Family Reunion
Four
I wake up the next morning to John cursing loudly in the other room. He sees me wake up through the cracked door closing off the main living room from the bedroom and smiles sheepishly, mumbling an apology. "What's going on?"
"I'm late for the morning session for my group and I need to be in Arlington in half an hour. My alarm on my phone didn't go off this morning."
I nod, getting up and walking towards him, crossing my arms over my chest as he looks for his coat he had taken off last night. "How long is the session?" I ask, walking out to the elevators with him in my clothes from yesterday since I was too tired to change last night, although I only have socks on.
"Uh...an hour. It'll be over by eleven. Why, you gonna miss me?" he teases, smirking down at me.
"Well, considering you're the first and only person I've met since getting here, yeah."
He sighs, smiling sadly at me, "Go get your stuff, you're coming with me to make some friends."
-
We drive down to the ice plex John called Kettler, him guiding me to the rink where a few guys are already skating and talking to coaches. They all cat call once they see John talking to me, teasing him while he walks to the other side of the rink to the locker rooms.
He comes out ten minutes later in his practice uniform, stick handling a puck on his way to center ice where the team's coach, who I also googled and found out was Bruce Broudreau, stands.
The group of about ten or fifteen players, only recognizable to me through scanning the training camp roster for the number I see on their helmets, has a quick meeting before the defensemen and forwards split up, John and the other defensemen in his group coming to my side.
John sees me in the first row of the bleachers, smirking at me and firing a puck at the glass in front of me. I don't even blink when the puck slams into the plexiglass only two feet in front of me and he scowls playfully at me, then turns back to the coach's instruction.
-
After practice is over, I follow a small crowd gathering in the team store. I smile when I see the Carlson jerseys and grab one, paying for it quickly with a credit card Joonas had given me just as I see John come out to sign autographs.
I slip the jersey on over my tshirt, and grab a sharpie from the checkout's supply.
I walk over to the group surrounding John, acting like any of the other fans until I make it to the front of the group and he sees me. He immediately breaks out into a smile, taking my sharpie to sign my jersey until he notices the number 74 on my arm. He smirks and asks for me to spin around. I do so and he signs the number on my back. John hands me back the sharpie, winking not so discreetly since there are only a few people left to see him and jerks his thumb at a bench a few feet away.
I go over and sit, waiting for him to finish. Once he does he walks over, towering over my 5'7" frame even more with his skates making him closer to 6'6". "Wanna meet some of the guys?" I shrug and he takes that as a yes. He walks over to the door to the locker rooms, motioning for me to stay there.
John yells a few nicknames into the room, telling them to come out here and a few minutes later, three guys all in varying amounts of hockey gear and clothing come out, sweaty and looking exhausted. "Guys, this is Eela. She's new to DC. Eela, this is Joel Ward, Karl Alzner and Braden Holtby."
"So this is Alzner?" I ask John, smiling. He laughs and nods, quickly explaining to the guys how me met and how I figured out who he was.
"Damn, Carly," Karl says, clapping him hard on the back. I raise an eyebrow at the nickname.
"I know I'm foreign, but isn't 'Carly' a girl's name?" John blushes, looking at me and nodding his head, almost ashamed of his teammates.
"Yeah, it's a hockey thing," Braden explains, "Where are you from?"
"Finland. I'm Tuukka Rask's younger sister," I reply, fidgeting with the hem of my jersey.
"Really?" Braden asks, confused. The other two guys give John a weird look but he comes over to me and goes to explain and I let him, understanding he should leave out the reason I left, saying instead it was for work.
"Alright, guys, I just wanted Eela to meet some of the team," he says to the them and they turn back to go to the locker room. Then turning to me and looking down John continues, "I'm gonna go shower and change, I'll be out in like twenty minutes, there's a snack shop and you saw the team store."
I nod and slowly walk around, watching the zamboni come around the rink. I don't know how much longer the zamboni stays on the ice, but once I snap out of my trance, it's gone and John is coming out of the locker room in a suit instead of the tshirt and sweatpants he came in with from yesterday.
"You look good in my jersey," he says in greeting, a smirk plastered widely on his face. I roll my eyes playfully, and he gasps, "But wait, if it's autographed you can't wear it all around. Come on."
I try to tell him I don't need another jersey but he ignores me and grabs my hand loosely, pulling me back into the store to buy it anyway. The clerk, a young woman, probably only a few years older than us, freaks out once she sees us come in and it only increases once John goes up to pay for the jersey. I walk up behind him and see not just another of his jerseys but an Alzner jersey and an Ovechkin shirt.
"No...not happening," I say, taking the Ovechkin shirt and putting it back, though I don't even attempt to argue about anything else, "I know enough about him that I side with Crosby on that rivalry."
John scowls at me before mumbling, "If you love Crosby so much why don't you just marry him?!" He glances back at me and laughs, pointing at another shirt displaying the name Backstrom and the number 19. "He's a Swede," he says, matter of factly with a shrug.
"You know me so well already," I say, grabbing one of the shirts in my size and bringing it to the register.
-
We drive back to the hotel, John complaining he got a really bad night of sleep on the couch in my room last night. "Go back to your place, John. I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself while you go home and take a nap for a few hours."
"Yeah, I know, but I feel bad leaving you alone," he says, shifting his weight. I feel my cheeks heat up a bit.
"We've known each other for three days and you're already hesitant to leave me alone?" I ask. He smiles and bows his head nervously. "I'll be fine. Go home and take a nap. I'll call you and bug you if I get bored. Okay?"
He sighs and nods, smiling down at me rubbing my arm briefly before walking out the door to his car.
-
After a few hours, it’s John who’s calling me. “John, I told you I’d call you if I got bored. Go back to sleep.”
“I’m bored out of my mind, I haven’t slept at all. I’ve been staring at my bedroom ceiling for the past three hours. And Karl wanted to know if you wanted to go out with a few of the guys tonight. They’re going to some French restaurant in North West. You wanna go?”
“Is this date number one or date number two?” I ask. John can probably hear my smirk through the phone.
“How about number one?” he says. “I’ll see you at seven.”
I hum as a response and hang up, laying back on my bed. Then I remember I didn’t pack anything fancy. I jump out of bed and run over to the one suitcases I haven’t unpacked yet and rifle through the contents. Once I get to the bottom I see what I was looking for: the dress I wore to the draft the year Joonas went in. It’s silver and strapless, fitted and sparkly on the top, then flowing out and going just above my knees.
I glance at the clock and see it’s only about five o’clock, so I go back to lay down right as John calls me back, “Hey, sorry I got it wrong, we’re meeting at six so I’ll be over in about half an hour.”
I jump up once again and say goodbye to John, running into the bathroom to get ready.
"I'm late for the morning session for my group and I need to be in Arlington in half an hour. My alarm on my phone didn't go off this morning."
I nod, getting up and walking towards him, crossing my arms over my chest as he looks for his coat he had taken off last night. "How long is the session?" I ask, walking out to the elevators with him in my clothes from yesterday since I was too tired to change last night, although I only have socks on.
"Uh...an hour. It'll be over by eleven. Why, you gonna miss me?" he teases, smirking down at me.
"Well, considering you're the first and only person I've met since getting here, yeah."
He sighs, smiling sadly at me, "Go get your stuff, you're coming with me to make some friends."
-
We drive down to the ice plex John called Kettler, him guiding me to the rink where a few guys are already skating and talking to coaches. They all cat call once they see John talking to me, teasing him while he walks to the other side of the rink to the locker rooms.
He comes out ten minutes later in his practice uniform, stick handling a puck on his way to center ice where the team's coach, who I also googled and found out was Bruce Broudreau, stands.
The group of about ten or fifteen players, only recognizable to me through scanning the training camp roster for the number I see on their helmets, has a quick meeting before the defensemen and forwards split up, John and the other defensemen in his group coming to my side.
John sees me in the first row of the bleachers, smirking at me and firing a puck at the glass in front of me. I don't even blink when the puck slams into the plexiglass only two feet in front of me and he scowls playfully at me, then turns back to the coach's instruction.
-
After practice is over, I follow a small crowd gathering in the team store. I smile when I see the Carlson jerseys and grab one, paying for it quickly with a credit card Joonas had given me just as I see John come out to sign autographs.
I slip the jersey on over my tshirt, and grab a sharpie from the checkout's supply.
I walk over to the group surrounding John, acting like any of the other fans until I make it to the front of the group and he sees me. He immediately breaks out into a smile, taking my sharpie to sign my jersey until he notices the number 74 on my arm. He smirks and asks for me to spin around. I do so and he signs the number on my back. John hands me back the sharpie, winking not so discreetly since there are only a few people left to see him and jerks his thumb at a bench a few feet away.
I go over and sit, waiting for him to finish. Once he does he walks over, towering over my 5'7" frame even more with his skates making him closer to 6'6". "Wanna meet some of the guys?" I shrug and he takes that as a yes. He walks over to the door to the locker rooms, motioning for me to stay there.
John yells a few nicknames into the room, telling them to come out here and a few minutes later, three guys all in varying amounts of hockey gear and clothing come out, sweaty and looking exhausted. "Guys, this is Eela. She's new to DC. Eela, this is Joel Ward, Karl Alzner and Braden Holtby."
"So this is Alzner?" I ask John, smiling. He laughs and nods, quickly explaining to the guys how me met and how I figured out who he was.
"Damn, Carly," Karl says, clapping him hard on the back. I raise an eyebrow at the nickname.
"I know I'm foreign, but isn't 'Carly' a girl's name?" John blushes, looking at me and nodding his head, almost ashamed of his teammates.
"Yeah, it's a hockey thing," Braden explains, "Where are you from?"
"Finland. I'm Tuukka Rask's younger sister," I reply, fidgeting with the hem of my jersey.
"Really?" Braden asks, confused. The other two guys give John a weird look but he comes over to me and goes to explain and I let him, understanding he should leave out the reason I left, saying instead it was for work.
"Alright, guys, I just wanted Eela to meet some of the team," he says to the them and they turn back to go to the locker room. Then turning to me and looking down John continues, "I'm gonna go shower and change, I'll be out in like twenty minutes, there's a snack shop and you saw the team store."
I nod and slowly walk around, watching the zamboni come around the rink. I don't know how much longer the zamboni stays on the ice, but once I snap out of my trance, it's gone and John is coming out of the locker room in a suit instead of the tshirt and sweatpants he came in with from yesterday.
"You look good in my jersey," he says in greeting, a smirk plastered widely on his face. I roll my eyes playfully, and he gasps, "But wait, if it's autographed you can't wear it all around. Come on."
I try to tell him I don't need another jersey but he ignores me and grabs my hand loosely, pulling me back into the store to buy it anyway. The clerk, a young woman, probably only a few years older than us, freaks out once she sees us come in and it only increases once John goes up to pay for the jersey. I walk up behind him and see not just another of his jerseys but an Alzner jersey and an Ovechkin shirt.
"No...not happening," I say, taking the Ovechkin shirt and putting it back, though I don't even attempt to argue about anything else, "I know enough about him that I side with Crosby on that rivalry."
John scowls at me before mumbling, "If you love Crosby so much why don't you just marry him?!" He glances back at me and laughs, pointing at another shirt displaying the name Backstrom and the number 19. "He's a Swede," he says, matter of factly with a shrug.
"You know me so well already," I say, grabbing one of the shirts in my size and bringing it to the register.
-
We drive back to the hotel, John complaining he got a really bad night of sleep on the couch in my room last night. "Go back to your place, John. I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself while you go home and take a nap for a few hours."
"Yeah, I know, but I feel bad leaving you alone," he says, shifting his weight. I feel my cheeks heat up a bit.
"We've known each other for three days and you're already hesitant to leave me alone?" I ask. He smiles and bows his head nervously. "I'll be fine. Go home and take a nap. I'll call you and bug you if I get bored. Okay?"
He sighs and nods, smiling down at me rubbing my arm briefly before walking out the door to his car.
-
After a few hours, it’s John who’s calling me. “John, I told you I’d call you if I got bored. Go back to sleep.”
“I’m bored out of my mind, I haven’t slept at all. I’ve been staring at my bedroom ceiling for the past three hours. And Karl wanted to know if you wanted to go out with a few of the guys tonight. They’re going to some French restaurant in North West. You wanna go?”
“Is this date number one or date number two?” I ask. John can probably hear my smirk through the phone.
“How about number one?” he says. “I’ll see you at seven.”
I hum as a response and hang up, laying back on my bed. Then I remember I didn’t pack anything fancy. I jump out of bed and run over to the one suitcases I haven’t unpacked yet and rifle through the contents. Once I get to the bottom I see what I was looking for: the dress I wore to the draft the year Joonas went in. It’s silver and strapless, fitted and sparkly on the top, then flowing out and going just above my knees.
I glance at the clock and see it’s only about five o’clock, so I go back to lay down right as John calls me back, “Hey, sorry I got it wrong, we’re meeting at six so I’ll be over in about half an hour.”
I jump up once again and say goodbye to John, running into the bathroom to get ready.
♠ ♠ ♠
Thanks so much for reading, guys!