Master of Timing

He felt warm all over. The sun was high in the sky, beating down on him in the only way it could during the day. He leant back further in the deck chair and propped his feet up on the railing, a cool bottle of Coors dangling from his fingers tips. He could only hear the water lapping at the shore of the lake, and there was a bird making some sort of call in a tree nearby; but apart from all that, he was in peace and quiet.

Sid took another deep breath and brought the beer to his lips, tipping it back to let the cool liquid slide down his throat. The sliding door opened behind him a few sips in, the sound of flip flops making their way across the deck before a hand trailed its way from the back of his neck down his chest, to rest on his abs.

“Hi,” She murmured, kissing a slow trail from the bare skin of his shoulder up the side of his neck to his ear.

“Hi there.” Sid turned to catch her lips in his, sliding his tongue along hers slowly, not meaning for it to go anywhere but happy to have the chance to kiss her anyway. She was intoxicating.

He felt her hands take the bottle from him, the soft bang reaching his ears as it dropped to the floor at the same time she sat sideways on his lap. His hands immediately went to her waist, digging in slightly to her skin, swallowing the tiny moan that she let out. Pulling back, he took a deep breath, eyes dancing over her face, lingering on the plush lips swollen from his kisses.

“God you’re pretty,” He whispered, grinning back at her when she blushed, ducking her head. “You are,” He insisted, tipping her chin up to peck her lips. “And you’re mine.”

“All yours.” He loved hearing the sound of her promise, dragging her back into him with a little more force than before, swallowing her gasps and moans before offering his own as she bit lightly on his tongue. Both their hands were a little more adventurous now; his gripping the lowest part of her hips while hers danced across his bare six pack, two fingers walking across his lower abdomen where his skin met his board shorts. She pulled back with a laugh that could’ve been a moan if he squeezed his hands right, but she was looking over her shoulders at the lake before turning her attention back to him.

Sid paused. “What’re you…” Her sly smile stopped his train of thought as she stood up. But only for a moment before she dropped to her knees, her hands sliding up his thighs then back down, teasing. “Lynds-”

She shushed him, shaking her head with a ‘don’t worry about it’ smile, bending down to kiss his neck, his chest, his stomach. “Don’t mind me, just enjoy the view.”

“You- I. We’re outside,” He started to protest, but lost all train of thought as she palmed as his dick with the heel of her hand, slowly moving up and down, her eyebrows furrowed in concentration. Well, he thought so until she looked up, pouting.

“Are you afraid of a little PDA, Mister Grumpy Gills?” The deadpan look he gave her back made her laugh.

“This is a little more than PDA,” He hissed, his head tipping back as she untied the strings, reaching in to grip him tightly, still moving up and down at the slow torturous pace. She knew his argument was lost the second he moaned, eyes slipping shut and his legs widening as she closed her fist around his tip, hot and tight and perfect. He gulped for air and looked around; his cabin was pretty private so no one was going to walk by, and he couldn’t see any other boats but his. Still. He didn’t want to get caught.

Except for the fact that he didn’t care at all as soon as she wrapped her lips around him, tonguing the vein underneath, pulling away slightly to smile before she took him down again, using her hand on the parts of him she couldn’t swallow.

“Fuuuuuuuck, you’re killing me,” He groaned, tangling his hands in her hair, still damp from their pre-lunch swim. He heard a chime coming from somewhere off in the distance that sounded vaguely familiar but he was distracted when Lyndsey moaned around him, hot and vibrating and far too good at what she was doing, he knew that for certain.

She pulled back, licking at the tip, pumping her hand in a steady rhythm, still smiling. “You should probably get that.” His brain was switched off, all blood travelling south. He had no idea what she was saying.

“Huh?”

She nodded over his shoulder once more, as if that explained everything. “You should probably get that,” She repeated, her grin as evil as ever before she swallowed him back down, sucking long and hard and intense, his shoulders riding off the back of the chair.

“Shit, Lynds.” He groaned again, the chiming right next to his ear, but when he looked, there was nothing. Not that it mattered, because she was destroying him with her mouth and hands, his balls cupped in her warm fingers, her hair wrapped in his. “God, you feel so good, baby.”

He was never good at dirty talk, but he couldn’t help the word vomit spewing out of his mouth when she had control on him like that. Not that it mattered, because he could feel the tension building in the pit of his stomach, and it took all his self control not to roll his hips forward, to not hold her down while he fucked her face. Yeah he wanted it, but he wasn’t an asshole. She seemed to know just where he was at because she started to move faster, cheeks hallowing, her moans increasing like it was doing everything for her as much as it was doing it for him. He wasn’t going to last.

Sid tried to pull her back, tried to do anything but his brain was caught in his dick and couldn’t seem to register what he wanted his hands to do, but it was all happening to fast and before he knew his toes were starting to curl, the beginning of her name coming out as a groan past his lips -

He woke up with a start.

It took Sid a few moments to realise where he was, staring into the pillow next to his head, his arm covered in drool. The beige walls opposite his bed were from his bedroom in Pittsburgh and for a second he frowned, his brain still foggy with sleep.

“Fucking hell,” He groaned, burying his face in his pillow as he blindly reached out to stop the stupid chirping alarm he’d been able to hear in his dream. He’d never dreamt anything that felt more real in his life.

A certain part of his body thought it was real, too.

He took a few deep breaths and looked over at the alarm clock, cursing the bright red 5:50 staring back at him, mocking him and his blue balls with no sympathy. He contemplated just rubbing one out on the bed before he snapped himself out of it and stumbled into the shower, turning on more cold than heat.

He had a big day ahead. He had to focus. He had tests to pass, training to get back to, hockey to play, a city to make proud. He went through drills, remembering where Mike had everybody at the power play he wasn’t apart of, figuring out how to work his way back into it to get Pens through the home stretch of the season, and finish with more than 98 points.

The water pounded on his back, his wet hair curling around his ears and resting just above his eyelashes, forcing him to shake his thoughts away before he looked down at the tiles. His distractions didn’t work.

So, he gave up and turned up the heat, trying to remember just how hot the summer sun felt on the deck of his cabin in his dream, Lyndsey in front of him with that damned smirk on her face.



“Whaddup, Cap?”

“Hey Kuni.”

“How’s everything?”

“Feeling good, man. Feeling good,” He smiled, meeting Chris’ fist pump as he made his way through the halls of the training centre to Mike’s office. He had a spring in his step. Whether it be sheer determination to not be on the Injury Reserve list or having a solid goal to aim towards to get better, he was in a good mood. Mike was just as happy to see him revved up as Sid felt, so with a nod and a wave he okayed the concussion tests, sending him down to the trainers to do their part.

First step was checking vitals. As he expected, his heart rate and blood pressure all appeared to be okay. Which only made the trainers happy on the surface and it didn’t stop them sending him down to the local hospital to have another CT scan. Which brought on a mildly increased intake of breath but he pepped talked himself into this scan being nothing like the last one and that everything will be fine.

It was the mantra he repeated as they prepped the machine, getting himself comfortable against the hard plastic, nodding as they instructed him to stay perfectly still. He could do that. He closed his eyes as the bed moved him upwards, talking a steadying gulp before opening his eyes, the scanner whirring in his ears.

Everything will be fine.

He didn’t want to think of what would happen if he wasn’t. He needed to be cleared to play. So, like all anxious times, the nurse petted his shoulder as he bounced his knee in the private patient room they gave him, cautiously optimistic as the nurses “good things come to those who wait” filled the room as she shut the door.

“I’m sure everything’s going to come back fine.” Kadar was resting in a chair, elbows on his knees, hands clasped together. “You look like you’re about to shit a brick, calm down.”

“I can’t calm down.” Sid shook his head, standing up to pace the room. “I need to play, Mike. I can’t do this anymore.”

“I know, Sid. We need you too.”

He sighed, putting his hands in his pockets, looking at Bertie who hadn’t looked up from his phone since he sat down. “Berts, what’re you doing?”

Bertie was originally a physio for the Rangers when he started out in the sports industry. He got out of the game after being on the wrong end of a few too many pissed off players and decided that being insulted for doing his job wasn’t really the kind of work he was interested in. He had been “retired” from professional sports physiotherapy for years before Sid’s last concussion; turns out, Bert had some expertise in rehabilitating concussed players back into game shape. Needless to say, he got in contact with Sid, and Sid made sure he’s been on the Penguins payroll ever since.

“Coming up with a game plan.” Sid raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, I thought you’d be interested.”

Bert explained just what they were going to do once he was given the all clear. In retrospect, Sidney was completely healthy, and bar a few hard practices, basically in game shape. He was under no illusion he was going to be nursing some pretty nasty bruises and sore muscles until he got back into the swing of things, but he hoped by the end of February his muscle memory would’ve work its magic and he’d be back in form.

They were running over conditioning drills when the door opened, the same doctor that Sid saw last time entering the room, carrying scans.

“Hi folks, how’re ya doing?”

Sid just nodded. All his nervousness came back suddenly and he didn’t trust himself to talk. This was it. He was going to get a yes or no. He prayed for a yes.

“Sidney, take a seat. Need to run some things by you.”

“You want him alone, Doc?”

The doctor waved his hand with a shake of his head. “No, you’ll need to hear this too.” He pointed to the scans - Sidney had seen what the images of his brain looked like before, and these didn’t seem to be any different. So he didn’t rely heavily on what the doctor was pointing at, since none of it seemed to make a difference to him. Yes, he could see that tiny black spot. Yes, last time they told him it was the brain’s form of scar tissue. It didn’t look any bigger or smaller than last time. His face must’ve showed his confusion, because the Doctor - Greg - paused mid sentence. “You alright, Sidney?”

“Yeah.” He coughed. “Just not really sure what the scar tissue has to do with anything. It’s already scarred, right? Can’t get any worse.”

Greg nodded slowly, sitting on the bed next to him. “Technically, that’s correct. Nothing will change that, except another hard bump to the head. Which I strongly advise you to avoid.” There was no joking undertone in that.

“Got it. So can I play?”

“Sidney, I need you to understand something. And this is very important; probably the most important I’ll tell you today.” Greg, took his glasses off, folding the arms down and holding them in his hands with his pen. Sid was cautious. Obviously it was serious. “I know I explained last time that you have gone through a severely traumatic experience - I know, it didn’t seem all that traumatic but your brain shows it differently.” He nodded the doctor along. “I have to tell you this, and I’m not trying to undermine you or discredit the superb athlete you are. This is strictly medical opinion.”

A glance at Mike and Bertie showed they were listening just as intently. Sid felt like he was about to be read his last rights.

“As far as I can see, your brain seems to have healed itself; it’s a real credit to you that you’ve come back from such a severe concussion so quickly. Well, in retrospect,” He joked but Sid couldn’t do much but offer half a smile. “Based on the results from your last concussion, and the differences you’ve made in your recovery to this one: I am clearing you to play. But, don’t get too excited, I need you to hear this part.”

“I’m hearing you Doc, I’ve waited for months to hear you say that.”

“I know Sid. But here’s the tricky part.” Sidney didn’t like tricky parts, why were there tricky parts? It’s hockey, he knows how to play hockey, it’s his life- “Now, they’re still testing the effects of concussions and the range of medical problems they lead to - especially in pro athletes. I need you to take this into careful consideration because the scar tissue you have on your brain? It’s alarmingly similar to the scar tissue that forms on patients with dementia. Now, there are no actual proven links between concussions and dementia, of course that’s because they haven’t been testing it long enough, and the older generations of hockey players for example played a different style and speed of game back in the old days.”

Sid clasped his hands together in his laps, shifting a little on the bed as he sat uncomfortably in a bland room in a bland hospital. He suddenly realised that his agent and manager should be here for this conversation too. “So, what you’re saying is…”

Greg sighed. “Injuries like this are… unpredictable. We have no way of knowing just how long or how bad the symptoms may last or just how severe they are long term. You’re a young guy, fit and healthy and apart from these two concussions and the wrist you’ve had a pretty good run of things so far. But I can’t stress to you enough that…” Greg trailed off, looking at the three sets of eyes in the room separately. Sid nodded. “Sidney, I know how important hockey is to you. Trust me, I’ve seen what these careers and the unexacting endings of these careers do to people like you. People who have worked their whole lives for something that doesn’t last forever. I just want to you to really think about it before you step back on that ice. Every hit you take, every bump to the head, check into the boards, all of it - realistically, it’s only doing your brain further damage. I am honestly surprised you haven’t started to show signs of post concussion trauma already.”

Sid had turned his attention to the scans at this point, not able to look at Greg or his trainers for fear that he’d give something away. He knew that he’d had some trouble with the last concussion and that none of his symptoms had lasted as long this time around, but that didn’t mean they’d all gone away. He’d sat down and spoken with his Mom & Dad at Christmas when they’d wondered about his post career health and how it might effect him. When stories were coming out from all kinds of current and retired NHLPAers who were speaking out more and more about the damages of concussions and the lack of care the league provided - he listened. He was half the reason the league started to look into heavier punishments for players who caused concussions because big picture; it wasn’t about returning to the ice. It was about what happened long after hockey wasn’t the number one priority anymore.

“Do… does that mean I have it? Dementia?”

“No it doesn’t.” Greg paused. “Not yet.”

“Not yet? Wait a minute, Doc - you know who he is, what’s riding on his shoulders-”

“I understand that, yes. This is just my medical opinion. And I am just one doctor, you’re more than welcome to get a second or a third - I highly doubt they’ll say any different.”

“What’re you saying, Greg?” Sidney looked him in the eye, shoulders set, ready for a face off. There was no way he was going to sit there and have the trainers talk about his life. This was on him.

“You need to consider this. Your career, your future, your mental health and post NHL life could be affected by all of this Sidney. There is an increased chance that - knock on wood, it doesn’t happen - but there is a chance that the next concussion you suffer could end your career.”

He could feel all the energy leave his body, his eyes looked at Kadar and Bertie who looked just as shocked as he felt. He didn’t want to think about ending his career, he had planned on it being years away, and he was always tagged in every single game that another concussion - no matter how minor - was inevitable.

“I’m sorry, son. I’m sorry to be the bearer of bad news.”

Sid cleared his throat and offered his hand. “Thank you. I will consider it, I’ve just…” He didn’t know what he ‘just’. He suddenly didn’t know much anymore.

“I know.” Greg rested a hand on his shoulder before he stood up, shaking Mike’s and Bertie’s hands before he took down the scans, switching off the screen light and leaving the room.



“If I eat one more of these things,” Claire groaned, throwing a bone back into the basket on their table, “I’m going to explode.”

“But they’re so good,” Lyndsey tried to reason, laughing as she bit into a wing, spreading sauce all over her lips with a laugh.

If a fortunate turn of events, Lyndsey had ended up with a six and four day swing. So she decided to utilise her days off for some much needed girl time and begged Claire to play hooky from work so that they could go shopping.

It didn’t take much persuasion.

They were too busy trying to catch up on the last few weeks of not seeing each other, plus arguing over how much money to spend on a belated Christmas present, for Lyndsey to actually get nervous about what she had actually set out to do. She hadn’t spoken to Sidney for a couple of days, besides some generic conversation that didn’t really lead anywhere (and left her feeling a bit off, to be honest) but she knew that she needed to tell someone about them. Her mom wouldn’t believe her and Lyndsey knew that, at first, Claire wouldn’t either. But she had a lot of explaining to do.

“Hey butt head, what the hell has you so distracted?”

“I’m not a butt head!”

“You are.” Lyndsey’s face met a napkin that proceeded to fall into her food, getting her covered in ranch dressing as she picked it back up. “Oh, shit. Sorry.”

Claire wasn’t sorry. She was laughing way too hard to be sorry.

Lyndsey took a long drink of her soda before she pulled out her phone, opening up the text messages under his name. She smiled politely as a waiter came past to clear their plates, her friend distracted by wiping her hands to see just how anxious Lyndsey appeared to be.

“I need to tell you something.”

“Sure.” Claire threw another used napkin to the side and glanced up. Her face fell immediately. “Whoa. Okay. Serious talk then. Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Lyndsey nodded, biting at her lip, tasting some sauce left over. “Okay. You’re not going to believe a single word I’m about so say but I have no idea how to actually tell you any of this so I’m just going to blurt it out.”

Claire frowned and sat back, waving her hand in a motion of ‘go on, I’m listening’.

Lyndsey took a deep breath and closed her eyes, handing over her phone. “I lied when we went to the club with Brent a couple of months ago. I met Sidney Crosby - Brent was right, he was treated at Misercordia- and we’ve been talking ever since and he flew out to meet me two weeks ago and we went on a date and I kissed him and now I think we’re kind of dating but I’m one hundred percent certain”

She kept her eyes closed. Her heart was pounding in her ears and she could feel her palms getting sweaty. Even though every word she said was true, she knew it sounded like a complete fabrication; enough to get her sent to the looney bin.

“Come again?”

“And I’m flying out to go to one of his games at the end of February.”

“Wait, hang on. Back up a minute. Sidney Crosby?” Claire looked around at the restaurant and noticed people had turned to look at her, so she lent forward to hiss “Sidney Crosby? Of the Pittsburgh Penguins, Canadian hero, Golden Goal-”

“Yes.” Lyndsey bent her head forward, hiding her blush face behind her hand. “Stop saying his name.”

Claire didn’t respond. And when she finally could feel the red disappearing from her cheeks, Lyndsey looked up to find her scrolling through the messages on her friends’ phone, eyebrows furrowed and lips pursed. It was sort of a look of concentration mixed with… hurt? Anger? Lyndsey wasn’t sure.

When Claire handed the phone back, after what must’ve been five minutes of silence, she clicked her tongue once before grabbing her bags and standing up, reaching into her purse to throw down her share of the bill before Lyndsey watched her just storm out of the restaurant they’d stopped to have lunch in. She stared at the table, eyes darting from her phone to their left over mess to Claire’s money, before she added to the rest of the money and grabbed her things too, running out the door only to stop when she didn’t see Claire anymore.

Lyndsey sighed at the collection of bags straining against her fingers and she decided to at least go dump them in her car. If she was going to be wandering around looking for Claire, she didn’t want her shoulders to be killing her. She heard her phone ping as she reached the elevator to take her to the top of the parking lot, but she didn’t bother to check it. It was too much effort to set her bags down and make sure they didn’t fall everywhere.

There was quick footsteps echoing against the concrete once she eventually rounded the corner where her car was parked. When Lyndsey glanced up to check she was still heading in the right direction, she saw the footsteps belong to Claire - who was power walking to her car, yanking open the passenger door and throwing everything in roughly, slamming it against the silence that surrounded them.

“Claire-”

“What the fuck, Lyndsey?” She was fuming, her car keys clenched hard in her hand.

“Why are you angry?”

“October?! October. This has been going on for months - and before you start, no. I don’t actually care who it is you’ve been keeping a secret. But the fact that you actually have been keeping it a secret. You’re my best friend. I tell you everything. And this is monumental and you hide it. You couldn’t even tell me when you were drunk,” She spat, crossing her arms and sitting down on the bonnet of her car.

Lyndsey could feel her face falling. She took a deep breath and fished for her car keys, pressing the button to open the trunk so she could get rid of her belongings. She left everything in there but her phone and her keys.

“You know I wouldn’t care, right? Okay, yes I’d need a minute or two to get over it, but c’mon. Is that why you didn’t tell me?” Lyndsey shook her head but couldn’t find words. This wasn’t going at all how she’d thought it in her head. “Does anyone know? Your mom?”

“A couple… a couple of people from work. But that’s because they were there, I don’t talk to them about it.”

Claire gave her a deadpan look and crossed an ankle over the other. “Your work colleagues know that you have a boyfriend before I do?”

“He’s not my boyfriend.”

“Sure as hell seems that way.” She motioned the phone and rolled her eyes.

“I’m sorry.”

“Why didn’t you tell me? We tell each other everything.”

Lyndsey nodded, reaching up to close the trunk before she tentatively stepped over to Claire’s car, watching her glare daggers into the cement as Lyndsey sat next to her. “I didn’t think you’d- anyone - would believe me. There’s some days were it’s still so… weird, y’know?”

“No I don’t know. Enlighten me.”

“Okay, stop.” Claire pursed her lips again but didn’t move. “Can you not be pissed at me about this? I’m only telling you now because I’ve got all these thoughts going on in my head and sometimes I can’t make sense of any of it but Sid and I talked the other day and I think it’s kind of getting… well, it might be, I don’t know, but getting serious and I’m freaking out here. He wants all these things from me, even though he hasn’t said it, I’m not an idiot I mean he’s a hockey player and he lives this super fancy life and for some reason he wants me and I’m scared.” Once she started, she couldn’t seem to stop.

Claire was still looking at her shoes.

“I’ve barely been in any relationship before, let alone a long distance one. With a famous person. Who is incredibly guarded and strict about his personal life and I know for a fact he’s told maybe… two? Three? of his team mates about me and that’s only because I accused him of wanting to keep me a secret and that’s not okay, obviously.”

“You’re clearly not the ‘puck bunny’ type.”

“Exactly!” Lyndsey could feel the smile tugging at the corner of her lips. She looked over at her best friend, who still hadn’t moved. “Can you please not be mad at me? I’ve got no idea what the hell it is I’m doing-”

“How am I going to help? I don’t have famous hockey players knocking on my door.” There was a fierce tone in her voice that robbed Lyndsey of all the good feelings she had. “Sorry. That was mean.”

She nodded, looking up as Claire pushed herself back to her feet, her keys jingling as she hooked the key ring on her finger. “You want to come to mine? I’ll tell you everything over a pint of Ben & Jerry’s.”

Claire smiled a little but dropped it just as quickly, shaking her head. “No. I… Okay, I’m sorry I snapped at you but I just need a bit of time to get my head around this okay?” Lyndsey nodded, standing up as well. Claire looked her in the eyes. “You lied to me for months. I don’t completely understand why - and don’t give me that bullshit excuse again about me not believing you or you have no idea how to put it into words. I speak fluent Lyndsey Jennings, you could’ve drawn stick figures and I would’ve understood.”

Lyndsey sighed. “Yeah, I know.” She could only manage a whisper, that familiar feeling of panic and confusion creeping back up in her chest, the same she had when Sidney had called her and left her a voicemail trying to convince her she wasn’t a nobody.

“I need a few days. I’ll call you.”

“Wait, Claire. I’m sorry.”

“I’ll call you.” She moved around Lyndsey to the drivers side door and sat down, the door slamming shut. Lyndsey only just managed to move out of the way before Claire was peeling out of the parking space without so much as a glance back.

Perfect.

She stood in the quiet parking lot for a few more moments, staring at the spot her best friends’ car once parked before she got into her own, resting her head on the steering wheel as she took a few deep breaths.

That was so not how she wanted any of it to go. She was terrified of telling anyone else.

She snapped back in the seat when she thought about telling her mother and she had Sidney’s number ringing in her ear before she’d really even noticed that she’d found his name on the screen of her phone to press ‘call’.

“No, don’t be an idiot.” She hissed at herself and hung up before he could answer, dropping the phone in her lap so she could stare at her dashboard some more. She and Claire had been best friends since the 6th grade after Claire transferred. Lyndsey always wanted to be friends with the new students, because she knew that she hated feeling alone and empathised with anyone who might feel the same.

It took all of two days before they were inseparable. They navigated the big scary world of high school together, tackling everything the teenage years threw at them; puberty, boys, rejection, nervousness about school dances, pimples, stretch marks, the horrible realisation that Lyndsey was never going to be a five foot ten model or date the cutest boy in their year.

Claire was the sister she’d never had but always wanted when she was little. And even through everything - including Claire moving to Calgary for college (which wasn’t all that far but still the furthest they’d ever been apart), they talked nearly everyday. Lyndsey got grounded at 19 for racking up a phone bill twice as what it normally was when she went through are particular bad break up (in retrospect, it didn’t even register as a blip on the radar now) with some guy who she thought was decent but just wanted a study buddy so that they could do everything BUT study.

There’s a first time she’d take back if she could.

Her phone vibrating against her thigh broke her concentration. She shook her head a little. Of course he was calling back.

“Hey,” She answered, clearing the lump in her throat with a cough.

“Hi. Sorry I missed your call.” She smiled at the sound of his voice but she could feel that it didn’t reach her eyes, so she leant forward against the steering wheel once more, closing her eyes and just concentrating on the phone call. “What’s up?”

Lyndsey couldn’t find her voice to respond. She could hear noise in the background coming from his end - loud booms of laughter that could only mean he was with the team, doing hockey related things, living his life.

In Pittsburgh.

Away from her.

“Nothing,” She answered eventually. Even she knew it sounded lame and not at all convincing, and straight away the image on him frowning and turning his head to the side like a puppy came into her head.

God, she missed him.

“…Ooookay. That sounded like bull. You sure you’re alright?”

“Did anyone freak out when you told them about me?”

The background noise had faded away after a ‘Sid, where you going?!’ came through. She cringed when she thought that maybe she’d interrupted something at practice or the gym - Lyndsey knew he’d been cleared to play but hadn’t stepped back on the ice yet. She frowned at the phone when he’d messaged her the results, saying he ‘had some other things to deal with first’ before he wanted to start practicing again. She was confused, but then again - she had no idea how his life worked.

He had enough going on and she wasn’t going to ask.

“Uh, no? Not really? I mean, Duper and Tanger more just gave me shit for actually finding someone, but that’s how they are. Why?”

Of course they didn’t freak out. They’d be happy for him. She just felt worse. Like telling Claire had been a mistake. Even though she knew that it wasn’t.

“No reason. I… I should let you get back.”

“No wait, hang on. Talk to me. What’s- you sound sad.”

“It’s okay, really.” I just told my best friend about you and she stormed off. “Just… I’ll talk to you later.”

“Lyndsey, wait.” The anxiousness in his voice made her pause from pulling the phone away from her face. “Tell me what’s going on.”

She sighed, sitting back again in her seat but this time actually starting the engine. There was no point in her sitting in the parking garage when she knew she was in no mood to go back inside and shop. The ice cream waiting for her at home seemed like a good idea all of a sudden.

“I just told my best friend about you and we got into a fight and now she’s not talking to me.”

There was a beat of silence, then “Oh.”

“Yeah. ‘oh’. And of course your friends are happy for you and mine just… don’t get it. Jesus, sometimes even I don’t get it.”

“What do you mean?”

This wasn’t a conversation to have over the phone. It could wait a few more weeks until she saw him in person. “Never mind. I’ll let you get back.”

“Hang on, what do you mean ‘you don’t get it’? I thought we’ve been through all of this. I like you. A lot. I - you know that, right?”

She sighed. “Yes, Sid. I know.”

“Well, jeez. You don’t have to make it sound like a chore.”

Lyndsey pulled the phone away from her face to stare at the screen for a second in shock. “Excuse me?”

There was more silence on the other line, but she could still hear his breathing. “Sorry. That was - I’m sorry. I’m a bit stressed with everything going on here. I didn’t mean to say that.” There was more noise in the background again, and Lyndsey could only assume he’d stepped back into the hallway or room that he came from before he tried to find somewhere quiet for them to talk. And now they weren’t even talking, she was just being a bitch.

“It’s okay. I didn’t mean it either. Fuck.” She formed a fist and punched the steering wheel a little, taking a deep breath to calm down as his quiet giggles met her ear. “Why are you laughing?”

“You sound really cute when you swear.”

“I’m not cute,” She protested. “I’m angry and confused and my best friend isn’t talking to me and if you were here and we were normal people I’d be telling you this face to face and why are you still laughing?” But it was working on her too and she could feel the tension leaving her shoulders as a smile broke out on her face. “I’m trying to be very serious here.”

“Oh, I believe you.”

“You’re an asshole.” His giggles peeled off into actual laughter and a quiet ‘Oh God, the Captain’s lost it’ reached her ears before there was a fumble and a very distinct ‘No!’ shouted close to the receiver. She jerked the phone away in surprise.

“Is this Lyndsey?”

“Uh, yes?”

There was more scuffling and muffled arguing in her ear, but she was full on grinning now that she couldn’t bring it in her to hang up.

“And when are we going to see you?”

“Is this Pascal?”

“Ha! She knows my voice. I’m totally the favourite!” Lyndsey could hear Sid’s captain voice take charge as a ‘give me back my phone, you fucker’ before he came back to her, breathless. “You still there - no, don’t fucking touch me, you ignoramus. Go warm do- Lyndsey. Hi. Shit. Oh my God.” He ended on a groan and she burst out laughing, biting her lip. “Okay, I’m never answering your calls at the rink again when I AM SURROUNDED BY CHILDREN!”

There was a chorus of laughter behind him and the warmth radiated in her chest. There was something incredibly refreshing about hearing him act and sound like any other twenty seven year old on the planet, goofing off with his friends. All of a sudden, she couldn’t wait for it to be the next month. As embarrassed as she’d be by being the centre of attention, a small part of her couldn’t wait to watch his team give their captain grief.

All because of her.

“It’s okay. I’ll let you go.”

His laughter died down quickly. “You sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah.” She couldn’t hide the smile in her voice.

“Okay. Good. February?”

She nodded into the empty space around her. If anyone was looking, they’d think she was crazy. “February.”

There was some more yelling in the background, only a few things coming through clear. “What’s happening in February?” “The Captain’s got a date!” “We’re gonna meet her!”

She hung up with a fond smile, for people she didn’t know, on her face.