83: Take It/Take It Back

The rest of Christmas day passed by smoothly. I gave Sid the present I had bought for him, even though it was nothing compared to what he had gotten for me.

"I'm really embarrassed," I told him.

"It's okay," he assured me.

"No, I mean, I just did it because I thought it would be funny and cute, but you outdid yourself, and now...." I bit the inside of my cheek.

"Nelly, it's okay. I'm sure I'll like it regardless."

I knew that he was just going to laugh, or worse, roll his eyes, but I handed over the box and closed my eyes. I didn't need to see his reaction to his lame-ass present. He was laughing. I knew he'd think it was stupid. "I just thought—"

"I love it, Nelly," he said, pulling the tie out of the box, wrapping it around his neck, and beginning to tie it. As he finished, I reached out and straightened it. "Did you have to get it specially made?"

It was a simple design, a plain black tie with white Reebok symbols patterned in diagonal rows. "Yeah. Believe it or not, but Reebok isn't in formalwear yet. And I just realized that the only time you don't wear Reebok is when you're in a suit before or after the game. It was a silly idea."

"I think it's hilarious," he said with a kiss.

"I know, but..." I tried to vocalize how stupid I felt at that moment, especially when the arm of mine that was outstretched in his direction sparkled with gems and precious metal.

"You're thinking about it too much," he assured me.

I nodded and pushed the thought out of my mind. It's not like I had a lot of time to ruminate on it anyway. Grandma Forbes and Grandma Crosby showed up shortly after I changed into my new sweater, and I did my best to not be awkward. I wasn't sure what to say to them. Catherine didn't watch hockey, because she was too worried to see Sid get hurt, and I hated that line of thinking. I didn't want him to get injured either, but if I let myself worry all the time, I'd never want to see him play. I loved hockey too much to not let Sid play, and I loved Sid too much to want to stop him from doing what he loved.

So instead I tried to talk about something else, but I wasn't sure what common ground I had with these women besides Sid. It wasn't like we didn't get along, because we probably would, but we just couldn't get a conversation going. After what felt like an eternity, Sidney saved me and asked if I wanted to step outside for some air.

"You looked a little overwhelmed," he told me as we tromped around in the fresh, white snow.

"I like your family, it's just a little much to take in all at once."

He laughed, knowing exactly how I felt because of his experience at Thanksgiving with my relatives. "It's not that bad."

"No, I'm just really worried about making a good impression. I want them all to like me."

"No one's not liked you yet, have they?" he asked. I gave him a funny look for his choice of words. "Shut up, you know what I mean."

While he wasn't looking, I dug up some snow and packed it into a snow ball, pelting him in the shoulder while his back was turned. It was a rematch of our water balloon fight as we frantically gathered snow in our hands to throw at each other. I squealed as he charged at me and dumped snow down the back of my shirt. "Not fair!" I cried. "You're playing dirty!"

He scooped me up in his arms, and I grabbed a hold of him, afraid he would drop me. "Since when have you known me to take it easy on you?"

"Put me down, Crosby. Put. Me. Down!"

"As you wish," he whispered, and I laughed at his The Princess Bride reference. He was such a dork. Next thing I knew, I was on my back in a snow bank, Sid stretched out above me. "What do you say we heat things up and make some of the snow melt?"

I giggled as he kissed my neck. "The snow's already melting, and I'm getting all wet."

"Just what I like to hear," he growled, continuing his oral assault on my flesh.

"That's not what I meant," I laughed, pushing him off me. He offered me his hands, and I accepted them so he could pull me to my feet. The seat of my jeans was soggy, and the rest of my clothes were at Sid's home, not his parents'.

Trina appeared at the back door. "What have you kids been up to? Noelle, you're drenched," she said with a chuckle. My hair was wet and stringy from his snowy assault, and I knew that I had to look downright disgusting, not unlike a drowned rat. "Sidney, how do you manage to soak her every time I leave you guys alone?"

"What do you want to bet she tells me to give you some dry clothes?" he whispered throatily in my ear.

"Get her out of those wet clothes, Sidney, and give her something warm to wear," she called before turning around and heading back into the house.

"I told you," he said, nipping my neck again.

"You're too much," I laughed.

"No, I'm just enough," he retorted, leading me back into the house. We kicked off our wet shoes, shrugged out of our soaked jackets, and raced each other up to his room. I shimmied out of my drenched jeans and slid into a pair of his old track pants before he could touch my bare skin. If I let him touch me, we really would break in his childhood bed.

"Sid, no," I giggled. "It's Christmas. Can't you wait until we get back to your place?"

"Why?" he laughed.

"Don't you ever turn off? I mean, honestly," I teased.

"Who are you, and what have you done with my Nelly? She'd never ask a question like that. She never turns off either," he joked back.

"Sid! Noelle! Dinner!" I heard Taylor calling us from the bottom of the stairs.

"Looks like our presence is being requested," I said, batting his hands away.

"Five minutes," he whispered.

"More like thirty seconds," I quipped, giving him a wink and rushing past him.

"I'll make you pay for that," he called after me.

"That's what I was hoping for," I yelled, already down the stairs and heading toward the kitchen.

* * * * *

The rest of our mini-vacation was as equally delightful as Christmas morning. On Boxing Day, we went to Taylor's game with faces painted in the team's colors. She was slightly embarrassed by the way we cheered crazily for every one of her saves, but I knew that she loved having her big brother there to support her. I met some of Sid's hometown friends, too, like Andrew. He told me a couple of stories about Sid from his youth which embarrassed him, like when the team decided to bleach their hair for the playoffs since they couldn't grow beards yet. We both quipped at the same time, "It's not like he can grow one now, either."

The time just passed by too quickly. We were having so much fun, and I enjoyed the break that we deserved. All the stress melted away as soon as we crossed the border to Sid's motherland. On our way home—to my home country—the nerves and anxiety returned as reality set back in. I still had the move to think about, as well as knowing I had a week before my new job would begin.

"Can't we just turn around and go back to Canada?" I asked him, as our plane began its descent into Pittsburgh International Airport.

"We'll go back," he whispered. "There's the Olympics," he added, happy with the knowledge that he had made the team.

I knew that wasn't going to happen. First of all, the Olympics would be a stressful time for him. It wouldn't be a vacation. And second, how could I take time off from my new job with the Pens to relax in Vancouver for a couple weeks? I'd never ask that of Mario. This job was too good to be true on its own; I couldn't expect more.

Instead of differing, I smiled at him and looked back out the window as the plane touched down. I sadly went through the motions of waiting for our bag, following Sid out to the car waiting for us, and riding silently back to Sid's house. He had a game tonight, and then we were going to try to move all my stuff on Monday before their road trip.

As our ride pulled into the driveway, I wondered who was at Sid's waiting for us. I saw his Range Rover, and I saw my Dodge Neon, but there was another car in the driveway, a blue Jeep Cherokee. Squinting, I read the license plate. It was one of those stupid vanity plates. CRSBYGRL? Who in their right mind would get that....?

Sidney was grinning like a butcher's dog. "Please tell me you didn't," I begged, looking at him.

"I could. But then I'd be lying."

I pulled on the door handle and shouldered the door, opening it and running up to the side of the Jeep. Sid wanted me to be excited; I wanted to be mad. I didn't know what I was, because I was too steeped in disbelief to fully comprehend. He didn't, did he?

My question was answered when he dangled a set of keys out in front of him. Yes, yes he definitely did. I hesitated. "Okay, I know what you're thinking. Too much. And you're right, kind of. But, I told you that one present was something you need. And you need a new car. It's bad enough that every time you start that piece of crap, you never know if it'll turn over. It's a guessing game. And the roads in Pittsburgh are bad. You know the city never salts, and I'd feel a lot better if you were driving a four-wheel drive vehicle. So I'd know you're safe."

There he was, trying to take care of me again. I was flattered, for sure, but I couldn't stifle the feeling that he was doing this to change me. Like what I had chosen for myself wasn't good enough, and the fact that he couldn't respect it was belittling. But then I looked at the beautiful blue SUV. My car was dying a slow, painful death, and it was only a matter of time before she took her last breath. Cherry—what I would name this beauty if I kept her—was bright and shiny and new, and she whispered promises to let me drive her wherever I wanted without the fear of breaking down.

I didn't know what to do. Should I take it? Should I tell him no, to take it back?

"Before you answer, I wanna let you know that the car is fully in your name. Whether you want it or not, your name is on the title. Well, except for the fact that it's my name on the plate," he chuckled. "But you're in charge of the insurance for it. I think of it like a business investment. You know, one with long-term returns. I'm investing in your safety, seeing as though I want you around for a long to come. I'm doing this more for me than I am for you. So, what do you think?"

82: Christmas in Cole Harbour

I was anxious and nervous and excited, and probably a million other things, too. Because of the way the holidays fell this year and when I had handed in my two week's notice to my now former boss, that hell was behind me and I was currently "between jobs."

It was the day before Christmas Eve, and I was in the stands, cheering on my boyfriend as they were tied with the Sens. I was in my jeans and Crosby jersey, topped off with a red Santa Claus hat. During the stoppages of play, tidings of holiday wishes were displayed on the jumbo-tron. It was adorable to see some of the guys with their families. I wondered if someday, that would be me and Sid. Oh shit, Noelle, don't start thinking like that now! Something about the holidays always left me feeling joyful and jolly. Thank God none of the guys started singing Christmas songs with my name in it... that always ruins my holiday spirit.

The girls and I talked about our various plans for the next few days, but we all were going to Canada. Véro and Marc-André were going back to Sorel; Heather and Jordan were heading up to Thunder Bay; and Tyler and Kelsey were going to Sault Ste. Marie. "Sometimes, the guys don't get this much of an extended break," Heather explained. "It's really nice that they get the time to go home for Christmas."

I didn't realize that the holidays would be so hard for the guys. I mean, even if they didn't have the time to make it home, surely their families could come out and join them. But then I thought about the Staals. The holidays must be hard for them. And even for "normal" families too, with work schedules and traditions. No wonder Trina was so excited for Christmas this year.

The game went into overtime, and Guerin got the game-winning goal. The guys tried to hurry through their interviews; everyone was anxious to get out of the arena and go home, wherever that may be, and gear up for the holiday.

Sid and I met in the lounge, and he practically dislocated my shoulder as he tugged on my arm to leave. "Ouch! What's the deal? Canada will still be there. It's not like they turn people away from the border at midnight."

"I know, I'm just so excited. I get to show you my home. I kinda feel like there's this whole side of me you don't get to see, and now you finally will."

"You mean the Canadian side? I see that all the time, eh," I teased him.

"But I mean, like, where I grew up. My grandmothers, my childhood friends. And I get to introduce you to my other favorite girl." I gave him a puzzled look when he said that. His other favorite girl? I had met Taylor, and it was no secret how he adored her. Who was he talking about? "Sam, my yellow lab. My family takes care of her during the season. And even though I have my own place now, instead of living with Mario, it didn't make sense to bring her down to Pittsburgh since I travel so much. If Sam likes you, then I know for sure that you're a keeper," he added with a wink.

Sid really was impatient to leave. We hurried to his car and he raced to the airport, where a charter flight was waiting to whisk us away to our frozen paradise. It felt so romantic and extravagant. We tried to sleep a bit on the plane, but it seemed like by the time I had calmed down enough to relax, we were getting ready to land at Halifax International Airport.

As we took a cab from the airport to his lakeside house in Enfield, I asked what Christmas would be like. I didn't know what to expect. "Is it a small thing? A big thing?"

He was tired, and I knew he really didn't feel up to talking, but he tried to appease me. "Well, the night of Christmas Eve, it's just us. And then presents in the morning, breakfast, and then everyone else comes over to hang out and have dinner. Taylor's playing a game on Boxing Day, and I'm really excited to go to one of her games. I really wish I could see more of them and support her like her big brother should."

I didn't respond; I think I was too choked up to. I just looked at him in amazement. I mean, I knew that he and Taylor were close, but any other twenty-two-year-old would be too busy to attend his thirteen-year-old sister's games.

"What?" he asked me, noticing that I was staring. "Is there anything on my face?"

"No," I sighed. You're just perfect, I thought.

We were so exhausted that we practically collapsed as we got to Sid's. The cabbie let us out at the gate, where Sid punched in the code, opened the gate, and helped me drag our collective suitcase to the front door. Once inside, we sunk into the couch and fell asleep, unable to even make it to the bedroom.

When I woke up, I was draped across Sid's chest like a blanket, and I was using him as a pillow—complete with drool. I hoped he wouldn't notice the big wet spot on the front of his Reebok hoodie as I pushed away to search for the kitchen and the coffee pot, but Sid wrapped his arms around me and kept me in place. "Don't get up yet. I'll be cold."

I laughed. "I'm not your personal space heater, Crosby."

"Five more minutes," he said with eyes closed.

"If you're that tired, just go up to bed. You'll sleep better there than on the couch."

His lips curled into a suggestive smile. "I don't sleep as well without you. And if I take you upstairs with me, then we'll just have to break in that bed since we haven't had sex in it yet. So there will be no sleeping going on."

"Whatever. Stay here then. So, what's on the agenda for today?"

"You mean, besides breaking in my bed?"

I playfully pushed on his shoulder. "One-track mind."

"Well, there's no food in the house. So I'm thinking Tim Hortons for breakfast."

"I've never been to one," I told him.

His eyes flew open, and he stared at me. "Never?" I shook my head. "Well, that's it. Get up. We're going."

Sid and I showered together, had wet and sleepy sex on his bed to make him happy—and me too, and then we dressed and were out the door. He yelled at me when I equated Timbits to doughnut holes, telling me that Timbits were so much better. After breakfast, we drove the half hour to his hometown, and he showed me where he played hockey, the route he'd run every morning when he was home, his old school, and then we ended up in front of his parents' house.

I wasn't expecting to have to see them so soon, but I realized that Sid was bubbling with anticipation to see his family again. And they were equally excited to see him again, too. At first, I felt like an outsider as they rushed to embrace him, until Trina hugged me. "It's good to see you again, Noelle. We've been looking forward to this for a long time now."

"It's really great to see you, too, Mrs. Crosby," I said.

"Please, I told you, it's Trina. I'm happy that you could make it. For a while, we weren't sure if you'd come, after the death of your—"

"Mom," Sid scolded, shaking his head.

"No, it's okay," I told them both. "I mean, no it's not okay that he's gone, but I made the commitment to be here, and I was looking forward to this, too." I didn't add that I knew spending Christmas in Cole Harbour was going to be a lot easier than spending it at home, missing Grandpa.

The rest of the day passed by quickly. I helped Trina in the kitchen as she baked cookies, I gave Taylor some pointers on her Julius Caesar essay, and I even awkwardly conversed with Troy. Sam and I had been properly introduced, and she licked my hands, which was a good sign. It was a quiet day spent with his family, but I was exhausted by nine.

"Noelle, you look like you're about to drop," Trina laughed. "Sid, honey, why don't you show her up to your room?"

"I don't want to be a drag," I told them. Honestly, who goes to bed at nine?

"It's fine, tomorrow will be busy," she assured me. "You'll need your rest."

I went up to Sid's room, and the place instantly brought a smile to my lips. I knew that this room hadn't been touched since probably before he left home to billet for juniors. There were posters of Patrick Roy and Kirk Muller on his walls, as well as one of Mario and the Cup. Looking at that now, I had to laugh. On his old dresser was a new picture, one of Sid on his day celebrating with Lord Stanley. I ran my fingers over the image of him in his perfectly pleated dress pants, a polo shirt which is tucked in to his waistband, and a blue hat. It makes me happy and proud, even though I want to tease him for his choice of clothing.

Sid wrapped his arms around my stomach, and I leaned back against him. "Are you going to tell me you want to break in this bed, too?" I asked him, eying the full-sized mattress in the corner.

He laughed. "This coming from you? Who didn't even want to stay at my place while my parents were visiting?"

I pulled Sid's arms farther around me. I was tired and he was making me feel warm, so I felt the first wave of sleep start to tug on my eyelids. "It wasn't an invitation. I just figured you'd tell me that. I'm exhausted."

"I know." He handed me a pair of sweats and a Rimouski shirt, then helped me redress before tucking me into bed. Once I was under the covers, he curled up next to me and smoothed his hand over my hair. Slumber was impending. "I'm excited for tomorrow."

"Me, too."


When I woke up on Christmas morning, I was alone. Apparently, all the Crosbys are early risers.
I padded down the stairs to the sight of everyone sitting around the lit tree. I was an only child, so I never knew what it was like to spend Christmas with a real family, taking turns opening presents, sharing the moments. I thought that this was going to be a lot of fun.

Sid stood when I reached the bottom of the staircase. He kissed me good morning and wished me a merry Christmas, which I returned and said to the rest of the family. I was an observer, watching as wrapping paper flew and smiles cracked their faces in half.

"It's your turn," Trina said, handing me a present from under the tree.

I looked at her, then at Sid, who shrugged at me. I could've killed him—I asked him, and he said that his parents weren't going to get me anything. All I brought them was bottle of wine for welcoming me into their home. But the way Trina was smiling at me made me act graciously, and I accepted and opened the gift. His parents bought me a beautiful, blue cashmere sweater.

"Okay, my turn," Sid added, handing me a long, slim box. Immediately, I knew it was jewelry. "I ordered your other present, but it didn't arrive yet," he explained.

I looked at the tag attached to the wrapping paper: To Nelly, from SC. "SC?" I laughed at him.

Sid smiled and shrugged. "Could be from Santa Claus."

"Or Sidney Crosby. Either way, I guess I'm pretty lucky," I replied, appreciating his grin directed at me as I untied the ribbon and and ripped off the paper, struggling to get through all the tape. He had definitely wrapped this himself. I then opened the box, and as a result couldn't breathe or speak. I knew when I got the box that it was jewelry, but I wasn't expecting the white gold, sapphire and diamond tennis bracelet inside. "Sid...."

He scooted next to me, took the bracelet from the box, and began to fasten it around my left wrist. "I know that you might think it a little much, but it reminds me of you. The blue matches your eyes. So even if you're mad, please please please don't yell in front of my parents."

"No, Sid, I love it," I told him. I wasn't going to yell at him on Christmas. "I do take it that this is my extravagant present, and not the thing I needed?" I joked.

He smiled and kissed me chastely, rubbing his thumb around my wrist where the bracelet caught the light and sparkled.

"Um, can you guys stop making googly eyes at each other? I'd like to eat breakfast now, and you guys are making me lose my appetite," Taylor said, making me laugh.

81: Living Like a Grown-Up

The days began to pass by in a blurry haze. So much was going on. And I felt like such a grown-up, too, having to deal with these new experiences that only true adults had to deal with, like new jobs, moves, and the holiday jitters.



First, I had to talk to Mario. I waited for him in the privacy of the owner's box at the Igloo, watching as Sidney was on the ice in sweats and sneakers doing some puck handling. It was mesmerizing to see, and I was sucked in. I watched Sid the way he watches the puck during a game—with blinders on, focused on nothing else.

Which is why when Mario walked in, I was startled. "I seem to be getting into a habit of frightening you," he said with a chuckle.

"I need to pay more attention when I know you're going to be around," I quipped back. I was suddenly nervous.

"Let's not beat around the bush, shall we?" He asked, motioning for me to sit in a chair. Mario was very direct; he told me exactly what the position would pay, what the benefits were, and what would be expected of me. "Best of all," he persuaded, "is you can pretty much pick your own hours. You should set some definite hours to be in the office so we know when to reach you, but you'll be doing a lot of one-on-one work with the players, so you'll be working around their schedule. As long as you put your time, your forty hours a week, you can work when you want. You'll have a lot of freedom."

"I'm not going to lie, Mario. This sounds amazing." If I had had any doubt about whether I wanted this position, those questions flew out the window. I couldn't have negotiated for a better salary or more incredible perks.

"I'm glad to hear you're as excited about this as we are," he told me with a smile. Mario was so reassuring. "With the holidays coming up, I figure you can start after New Years. Why don't you stop in some time during the first full week of January? I believe the team will be returning from a road trip around that time."

"Sure. That's perfect," I told him. That would give me plenty of time to get everything straightened out before beginning my new position. And enjoy the holidays.

"Terrific."

"I just have one question for you, Mario," I said tentatively.

"Yes, Noelle?"

"I'm worried about taking this position since I'm dating Sidney."

"We don't have a policy about interoffice relationships or player-personnel relationships, either. You don't have anything to worry about." I nodded and took his answer for what it was, but I was worried what everyone would think: that I got this job because of who I was dating, not because of what I was capable of doing. "Are you going to stay up here to watch the game tonight?"

"Oh, no, I'm going to watch from the family and friends section. I haven't seen the girls in a while, so I have some catching up to do."

"I'm glad you'll be working for us," he said simply, shaking my hand and sealing the deal. I was giddy with excitement. "And I'm sorry if I caused a riff between you and Sidney. I didn't know you hadn't told him yet, and then he played in Thursday's game after he said that he need to stay with you."

I thought about that argument with Sid, how I had lied to him, then how I had withheld information—which, to some people, would be just as bad as lying. "No, it was fine," I said, still feeling a little guilty.

The girls were waiting in their seats when I found them and told them my good news. They were excited for me, of course, but they were excited also about what this could mean for Sidney and me.

"Just another step closer to domesticated bliss," they told me.

"Will you stop," I laughed. "I'm not worried about that, and Sidney isn't either. We're just going with the flow. So don't try to pressure me into anything."

"Pressure? No, we'd never pressure you," Véro said slyly.

"Bullshit," I chuckled. "You've been up to no good the whole time I've known you, from Diesel 'til now. Pushing me and Sid together. You won't be happy until I'm dressed in white and you're in whatever ugly bridesmaid dress I pick out for you."

A smile cracked her face in half. "You'd make me a bridesmaid?"

I couldn't seriously talk about this anymore. Véro was as close as possible to be being a bridezilla without having an engagement ring on her finger. We didn't broach the subject again as we watched the Penguins pummel the Panthers. It appeared that the team was back into the swing of things.



After that was sorted out and my future with the Pens was cemented, I had to quit my legal assistant position. As glad as I was for my new job, and as happy as I was to leave that hellhole, I was sad to say goodbye to my coworkers. They were good people, and I would miss them.

The first person I told was Steve. "I just want to give you a heads up, before I talk to the boss, that I'm putting in my two week's notice."

"Very funny, Noelle. You've said that a lot in the year and a half that you've worked here."

"Steve, I'm serious," I said. He looked up from the folder on his desk. "I know you won't believe it, but Mario Lemieux offered me a position with the Pens. I start in the beginning of January."

Steve was speechless. "How are you going to tell the boss?"

I shrugged. "I don't know. I wrote up a resignation letter, and I figure I'll go into his office, give it to him, and tell him."

"You can't leave. Not like this. February is going to be a bad month. I can't handle this on my own."

"I'm sorry, Steve. You guy will hire someone to fill my position." I knew that was a lie, something I was making up to make him feel better. No one stayed at this place for very long. I was just another example of the revolving door that was this job. "Besides, you can't expect me to turn this down."

"What are you doing for the Pens?"

"I'm the Director of Player Communications and Media Relations," I told him, swelling with pride. Mario was right: long titles really did make you feel important. "Working with the players, teaching English to the ones who need to learn it, and media coaching. When do you think I should tell the boss?"

He tilted his head to the side. "Now's as good of a time as any."

I nodded and grabbed my resignation letter, and walked to the boss's office. He was sitting at his computer, doing whatever he does when he's alone in his office. I never figured that out, as long as I had worked there.

I cleared my throat and knocked on his door. He jumped and turned. "Noelle? Do you have something to go over?"

"No," I told him. I cleared my throat, strode into his office, and held out the letter. "I'm giving you my notice. I've been offered another position."

He took my letter from his hand and scanned it with his eyes. It was a standard letter; I'd pretty much copied it from some website. "Is there anything I can do to get you to stay?" I didn't expect this, for him to bribe me into staying. "Offer you more money? More vacation? If you need more time off to deal with your grandfather's passing, you can take it."

"That's very generous of you, sir, but this new job is just more up my alley."

And that was that. He dismissed me from his office, and the countdown to my last day began. But not without its detriments. I got stuck with the shitty cases, since there was no use in trying to appease me. I wasn't going to be around long term, so I was given the work that no one else wanted to deal with it. And there was a lot of it, too. I had a feeling that these were going to be the busiest two weeks I'd ever spend in that office.



Sid and I agreed to worry about my move to Pittsburgh, and all that entails, after Christmas. There was only so much stress we could handle at once. When I'd get home, exhausted from work at the end of the day, I hated to think about packing my things into boxes, to either be taken to Sidney's—and my new—house or to be put into storage.

I was worried about how I would fit into Sid's, into his house and his world, now that I would be there full time. Before, I was a transplant. I was inserted into his house, filled with his things, completely on his terms. This was going to be completely different. We'd get to see each other's habits, with no escape. All his superstitions and quirks, and all my neuroses would be in full view. I was concerned about how we'd handle it, and the more I thought about it, the more petrified I became.

There was one thing, one thought that kept me going through the mess, and that was Christmas. We'd have three blissful, wonderful days to ourselves to celebrate the season. Well, between all the traveling, it would probably end up to be more like two days of relaxation. And we wouldn't be by ourselves. His family would be there, and not just the three Crosbys I had met so far. There would be grandparents, cousins, and also all his Cole Harbour friends that he said he was so excited to introduce me to.

Now that I thought about it, Christmas didn't seem to be so relaxing, after all.

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."