So, we’ve stayed quiet, avoiding each other on the plane and only interacting when we’re in the security of my penthouse. Stevie has still been coming to my home games, but we’ve taken extra precautions while at the arena—she sits in only secluded, private areas, not waiting around after the game and just meeting up at home.
But the thing that’s had me most concerned is how quiet Rich has been. I haven’t heard from him since the night he broke the news that Chicago hadn’t reached out about a new contract yet. Rich is never silent. He’s always scheming, working on something that will make us both a shit-ton of money, but lately, it’s been crickets from him.
After a season full of my friends encouraging me that Chicago would re-sign me regardless of all the added bullshit I bring to the table, I started to believe it. And that was a mistake.
It’s hard to focus on the most important weeks of my career, sitting a series and a half away from the Stanley Cup Finals, when my future is up in the air. It’s hard to concentrate on the here and now when I don’t know where I’ll land after it’s all over.
But just because Chicago hasn’t offered a new contract yet, doesn’t mean it’s off the table, so for the next few weeks, while we continue our path to the finals, I’m going to focus on what I can bring to the organization, hockey-wise. And that’s one of the best defensemen in the league and the best on a team that’s only nine wins away from winning it all.
As soon as I open the front door of my penthouse, Rosie rushes in, searching for my girlfriend. My dog is as chill as they get, so on days I have a pre-game morning skate, like today, I bring her to the rink with me and let her bop around the locker room, getting love from all the guys.
Stevie whines about losing her cuddle buddy that early in the morning, and I’m still not sure if she’s referring to my dog or me, but for my ego’s sake, I like to assume she means me.
I follow Rosie to my bedroom, expecting to find chestnut curls sprawled across my pillowcase, waiting for me to come back and join, but my bed is empty, with no pretty flight attendant in sight.
Through the silence, a soft whimper echoes from the bathroom connected to my room, so I follow the sound.
The bathroom is dim, only a slight glow coming from the lighted mirror where I find my girlfriend standing almost entirely naked in front of it. She has a pair of black leather pants pulled up past her thighs, but nothing else hides her bare body. When Stevie finally looks up, and I catch her reflection in the mirror, that’s when I notice the sadness covering her features.
Her blue-green eyes are rimmed in red, her freckled cheeks are a flushed shade of deep rose, and her full bottom lip slightly trembles as she looks at me.
“Vee, what’s going on?” I take two slow strides to stand behind her, meeting her in front of the mirror.
She quickly wipes her eyes. “I didn’t know you’d be home so soon.”
She takes a deep breath, attempting to compose herself before she turns around and tries to slip past me. But I catch her before she can get away, pulling her into me as she buries her head into my chest.
Running a soothing hand up and down her back, I ask again, “What’s going on?”
“I’m just having a rough morning,” she mumbles into my shirt.
“What happened?”
Her back rises in my hold, taking a deep inhale. “I wanted to dress up for your game tonight, but my clothes aren’t fitting.” A strangled breath shakes her body. “One of your teammates’ girlfriends had shirts made for tonight, and Logan snuck me the one with your number on it. I was going to hide it under a jacket or something else, but it doesn’t fit.”
Burying a hand into her curls, I hold her to me, allowing her to feel what she needs to feel.
“I’m just having a bad day, is all.”
“That’s okay, Vee. You’re allowed to have bad days.”
For a few moments, she hides in my chest before composing herself and pulling away. She offers me a half-smile as she wipes her face. “I’ll be all right.”
Studying her for a beat, it’s evident that she’s not all right in the slightest. The way Stevie feels about her body is different every day, and that’s perfectly fine, as long as she’s overall on the path to accepting herself, which she is. The bad days will ebb and flow.
My hands find the waistband of the pants that won’t close, fingers digging in and pulling them down her legs. As she steps out of them, I toss them aside before turning on all the lights in the bathroom, brightening up the space.