I-55

From: Jonathan
Hey, Rox. We just landed about five minutes ago, so I’ll be at your apartment in maybe fifteen minutes. We can stay there, or come back to mine. It doesn’t matter to me.

To: Jonathan
It’s entirely up to you.

From: Jonathan
My place it is.

True to his word, Jonathan was knocking on Roxie’s door fifteen minutes later on the dot. It wasn’t because he was an impeccable judge of time and distance, though. He had spent a good six minutes driving around the block so that he wouldn’t arrive too early, but also to help still his nerves. It worked, until the moment his fist collided with the smooth wood of her door. Then, his heart-rate was slowly increasing, but the moment the door swung open it skyrocketed. Jonathan had to blink several times to take in her entire appearance, almost like he had been standing in a pitch black room and someone switched a light on. His eyes needed to adjust, but no amount of blinking would ever prepare his eyes for the sheer beauty that was Roxie. Even now, standing in a pair of simple dark boot-cut jeans with a dark grey hoodie and flats. She wasn’t dressing to impress anyone, she was dressing comfortable—and it was more than a breath of fresh air for Jonathan, who found her cuter than ever.

“You ready?” he asked after smiling in greeting. Roxie nodded, gently closing the door behind her. The two made their way down to the street, and to Jonathan’s sleek, black Lexus LFA. It was fancy and slightly flashy, but it held nothing compared to what some hockey players drove. He had purchased it not too long ago and enjoyed it more than he originally thought he would.

The drive across town to Jonathan’s apartment complex was quick, but to both of them it felt like ages. At first, they made an attempt at small talk but that was ditched after a few blocks and they settled into a silence.

“Do you want anything do drink?” asked Jonathan, moving towards the stainless steel refrigerator in his kitchen. “I’ve got… some wine, some beer…a lot of Gatorade, orange juice, cranberry juice… and water. Sorry there’s not much to choose from.”

“I’m fine, really. Thank you, though,” replied Roxie, looking around the entrance of Jonathans apartment. Just the living area of his was the size of her entire apartment, and much better furnished and decorated. There was all kinds of hockey memorabilia all over, down to the NHL game lying on the coffee table in front of his massive flat screen.

“Do you want the grand tour or…”

“Jonathan,” she interrupted. “Let’s just talk.”

“Right, of course,” he muttered, almost more to himself, and moved to the large leather sofa. When Roxie took a seat at the other end, he took that as his cue to begin. “First, I just wanna start by saying I’m so sorry you found out like that. You had every right to be pissed off and upset with me.”

“What’s done is done, can’t change nothin’,” she sighed, crossing her long tan legs.

“Still, though. When we met, it was after one of our home games, and I figured you knew who we all were. The more we saw of each other, I realized that wasn’t the case… and I kind of liked that. I loved that talking with you didn’t somehow end up as another conversation about hockey. I should have told you, and I was going to that day you hung out with Sharpy, Kaner and I—I had the perfect opportunity, but I was stupid, and didn’t. I panicked, and then we had to leave for the away games… and it just, I couldn’t tell you. I didn’t technically lie to you… because playing hockey is my job, so it was a business trip of sorts. But, still, Roxie, I’m so sorry…”

He watched her closely as she shifted slightly, having kept her eyes away from him until now. Their eyes locked, and she let out a long sigh.

“I forgive you, Jon,” she said quietly, almost in a whisper. Jonathan almost couldn’t believe what he’d heard. Roxie saw the raw shock on his face and sighed again, standing. Startled, Jonathan rose immediately—only to have her arms thrown around his middle.

“Thank God,” he mumbled into her hair, squeezing her small body even closer to his. He had been so worried, when in reality Kaner had been right.

“I missed ya’,” she whispered into his chest, gripping his thin t-shirt between her fingers. One of his large hands drug up her back, between her shoulders, and up her neck to twine in her hair and hold her head to him.

“I missed you, Rox.”

She giggled a little in response, pulling away just enough to look up at him with a small grin. “I know. Kaner told me.”

Jonathan let out an overly dramatic huff, rolling his chocolate eyes with a playful smirk. “I’ll go hard on him at practice in the morning.”

She giggled again, nuzzling her face back into his firm chest. No matter how badly she tried, Roxie couldn’t shake the feeling that Jonathan could make any place feel like home with his arms wrapped around her. He just made everything better, simply by being there. His voice, his eyes, his body… they were all more intoxicating than the finest whiskey she had ever drunk.

He was someone who any girl would be beyond lucky to have, and she wasn’t quite sure what drew him to her. Sure, at first it was because she didn’t know about the hockey. But now that she did, what would be left?

No—she had to push those thoughts away. Legally, she was still married to Luke. She couldn’t let things with Jonathan progress any further than they already were, not until the papers were pushed through. By then, he would have found someone new—who didn’t have all kinds of extra baggage. As long as he was happy, she thought, subconsciously tightening her grip around him.

Jonathan loved the feeling of her small arms clinging to him, with her entire body flush against his. Every little dip in their bodies fit perfectly, like two pieces of a puzzle. It was difficult to keep his mind from wandering south, to where their hips were pushed together. No matter how badly he wanted to roll his hips into hers, just to see what it felt like, he would have to wait.

And he would—as long as it took.
If she decided to try and work this out with Luke, then so be it; Jonathan would move on. But until then, until he got a clear sign from her that she wanted him to back off entirely, he would wait.

“Rox?”

“Mmm?” she lifted her head again, tilting it back to meet his gaze. She wasn’t expecting his face to be so close to hers, and he wasn’t expecting her to look up at him. Her breath caught in her throat and she tugged her bottom lip between her teeth, a habit formed from nervousness. Her mind was melted into absolute mush when the hand that Jonathan had threaded into her hair moved, tucking a stray piece behind her ear, and cupped the side of her face gently.

“What happened with Luke this week?” he asked softly, brushing his thumb across her high cheekbone. Roxie immediately moved to pull away with a crimson blush rapidly overtaking her features, a deep feeling of guilt plummeting through her. Jonathan grabbed her wrist to keep her from breaking contact with him, groaning slightly at the sharp pain that flew through his shoulder from a hit he took in the previous game. Roxie narrowed her eyes slightly, but he shook his head. That wasn’t important right now, not to him at least, and he plowed on. “Sharpy mentioned it the other day before we flew out… he’s concerned.”

“I—we—he, uh, well, just… he wants me to um… he wants me to go back to Texas. Says he’s changed, ‘n things can be the way they was before…”

His jaw clenched tightly and he bit his tongue, pulling her back against his body and wrapping both arms protectively around her.

“What do you want?”

“I don’t wanna leave, I mean I miss Texas ‘n my horses an’ my family… but I’m not sure I wanna work things out with ‘em. He hurt me, Jon, he hurt me bad… and I’m not ready to give him another chance. He done blew too damn many, my daddy and brother’s are bout to whup his ass,” said Roxie, letting herself melt into Jonathan’s warm embrace and drawing the courage from it to continue. “I don’t wanna have that fight any more, they hate him… I wish I could hate him, but I—I love him.”

Jonathan was silent for a long while. He didn’t know what the right thing to say back would be, and he didn’t want to chance the wrong thing only for her to lock him back out of her life again. So instead of talking, he simply held her close and made little swirls on her back with his thumbs.

“Now what’d you do to your damn shoulder?” she finally spoke, not bothering to move from their current position. Her face was nuzzled into his chest, breathing in a cologne that somehow perfectly suited Jonathan. It wasn’t musky, but it was clean and fresh—like he just stepped out of the shower.

“I just took a nasty hit, that’s all. It’ll be fine for playoffs.”
“I thought I told ya to not get hurt, Jonathan Toews. What am I gonna do with ya?”

Jonathan let out a breathy nervous laugh, his mind immediately flooding with all the things he was trying so desperately to not think about. He shook his head slightly, willing the images of her lying atop or underneath him to fade away. He had to change the subject, fast.

“Roxie?” he questioned, raising his cheek from the top of her head. As if they were being controlled by the same puppeteer, as his head raised so did hers. His tone had dropped serious again. “Are you in love with him?”

Her eyes met his, neither gaze faltering in the slightest. Roxie searched his face, finding nothing but genuine care and concern. He didn’t expect an immediate answer, and was content to let her thoroughly mull over a response. He was content to just look at her. More than content, actually.

“No, I’m not anymore.”