80: Ch-ch-changes

Happy Birthday, Jordan! 21!

Soundtrack song - Green Day, 21 Guns (not related, but kinda funny, huh?)


Sid was in Montréal. I was alone. I was surrounded by my family, but I was utterly alone. We had all lost the same man, but we handled it differently. Knowing we were all suffering was no consolation to me. It was harder to cope without Sidney. Whatever power he had over me to calm me faded away the farther he was from me, so I was a bit of a mess without him.

I hung around in the back of the room, away from everyone. My mother cast me a few angry glances because I wasn't being social. I understood her point, but who wants to talk to strangers under such distress? I was shy and awkward around new people anyway, so the fact that I was at my beloved grandfather's funeral didn't help.

The paper I was holding in my hand crinkled and fluttered in my shaking hand. I don't know why I agreed when my grandmother asked me to read something. But the way she looked at me, I couldn't refuse. I'd scoured my books for something appropriate, but what did I want to read? What message did I want to convey to everyone?

I glanced at the clock on the wall. 1:55. The service would begin in a few minutes. My phone rang in my purse, "Whatta Man" echoing the silence of the room. Everyone's head turned to look for the source of the song, and I feverishly dug through my purse to stop the noise.

"Sid?" I asked quietly through the phone as I picked it up.

"Nelly, how are you holding up?"

I sighed. He was so caring. How did I ever get so lucky with him. "I'm fine."

He didn't believe me. "Don't be nervous about the poem. He'll really like it," he said, talking about Grandpa as if he was going to hear me. Sid assured me that he would. "And I'm there with you. Maybe not physically, but I'm thinking about you. You can do it."

"Thanks, Sidney. They're starting to sit down, I've got to go. Play well tonight," I told him. As much as I was dreading what my afternoon would hold, I couldn't forget Sid desperately needed another win tonight.

Sidney chuckled through the phone, and I knew it was because he thought I should be concentrating on my own situation instead of his. Just like I thought he should be napping and focusing on the game, not on me. "Sure thing."

"Maybe if you win, I'll be waiting for you when you get back from Canada," I teased, trying to distract myself from what was about to happen.

Playing along, he said, "Oh? Only if we win? You don't want to be with me if we lose?"

"Whatever motivation you need, stud." We hung up quickly, and I took my seat next to my grandmother. It's not that no one else was upset, but some of us were taking this harder than others. I wasn't my grandfather's favorite by any means; to say that would wrongly imply that he was discriminating with his love and attention. We just got along better than some of the others.

The service was a blur. The words faded in and out as my concentration ebbed and flowed. Several people spoke, and my grandfather's nephew, who I'd never met before, sang "Amazing Grace" so beautifully. It was until I was nudged that I realized it was my turn. Too late to change my mind. I walked to the podium and set the piece of paper down; my hands were shaking too badly for me to hold it. I smoothed out the wrinkles and recited the poem by Mary Elizabeth Frye:

Do not stand at my grave and weep,

I am not there, I do not sleep.

I am in a thousand winds that blow,

I am the softly falling snow.

I am the gentle showers of rain,

I am the fields of ripening grain.

I am in the morning hush,

I am in the graceful rush

Of beautiful birds in circling flight,

I am the starshine of the night.

I am in the flowers that bloom,

I am in a quiet room.

I am in the birds that sing,

I am in each lovely thing.

Do not stand at my grave and cry,

I am not there. I do not die.

I chose it as a message from Grandpa to everyone. It comforted me, if no one else. When I finished the last line, I felt the courage in me to turn around and look at him in the mahogany casket. He looked so different, made up and posed. I knew this wasn't Grandpa George, that this was only his shell, left behind in search of a better home. This was my last chance to say goodbye, my final goodbye, and I had to do it.

Then I went to his side and looked down. He appeared so old, like the years had caught up with him. "I'm sorry I couldn't do this sooner," I whispered, so no one else would hear. "I was afraid. If you were here, you'd tell me how stupid I was being. 'What are you so scared of?'

"Thanks for being there for me while you could. You left this world too soon, Grandpa. You left me too soon. But you're still with me, even if I can't see you or hear you." The tears began to pool and stream down my cheeks. "But I'm still gonna miss you, Grandpa. More than you know."

I left the podium. This portion of the service was over. The casket was closed and the military pallbearers carried the casket to the hearse, and we piled into the limo that was directly going to follow, and went off to the cemetery in the funeral procession.

A few more words were said at the cemetery before the three rifle volleys. Three casings were placed in the flag as it was folded precisely and delicately. The military chaplain stood in front of my grandmother, holding the flag out to her. "As a representative of the United States Army, it is my high privilege to present to you this flag. Let it be a symbol of the grateful appreciation our nation feels for the distinguished service rendered to our country and our flag by your loved one."

She accepted with tears in her eyes, and then it was over.

* * * * *

I went back to Sid's to watch the game. There was a reception after the service, but I didn't see the point in attending. The remaining emotions were still so raw and fresh. I just would rather spend the time to reflect alone. Grandpa was laid to rest, but the hurt didn't go away.

My night consisted of watching the game and pondering life during the commercial breaks. Things were changing, and this was the start of bigger things to come. I was going to be leaving my old world behind: quitting my crappy job for a new and better one, and I even think I agreed to move in with Sidney. During the first intermission, I had typed a quick e-mail to Mario to let him know I was very interested in the position. At some point, I watched as the camera caught a shot of him in the box in Montréal, working on his Blackberry. A few minutes later, I got a reply. Great to hear it. We'll talk about the details before the game on Saturday.

I was excited, for sure, but I was also a little terrified. And why not? These were big changes, and all within a month; count the changes in my lifestyle over the past six months and this was a lot to digest in such a short amount of time. Speaking of digestion, my appetite never returned. The scale told me I had lost about three pounds. It wasn't a lot, but I wasn't the type of person who lost weight easily. I shuffled into the kitchen and found a box of Velveeta shells and cheese. Probably the most unhealthy thing in the house. If I could eat this, I'd surely gain those pounds back. I fought through a bowl, lucky to get through that, and put the rest in the fridge.

The Penguins skated off the ice, victorious with another win. They were riding on the high of seeing momentum swing their way. Maybe this was a signal of good things coming our way again. Lord knows we needed that.

Sidney made it home in the middle of the night, at around three. He woke me up as he stripped out of his suit and jumped into bed with me. "Sorry," he said, giving me a peck on my cheek. "Go back to sleep."

"Congrats on the W," I mumbled, eyes still closed.

"Thanks," he replied, settling in for the night.

I knew he was tired, but I couldn't let him fall asleep just yet. "Are you sure it would be okay if I moved in here with you?"

"Why is that a question?" he asked. "You practically live here on the weekends. And you've been staying here all week. Not under the best of circumstances, but we made it work."

"Yeah. You're right," I said, nestling against him. I could easily get used to doing this on a regular basis.

I thought that was the end of our conversation, but it wasn't. "Are you scared?" He paused, and I didn't respond. "It's okay if you are. Just let me know. Be honest."

"Yes," I told him. He had told me to be honest, but I knew he wasn't pleased with my answer. "It's a big step. It's new. But I'm looking forward to it, too."

"So you're scared and excited?"

"Sounds weird, huh?"

"You're weird. I wouldn't expect any different from you."

79: Cast Aside

A/N: shameless plug. Thanks again you all, and enjoy!



I walked into Sid's house to find him pacing the floor. The tension in the room was immediately palpable as he heard the door and saw me enter the room, his eyes focusing on me with the intensity of lasers, burning into me.

"It's about damn time you got back! What took you so long?" He was angry; there was no denying that. But I think I detected a hint of hurt in his voice, too. Maybe that's the reason for all the anger; he was really just compensating for feeling hurt.

"Sorry," I apologized, knowing I'd be doing a lot of that in the next few minutes. "I got sidetracked." I brushed past him and into the kitchen to set down the bag of our take-out, trying to put off this confrontation.

"So?" He continued, stalking me into the other room. He was so mad, and here I was, just grateful that any Geno-related disaster had been avoided. I didn't want to fight with him now. There was so much going on that I wanted to come here and feel safe, not attacked. "Do you care to explain yourself?"

I tried to be as cool and calm as I could be. Getting upset would only exacerbate the situation. I pulled the Styrofoam packages from the plastic bag and then opened the silverware drawer for forks. Sidney was horrible with chopsticks. "Mario talked to me before the game yesterday. He said that he was impressed at the quick progress Evgeni was making with his English and with his attitude toward giving interviews. So he asked if I would consider taking a position with the Penguins organization, doing the same thing for all the players that needed the help."

"Yeah, Mario told me all that when I called him today," he grumbled.

"Why would Mario tell you that?"

"Well, I was telling him why I couldn't play against Montreal—"

"Wait, what?"

"I'm the one asking the questions here. Not you," he spat. I felt the tears welling up in my eyes, as if the volume and timbre of his voice was affecting my tear production. "Don't cry," he said a little softer. "I was telling him—"

"No, I heard you," I whispered, stopping what I was doing. "Why aren't you playing in the game?"

"Because it's on Thursday, in Montreal."

"So?" I asked, not getting his point.

He looked at his feet for a second and ran his hand through his hair, like he was saying something he didn't want to. "The funeral."

I made an O with my mouth, but I didn't say anything. With everything that was going on, I had forgotten. There was a funny feeling in my stomach. "You don't have to go," I whispered. "You can play."

All of a sudden, his anger was instantly gone. "No, I want to be there for you. It's just one game."

"I feel bad that you have to miss a game because of me. I mean, I don't want to get in the way of the team. You just beat Carolina. They need you against the Habs."

"You need me, too."

"Yeah, but I don't want to make you choose. You should never have to choose between me or hockey."

"It's not a choice. Nelly, it never was. If it came between you or hockey, it would be you every time."

My lungs stopped, but my heart pounded away. I could hear it in my ears, blocking out every other sound. Sid's lips were moving, but I couldn't hear a word. It wasn't supposed to be like this. Yes, I was touched. It was the perfect thing to say and just what I needed to hear even when he was mad at me, but it meant so much more to me because I knew he meant it. Regardless of how those words made me feel, I knew I couldn't let him do that. "No. Hockey first. As much as I want you with me, Sidney, I'll feel guilty every moment you're with me and not with the team."

"But I know this is hard on you. I can't let you go alone. I promised him to take care of you and to always look out for you." Sid paused and let that sink in before he continued. "They'll move Geno to the first line. I talked to Mario, it's fine." His face changed, and he went from sad and caring to upset again. The mention of the team owner and his teammate made him remember the point of our discussion. "I'm supposed to be mad at you."

I wanted him to be mad at me. I could handle that a lot better than I could handle his sympathy. "Why did Mario tell you? It was none of your business," I spat out, not meaning it but knowing it would provoke his ire.

"Of course it's my business! You think that just because it's your job that it doesn't affect me. Well, it does. Everything you decide affects me now!"

"How does my job affect you? Huh? Why are you turning this into The Sidney Crosby Show, where everything's about you?"

"We're together, and every part of you is a part of me, too." Wow, I had never thought of it like that. "When you work, where you work. It defines when I get to see you, if you can come to my games, and what mood you're in. It's a big deal to you, a big deal for you. So that automatically makes it a big deal to me, too."

"I'd always make time for you. You know that."

"If you took this job, you wouldn't have to make time for me. I'm not a fucking extracurricular activity. Why is it that I'm the one who is always the first to get serious when it comes to us?"

"Where is this coming from?" I asked, taken aback.

"Because I don't get it," he sighed, the anger once again ebbing. "I don't even understand what the problem is here. He said you were thinking about it. I don't understand why you're not pounding down Mario's door begging for the job. You can't tell me you're scared that you can't do it, because you've proven that you can. So I can only think that you don't want to take the job because you don't want to be closer to me."

My heart went out to him. It wasn't that at all. But if I tried to explain my hesitance, if I told him it was Evgeni, not him, who made me afraid to say yes, that wouldn't make him feel any better. I never knew he was this insecure and unaware about the way I felt about him. He must have been really worried that he had found competition in Geno, and now he thought that I would turn down Mario's offer because I didn't want to be nearer to him.

"Sid, it's not like that at all," I said, trying to put all my emotions in my voice so he would just know my sincerity. "I love you. You know that. Don't ever, ever question that. What sparked this?"

I grabbed his hand, and made him look at me. I looked into those deep, chocolate-brown eyes that were searching mine for something. Usually, he could see through me. Couldn't he see how I felt about him? Wasn't it obvious? I mean, ever since we met, it was like I was the last one to admit my feelings. Every one else around me could see how crazy I was for him.

He shook his head and didn't reply. So I continued. "I wasn't going to tell you about Mario's offer until I figured out whether or not I really wanted it. I mean, yes it's perfect, but I still had to think about it," I tried to say casually, once again avoiding the real reason. He didn't need to be hurt anymore right now. "But I thought about it, and I want it. I'm gonna talk to Mario when I get some time to breathe. And I was going to tell you, but to be honest I kind of have a lot going on right now."

"I thought you would have been so excited about it that you'd be bubbling over, impatient to tell me. When he first told me about it, I thought we could finally have it all. You'd be working in the city. And I thought that you could stay here full time, and we could start seeing more of each other on a regular basis. I hate that we've got to pencil each other into our schedules and calendars."

"I thought that you liked that I had my own life."

"I do. I did. I mean, yes. When I'm on a road trip, I like that you're working and hanging out with your friends and being busy. But when I'm home, I want to be around you as much as possible. And maybe that's me being greedy and selfish, but I can't help it. Spending every other weekend with you, and an occasional week night, that just doesn't cut it for me."

"So, if I say yes, will that turn your frown upside-down?"

The right side of his smile curled up a little. "I want you to take this job because you want it, not because I want it for you."

I shook my head. "I already told you I'm going to talk to Mario about it, that I'm going to take it. I meant, if I say yes to moving in with you."

A full smile bloomed on his face. "You want to?"

"If the offer still stands."

"You know it does."

I leaned into his chest and felt his arms around me. Could this have been any crazier? I still didn't understand why he second-guessed the way I felt about him. Maybe it's because he's Sidney Crosby, which makes it hard for him to know who really cares about him as a person rather than as the hockey star. I smiled to myself; what a pair we make. Sometimes, I wondered what he ever saw in me, and apparently he did, too.

We ate in peace, almost afraid to talk, and I got through about half of my lunch before I couldn't take another bite. Sid frowned when I pushed my plate away, but I didn't let him know that I had to force down what I had eaten. My appetite was nonexistent, but I did it for him, to get him to stop worrying and to get him off my back. We relaxed for a good bit of the afternoon before we had to get ready to leave.

Inside, I just wanted to cry. So much had happened in the past few days, I was just exhausted. I wasn't ready for what I had to do tonight, either. I didn't want to go. I know that my cowardice was evident, but it was hard to picture my grandfather lying in the cold coffin. When we walked into the parlor, Sid's hand found mine. His fingers tangled between mine and held them tightly. He never left my side. "Do you want to go see him?" he asked, bending down to speak in my ear.

I closed my eyes and shook my head quickly. "No. I don't want to see him like that. I don't want that to be my last memory of him."

"Okay," he said, squeezing my hand, as if telling me I could do it tomorrow.

But I couldn't do it on Wednesday either. Even with Sidney beside me, passing his strength to me through his closeness, I couldn't bear to see him. Everyone said it looked like he was sleeping, but I knew better. He wouldn't look the same; he wouldn't look like my Grandpa George. It was senseless to think so. He'd look cold, lifeless, sad, everything Grandpa wasn't.

This was so impersonal. There were so many relatives here that I had never met before, all from either Tennessee or Florida, and I hated the fakeness of having to be introduced to them under these circumstances. Why is it families only come together in times of death? So many of them were crying. I didn't doubt that they were upset, but they only visited rarely that I wondered how well they even knew him.

"I don't want this for me, when my time comes," I told Sid. "I don't want people forced into uncomfortable clothes and suits to look at my dead body. Grandpa wouldn't have wanted this, either. He was so happy-go-lucky when he wasn't so stern. He wouldn't want us to cry over him in this stuffy funeral parlor."

"Maybe not. But it gives people a sense of closure. It's for them, not for him."

"Closure? Looking at him in his casket is supposed to give me closure?"

"Maybe not for you, but for others. A chance to say goodbye. You should do it," he advised. "You'll regret not saying goodbye."

"Tomorrow," I told him, knowing it was my last chance. "I'll do it tomorrow."

"Do you want me to be here? As far as Mario knows, I'm not catching the flight."

"No. This is something I need to do for myself. I appreciate what you did for me—what you're doing—but you can't do it all for me. I need to do it on my own."

"Are you sure?" he asked one more time, to make sure I wouldn't require his presence.

"Yeah. I'm sure." I wasn't sure if I could do it on my own, but I knew that I had to try. Sidney was a great support, but I couldn't lean on him forever. It was time to cast aside my crutch and say goodbye, on my own.

78: Getting to the Truth

I laid on my back, staring up at the blank, dark ceiling above me. Sidney was stretched beside me, his right arm across my stomach. He was fast asleep, but I was wide awake.

He'd given me his all tonight and had exhausted himself in pleasuring me. I should have been tired, too, but I was too sick with worry. My stomach was in knots over the confusion and doubt and the thousand other emotions that flitted through my mind so quickly that I couldn't determine what they were.

Sid wanted to show me that he was the best thing to ever happen to me, but he didn't need to show me that. I knew it; it was obvious from the moment he made his feelings for me known. Hell, before then even. I loved him with every fiber, every molecule of my being, even though sometimes he pissed me off and made me miserable. It made no sense to me, but I was quickly learning that love, true love, had no basis in reason.

This was going to eat away at me until I resolved the issue, or at least attempted to. Gingerly and slowly, I slid out from underneath Sid's arm and slipped into his dress shirt, which was draped over the edge of the bed, before padding down the hallway, down the stairs, and into the living room. My phone was right where Sid threw it, snugly sitting between two cushions of the couch.

I needed to know. The implications were innumerable. Sid and Evgeni were friends, yes; more importantly, they were teammates. I needed to know because I couldn't possibly convince Sidney if I wasn't sure of the truth myself. And I couldn't keep lying to him, saying that there was nothing if there was indeed something. Every time I lied or skirted around the issue, I hated myself. I owed it to everyone to get to the bottom of this, to get to the truth, and figure out a solution, if need be.

I picked up the phone from its spot on the couch and sighed. Even though I was afraid of his potential answer, I knew what I had to do. Thumbing through the menu, I then typed a new message to Geno. Meet me tomorrow to talk?

Within a few seconds, I got a reply. It was two in the morning; Evgeni must have been awake, just like me. My house. Noon.

I didn't know how I was going to get away from Sid, but I knew that I had to. I'd figure something out after I got some sleep. I let the Russian know that I'd see him there, and then I deleted my sent and received messages—just in case Sidney got paranoid again and checked the messages on my phone. Afterward, I put the phone back where I found it and went back upstairs, to crawl back into Sid's arms and catch some z's.

* * * * *

Sidney and I woke up at about the same time in the morning. Usually, he was up and about way before me, so this was a pleasant surprise. He shifted and I sidled up against him, planting a kiss on his shoulder. "Mornin', stud," I bade him with a smile.

"Stud?" he laughed at me.

"Oh yeah. Top notch performance last night."

He wrapped his arms around me and pulled me fully against him, nuzzling my neck. "Good thing we have an off day today. I'm still tuckered out. But it was so worth it."

I didn't say anything. Maybe Sid had an off day, but mine was packed full of activity, none of which I was looking forward to. When he felt me tense instead of react the way he wanted me to, he said, "Oh shit, Nelly. I forgot. I'm sorry, the first viewing is today." I nodded, and he squeezed me again. "I'm such an ass. What time do we leave?"

"It's okay, things were crazy yesterday. Starts at six, so we should leave by four thirty," I told him. I looked at the clock. Eleven. "I'm gonna go ahead and shower. I was thinking, Spiced Island Tea House for lunch? I don't feel like going out, but I'll order and go pick it up. How does that sound?"

He shrugged, which was awkward as he was lying down. "Whatever you want. Put it on the card," he said.

"Okay. Go back to bed, stud. I'll get you up when I return with lunch. What do you want, by the way?"

"Whatever you had the last time. That was good."

I left the warm comfort of the bed and jumped in the shower. I moved quickly; I didn't know what I was going to say when I saw Geno, but I didn't want to think about. After dressing and drying my hair, I was out the door, leaving Sidney unsuspecting in bed.

I called in the order and headed straight for Evgeni's. His house was huge; I couldn't miss it. With a deep breath, I got out of my car and walked to the door. I both knocked and rang the bell. And waited. After a few minutes, he appeared at the door in blue basketball shorts and a gray tank top, hair wet and fresh out of the shower.

"You early," he tells me.

"Sorry, but that's when I could get away." I stood outside his door, waiting for him to invite me in. And he stood there looking at me, unsure of what to do. Finally, he waved me in and I stepped into his house. "So, I'm here to talk."

"Want something drink?"

"No, I'm fine—"

"Watch TV?" he asked, closing the door behind me and taking his long strides into the living room. He plopped on the couch and picked up the remote.

"No. Geno," I sighed. This was obviously uncomfortable for us both, but we had to get it over and done with. "You said we needed to talk, so please don't put this off."

"Fine. We talk."

As he turned to face me, my phone rang, blasting Salt-N-Pepa. It's almost like Sid was psychic, knowing what I was doing. "Hello?"

"Why didn't you tell me?"

Shit. How did he know? I began to panic. He had every right to be mad at me for being at Evgeni's and not telling him. Yes, he was being incredibly jealous and controlling, but I couldn't help but think I'd be the same way if I were in his shoes. Just the thought of Lynne and her skanky lips.... "Sidney, I—"

"I have to hear from Mario about the job he offered you? Why didn't you tell me?"

I let out a deep sigh of relief. Major crisis averted. "I'm sorry, Sid—"

"How could you not tell me?"

"If you'd stop interrupting me—"

"I can't help it! I'm so mad at you! You can't just keep something like this from me!" He was really yelling. I felt tears sting my eyes.

"I know, Sid, I said I'm sorry—"

"Saying 'sorry' isn't gonna cut it. Why wouldn't you tell me?"

"Will you stop yelling? Can we talk about it when I get back? You need time to cool off, anyway."

"I'm not going to cool off. Nelly, I'm so mad at you right now. We'll talk when you get back. So hurry."

He hung up on me. I was so confused; I didn't know why he was so mad at me. Well, I didn't think he'd be happy with me for "forgetting" to tell him about the position, but I didn't expect him to be that mad. But what was the sense in mentioning it to him until I had figured out whether or not I could even take it?

"Sid not happy with you?"

I looked down at the screen of my phone, which was flashing call ended. "No, he's not happy with me."

"What you do?"

That made me laugh. The side of his mouth rose, and he gave me that contagious half-smile. Geno always knew how to make me laugh. "Well, that's kind of why I'm here. Mario offered me a great job opportunity with the Penguins organization. I'd be doing the same kind of thing that I'm doing with you, working with the players whose first language isn't English, and helping with media relations. I really want this job, Geno. More than you could know. But I can't take it if I'm going to be sick to my stomach on the days I have to work with you. I'm not going to take this job if there are going to be days when I dread going into the office. So I we need to talk about what happened yesterday."

He nodded. "I tell you I break up Oksana. And you say silly."

"Right."

"And I say, not silly."

"Why isn't it silly?" I asked, afraid to hear his reply but needing to know. I felt like I had eaten a quarry full of rocks.

"Because. I be lucky if I have you. Sid? He have no idea how lucky he is. I tell you."

I shook my head. "I'm still confused."

"Why confused? Noelle, you say 'follow your heart.' I try. Oksana, she not a marrying girl. She fun, that all. Want girl like you. I know can't have you. But...."

I hated to hear him hesitate and coaxed him to continue. "But what?"

"You perfect hockey girl. You not get mad at Sid like Oksana get at me. You there for Sid like Oksana not for me. At games, cheering. I want that."

The rocks were gone, and my confusion cleared like a fog burning off under the morning sun. Clarity set in. I felt a little relieved. "You don't want me, Evgeni. You just don't want Oksana." He looked at me, confused, like he didn't see the difference. "You want a girlfriend who can go to your games and wear your number, and yell until she's hoarse. You want a girlfriend who supports you in your career and won't prevent you from growing as a player and a person. And that's not me. She's out there, somewhere. Don't worry, G. You'll find her."

"Yeah. I know. Still young. Have time." He rolled his eyes. "I hear all time. My mom say all time." Evgeni straightened up, and he wore a painful expression. "I not want like you, Noelle."

"You don't. You like the idea of someone like me, Geno. Not me," I assured him with a smile. "Are you going to be okay?"

"Dunno. I'm confused."

I smiled at him again. Just like he was there for me when Grandpa died, I was going to help him through this. "It's okay to be confused. You just broke up with your girlfriend. It's a hard thing to go through, no matter what the circumstances are. You just need some time."

With a nod, he asked, "So, you take job then? What happen to me?"

"Well, I guess I can tell Mario I'll take the position. Do you think you can handle working with me?" He nodded again. "Good. Well, that means I'll still be helping you, and you don't have to pay me."

"Best both worlds. That's what they say?"

I nodded with a chuckle. "The best of both worlds," I corrected him. "Okay, so I guess we talked, and I got my answer. You know you can call me if you need to talk. Now I have to go pick up lunch. And talk to Sid." Shit, I thought. This was not going to be fun.

He laughed and walked me out, but he still kind of hung back, tentative. "I hope Sid not mad. Maybe I not call you. He not look happy yesterday."

"He wasn't. And he really sounded angry on the phone. I hate when he's mad at me. I feel like I let him down."

"No. He love you. No worrying."

I thanked him and headed into Oakland to pick up lunch, and I paid with Sid's card like he told me to. When I left the restaurant, I worried that Sidney was stewing at home, waiting for me to return and ream me out for keeping Mario's offer from him. I'd apologize and tell him that he was right, that I shouldn't have kept this from him. But what was I going to tell him about why I didn't tell him? Because I certainly couldn't do an about-face and tell him that I was worried Geno liked me after I told him that there was nothing between us. The drive from Oakland wasn't long, but it was way too short to think of something.

77: Something to Prove

I met up with V, Kelsey, and Heather in the lounge after the win, the celebratory ambiance of the room was overwhelming. They all looked as relieved as I did, especially V and Heather, whose boyfriends were also worried about the Olympics. Things would get better after Christmas, when the guys would know if they had made the grade.

We all hugged, and I was swept up in the moment. All my troubles were gone; they had melted away in the heat of our excitement for the boys. We waited impatiently for them to join us, but things were crazy with their first win in a while, so it took longer than usual for them to finish with interviews, shower, and change.

When Sid came out, he was obviously elated. He did a little two step, singing lyrics to "Say Hey," which he sang to me all the time. "Rocking in the dance hall moving with you. Dancing in the night in the middle of June. My momma told me don’t lose you. Cause the best luck I had was you." He grabbed my hands and pulled me into his frame, dragging me away from the chair I had been sitting in.

"You're a goofball," I told him, grinning up at him like a fool. I couldn't remember the last time he had acted spontaneously like this. Between the stress and grind of the season and my own personal struggles, we hadn't done anything fun in weeks.

"You like it," he said with a wink, twirling me around and pulling me back against him. "Wanna go grab something to eat? I'm starving."

I shrugged. "I guess. You don't want to go out with the guys?"

"Nah. I figured you wouldn't be up for it, and I'd rather quietly savor this small victory. One win isn't indicative of a change. I'm happy about it, don't get me wrong, but I'll rest assured when we win the next game, too."

"Okay. Let me grab my things." He let go of my waist and my hand, and I walked back to the chair I had previously been occupying for my purse. Geno was there, waiting for me with my bag in his outstretched hand.

"We need talk."

"We need to talk," I said, automatically correcting him as I accepted my purse from him. Sidney instantly appeared beside me and wrapped his arm protectively around my shoulders and led me away. I glanced over my shoulder at Geno, who was now behind us, and he had a look on his face—a look I couldn't place.

"Don't look back at him," Sid growled, low enough that only I could hear him. His good mood vanished, and mine was starting to, too.

I opened my mouth to yell at him, to tell him that he couldn't boss me around, but I snapped it shut and kept my comments to myself. Even though Sid shouldn't be barking orders at me, I knew I shouldn't be encouraging Geno either. That I shouldn't be looking at him. Still, I didn't like the idea of Sidney being mad at Evgeni, so I said it anyway. "What's the problem?"

"I don't care what you say about what I walked in on. I know how he is around girls. I don't trust him." Here it was, coming out in the open. This is what he had been afraid to say earlier in the day.

"You don't trust him, or you don't trust me?" I asked earnestly. He could tell by the tone of my voice that I was serious, and he stopped our walk through the hallway and turned to look at me. "Honestly, Sid, I don't get what you're upset about. Even if you had a legitimate reason to worry about Geno, you have nothing to worry about with me. I'd never do something like that to you."

"So you're telling me that I didn't walk in on something I shouldn't have?"

"Yes. I mean, no! You worded that funny," I said with a laugh, trying to ease the tension. "I'm telling you that you're making something out of nothing." I hoped that I was right. I hoped I could convince myself of that.

That answer seemed to satisfy him, for now. We left the arena and headed out to the same 24-hour diner we had stopped at after one of the home preseason games. Sidney ordered some ridiculous amount of food, but when the waiter turned to me, I asked for only a decaf coffee and an oatmeal raisin cookie.

"That's all? You're not hungry?"

I shrugged. "Not really." As the server walked away, I regretted my decision and wanted the peanut butter cookie instead. Oh well. Raisins are good for you.

"Nelly, you've hardly eaten in the past two days. I'm worried about you."

"Sorry, but when I'm stressed out, I don't have much of an appetite. And I've had a lot on my plate lately." I snorted at my unintentional pun. Plate. Food. Ha.

"It's not funny."

"I thought it was."

He smirked at my attitude and my lighthearted banter. I didn't want to get serious. "Okay, you're so witty, I get it. But really, Nelly, I am worried about you. I know things have been bad for you lately, but I just want to make sure that you're taking care of yourself."

I smiled at him. "That's why I have you. Because you do such a good job of taking care of me."

Sidney reached over the table and took my hand. He didn't say anything else; instead, he just massaged my knuckles. I let out a sigh and tried to enjoy this moment, right now. Things change so quickly that I wanted to take this memory and keep it in a jar, like a firefly. So I could keep it for when I wanted it, when I needed it.

Our waiter brought our food, and I nibbled at my cookie as Sid inhaled his greasy cheeseburger and fries. It was surprising how he could eat, but I guess he expended a lot of energy on the ice. I drank my coffee and got the server to refill my mug, but I ate about half of the cookie. Sid raised his eyebrows at me, so I wrapped it in a napkin and shoved it in my bag. "I'll eat it later."

We began to pass the rest of the night in silence. Sidney was worried about me and didn't want to talk about anything else, and I wanted to talk about anything but. He finished his meal and we headed back to Sid's house. Even though I made to sure to order decaf, and I was wired and unable to sleep.

"Would you like to watch a movie?" I asked.

"Maybe," he said, sliding out of his jacket. "What do you have in mind?"

"I Love You, Man," I told him with a smile. I loved that movie, and while Sidney thought it was funny, he didn't quite understand my fascination with it. Especially when I called him Fife.

"Whatever," he said with an eye roll, but he wasn't going to turn me down. Not when I was smiling. Not after the horrible weekend I'd had.

I pulled the movie from the media console and loaded it into the DVD player. My phone beeped, and I pulled it from my pocket to see a text from Geno. We need talk. I shook my head and set my phone on the floor. I couldn't deal with him now, not with Sid here.

"Who was that?" he asked nonchalantly.

"No one," I dismissed. But of course, Sidney didn't believe me. I didn't know if this was another case of how he could see through me, or if he was being suspicious. He grabbed my phone before I could react and keep it from him. Stupid good reflexes.

"Why does Geno want to talk to you?" He was angry again.

"I don't know. Probably because he wants to make sure everything's okay because you're freaking out." I reached my hand out so he would give me phone back. Instead, Sid's thumbs began to fly over the numbers. "What are you doing?"

"I'm telling him that you guys have nothing to talk about."

"Sidney!" I yelled. "What is your problem? You're overreacting!"

His eyes flashed. "Am I?"

I felt the anger boil up within me as I kept screaming at him. "Yes! I told you! There's nothing going on! I'm your girlfriend, Sid. And even if I didn't want to be with you, then I wouldn't be here. I don't have anything to prove to you."

He looked at my phone in his hand and then at me. Regardless of what was going on with Evgeni, which I would have to figure out soon, Sid never should have imagined that I would cheat on him at all, especially with one of the boys. I was so furious with him, and I wanted to just reach out and hit him. As If I weren't going through enough already, he had to make things worse by... making things worse. I was so mad at him that I couldn't think straight.

He threw my phone on the couch and grabbed my face between his hands, crushing my lips with his. He kissed me until I felt like my lips were bruising and I almost forgot I was mad at him.

"You're mine," he finally said, breaking away.

I was weak at the knees and holding onto him for support. Sid turned me into mush. "What do you think I've been trying to tell you?" He leaned in for another kiss, but I stopped him. "You don't ever do that again. You don't get to act that way toward me."

"I'm not jealous," he explained. "But I don't like the idea of anyone trying to come between us. Not again. You are mine," he repeated, kissing me again and not taking "no" for an answer. The heat emanating from his body caused me to mold to his body as he pulled me against him, feeling his anticipation rise—and feeling something else rise, too. Sidney directed me upstairs as he took charge of our entertainment for the night.

He stripped me out of my jersey, and I reached for the buckle on his pants. Then he batted my hands away. "No. Tonight, I'm proving to you why I'm the best thing that ever happened to you."

Sid sure lived up to this words. He took his time undressing me, kissing every inch of bare flesh before separating my knees and placing his face between my legs. I grabbed onto the fitted sheet on the mattress, pulling it up and ruining his crisply made bed. Without anything else to hold onto, I put one hand in his hair, giving it a slight tug as my body tensed.

He was in complete control, setting the pace and making me follow, depriving himself of his own pleasure to ensure that tonight was more than my body could handle. Like he knew exactly how I would react, he moved with me, anticipated my movement and moved with me, never giving me a break. Soon, the lightest of his touches were enough to make my body quake.

I thought he was finished, but he didn't move from his position and I felt myself responding to his touch again. My body was turning against me, exhausted but always wanting more. My body was limp beneath his, and I was gasping for air. "Sidney..." I started, not sure what to say.

"The night's only beginning," he told me, kissing up my stomach. "Only beginning."

76: Mario's Propostion

Sidney and I rode to the Mellon in painful silence. He was grumpy. He was grumpy not only because he was concerned with getting a W for the team tonight, but also because his routine was ruined and he was going to be late. Additionally, I don't know if he was still brooding over the scene he had witnessed between Geno and me.

I was a wreck, too. I replayed that scene over and over again in my head, searching for clues to his meaning. "Why silly?" Why wasn't it silly? Geno couldn't possibly have any interest in me. It just didn't make sense. But then I thought about how he squeezed my hand. I didn't know why he did that. But I was the captain's girlfriend, so I was no doubt off-limits, not only because I was taken but also because of the unspoken rules of hockey players.

Right?

It had been so long since I'd had to deal with the uncertain guessing game of "Does he, does he not like me" that I wasn't sure how to read him or his actions. But he was Evgeni freakin' Malkin! No way Oksana's worries were founded in reality. I think the hockey gods were smoking crack when they made Sidney walk into my favorite restaurant that fateful night in July; now they were playing jokes on Geno, too. I still wasn't sure what Sidney saw in me; it just wasn't possible for two of the Pens to be interested in me. Just not possible.

Right?

What if, even though I know it's not true, but what if Geno maybe liked me just a little? I'd have to stop tutoring him. I didn't want a part in this. This wouldn't be my fault. But how could I explain it to Sid? He had tried so hard to encourage me to tutor Evgeni, that if I just suddenly gave it up, he's ask questions. Questions I couldn't answer without him reacting, and I wasn't sure how he'd react. Then again, this could all be nothing, just a figment of imagination.

Just another instance of how I had to overthink and overanalyze everything. Fuck me, why couldn't I push this out of my mind? Sid had a game and he needed me for support, so I didn't have the luxury of being able to retreat into my mind and mull this over until I was sick to my stomach, like I normally would do.

When Sidney and I arrived at the arena, I tugged on his arm so he'd face me. "Play well," I told him, standing on my toes to kiss him. He kissed me back, and it was hungry and possessive, like he was making sure I knew that I was his. Telling me through his kiss, you're mine. My stomach flip-flopped in response, and I had to push him away before I pulled him into the equipment closet to ravage him. He needed his energy for the game. That take-charge attitude got me feeling hot and bothered, every time.

Sid left for the dressing room, and even though I had hoped to avoid them, The Girlfriends approached me. I listened to them say how they had heard and how sorry they were, and I nodded and smiled even though I wanted to scream inside. The memory of my grandfather began to numb the tension in my chest caused by Evgeni; I wasn't sure which I preferred.

"Are you coming?" Véro asked, as the girls began to head toward their seats.

"No, I'm actually sitting up in the box tonight."

She looked at me with penetrating eyes. "Why?"

I shrugged in response. "I just wanna hide out. I don't feel like being put on display. If I don't smile every time Sid's skate touches the ice, someone's going to find something to say about it, and I just don't feel like dealing with it with everything else that's going on right now."

Véro accepted that answer. "I'll see you after the game, then."

I headed toward the entrances to the suites, eyes on the floor. If I didn't acknowledge anyone else, they wouldn't have to say anything to me. Childish, maybe, but effective. Apparently, if half the team is in the same building as you when you get the news that a relative passes away, the entire organization finds out.

The box was empty when I got there, and I was thankful for that. I plopped in one of the nice chairs, closed my eyes, and relived the past few days. Sid's anxiety over the losing streak and the Olympics. Grandpa George, who I still didn't really believe was gone except for the hollow sensation between my lungs where my heart should be. Now Evgeni and the maybe-crush, which I hoped was nothing and that I was just being stupid about it.

When it rains, it pours.

A hand on my shoulder startled me, and I realized I fell asleep in the box. "Mario! Oh, I'm so embarrassed," I mumbled, shaking my head and sitting up straight.

"Oh, don't worry about it. Sid told me you've been having a rough couple of days." I hoped Sid didn't tell him, but he didn't say anything about my grandfather, for which I was incredibly grateful. "It's good to see you again."

"You too," I told him. "How are Nathalie and the kids?" I asked, sounding ridiculous if I say so myself, like I was an old family friend.

"Fine," he chuckled, as if realizing my own perceived gaffe. "I have to admit, I was a little excited when Sid mentioned you would be sitting up here tonight. I have a proposition for you."

I raised my eyebrows. I should have been excited, but I couldn't help but wonder: what now?

"I've noticed an improvement in Geno's English as well as his attitude toward interviews. So, imagine my surprise when I find out it's all because of you." He smiled at me and I blushed. "You've done an amazing job with him."

I fumbled over my tongue as I thought about what I should say to that. An idea flashed through my mind as I wondered if he had really been that anxious to learn English after all. "Well, it's not a reflection on the teacher; it's a reflection on the student."

Mario showed me that million-dollar smile he was so famous for. "I expected a modest comment like that from you. But as impressed as I am with Geno, I am moreso with you. He dreaded interviews, and I know that this is all because of you. I think that a lot of guys on the team would benefit from some coaching with the media, and especially the guys whose first language isn't English. Which is why I thought you'd might like to join the organization."

"Excuse me?" Pinch me—I'm dreaming. A position with the fucking Pittsburgh Penguins?

"Director of Player Media Relations? It's a working title, but the longer the name, the more important it seems, non?"

"I'm sorry, Mario, but I still don't think I quite understand. So you basically want me to do what I do with Evgeni for the whole team?"

He shrugged. "Well, players like Sid have undergone extensive prep, but guys who need help with learning English and gaining competency for interviews, yes. Especially new guys who will be coming up through the system, like Simon Després. They have some working knowledge of the language, but I think working with someone like you will give them more confidence. Hell, even Max needs some help with learning what he shouldn't say on camera."

I nodded. Wow. This sounded... perfect. My dream job. I loved the whole thing I had going on with Geno. That came out wrong; that's not what I meant. I loved teaching English to him and helping him prepare for potential interviews, and this was just an expanded opportunity. It combined my love of words with my love of hockey. Except if I had to keep teaching him, because I couldn't work one-on-one with Geno anymore. Fuck. Fuckfuckfuck. I wanted this job, but I couldn't take it if it meant seeing Evgeni on a regular basis.

Mario noticed my hesitance and spoke up before I could reluctantly turn him down. "You don't have to accept now. Take some to think about it, and get back to me." He handed me a business card. Never in a million, billion years did I ever expect Mario Lemieux's business card, with his personal phone number on it. What world was I living in? "We'd need time to set everything set up for you anyway. I just wanted to see how receptive you were to the idea."

Nathalie walked in and so did a few other people, some of whom I recognized and some I didn't. I gave a slight nod to Mario to let him know I'd consider it, folding the card and shoving it in my pocket. As if I didn't have enough on my mind already.

This should have been a no-brainer. I should have been jumping up and down, hugging Mario ferociously and thanking him from the bottom of my heart. Instead, I was mulling it over, leaning toward telling Mario "no," that I couldn't take the position.

I wondered if Sid knew about this. If he knew and I turned this down, he'd ask countless questions about why I didn't accept it. What was I supposed to tell him? That I was afraid of spending time alone with Evgeni? Afraid of what he might say next? No, I couldn't tell Sidney.

The game against the Carolina Hurricanes began, and I wondered if I could play the Staal Brothers Drinking Game in the box. It was mighty tempting, but I knew that even though I was hiding in Mario's box, I was still under the microscope and had to keep up appearances. I kept that fake smile plastered on my face as the Canes skated out to take the opening face-off. Eric Staal sailed to center ice, and Bylsma sent Jordan out against him. Yes, this would certainly be the first shot of the night.

Soon, the smile that I had been faking morphed into a genuine grin. Crosby and Talbot, my two favorite guys, bested Cam Ward and took a two-goal lead in the first period. My worries melted away as the emotions of the fans became my own. By the end of the game, the score was four to one in favor of the Pens, and I was out of my seat and going hoarse from screaming. The losing streak was over; as happy as I was for the team, I was overwhelmed for Sidney. I laughed to myself, thinking that I was becoming the girl who cheered for a player and not the team. My allegiance was shifting to my boyfriend. Then again, who would blame me. He'd be in a good mood, and I really needed that from him today. Sid had done his best to keep his chin up for me, because of everything I had been going through, even though that meant he was wearing a mask. Tonight, that would change.

75: Distract Me

Poor Sidney.

If he thought putting up with me when I was PMSing was bad, it was nothing compared to how I grieved. I was in a thousand different places at once. I wanted him near me; I wanted to be alone. I wanted to cry and be miserable; I wanted to relive the wonderful memories and enjoy them. I wanted to talk about my grandfather; I wanted to pretend like nothing was wrong.

Through every mood swing and every change of heart, Sid did his best to accommodate me and do what he thought I wanted him to. He left me alone when I pushed him away, but then he held me when the tears spouted forth. Sidney was simply amazing throughout it all, and I definitely felt like I didn't deserve him. I felt horrible that I was putting him through all this, but it's not like I could automatically stop and make things go back to normal.

This was only Day Two of the grieving process. I wished that I knew how long this would take and when I could expect to stop hurting. I knew I couldn't press a button or flip a switch and have things be hunky-dory again, but I just hoped for some sort of distraction to get my mind off the matter. Something. Anything.

As much as Sidney was afraid to leave me at home alone, he knew he had to go to the morning skate on Monday. "Do you want to come with me to the skate around?" he asked.

"No," I replied, plopping down on the couch and tucking my legs under me. "I don't feel like leaving."

"Oh. Are you still going to come to my game?"

I looked up at Sid. Honestly, I wasn't sure if I wanted to attend the night's game against Carolina. I didn't feel like putting forth the effort of showering, getting dressed, having to put on a happy face, and seeing everyone, only to have to hear them say how sorry they were for me. Those looks that they would give me; they wouldn't do me a bit of good. But the look that Sid was giving me now told me that I should probably come along. This could be my welcome distraction. "Sure."

He smiled and leaned down to kiss my cheek. "I'm glad to hear it. I mean, I know this is tough for you, but I'm glad that you're going to be there."

"Would it be okay if I sat up in the box today?" I called after him as he was headed for the door. "I don't want to be around the girls. They're going to feel bad for me, and then probably not talk all night because they'll be afraid of what to say."

"Sure. I'll talk to Mario."

"He doesn't know, does he? I mean, please don't tell him. I can just do without the pity."

Sid walked back and kissed me again, and I worried he would be late. "Is it so wrong that they just want to express their sympathy?"

"Yes," I sighed. "I know that they're sorry. I know that they feel bad. They're my friends, so I know all that. But I don't want them to act differently around me. That's what's going to make me feel worse."

"All right. I'll clear it with Mario, but it shouldn't be a problem. I love you," he said, this time leaving for real.

I wanted to yell out to him that I loved him, too, but the words caught in my throat. I knew that everyone felt sorry for me, but they would just pussyfoot around the issue. At least with Sid, he knew when to push me and when to let things slide. I couldn't have made it through without him. And he had at least met my grandfather; he knew this was difficult. But he also knew I needed tough love, not wimpy pats on the shoulders and "I'm sorry to hear about your grandfather"s.

I did my best to go about the day as normally as I could manage. It was a game day, so I needed to shower and dress, cook Sid's pregame meal. At least that would keep me busy enough during the morning and early afternoon that mind would preoccupied. So that's what I did. I had to remember that I wasn't the only one in this house dealing with some issues. The Pens were still losing, and Sidney was still torn between playing his best to get on the Olympic team and doing what was best for the team to get them out of their slump. In a few weeks, though, the final selections would be made and Sid would know for sure—although there was never any doubt in my mind—if he was playing for Team Canada come February.

"You do know that you don't have to this, right?" Sid asked as he woke up from his pregame nap and began to raid the kitchen for his snack. I was busying myself with laundry and ironing his dress shirt for the night's game.

"Yeah. But it's good for me to do something. Idle hands lead to a wandering mind," I explained. I held up his shirt and realized that I was probably ironing in more wrinkles than I was effectively taking out. This was not my strong suit.

Sidney took the iron from my hand before I could do any more damage and began to smooth out his own shirt. The doorbell rang, and I answered the door while Sid worked.

"Geno, what are you doing here?" I asked, thoroughly perplexed to see him on the porch.

"You teach me today?" he questioned back, his eyebrows raising with his voice.

"Oh shit," I mumbled quietly. Evgeni let out a loud "Huh?" to let me know that he didn't catch my remark, but I ignored it. "Okay, come on in." I waved my hand to encourage his entrance, even though I was mad at myself for forgetting. Sure, I had a lot on my mind, but I remembered to call off work for the week, so I should have remembered to cancel with Geno, too.

When Sid saw Geno, he said, "Hey man, what are you doing here?"

Evgeni held up the dictionary in his hands and said, "Learning."

Sidney scrunched up his face and looked at me, pushing the issue further. "But it's Monday, and a game day. Did you schedule this?"

I shrugged. "I must have."

"If you want me leave..." Geno started to stay, encouraged by the look on Sid's face which told me that he thought I was trying to get back into the swing of things too quickly.

"No, Ev, I don't mind. Just bear with me if I appear... unprepared," I explained. Sidney shook his head but didn't contradict me.

I really was unprepared. I guess I didn't remember agreeing to tutor Evgeni today, because I had nothing new planned. We ended up spending the first fifteen minutes of our hour-long session reviewing questions we had gone over previously.

"What do you think the team needs to improve on to start winning games again?" I quizzed. It almost seemed ironic that I chastised Sid for his automatic responses when I was starting to teach them to Geno.

"We need play consistent. Put puck on net. Be aggressive. Shift momentum our favor—"

"You mean to say, shift momentum in our favor," I corrected.

He nodded and repeated that phrase to himself a few times with his eyes closed, trying to brand it into his memory. Sid stepped into the kitchen, kissed my right cheek, and told us that he'd see us at the rink later.

When the door closed behind Sidney as he headed to his Range Rover, Geno lowered his voice. Which didn't make sense, because now we were the only ones in the house. "I have two secrets."

I smiled at him. "Are you going to tell me what they are?"

He nodded. "Yeah. First one. I surprise you today. You not tutor me today. I just come over."

"Well, that explains why I'm so confused. Why did you come over?"

"I sorry you sad. I want to, uh, cheer you up."

"Oh, that's really nice of you, G. I appreciate that. Yeah, you definitely made me feel a little bit better," I admitted, flashing him a genuine smile that had been buried all day. I grabbed his hand and squeezed it to let him know that I truly did appreciate his gesture. Not only did tutoring him distract my mind, but he was so fun to be around that I almost forgot all about it. "What's your other secret?"

"I break up Oksana."

I was startled by this bit of information. "What? Geno, why?"

He shrugged. "You right. You say, 'follow your heart.' And I did."

"But you didn't say anything to me last week about this. I thought things were fine. What changed?"

"I not tell you. I not tell no one."

"You mean, you didn't tell any one. No double negatives," I corrected.

Evgeni laughed at me. "Here I am, have serious conversation. And you still correcting me."

I blushed a little. "Yeah, and I'm not even supposed to be tutoring you today. But I am trying to be serious here. What made you change your mind? And none of the guys know?"

He shook his head. "I not tell any one," he repeated, halfway correcting himself. "I no want anyone to know. I see... I see how V look Flower. And I see how you look Sid. Oksana? She never look me like that. And she get mad I learn English. She really mad you teach me."

"But you have to learn proper English. She should understand that."

"No, not so mad that I learn. She mad you teach me."

"Me?" I shook my head. "I don't get it."

"She jealous, I think."

"That's so ridiculous," I muttered. "She knows I'm with Sidney."

Geno nodded. "Yeah, she know. But she still not trust me. She say...."

"What? What does she say, Evgeni?"

He let out a deep breath. "She say I like you."

I laughed. "Well that's just silly."

"Why silly?"

"First off, I'm with Sid. And second, I'm not nearly as pretty as she is. I mean, why have a cheeseburger when you can have filet mignon?"

Cocking his head to the side, he said, "I don't understand."

"I'm just saying that it wouldn't make any sense for you to like me, so Oksana is blowing things out of proportion."

So many things happened at once that I think if I had blinked, I would have missed it all. I felt Geno's fingers squeeze my hand, and I realized that when I had reached out to touch him, I had never let go. Was he trying to tell me something—something that I didn't want to hear? I blushed fiercely and pulled my hand away, but not before I noticed that Sid had come back into the kitchen, mumbling about forgetting his phone and throwing his routine off. He stopped in his tracks; I wasn't sure if he had seen that or not, but something in his eyes told me that he suspected something as he looked at me, and then Evgeni, and then at me again.

"Sidney!" I exclaimed, my shock from Geno's gesture and Sid's surprise return escaping through my voice. "You came back!"

"I didn't even get out of the driveway before I realized I forgot something."

"Oh, well, Geno and I are done for the day, so do you mind if I ride to the Mellon with you?"

"You're done already?" Sid asked, still looking between the two of us.

"Yes. Aren't we, G?" I questioned, flashing a look at Evgeni that let him know he'd better agree with me, or else.

"Yeah. Done," he said, standing up and gathering his book. "See you at rink."

As Geno left, Sid focused his attention on me. "Okay, so what was that all about?"

"What was what about?" I innocently tried to brush it off.

"I don't know, whatever it is I walked in on."

"You didn't walk in on anything," I tried to assure Sid, but not sure if I could be so sure of that. I racked my brain to explain this away. "We were comforting each other."

Sidney raised an eyebrow at me, and I hated that he could see through me. "You were comforting him?"

"Partly. He broke up with Oksana."

He snorted. "It's about time."

"That's a shit thing to say, Sidney. He's torn up about it."

"No he isn't. We all told him that she wasn't good for him, and it's not like he was faithful to her anyway."

"He cheated on her?"

Sid looked at me like I was a five-year-old, and I should have known better. "You're really naïve. Of course he did. She lives in Russia."

"Wow, you're so nonchalant about this. Is this something I need to be worried about, too? That you'll cheat on me when you're away?"

"No, of course not," he said, stumbling over his words.

"Well, you make it sound like all hockey players cheat on their girlfriends."

"Not all. Just... some," he continued, digging himself into a bigger hole. Sid ran his head through his hair, signaling his distress.

"Whatever," I said dismissively. "I get what you're trying to say, even though you're doing a horrible job of it. He was upset about it, even if you don't understand why."

Sid looked like he wanted to press the issue and say something else, something important. Instead, he changed the subject. "We'd better get going. I've already screwed up my routine, and now we're going to be late."

I nodded and followed him out to his Range Rover, cursing myself the entire time. I wanted a distraction; I practically begged for it. And I got it, in the form of a tall Russian. Sid interrupted us before I got to the bottom of the situation, and now this was going to eat at my nerves until I figured out what exactly was going on in that crazy Ruski's head. Add that to the excitement of the game and the stress of needing a win tonight, and I was up to my ears in distraction.

74: Learn to Deal

I'm sorry it had to happen. But I won't apologize for making you cry, if you did, or for making you sad. It's rewarding to know you've grown attached to the characters and that I can pull on your heartstrings. It means I'm doing my job and doing it well. So, thanks again everyone.



When Sid pulled into my driveway at home, I asked him to come in with me. "I know that this is going to be incredibly awkward for you, but I'm begging you. I need you. I need your strength, because I can't do this alone."

"I'm here for you. Whatever you need."

My family had all congregated at my parents' house. The composure I had slowly regained in the car ride here sublimely evaporated as I saw the absolute devastation on my grandmother's face. She had lost her husband, her love. I thought about the way I felt when I thought Sid and I were over, and I knew that those feelings were just a tiny iota of what she was going through now. After all they had been through together: over fifty years of marriage, two children after a painful miscarriage, a difficult stint in the hospital with lung cancer, lost jobs, moves, retirement....

I hugged everyone and exchanged condolences, but other than that, I wasn't sure how to help anyone. So I excused myself from the living room and made myself useful by starting a pot of coffee and steeping some tea. Sidney joined me in the kitchen. "Is there anything I can help you with?" he asked.

"You can get the sugar out of the cupboard," I said, pointing.

He did as I asked—Sidney was so amazing like that, to act unquestioningly when I need him to—and I sat up on the kitchen counter while I waited for everything to brew. Sid set the sugar on the counter and stepped in front of me. "Is there anything I can do for you? I don't know what to do."

I grabbed his hands and pulled them up to my face, kissing them and pressing them against my cheek. "I love you."

"I love you, too, Nelly."

"I just need you near me. It's like, this whole thing hasn't sunk in yet. I'm sad, but it's like I'm only upset because I know I should be. Like the weight of the situation hasn't sunk in yet. Does that make sense?"

He shrugged. "No one grieves the same way. And there is no right way."

With a nod, I added, "I'm glad you got to meet him. I know you didn't really get to know him, because you only spent a couple of hours with him, but I feel so much better you two talked, and that I know that he liked you."

Sidney looked down at his feet for a few moments, and when he looked back up at me, I noticed his eyes were wet. "You're right, I didn't spend a lot of time with him, but I didn't need to. We both have your best interests at heart, and he made me promise to take care of you, to always look out for you. And I swore to him that I would."

I felt a tear slide from my eye. Sidney had told me that they had reached an understanding, and I guess that was Grandpa's way of assuring that Sid was more than just a casual man in my life.

He continued, "He told me that he wasn't joking when he asked when I was planning on proposing, because he said he could see it in my eyes that I was going to. And I told him that it was your time line we were going by, not mine. Because there are some things I can push you into, and some things I can't. And he told me," he let out a deep breath, "not to let you lollygag too long, because he wanted to be there to see us get married—"

"Stop!" I cried. I couldn't hear anymore. I couldn't listen to Sid talk about my grandfather, least of all how he was talking about me. The tears burned like acid in my eyes, and I sobbed until my chest ached from the spasms. Grandpa wasn't going to be there; not because I waited too long, but because he left me too soon. It wasn't fair, it just wasn't fair. Sid let me lean against him, and he tangled a hand in my hair because he knew that always eased my anxiety. "Why did this have to happen?"

"It's not like he did this on purpose, Nelly," he said, lightly scratching my scalp.

"I know that," I barked back. "But... he was so healthy, and this just wasn't supposed to happen. Not yet. Not now. I almost wish you didn't tell me that."

"I'm sorry, I didn't think—"

"No, that's totally Grandpa. Totally something he would say," I told him with a smile that quickly faded away. "But it was almost... portentous. Like he knew. And now, he won't be here for anything."

His other hand snaked around to my back, and he didn't say anything else. I heard the coffee pot as it finished percolating, and I nudged Sid to get him to step away so I could slide off the counter. I needed to busy myself. I poured a couple mugs of the hot brew and took them into the living room, and then I did the same with the tea. All the seats were taken, so Sidney and I took the floor, and I rested against the comfort of Sid's chest.

I didn't have the strength to talk, but I listened to everyone else. My grandmother let us know that everything was already taken care of; ten years ago, they had each made their arrangements and bought their plots, etcetera. Aunt Linda had contacted the funeral parlor, and arranged for viewings on Tuesday and Wednesday, with the funeral itself taking place on Thursday. That seemed so far away, but the rest of our family has to travel up from Tennessee and Florida.

On Sunday evening, there wasn't much for any of us to do, except grieve and talk about Grandpa George. I didn't want to do either of those things. I just didn't want to sit there and think about him, because it felt like a waste. It's not that I didn't want to remember the good times, but I knew that reflecting on them wasn't going to bring him back, and it was too soon to look back on the memories fondly. Every time I pictured his face or relived a memory, my heart would twinge. I didn't want to remember. I didn't want to think.

After I collected some empty mugs with the intention of refilling them, I begged Sidney to take me back to his place. We stood in the kitchen and I implored him to get me out of this house. "I can't stay here. I can't hear one more thing about him. I just can't. Please."

"You wanted to come here, and now you just want leave again? Running away from it doesn't help. You should be with your family."

"I'm not running away, I just can't be here."

"You are running, just like you always do. You should be here. They need you."

I felt the tears begin to well up again, but I blinked quickly to suppress them. "There's nothing to do. I feel so useless, so helpless, and there's nothing I can do to ease the pain for anyone in the other room. I need to get out of here. And if that's running away, then that's what I want to do."

"You can't keep doing this. The problem doesn't go away just because you leave."

"I know it doesn't go away. I just don't want to think about it. I don't want to think about him. I just hurts too bad."

He nodded, and I refilled everyone's mugs and took them into the living room. Quietly, I tried to explain it to my mother. "Um, Sid and I are going to go...."

"No, you're not," she said back. "You should be here."

"I can't, Mom. Please don't make a big deal out of this."

"Fine. But I expect you at the viewings and the funeral."

"Of course I'll be there," I said, giving her a hug. I walked away and hugged my grandmother, and I hoped that she would understand why I just couldn't stay.

"If you need anything, Grandma, just let me know."

"It's okay, dear. This is hard on all of us." She pulled away and patted my arm. "Cherish him, Noelle," she added, and it took all of my strength to not burst into tears. I nodded, knowing I would cherish Sidney forever, and made my way out of the room and out to Sidney's Range Rover.

The car ride back into Pittsburgh was just as silent. I thought about what I needed to. I had some vacation time, so I planned on taking off work the entire week. No one close to me had died before, so I was unsure of how to deal with everything that was swirling around in my head.

By the time we got back to Sid's, I was sick of having to think about everything, so I did the only thing I could think of to get my mind out of the dark clouds. I reached out for Sidney. He enveloped me in his arms in a big comfortable hug, but that's not what I needed. I slid my hands under his shirt to his warm abs and nibbled on his neck.

"Nelly, what are you doing?"

"You should know," I teased. "It's not like you're a stranger to this."

"I know what you're doing. That's not what I asked. Do you think this is appropriate?"

I scratched my nails across his muscles. "I don't care about what's appropriate."

"You're upset. Do you want to go lie down or something? I'll make some tea, or fix dinner."

"No. That's not what I want. I want you. And I'd appreciate it if you obliged me." I pushed his jacket over his shoulders and then tried to pull his tee shirt over his head, but I was too short and it didn't work.

He stopped my progress of undressing him. "Nelly—"

"Oh, shut the fuck up, Sidney," I moaned. He looked back at me with shock in his eyes, not expecting an outburst like that from me. Not under the present circumstances. "I don't need you to psychoanalyze me right now. I need you to fuck my brains out."

I even surprised myself when I said that; that was the last thing I had expected to come out of my mouth. Sid looked back at me, and I didn't know how he was going to respond to me. I should have tried to explain to him that I wanted to feel close to him, to feel love, in order to counter the despair pooling inside of me. That his touch was what was saving me from turning inward into myself and bawling my eyes. Instead, I grabbed a hold of him and slammed my lips against his, hoping that he'd stop fighting me. Despite his reservations, he did exactly what I needed him to do.