Terrible Love

Jon had flown back to Chicago two days later.

Despite all of the feelings and words we shared, when it came down to it, I knew the only way anything would ever happen between us is if we both settled back into our lives. I was exhausted from the back and forth of emotions. I was tired of guessing, tired of feeling my heart get tossed from person to person. I wanted my tranquility back. I wanted my life back.

And that life didn’t involve the constant interaction with Jon and the guys.

I knew I had hurt him when I didn’t show up to drive him and a few others to the airport. I could almost picture his face as he stood there, watching Patrick Sharp pick everyone up and pile them into his SUV. I could hear his slow heartbeat echo in his head, I could hear his soft voice ask where I was.

My chest tightened like I was going into cardiac arrest whenever the thought floated through my head.

I had sent him a text that day. I timed it so he would receive it a few minutes before the plane would depart. I set it up so he couldn’t call me or ask me what had happened. I told him something with a job had come up, I apologized, told him to call me when he landed. I didn’t say I loved him, I didn’t say I missed him.

He didn’t answer until they landed. He sent me a text, telling me he landed and he would call me later when he finally got home.

He never called.

We didn’t speak for a few days. When we did speak, it was a few words in a text.

I pushed myself into my work. I refused to let my mind wander to anything but walls and floor plans. I was taking phone calls and answering emails. I was sketching homes and picking out tiles and hardwood floors. I started working over twelve hours a day. I left my phone in my purse when I left the house on client meetings. I ignored the calls and texts from friends and guys from the team while I worked at home.

Out of everyone, I managed to text Abby at least twice a day, but that was the strongest contact with anyone by miles.

Every once in a while I would answer someone else. I tried explaining what was going on, how busy I had gotten, but they knew the real reason. They knew I was distancing myself from them after the summer fiasco we all went through.

It hurt to see what I was doing to them. It hurt to realize that I had turned into the bad guy, but I couldn’t help it. My body would still ache when I thought about the summer. I could still feel the holes form in my heart when I watched Jon run his hands over Laura after they had broken up. I could still feel the water in my lungs when he begged me to say I loved him back, when he put all of his worry and indecision on me.

Weeks went by.

It was the end of September before I knew it. Winnipeg was growing cold, work was starting to slow down, and the NHL season was starting to pick up. I paid little attention to the pre-season games. I didn’t want to get caught up in early season hockey when I still had a few jobs to finish up before the snow started to fall.

The feelings I had toward everything that had happened in the summer started to fade away. I spent nights thinking about it. Thinking about how everything had played out. I confirmed with myself again and again that this radio silence is what we needed. What I needed.

They had always told me to put myself first.

Don’t think about anyone else, Aspen. What do you want?

I wanted this. I wanted to reset. I wanted to get back what I had pushed aside in the summer. I wanted to remind myself who I was, what I did, and why I was so happy before Jon barged mack into my life. I wanted to feel whole again without needing another person. I wanted to be happy.

I was successful. I did what I loved. I was independent.

I was everything I had wanted to be, everything I had dreamed about being when I was fourteen, laying in the middle of my bedroom, talking myself out of the dark thoughts I was having. I had clients that turned to friends. I got to see the homes I drew on paper come to life around me.

I was happy.

----------------

It was the end of November when a familiar couple reached out to me with a phone call. When I saw the familiar area code on my caller ID, I hesitated for a moment, but when I had finally decided to answer the phone, I was pleasantly surprised to hear Mike’s voice on the other end of the line.

“Miss Pyatt, how are we doing?” Mike’s professional voice caused a small smile to creep onto my lips.

Bobbing my head on my shoulders as I stirred a wooden spoon in a pot full of chicken noodle soup, I held the cell phone between my cheek and shoulder. “I’m great, how is everything going?”

“That is precisely why I wanted to call you,” I felt my heart stop for a moment as the man fell silent, “We submitted the plans on November first, we just got the approved permits and paper work today. We’re good to begin.”

“Mike, congratulations!” I roared as I felt my fingers loosen, letting the wooden spoon go flying across the kitchen. “I’m so excited to see the shots. Give them all my number, I can be reached whenever-”

“See the shots?” Mike questioned. “We want you here, Aspen.”

“I can’t relocate to… Mike, I can’t be on site through the whole build.” I whispered as I walked over to the island in the kitchen and leaned against it. “I can come for a few visits but-”

Mike agreed with me while also apologizing for being unclear with his words. Bobbing my head on my shoulders, I listened as the man rambled on about the spot in Glencoe, Illinois where the house will be built. I had remembered seeing shots of the land they bought, but I was excited to see the actual views.

He then went on to outlining a few times they would pay for me to fly out to Chicago to help with the interior and check on the build. He told me the interior details probably wouldn’t be something to fly here to meet on for another few months.

Then, he asked me a question that sent shockwaves through my body.

“Would you come out for the official groundbreaking? Maria has been dying to meet you and we really want you to be there for it.”

“Do you know when-”

“November 28th to December 2nd, if you can.”

“That’s in five days, Mike.” I laughed as I walked over to the stove and turned the knob on the stove turning the burner under the pot off. “Do you think-”

“Buy whatever ticket you can, book a nice hotel in the city, send me the invoice, I’ll have the money to you before the flight. We’ll arrange a car service and I’ll reserve us a nice dinner for you, a guest, and my wife and I after the ground break. Sound good?”

A wave of anxiety washed over me as his words sunk into my head. I wanted to tell him I was a lonely busybody with no significant other to drag along with me, but as I sunk back into my professional demeanor, I sucked in a deep breath and shut my eyes.

“Sounds good, Mike.” I put as much fake enthusiasm into my words as possible.

“Wonderful! Maria will be so excited. I’ll look for the invoice tonight?”

“Absolutely, I’ll send it over as soon as I find a flight and room.” I felt my appetite fade away.

A few minutes later, we ended the call.

Instead of looking online for flights and open hotels, I opened the NHL app on my phone and quickly went to the Blackhawks schedule. Scrolling through the games, I followed the numbers until I reached they reached the specific dates I would be in town.

Away the 26th.

Home the 28th.

Home the 30th.

In Winnipeg on the 3rd.

I felt like all of the air left my lungs as I shut my phone off and slowly lowered my body onto the tiled floor beneath me. Squeezing my eyes shut, I took a few deep breaths as I realized what I was flinging myself back into.

It had been four months since I seen them.

It’s been almost two weeks since I last shared an awkward four word text with Jon.

I thought about seeing the Sharps and their kids, the guys on the team and the beautiful city that was Chicago. I felt my anxiety start to lift.

I was excited to see some of them. I was excited to see everyone now that my life was back on track. I was excited for them to see that I was back to normal, that all of the drama that had happened over the summer was over now. I was excited to meet Mike and Maria, excited to see the house and be a integral part of their new home.

I was excited to go to a game and see all of the wives and girlfriends again—which I knew I would end up doing because Abby is going to receive a phone call as soon as I’m done laying on my kitchen floor.

But to see Jon.

To be face to face with him now, after we both had time to think and settle down.

I wasn’t ready for that.

I don't think I could ever be ready for that.

It took me about fifteen minutes to pull myself from the floor and lean my body against the island in again. Looking down at my phone, I navigated to my recent calls list and quickly found her name in the list. Biting down on my lip, I pressed her name and held the phone up to my ear.

She answered nearly five seconds later.

“And to what do I owe the honor of receiving a phone call from the Aspen Pyatt?” Abby snickered, causing a small smile to force its way onto my lips. “Is everything okay?”

“I have a client trip to book.” I hummed as I pinched the bridge of my nose. “I leave on the 28th.”

“That’s ass. Is it anywhere fun, at least?” Abby’s tone switched to her normal gossip tone. I could hear her move some things around and then settle down into a seat. When I didn’t respond after a few minutes, a small gasp filled the line. “Aspen, no.”

I nodded my head even though she couldn’t see it.

“I’ll be in Chicago from the 28th to December 2nd.” As soon as the last word left my lips, Abby let out a wild scream. The sound of commotion and muffled voices filled the background of the line as she squealed a few high-pitched sentences at me that I couldn’t comprehend.

After what felt like hours of trying to decipher her words, there was some static and a new voice took over the phone.

“Hello?” The deep voice tickled my ears.

“Hey Pop,” I hummed and listened as the brunette on the other end of the line let out a heartwarming laugh. There was a few seconds of static before I heard more background noise filter into the call. He must have put me on speaker. I noticed it was a normal thing Patrick and Abby did. I guess it was the easiest way to take a phone call when you have two toddlers running around.

“What could you have possibly told Abby to make her yell like that, huh? Are you trying to give your old man a heart attack?” Patrick snickered. Sharing a laugh, I sucked in a deep breath and let out a long stream of air. The sound of people moving around filled the line. I wanted to shut my eyes and get lost in it.

Once I told Patrick Sharp, I was essentially telling the whole team.

I hummed again, my nerves getting the best of me. After stalling a few more seconds, the man on the other end of the line cleared his throat and informed me that he was waiting on an explanation. I let out a heavy sigh and opened my eyes, looking up at the white ceiling of my kitchen.

“I’m coming for a visit.”

“Words I never thought I would hear!” Sharp howled as he slammed his hand down a few times. “Soon, I hope?”

“28th,” I responded with a smile. It felt nice to have people be excited to see you. Excited to have you back in their lives, if even for a few days. “Just… Do me a favor and don’t tell… Don’t tell everyone okay?”

There was some muffled static and then silence. Sharps voice was close, loud, and clear.

“Well, I had you on speaker phone, so you sort of already told a few of the guys, so-”

“Sharp,” I warned as my heart started to pound. “Who was-”

I was cut off as my phone vibrated against my face. Mumbling a hold on, I pulled my cell phone from my face and looked down at the screen. Clicking on the messages bubble, I looked at the little blue dot next to the name.

Heart stopping, I ignored the mumbles coming through the phone and clicked on his name.

Promise you’ll come to a game?

Tears welled up in my eyes as I quickly typed a response and hit send. Going back to the call, I muttered a hasty goodbye and then hung up. As the call ended, I watched as the screen went back to the text conversation.

Your jersey is already packed.

A message appeared before my eyes, sending my heart crawling into my throat.

Send me the flight time, we’ll grab lunch, cool?

Shaking my head. I carefully typed out a response.

Cool