Last Hope

THE LIGHT PITTER-PATTER OF RAIN against my windows filled my head as I lay in bed, a heavy weight across my hips that bothered me but at the same time, gave my body the warmth and interaction it yearned for. The thought of rolling away from it, rolling away from the man that it was attached to passed my mind, but the thought of leaving him in a dramatic way ever again sent shivers up my spine and filled my stomach to the brim with poison. I had fucked up our relationship one before because of my selfishness, and now I wasn’t going to ruin the little time we had together.

Minutes started to tick by slower as my eyes traced over the lines in my ceiling created by the exposed beams that supported the floor of someone else’s apartment above me. The beams, brick faced walls, and huge factory style windows made me instantly fall in love with the tiny one bedroom apartment that I had been reserved. It was one of the things that kept me from losing it.

The rhythm of the rain beating down against the windows picked up a loud clap of thunder rang through the air causing the glass of the windows to shake in their encasings. Gasping from the sudden sound, I felt the weight across my mid section press down against me, easily pulling my body against it’s own.

“You don’t like thunder?” the man slurred, his body still engulfed in a heap of blankets. The only thing visible was a few tuffs of messed up hair that peeked out from the top of the comforter that was pulled over him. “I don’t remember you being this worried before”, his words started to slur near the end of his sentence, informing me that he was about to fall back asleep.

As the sound of his breathing grew lighter, a smile crept onto my lips. Pulling my hand out from under the blankets, I lazily plopped it down on the pillows, letting my thin fingers twirl the little tuffs of hair that wee visible.

Twirl after twirl I felt my heart rate start to beat faster. It was times like these that made life ten times more confusing than it ever should have been. I was always a simple person, with simple dilemmas, and a simple death wish. Now that I was death-wish free, and one of the leading artists with the Agora Gallery in New York, I had time to worry about petty things; my love life being one of them.

A loud clap of thunder rocked the small apartment again sending a quick shake to all of my limbs that was just enough to wake the man next to me again. As he twisted and turned under the sheets, his arm that had been across my waist since the previous night lifted and he rolled onto his back, grabbing the blankets that covered his face and pushing them away, allowing the small grey light that poured through the windows to light up the bright orbs in his eyes.

“Morning hot-stuff.” He greeted, that adorable yet annoying smirk playing on his lips.

“Morning.” I whispered back, my eyes winding around the lines the sheets had made until they reached his. Holding mine for a minute, he leaned over and pressed his lips against my forehead, inhaling slowly as he pulled away and smiled more.

“I have a game tonight, are you going?” He inquired even though I was positive that he already knew the answer.

Clearing my throat and puling myself up in bed so I was in a seated position next to the man, I shook my head and watched as he nodded, not at all phased by my answer. “I have paintings to work on for my show in a few weeks.”

“Can I go?”

“Of course”, I smiled widely as my eyes landed on his bright ones. As he looked up at me, his feature still smothered in a thick blanket of sleep, I smiled mostly to myself and leaned over, lightly pressing my lips against his. “I’m going to go make some breakfast, any requests?”

Bright eyes flying to mine, he smiled widely, his cheeks still adorning a small tint of red. “Make me some of your flapjacks, pretty please?”

“You got it.” I chuckled as the man batted his eyelashes at me, flashing the bright blue orbs at me over and over again from behind his long eyelashes. With a small laugh, I climbed off of my bed, raking a hand through my long blonde waves of hair and headed over to the doorway that lead me out into the small hallway and down to the tiny kitchen.

Once I reached the doorway, I pulled on the large tee shirt I had been wearing and was about to step into the hallway when a familiar ringtone flooded the room. Once it hit my ears, my shoulder dipped, twisting my torso around as much as possible so I could look behind me.

As soon as I locked eyes with the boy, I watched the playful smile that had once graced his face quickly reverse. Inhaling deeply, his fingers moved gracefully around the screen of his iPhone before he put it to his ear and sunk back down into the sheets.

“Yeah man, what’s up?” My stomach grew sick as I realized who was on the other line. Instead of standing in the doorway and listening to the conversation, I hastily made my way down the hall, the man’s voice fading to a muffled whisper as I reached the kitchen and pressed my hands against the edge of the marble counter top.

I may have been fixed, my life may be in a well-constructed chart where the arrow was only pointing up, but the thought of him, the thought of his lips against mine still rattled my bones. Jonathan Toews was like a drug to me, and I had been dealing with relapses and withdrawals for almost a year.

“You don’t need to come pick me up, I’m capable of hailing a taxi-“, the man entered the kitchen and walked over to me, pressing his lips against my cheek before he ventured to the fridge and pulled open the door. “Yeah, I know what happens when I take taxi’s – don’t be a prick, Jonny. I will be back at the hotel in like three hours, let me just have some breakfast.” My eyes widened as he spoke those words, and soon after he realized what he had said, his eyes opened as much as they possibly could.

Before he could speak, I heard the muffled yell of someone on the other end of the phone. As the blonde cringed and turned away from me, his shirt clinging to the muscles of his arms and back, he slumped his shoulders forward and walked over to the little window, pressing his forehead against it was the light sound of the man on the other end screaming filled the air.

Standing in my kitchen, I wished I could shut my eyes and fall back asleep. I didn’t want to hear his voice, his name, or even think about him. Sure, when Patrick and I had these little rendezvous when he played New York teams, his name was always in the back of my mind, but he never called, I never heard his voice.

“Yes, alright. Yes, I am with her. Get the fuck over it, Jon!” Patrick barked from the window, his hands balling into fists at his side. “I have fucking flapjacks to eat, so we can discuss this when I get back to the hotel.” The blonde roared, and then hung up the phone and pressed it against his lips as he pressed his back against the window and shut his eyes, his chest rising and falling dramatically as he took a few breaths to calm himself.

“You ever think this is all a huge mistake?” I breathed, my hands clamping together to stop the shake that had taken over.

Patrick looked at me, his light blue eyes instantly locking onto mine as my words hit his ears and then faded into the nothingness that filled the kitchen. Clearing his throat, he took a few steps over to me and placed his hand on my cheek, numbing the skin around it and sending shockwaves through my body. “Every single time I see you, honestly.” His lips hovered right above mine as he spoke, his hot breath beating down against my plump pink lips that I had been chewing on since the phone call started.

“Then why do we always meet like this?” I breathed, my whole body tingling with anticipation of his lips to press against mine.

His hands rose to my hips as he pulled his body closer to mine, leaning into me and pressing the small of my back into the edge of the counter behind me. Although it hurt, my body didn’t register the pain. I was numb, every inch of me was numb. All I wanted was his lips on mine, but then again, all I wanted was Jon’s lips on mine.

It was an issue I had to deal with every time Patrick found himself in the metro area. He knew I still had feelings for Jon, he knew that his voice and the mention o his name killed me, but I believed with every fiber of my being that Patrick thought he could cure that. He thought that these nights together, these romantic kisses in my kitchen and cute dinner dates could change everything, could change the way I felt.

But it never did.

Patrick was just about to press his lips against mine when his pone buzzed again, sending both of our eyes away into the room as he pulled away from me, grumbling and shakily took a breath and answered his cell phone. “What’s up, Shaw?” He whispered as he dropped his head down so it was parallel with the floor and headed into the living room, defeated.

I had to blink a few times to clear my head. Once the screaming thoughts were silenced, my hands started to move around the counter, finding pans and utensils that would aid me in the making of these flapjacks.



“I never get how you can make flapjacks better than every other human being on the face of the planet, Maddie.” Patrick gushed as he placed his hand on mine and rubbed his thumb across my knuckles. As my skin tingled from his touch, I smiled a little and shrugged, letting my eyes focus on everything other than him.

“You ready to head out?” I asked, my fingers intertwining with each other as I slipped into my moccasins and leaned against the front door, my wallet stuck between my arm and my body, my keys on my belt loop and my cell phone in my back pocket.

“I can get a cab, really, Maddie.” Patrick whispered, walking up to me and placing a hand on my cheek. “I know you-“

“It’s not like I’m walking you to your room, Pat.” I chuckled as my eyes scanned over his, noticing the large amount of worry smothering them. “I’ll drop you off outside, and then I’ll talk to you later.” Going on my tiptoes, I pressed my lips lightly against his and then shrunk back down, sending him a small smile as I turned and opened the door, leading him out into the hallway.

I was never sure if my apartment being on the eighth floor was a good or bad thing. I had turned the question over and over in my mind for countless hours, but never had a clear answer. The large windows showed off the city streets, tops of buildings, and beautiful sunset skyline views, but it was also close to the roof, and in the event I ever fell back into my old ways, the answer was a little too close for comfort.

Luckily for me, the hotel the team was staying at wasn’t very far from my apartment building. It was a fifteen-minute ride at the most, and over the past year, I had managed to become a city driver, not afraid to cut in front of people, swerve around busses, and honk the horn when needed.

The concept of driving in the city scared me once I had first started doing it maybe a month or so after I had moved here. One of the women at the gallery was selling her slightly used car for a decent amount of money and I jumped on the sale as soon as I could. It was a little black scion tc. Small enough to weave through traffic, but big enough to fit my paintings and supplies. It was perfect, and it was useful for moments like these.

Pat directed me over to a large building on the right hand side of the street. The awning in front of the door was black with script letters on it, and the bright gold trimmed doors were opening and closing every few seconds, letting men and women in business attire slip out and into the building. As my eyes followed them, waiting for my eyes land on the brunette, I swallowed hard and quickly navigated the small car into a parking spot along the sidewalk a few cars down from the front door. As I parked, I shut the car off and carefully opened my door, listening as Patrick did the same thing.

The sound of the doors slamming shut echoed through the street, and after the sound dissipated into the air, I looked across the car to see those blue eyes connected with mine. As I stood there, staring at the boy from across the car, my heart beat roughly in my chest. I was happy that the rain had died down enough for us to stand outside, but another part of me wished that it was still raining so I didn’t have to do this, so I didn’t have to bid him a goodbye for the next three months.

“Come here, please?” Patrick huffed as we walked onto the sidewalk near the building and he wrapped his strong arms around me, pulling my body against his until there were absolutely no open gaps between us. The feeling of his muscles against my body was relaxing in a way, and as I inhaled the little bit of cologne that still clung to his shirt, a smile tugged at the ends of my lips.

His lips pressed against my hair a few times before he held me out in front of him at arms length, his bright eyes scanning over every inch of me, as if they were loading the image of me standing here under the gloomy sky of New York so he could keep it in his head like a photograph. “I’m going to watch the game tonight. I’ll even wear my Kane jersey while I paint.”

“Good”, he breathed and placed his fingers under my chin, tilting my face up so our eyes were locked on each others. “Are we ever going to be more than this, Maddie?”

“I don’t know”, I breathed, my heart strings snapping one by one as a storm started in the light blue eyes peering down into mine. “I… I really just don’t-“ My words sunk back into my throat as Patrick pressed his lips to mine, making my eyes flutter shut in the process. After a few seconds, as he pulled away, he sighed heavily and shook his head. His lips parted to speak, his eyes widened like they were trying to force the words through them, but after a minute or so, his pink lips pressed together and created a sad downward line.

“I’ll miss you.” He whispered pulling his hands away from me. “I’ll call you after the game?”

“Of course.” My voice was barely audible as the light patter of rain started to fill the air. Small beads of water started to beat down against the cement and asphalt. Cars driving by flicked their headlights on as the black blades went back and forth across their windshield in a rhythmic fashion. “You should head inside.” I breathed, my eyes locking onto his as he nodded slightly.

Leaning down to kiss me one last time, there was a small pop followed by the sound of water splashing against the sidewalk. After only a second of our lips touching, my body spun around, heart already in my throat and beating faster than it had ever been in my whole entire life. Before I could even see the cause of the noise, before I could even register that it came from behind us. My brain knew who it could be.

It could only be, and would only be one person. Out of the millions of people that lived and visited the city, it could only be one person.

Quickly turning away from Patrick, my eyes landed on the plastic Starbucks cup on the sidewalk, the lid rolling into the street as the brown liquid created a giant splatter against the now damp sidewalks.

The rain started to pound harder and harder against us as my eyes rose to his. It was a scene out of a movie, a clip of something that could only happen in a Nicholas Sparks novel or a dramatic series on Lifetime. It was something that would only happen to me.

“Mads?” His voice tickled my ears, making my stomach twist and knot tightly. I had waited what felt like centuries to hear his voice, and now that I could, it was the last voice I ever wanted to hear. “Pat?”

“Jonny, listen-“

He ignored his friends words and took a few steps closer to me, the rain that was now coming down in buckets soaking through every layer of clothing we had on. Although the rain was creating a blurred effect on everything around me, as Jon walked up to me, the pain in his eyes was clear.

Tilting his head to the side, I parted my lips to speak when he frowned and shook his head, the pain soon being replaced with pure hatred.

“Fuck you, Madison.” He snapped, and without another word walked away from us and into the hotel.