I wasn't particularly surprised to return to a mostly empty locker room. After yesterday's conversation, I knew some of them wouldn't be wild about the revelation. I guess I'm lucky their reaction was just to leave.
By the time I get out of the showers, only two are left – Holmes and Bellaire. To be fair, I'm not exactly a social butterfly at the best of times. The fact that these two – one I haven't seen in half a decade, and another I met just yesterday – stuck around means something.
They make some awkward conversation about the article as I pack up, commending me for my 'bravery'.Thatwill take some getting used to. It doesn't feelbrave, it just feels like finally being able to breathe. I thank them for their support and we head out the door. I think we'll separate shortly thereafter, but instead they ask if I want to grab a beer at the hotel bar.
I've been trying to delay checking my phone, afraid of what I'll find there – or what I won't. A beer seems as good a way to avoid it as anything. One turns into two which turns into three, all the while my phone buzzes away in my pocket. Finally, I head out, hoping the slight fuzziness in my head will give me the appropriate distance with which to approach my messages.
As my elevator heads to the fifteenth floor, I am grateful I booked the later flight tomorrow. Between the physical work of the game and the emotions I've been dealing with, nothing sounds better than collapsing in a huge bed for ten to twelve hours.
Well, almost nothing – I'd happily sacrifice a slice of the bed to Jamie, if only he'd take it. It is with this thought rolling through my mind that I turn towards my room only to find him sitting on the floor. For a moment, I truly think I'm hallucinating, that I've somehow dreamed him into existence.
My phone buzzes again, and the sound must catch his attention. Sitting there on the floor, his eyes shine up at me. I can hardly think, let alone move, as I stare at him, a sight for sore eyes after so much time apart. This may be the closest we've been to one another in nearly a month.
He stands, looking a little tight thanks to his time on the floor. He continues to look at me and I wonder which of us will figure out how to speak first. In spite of the tears in his eyes, it's him, croaking out asimplehi.
But that's enough, and it pulls me to him like a magnet. Standing in front of him, I can feel the heat of his body, and I justmissit. A tear is trickling down his cheek, and I can't bear the thought that I've caused him to cry. I brush it away, then pull him to me, so happy to bring his body to mine once more. He tucks his head into my neck and for a long moment, we just stand there, breathing the same air.
After a few minutes, he pulls his head back, though his arms are still wrapped around me. His eyes are dry now, though the front of my shirt feels suspiciously wet.
“I saw the article.”
I smile gently down at him.
“That makes one of us.”
His eyebrow quirks up and I realize he has no idea what's happened over the past few days.
“I knew he was writing it up, but I didn't know when it would release. And by the time I was off the ice, it was all anyone wanted to talk about.”
“And you still haven't read it?”
I silently shake my head.
“Do you want to?” He asks, still not moving more than an inch from my body.
“I don't know, do I?”
He chuckles.
“Maybeinsidethe hotel room?”
I smirk, pulling my keycard out of my jacket pocket.
Once we're inside,I set down my gear bag next to my suitcase, catching a whiff of myself in the process. I had showered at the arena, though not particularly thoroughly. With Jamie here, I suddenly have the desire to shower very thoroughly indeed.
“Hey, I'm gonna jump in the shower, if that's ok?”
His eyes go wide as he nods mutely.
I close the door to the bathroom, suddenly aware that I have no idea why he's here. Does he want to get back together? DoI?
Well,thatI know the answer to. More than anything.
As I step out of the shower, squeaky clean, I get dressed again quickly. Taking a deep breath, I step back out into the main room.
Jamie is perched on the end of the bed, his body tight with the anxiety I feel, too. I sit down next to him, not too close but not too far.
He hands me his phone, which is pulled up to Sam's article.
