all but disappeared as his hand grazed my lower back to guide me inside the steel box. I let him, moving my purse to the other side as I examined him. I tried to recall his strong jaw line and deep chocolate eyes from my memory of fellow tenants but came up empty. It wasn’t a secret that I tended to remember the names and faces of attractive males around the building. I was always looking for my next fling, something easy and non-committed. Pleasant looking men tended not to care about trivial things like relationships and love; they just wanted physical interactions between the sheets, which happened to be all I had to offer. This man, though quite sexy, wasn’t precisely my type but I still would have noticed him. My type tended to be more beauty than brains with little to no muscle mass, just good genetics. This male was pure masculinity and authority, I would have to be blind not to acknowledge his presence.

“I don’t remember you.” I stated, realizing he was waiting for a response. I hated that I was so distracted by him, used to being able to reply within seconds with a witty response that usually flustered my verbal sparring partner.

“Just moved in, actually. Floor number?” He inquired. The fourteen button lit up as I pushed it in answer, as he man looked at me with the same crooked grin he wore on his face earlier. This time, however, it didn’t appear to be forced. “Looks like we’ll be seeing each other more. I moved into an apartment on that floor.”

“Guess so,” I breathed, suddenly giddy with the thought of seeing him more. I stuck out my freshly manicured hand for him to take, realizing I didn’t even know this man’s name. “I’m Mercedes Neilson, but call me Mercy. Everyone does.”

“Jonathan Toews, but Jon’s fine.” I offered him a smile as the elevator climbed up the fourteen floors to our apartments.



“I think of you every night and day, you took my heart and you took my pride away-ay-ay-ay.” I sang, moving my hips to the beat of Joan Jett’s I Hate Myself coming out of my iPod’s headphones as I danced around the hallway outside of my apartment. I had locked myself out and was waiting for Jon to come home from whatever team event he was at to get my spare key from him. I had approximately thirty to forty minutes left of battery power on my iPod before I was reduced to picking at my nail polish. My feet were bare, still sore from hours spent out on the dance floor with my co-worker Amanda, but the alcohol that I had consumed helped numb the ache. A loud whistle broke my concentration of my dance, bringing my attention to the four men watching me. Jonathan inspected my appearance with cool regard as I pulled out the headphones, smiling at his friends as they watched in amusement.

“Hello, boys. Hope you enjoyed the performance.” I offered them a teasing grin, easily slipping behind my seductive façade of confidence. “Jon, nice of you to finally come home.”

“Weren’t you going out with Amanda tonight?” Jon asked, walking towards me in a brisk pace to reach me before the men behind him did. I knew from pictures littering Jonathan’s apartment and the conversations we’d had that the men were his teammates. I unsuccessfully tried to pull down the shorts that rode up to my thighs during my dancing and straightened my shirt as Jon scowled at me, before giving up and looking into his eyes.

“Got back a few hours ago.” I said slowly, unwilling to let Jon know just how much I had been drinking. If he was pissed now by my appearance, I could only imagine the shit fit he’d have if he knew just how toasted I was. “I went out to get the mail and,” I trailed off, jiggling the doorknob, showing the lock that was firmly and irritatingly in place.

“You’ve been holding out on us, Captain?” One of the men stepped forward as he addressed Jon, moving toward me with a confident strut. I smirked at him, knowing at that moment who he had to be.

“You must be Kane.” I smiled, “Mercy.”

“Mercy,” Jon chided, bringing my attention away from the flirting man in front of me and back to him. I blinked up at him in false innocence, a smile teasing my lips. “How’d you get home?”

“I flew.” I smiled, as he rolled his eyes before leading me to his door. He opened it, pushing me inside lightly before turning to the men behind him.

“Make yourselves at home, I have to grab her key.” The stern Captain barked at his companions as he led me with a firm hand on the small of my back to the kitchen where my spare key hung. I’d locked myself out four times in a month before I finally asked Jonathan to take the spare so I wouldn’t have to keep calling the landlord. While the landlord was nice enough, he was an ass. My grandparents owned the building but had wanted to escape the harsh cold of Chicago’s winters so they handed the duty over to Richard Hanson to oversee everything. The last time I had called him to unlock my door, he had made a comment about how if I kept calling him, he was going to assume I had the ‘hots’ for him. Needless to say, I haven’t called him since.

“You have a key to her apartment?” Kane’s interested voice asked from the living room, “How does Jennifer feel about that? You know, I’ll be happy to take it off your hands.” I grinned at his statement and nudged Jon, successfully getting the scowl off his face.

“She’s fine with it.” I said, “He’s had it for a year now.”

“You’ve been hiding her for a year?” Kane came into the kitchen, astonishment on his face. I raised an eyebrow at him as Jon moved in front of me, blocking him from my view.

“You’re not sleeping with her, back off.”

“Why’s that? I might want to take him for a spin.” I teased, dancing around Jonathan to run my nails over Kane’s bicep. “Might be fun.”

“Mercedes.” I glared at Jon, hating the way he said my name and gripped my arm. The judgmental tone was easy to find, almost as easy to find as a neon sign in a pitch black room.

“Don’t take that tone with me.” I glared at him as I ripped my arm out of his grasp. I had to steady myself on the counter, whether it was from a night of drinking or the strength of Jon’s grasp I wasn’t sure but I also didn’t care. He might control his anger with precision but I found it a little more difficult. “First of all, I’m a grown ass woman. I can fuck who I choose. Second of all, I was kidding.” Jonathan should have known that while Patrick Kane was attractive enough, he wasn’t my type. Too strong and masculine, reminding me too much of my stud of a neighbor. I also respected Jon enough not to play with his friends and part of me was hurt that he assumed that I would.

“Mercy, you need sleep. Come on.” Jonathan ignored my outburst, chalking it up to drunken anger, the tension in his shoulders relaxing slightly as he stepped forward.

“Let her stay, Toews. She ain’t hurtin’ nothin’.” One of the other men said, bringing my attention away from the controlling man. Jon looked at me as I shook my head, fingering the key he’d given me.

“Some other time, perhaps.” I smiled gently, walking to the door. Jonathan gripped my arm, the touch surprising me into stumbling. Jonathan sighed and in a swift movement, lifted me into his arms. The heat of his chest seeped into my body as I ignored the fast beat of my heart. “Captain, put me down.” I pouted, trying to ignore my sudden lust for the hockey player. The man was any girl’s wet dream, I realized that the moment I met him but being around him had my libido in overdrive. Being in his arms made it ten times worse.

“I’ll be back.” He told his company before opening his door and opening mine with ease, as if he wasn’t carrying a person.

“You know, you’re pretty strong.” I said, absentmindedly, “While it’s not really my thing, I can see how that would be attractive.” It was the shock of my words that brought a smile to his lips before he schooled it back into the scowl he’d been wearing. “I’m just saying, I understand why the ball bunnies follow you around.” I was unable to stop the rest of the thought from coming out of my mouth, but I couldn’t bring myself to care. I had made him smile, a little, at least.

“It’s puck bunnies, Mercy.” I shrugged at his correction as Jon shifted me to shut the door with his foot.

“Whatever. All I’m saying is I get what they think of.”

“You’re such a lush, Mercy.” He smirked before curiosity got the better of him. “And what is it that they’re thinking?”

“I can only speculate but I imagine they’re thinking of being held against the wall,” his laughter cut me off from getting anymore detailed as he dropped me onto my bed.

“Get some sleep. You need to sleep it off, but come to mine for breakfast.” He said, “We need to talk about you walking home from the bars. I told you to take cabs back.” Jon kneeled, rubbing my feet. I fought back a moan and the shiver that almost overcame me as his skin met mine. My phone beeped from it’s place on my nightstand, bringing Jon’s gaze away from mine and to the phone. “Your dad called.” I grunted in reply, rolling underneath my covers before pulling off my shorts. Jonathan was quiet for a few minutes before he sighed, kissing my forehead. He started walking to the door, before he turned around.

“Do you ever think about just answering the phone, Mercedes?” I fought my anger and pain down as I glared up at him.

“No, I don’t, Jonathan.” We had had this conversation before, one of our late night conversations when we couldn’t sleep, where we’d both wander up to the rooftop looking for answers and fresh air. Usually when the conversation went this far, he would drop the subject but the hardness of his eyes told me it wouldn’t be that easy. “He left me. My mother. He left, we didn’t force him to. He chose to.”

“You just don’t get it, do you?” He sighed, sitting down beside me as I fumed. “It’s rotting you from the inside, Mercy. You’re holding this grudge against your dad and until it’s resolved you’re going to be alone.” He explained, regret showing suddenly as if he wished he could take the words back.

“Like you’re any different, Toews? What about that anger you carry around with you all the time? Huh? Sure, you control it well enough but that’s what your issue is isn’t it? Your control slips, then you shove people away from you. You’re going to shove Jennifer away, just like the last girl. You’ll end up alone too.” He shook his head, rising up from his position next to me and walked to the door.

“Guess we’ll have each other as company then, huh?”



I stretched, curling away from the man in my bed before getting up and walking into the bathroom to turn on the shower. Judging by the time, I had only been asleep for an hour before waking up to the slam of a door. I was guessing Jonathan was home. Finally.

“Hey,” I called from the bathroom doorway to the man waking from his slumber. Jackson was gorgeous but I wasn’t interested in longer conversations than where we were going to meet and when. We had been sleeping together for about six months but I didn’t see it lasting much longer.

“You gotta go. I have to work.” I lied before turning to enter the hot shower. I washed my hair, only rinsing and getting out when I heard the front door close as Jackson exited.

After drying off, I pulled on some jeans and a Toews jersey and looked in the mirror to make sure I was presentable. My thick brown hair had been towel dried into curls pouring over the shirt as my blue eyes blinked back at me, free of last night’s eyeliner and mascara. Figuring that Jon wouldn’t mind my makeup free face, I exited the apartment as swiftly as Jackson had, stopping only to grab my keys and phone before shutting the door.

“Hey, sunshine.” I said, leaning against the wall as Jon opened the door. His eyes told me there was something wrong but the controlled look on his face gave nothing away as he studied me.

“Why didn’t you just use your key?” Jon asked finally, stepping back to allow me passage into his home. I could smell the lingering scent of whisky on his breath causing me to glance at the clock. It was just after five in the morning, telling me that he had had a long night.

“Didn’t know if you were up for company.” I flipped on the coffee, smiling lightly at the fact that Jonathan had preset it. He was prepared for everything, so it didn’t come as a surprise.

“I’m always up for your company.” He said, wrapping his arms around my waist, pressing his chest firmly into my back. I snorted in reply, slipping out of his reach as I reached into his cabinet to get out two mugs.

“I caught the game last night. Congrats on winning.” I smiled, turning around to meet his eyes as he scowled at me.

“You did not, Mercy.” He argued, as I laughed.

“I did too,” I protested, “I caught some of it, at least. Mostly the end.”

“You don’t like hockey.” He stated, as I shrugged in answer. That much was true, I didn’t care for it but I understood the gist of it. Anyone would. I watched only watched the Blackhawks’ game for one reason, and that reason was standing in front of me.

“I like you.” I answered with ease. It was the truth. He was the only guy who had held my interest long enough to establish a friendship and to be honest, I couldn’t imagine losing interest in him. He might be controlling but it didn’t bother me.

“Sure.” He scoffed, pouring coffee for both of us and handing me a mug.

“Thanks, Captain.” I teased, drinking the hot liquid and moaning in pleasure at the taste. He tensed, bringing my attention back to him. “You okay?”

“Yeah. Fine.” He grumbled, before he met my gaze. I saw the usual anger and control, but I also saw pain. “Jennifer and I broke up.”

“What happened?” I asked, moving forward to stand closer to him.

“I don’t know. Just happened.” He shrugged. I dropped the subject, knowing that he needed to just cope with it before I got the full story. I rested my hand on his for a moment, before returning it to the warmth of my cup. We sat in near silence, only occasionally offering comments about the night before, drinking the rest of the pot before I got up to rinse out my mug.

“You probably want to sleep. I’ll leave you to it. If you need anything…” I trailed off, hoping that he would call me if he did need something, but also knowing he wouldn’t. He nodded, staring at his mug. I turned to walk to the door before I stopped. I don’t know if it was the pain I had seen in his eyes or the sight of Jennifer’s things sitting in a box on the table, but I couldn’t bare the thought of leaving.

“Come on, Jon, let’s get you into bed.”

“What are you doing?” He asked, as I pulled the cup out of his grasp and putting it in the sink.

“Taking care of you.” I said, cringing at how intimate that sounded, before taking his hand. “Let’s get you into bed.” He followed me obediently into his bedroom as my eyes took in the details that I hadn’t noticed before. The room was filled with whites, grays and blacks, giving it a modern masculine feel that made me smile. It was definitely Jonathan’s room.

“You don’t have to.” He said, his voice thick. This was the closest to wasted I had ever seen Jonathan. Using his drunken state to my advantage, I pushed him onto the bed before pulling off his shoes. He was wearing jeans and a button down shirt, telling me that he had come home at some point to change before going out to celebrate.

“Jonathan, move your ass. I’m trying to help you.” I tried to stifle the laugh, fumbling with the button to his jeans as he moved his hips.

“You know if you wanted me naked, all you had to do was ask.” He flirted, making me roll my eyes and ignore the comment before tugging the pants down his muscled legs. Jonathan moved into the center of the bed as I threw the jeans in the hamper, turning to look at the drunken man on the bed. His gaze was intense and for a moment, I thought it was lust. Shaking away that thought, I recognized it for what it was. The anger. His control was good, but it wasn’t that good. Sooner or later, Jonathan Toews was going to lose his precious control and show the world just how angry he was. I just wanted to be there to help pick up the pieces when that did happen.

“Your shirt, Captain.” I held my hand out, watching as his fingers stumbled over the buttons. Realizing he wasn’t going to take it off any time soon, I climbed on top of the comforter and leaned down to start unbuttoning. My hair fell in front of my face, hiding me from Jon’s gaze as I worked. When the last button was undone, Jonathan brushed my hair back behind my ear, cupping my face and tilting my head up to look at him. We said nothing, just met each other’s stares in silence for a minute before I shifted with uncertainty. Pulling on the sides of his shirt, I helped him sit up and pushed the material off of his shoulders. His undershirt was gone in seconds causing me to raise an eyebrow at Jon’s suddenly sure hands.

“I sleep in boxers.” He shrugged, tossing the unwanted shirt across the room. I got up only to be pulled back down by Jon’s strong arm. He tugged the shirt out of my hands, tossing it much like he had the other one. My gaze drifted across his well defined torso, struggling with my sudden desire to taste his skin. He cupped my jaw again, tilting my head up and his lips brushed mine. His kiss was controlled and chaste, yet perfection. He pulled away before the shock of his action had faded from my mind, meeting my eyes with his. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” I breathed, trying to steady my furious heartbeat as it raced against my chest. I stood, but not before Jonathan wrapped a powerful hand around my wrist.

“Stay here.” The two words sounded more like an order than a request but I stayed. I didn’t know what it was about Jonathan Toews that squelched my usual disobedience but squelch he did. I laid down next to him as he pulled me underneath the covers, knowing in that moment that I would do anything in my power to save Jon from the anger that burned inside of him. I realized that today was a false alarm, the rage buried in Jonathan was safely locked down, but I also knew that eventually, he would explode. He was a time bomb that I couldn’t defuse but even if it killed me, I would be there to help him sort through the debris.



The wind from the Chicago river was crisp even though it had been eighty degrees earlier that afternoon. I rubbed my arms against the chill as I stared down at the busy streets from my rooftop view, contemplating the night’s events. After years of ignoring phone calls from my father, a little voice in my head that had sounded eerily like Jonathan’s had all but prodded me to answer his call. He had told me that he was sorry, that he was glad I had come to terms with what had happened enough to at least answer his call. I didn’t want to hear it, and I had spoken the thought aloud, regardless of that nagging voice that told me I was hurting his feelings.

Should I have cared that I had hurled his apologies back in his face when it was him that had left me in the first place? If he hadn’t have left my mother and I in the first place, we wouldn’t be in this predicament now. I hadn’t had a bad childhood. I was loved by my mother and my grandparents. I was given all that I needed to have a good childhood, I supposed. I wanted for nothing except for my father but he hadn’t wanted me.

He had gotten upset that I hadn’t thanked him for taking him seriously and reprimanded me in a fatherly tone that I had scoffed at. I was twenty four years old and didn’t need him to be a father now.

Lost in my thoughts, I barely registered the warn arms encircling my waist, pulling me in to be molded against the tall body they belonged to. Jon rested his head on top of mine and for a few moments, I enjoyed the simplicity of the silent rooftop and sunk into the strength that was purely his.

“You look confused.” Jon’s voice was low as if he was as afraid to break the silence as I was. I pulled away from his embrace and leaned back against the railing to meet his gaze.

“Pensive.” I murmured, turning back to the streets as people scurried through them. Jon waited patiently for me to break the silence and only when I was sure that he wasn’t going to offer me an alleviation from my thoughts, I voiced them. “I answered my dad’s call after a voice in my head, sounding suspiciously similar to yours, told me to man up and quit avoiding him. That I’ll feel better if I answer.” I said, using quotations to emphasize my annoyance. Jon had gotten into my head, like he always does, and now it seemed that he didn’t even have to be around to make me reconsider my actions.

“Do you?”

“Do I what? Feel better?” I scoffed at the very thought, clucking my tongue in frustration. Whether I was feeling irritated at Jon for holding on to the idea of me miraculously changing my ways if I answered a phone call from my father or I was just exasperated from the phone call itself, I wasn’t sure. Jon rubbed soothing circles on my back, sensing the anger raging through my veins and trying to calm the storm. I glanced up at the flash of white teeth as he tried to hide his amusement from me, trying to quell the urge to laugh at me. “Shut up.” I huffed.

“Look at it this way, he’ll probably never call you again.” He pointed out as I sighed, relaxing against him slightly. I was still displeased with the day but Jon had a point. I wasn’t sure of a lot of things about the conversation but I was sure that my father wouldn’t call again. I bit my lip, unable to stop the feeling of disappointment that washed through me at that conclusion. “What?”

“It’s irritating that you can read me so well and I barely recognize anything going on in your mind.” Jon raised an eyebrow at my question, his deep brown eyes holding mine unable to glance away. “I just, I thought that he wouldn’t give me the clichés, you know?” I breathed, not thinking about what I was saying, just saying it to voice my thoughts. “He told me all of the things that every absentee father says. The ‘I loved your mother very much but couldn’t stay any longer’, ‘it wasn’t your fault’, and the ever classic ‘I thought she was my soul mate and was wrong’ line.” I grumbled, “I suppose that was naive, wasn’t it? That I thought my father would be different.”

“You thought that he’d have a good reason?” Jonathan had no judgment in his tone, he didn’t need to. I judged myself enough for the both of us. I didn’t verbally respond but I nodded briefly, part of me hoping he wouldn’t see the acknowledgement and drop the subject.

“Go ahead. Laugh. I would.” He beamed at my response, hugging me close to his body and placing his warm lips on my forehead.

“Never, Mercedes. We always think that the people who created us are flawless but are surprised when we discover that they’re just people who make mistakes as much as we do.” I rolled my eyes at his comment.

“He didn’t make a mistake, Jonathan. Mistakes are simple and easily corrected.” I paused, noticing the chilled wine sitting on the outside table. Jonathan knew me too well, and for that I was grateful.

“There’s nothing simple about this situation, and it is not easily fixed. It pisses me off that he thinks one little apology will make me forgive and forget.”

“Didn’t your mom?” He asked, leading me gently over to the table, his hand warming my entire back with it’s contact. He poured a glass for me as I considered my response.

“We’re not the same person. He should have tried harder.” My mother had waved off his apology when he called her three years ago, telling him that the past was in the past. I couldn’t blame her, she had moved on from her heart break years ago, refusing to let it get her down. But for the four years following my dad’s disappearance, I was the one who saw the sadness behind her eyes. He hadn’t offered her any closure, just didn’t come home from work one day, and that was that. How she even talked to him without cursing his name was beyond me but my mother was always a forgiving woman. I was not.

“He has been calling you for three years.” Jon offered, sitting across from me in one of the plush chairs and pulling my feet up into his lap. He removed my shoes with grace, digging his fingers into my foot. I closed my eyes in pleasure, hating when he was rational.

“What the hell do you know? You play with your stick all day.” I smirked, hearing the rumble of his laughter as I took in the sounds of the busy Chicago night.

I thrived on my ability to deceive men and keep them at a distance. I loved that they didn’t understand why I did what I did, that I was mysterious to them. I always gave them vague answers when they tried to ask questions about my personal life. I had been satisfied with that. It wasn’t just men either. I did the same with women. I would be surprised if Amanda, my co-worker of four years knew what I did in my spare time. Jonathan was another story. He understood me better than anyone had in my entire life and he had barely tried. It worried me, this fact that he did understand me so well. I wasn’t even halfway through the puzzle that was Jonathan Toews, and he was just hunting for that missing piece of mine. Jon’s face was in that tilted grin of his when I blinked open my eyes, telling me my inner turmoil was showing on my face.

“How’s Ashley?” I asked, desperate to steer the conversation towards the safer area of his five month long girlfriend.

“I broke up with her tonight, so I imagine not good.” He answered, his voice lacking joy or sadness. I struggled to keep my voice even as I inquired what happened, refusing to give up my calm exterior. Internally, however, I was pleased at the news. I hadn’t liked his current girlfriend. She hadn’t been rude, nor unpleasant in my limited encounters with her. I just hadn’t liked her. Refusing to delve deeper into that thought, I tuned back into Jonathan a moment too late, missing what he was saying.

“What?”

“You never listen.” He tsked, amusement echoing through his voice. I shrugged, unwilling to give him the truth yet displeased by the thought of lying to him. I opted to ignore what he said all together, and motioned for him to continue. “Just wasn’t working out, too different, I suppose.”

“Sure.” I snorted, “That’s what everyone says.”

“Do you believe in soul mates?” He asked abruptly, changing the subject to one I was less than comfortable with. I forced myself to relax against the chair as I sipped the wine, considering my answer.

“I don’t know.”

“You read all those romance novels.” I waved off his comment, telling him that proved nothing.

“They’re fiction, Jonathan. I read them for the good storylines that come with them.” I said, “But I suppose it would be nice if there was such a thing, wouldn’t it?” When Jon didn’t answer, I continued.

“If I did believe in such a thing, which I don’t but I’m humoring your question. I think I would believe that there are multiple potentials. Like, someone that you love, but I would also believe that there’s one person that you’re fated to love. That you can’t avoid, can’t help but to love them.” I rambled as Jon’s fingers stopped and he gazed at me. There was something in his eyes that confused me, a tenderness that wasn’t there before. Suddenly it was gone, and he was grinning at me.

“Careful, Mercy, your girlishness is showing.”

“Oh, bite me.” I yelped after his teeth sunk into my toe, wondering if I had imagined the warmth of his gaze only moments before.



“And the Blackhawks take the win!” The sport’s announcer said with barely contained euphoria as the crowd let out a roar of approval. I drank down the rest of my beer with the hint of a smile playing on my lips. The hockey team from Chicago was on a winning streak which caused my eyes to seek out the score whenever I could. I still wasn’t anymore into hockey than I was two years ago, but I was more invested than I cared to admit.

It wasn’t the love of hockey that brought me into the sports’ bar to drink and chat with other fans. I watched because I couldn’t not watch. Jonathan Toews was still as much of a mystery to me as he was when I first met him. I wished many times over the years that it was just his attractiveness that drew me to the serious man, that it was the combination of dark eyes and crooked grin that brought me to him like a moth to a flame. It wasn’t.

My thoughts were interrupted by the man in question when his text came through, asking me to meet him in twenty minutes at the apartment building. I offered the bartender a flirtatious smile as I threw the money down, picking up my things and heading towards the door.

My obsession with the Captain of the Chicago Blackhawks had started simply enough. A mild interest in the rage that I had caught a glimpse of upon first meeting him, I had picked up a magazine that had a recent interview. It hadn’t cured my curiosity, so I began picking up the newspaper and reading the articles in the sports section. It grew from there; from magazines to newspaper then from newspapers to the games themselves. I watched him when we talked, listened to what he said. I was hoping to get a glimpse of the truth of why the anger was there but to no avail.

I headed down the street, reaching my apartment building within fifteen minutes. Jonathan had slipped into a comfortable friendship during our years living across the hall from one another, spending more and more time together as the years drifted past us. We saw each other almost every day, as long as he wasn’t on the road. I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t noticed that the rage I had been so confused by wasn’t closer to the surface in the past few weeks, but what had me worried was the fact that tonight, it was barely restrained. Wrath was closer to the surface tonight, bodies leaving the rink more bruised and bloody from the hands of the most controlled member of the home team. Penalties were dished out in excess but it appeared to have mattered little to the Blackhawk captain.

I sighed, nodding at the doorman as I entered the complex as I thought of the simplicity of our friendship. It had evolved into a bond, even someone as emotionally unavailable as I was. We both recognized each other as liars to the outside world. Him, hiding his anger from his teammates and family, from his fans. Me, hiding the hurt my father had left me with that tended to rot my view of the world around me. We helped each other through the worst of it, and because of that, I couldn’t imagine my life without him. I entered the elevator, ignoring the world around me as I made my way to my home.

“Hey Mers.” A man’s voice startled me out of my thoughts, causing me to look up abruptly. His dark hair and clear blue eyes stared at me as I watched him carefully. I hadn’t seen Jackson since we broke it off over a year and a half ago, and I had no desire to see him now.

“Jackson, what are you doing here?” I asked, trying to keep my voice lighter than I felt as I walked slowly towards him. He shuffled his feet, looking down before looking back up.

“Just wanted to see how you were, I guess.”

“That’s what phone’s are for.” Jonathan’s gruff voice growled from behind me, the aura of his anger hitting me like a sledgehammer. The tension in the hallway was thick with it but Jackson didn’t seem to understand it. Hell, I didn’t even get it.

“Well, I-” Jackson started before Jon cut him off with a snarl.

“Get the fuck out of here.” I said nothing as Jackson scurried off, deciding that taking on the hockey player wasn’t worth whatever he had come here to talk to me about. I opened my mouth to speak but shut up immediately when Jonathan’s rough hand grabbed my arm, pulling me forcefully into his apartment. “What the fuck was that?”

“It was nothing, he just dropped by.” I answered, “What the hell is wrong with you tonight?”

“What’s wrong with me?” He laughed coldly, “You’re the one meeting one of your bullshit friends when you’re supposed to be meeting me.” He all but yelled at me.

“Alright, Jon, you need to cool off.” I said but was pushed down onto the sofa when I went to leave.

“No. You don’t get it. You’re out there fucking some guy who doesn’t even know what you’ve been through and you’re just letting this fucking go.” He said, motioning between himself and me, as if he was making sense.

“What the fuck are you talking about, Jon? Fucking who?”

“Don’t try to hide your transgressions now, Mercedes. You’ve all but announced it to the entire fucking team. Do you know that you’ve become locker room talk?” The anger made his cheeks flush, but I couldn’t help but study his chiseled features and dark sensual eyes. He could have posed for Michelangelo, I thought suddenly, hating myself for being distracted from the argument but unable to help it.

“I told that to Kaner to get him off my ass. I’m not fucking anyone. Jesus. You’re freaking out over this?” I said, unable to believe that after all this time waiting for him to lose his temper, it was a white lie that I had said in passing to his horny team mate that set him off. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think it would get back to you, otherwise I would have told you.”

“You just keep hiding from me, Mercy, and I’m done. I can’t take it anymore.” Jonathan gave me no warning before he struck, his lips capturing mine that forced me into the plush cushions of the couch. It was filled with hunger and passion, something that I hadn’t felt before with anyone. I clawed my nails down his shirt, whether to hurt him into letting me go or to make him move faster I wasn’t sure.

“Stop, Jon.” I gasped as he pulled away to nip at my neck. “We can’t do this.” If we opened this particular can of worms, there wouldn’t be any going back. I wasn’t even sure if we stopped now that we could go back to concealing our secret vices from each other.

“No, Mercy. We can and we are.” He growled into my skin, pulling me from the couch. His warm hands grasped my hips and lifted me with ease to wrap my legs around his torso. Holding me with one secure arm, his free hand gripped my hair to force my lips against his. A strangled moan escaped me before I could stop it. When he was finished with ravishing my mouth, only then did he break. I was trapped against the wall and Jon’s body as I blinked at his slow, wicked smile. “I’m done with the dance we’ve been doing. Completely over it.”

His lips met mine in another heated frenzy, his body molding against mine. My arms found their way to his broad shoulders, tracing the hot skin until my hands ran through his hair and pulled him closer to me. I lost all coherent thought as we kissed. I lost myself in him, and it was only when we had to jerk away to gasp for air that I remembered his earlier statement.

“Okay.” I breathed, not knowing what else to say with him so close to me. I could feel his erection poking me, his hot breath on my neck as he breathed me in. I moaned, eagerly bruising his lips with mine. He pulled my hair back to take dominance of the kiss back and I let him. This was how Jonathan Toews was supposed to be. Raw, animalistic and passionate. He hid it from the world but he wouldn’t hide it from me. Never again.