I-55

The Sports Center Bar and Grille had been outrageously busy tonight, with hockey games on every single HD flat screen in the building. The crowds had been so rowdy that Roxie could hardly hear her own thoughts, much less what her customers were ordering. In a way, this was a small reminder of home that she had found in the windy city. Game nights in Texas, weather SEC or NFL, brought in crowds a little over double the people stuffed in the three levels of Sports Center right now. But then again, in Texas everyone was family on game night even if you were rooting for different teams and everyone watched the games at local bars. That’s just how things were in the south in regard to football.

“Can I get y’all anythin’ else?” she asked a small table who were watching the game rather intently.

“Yeah, uh—oh my god, Joe, did you see that hit Crawford took? Insane!—I’m sorry sweetie, I’ll take a—Joe! Look!”

Roxie rolled her eyes with a small smile of amusement but, like Joe, followed the woman’s pointing to one of the larger televisions set up. Her eyes were greeted with a pile of red and blue—a fight, no doubt—but nothing other than that seemed rather interesting much so she turned back to the couple.

“Toews came in on Staal right after the hit on Crawford—I think Kane jumped in there, too…”

No way, thought Roxie. Surely it wasn’t her Toews and Kane. But just as she turned her attention back to the screen, there was a close up of Jonathan Toews - plain as day. Roxie would have thought it was a different Jonathan Toews, but the dark, piercing eyes told her otherwise. She couldn’t look away as they replayed the hit and fight no matter how badly she wanted to.
“Miss? Miss- could we get another Millar?”

“Oh- oh, of course, sorry ‘bout that!” Roxie chirped, shaking her head and scurrying to the bar in order to fetch the beers. This was only the beginning of a long night.

---

It went without saying now that after home games the guys would all meet at the Sports Center Bar on the third level, the large table in the back. If possible, Roxie would be their waitress—but that happened less often than any of the guys hoped. Tonight seemed to prove no different, other than Jonathan hadn’t caught sight of the hazel eyed beauty since they stepped through the doorway.

“And can I get you anything, Captain?”

Jonathans gaze was pulled away from the mass of nameless faces by their waitress, a pixie like blonde that seemed like Kanes typical type. She was staring down at Jonathan with big doe eyes, twirling a strand of her bleached hair patiently.

“Just a water,” he replied, obviously unimpressed as his people-watching resumed.

“Alright… Great game tonight, by the way. You played great,” she purred, resting a hand on his shoulder for emphasis.

Normally he wouldn’t do this, but he was worried after finding out Luke knew Roxie was in Chicago a little over two weeks ago. He had to know that she was alright.

“Thanks, uh—is Roxie here?”

The blondes sweet expression faltered, almost melting into a soured one, before she quickly recovered. “Yeah, she’s here. Kinda busy though.”

“That’s fine, could you just ask her to come up here when she gets a second, please?”

The girl hesitated, but nodded before disappearing.

“Man, chill. I’m sure she’s fine,” whispered Sharp, leaning towards Jonathan and Kane. “Don’t worry.”

“I’ve just got to know,” he mumbled feebly, sinking back into his seat and raking his eyes through the crowd impatiently.

Maybe ten agonizing minutes later, Jonathan sighed in relief when he saw Roxie slip into the room. She made her way quickly over to their table, like so many times before, but instead of moving almost directly to Jonathan, Kane, and Sharpy she spoke to each man seated at the table. At first, he was clueless as to what was happening, but slowly realization dawned on him. Her expressions were almost too animated, and she would momentarily examine a shoulder or lay her hand on one of the guys cheeks. Jonathan became painfully aware that she was talking to the boys about their game... their injuries… their hits.

She knew. She knew, and it wasn't because he had told her.

Sharp and Kane had caught the look of dread in their captains eye, and quickly figured it out themselves what was going on. She changed nothing as she spoke with either of them, but the moment she stopped in front of Jonathan he felt his heart sink to the absolute pit of his stomach. The entire table was hushed.

He jolted from the chair, unsure of what to even say to her. His words had been frozen in his mouth by the steel in Roxies hard glare.

“Good game, Captain,” she drawled, the southern twang becoming more pronounced with her anger. “Congratulations.”
She brushed her free hand against her jeans and held it hand out, as if she intended on a hand-shake. Jonathan stared in absolute shock, still forming no words.

“Well, alrigh’ then. Suit yourself. Hope ya wasn’t hurt from that lil scuffle ya got ya’self into,” she said with a bitterness that dripped from her lingering words and fell through his skin before freezing his blood, turning abruptly on her heel to leave. His hand shot out, gripping just above her elbow to stop her.

“Roxie, please,” he breathed, his eyes fretting around her closed off form. “I’m sorry.”
Her eyes narrowed dangerously, eying his hand still grasping her arm. He loosened his grip, but didn’t let go—not yet. “I’m sor—“

“Sorry for what?” the harshness in her voice struck Jonathan straight in the heart. “Sorry that I was too damn ig’norant to know you boys was some big-shot hockey players? Or maybe that I thought we was real friends… but it turns out I’m just the next Blackhawks charity case? Or that I almost got fi’red ‘cause I could hardly do my damn job tonight while y’alls stupid game was on—I didn’t believe it when the couple said ‘Jonathan Toews started a fight’. I thought, surely it’s a differen’t guy… the Jon I know wouldn’t hurt a fly. But then they said a Kane jumped in… but I still thought you would’a told me if you was some major athlete. But I looked at the screen anyways… and there you were, lookin’ right back at me.”

None of the guys knew what to say, least of all Jonathan. The whole room was deadpanned, watching as the small southern girl continued her verbal assault without a hint of fear. She reminded Andrew Shaw of a lone wolf: absolutely stunning to the eye, but there was a beauty in its solitary strength. Sometimes it would run, if it felt like it was the wrong fight to pick. Once belonging to a pack, it was now alone and refusing to take the slightest wrong move from anyone.
Skittish of other wolves, almost.
They had kept something huge, something important, from her and now she was running away. Granted, she had every right to be upset and angry considering Andrew knew Jonathan had just brushed off his traveling the past few weeks as nothing more than business trips for work. It wasn't an outright lie, but it was pretty damn close enough.

“Rox—“

“Y’know, it got s’damn bad, I had to jus’ take my lunch break. I couldn’t eat or nothin’, I just sat there watchin’ your game. I come back from break, an’ I got a manager screamin’ at me—sayin’ if I don’t get my shit together I’m outta a job…” Roxie shook her head, tears beginning to form in her devastated eyes. “Or maybe, you’re just sorry because I found out.”

With those words, Roxie ripped her arm away from Jonathan and stalked away. Her strong voice had wavered and broke with the last sentence, letting a few tears spill from her eyes. The site had broken Jonathans heart entirely, and he had no idea what to do.