“Are you going to tell me what’s wrong?” Sid whispered, leaning his head against mine. We’d purposely sat at the back of the plane so we could make up for our day of silence. Ten minutes into our flight headed to Montreal and I hadn’t said anything.
“Nothing’s wrong,” I shrugged, never a talented liar.
“I’m not dragging it out of you,” he rubbed his hand up my thigh.
“Fine,” I groaned, annoyed by how easily I’d given in. “But I can’t tell you here.” I looked around and despite the rows of empty seats it didn’t feel private enough.
“There’s no where else,” he cocked his eyebrow. “Unless you want to hide in the bathroom,” he snickered.
“Yes,” I unbuckled my seatbelt and crawled over his lap. “Meet me in a few minutes.”
“Beatrice!” he hissed after me but I kept walking, desperate to talk to him and ignoring the connotation. I squeezed into the tiny bathroom stall and sat on the sink, making sure there was room for him to open the door. Less than a minute later the door opened and he slipped inside, locking it behind him. Sidney stood between my legs and rested his hands on my hips.
“Are we really in the bathroom of a plane together and not taking our clothes off?” he smirked and kissed me lightly.
“Who said we weren’t?” I winked and shuffled closer to him so the faucet wasn’t digging into my back.
“I don’t really know how we’d manage that,” he looked around at the tiny closet of a room. “Anyway,” he shook the thought from his head. “What’s up?”
I wanted to be level headed and graceful about the conversation but of course when I looked up at his warm eyes it all came flying out of my mouth.
“Serena’s pregnant and I’m not allowed to tell anyone but it’s driving me insane and that’s why I made you wear a condom last night because I swear to god if you get me pregnant and leave me I will have you decapitated and display your head on my wall.” I spit out at him.
He stared at me, alarmed and likely unsure how to respond. “Can you say that slower?” he finally replied.
“Your teammate got my best friend knocked up and she’s freaking out, and I’m freaking out and I cannot keep secrets to save my life and you should know this already.” I groaned and lay my head against his chest.
“Shit,” he sighed and ran his hand through my hair. “When did she tell you this?”
“Yesterday, that’s why I wanted to talk to you. Even though I’m not supposed to tell you. Oh god I shouldn’t have told you, Serena’s going to kill me.”
“Just relax,” he rubbed circles on my back. “You’re allowed to tell me secrets, I’m an exception to the secret rule,” he sounded far too amused for the topic.
I glanced up and him and rolled my eyes before returning my head back to his chest.
“So does Geno know?”
“No, I told you, no one knows. Except for me… and now you.”
“I gotta be honest, Bea. I’m not comfortable getting involved in this.” His maturity was showing and I couldn’t decide if I was annoyed or turned on.
“And I am? I just told you I can’t keep secrets.” I wrapped my arms around his back, inhaling the smell of his soap and laundry detergent.
“Then don’t get involved?” he rested his chin on my head.
“I can’t not be involved. She’s my best friend. Her uterus is my uterus… okay not exactly because that would mean I’ve having a mini Malkin… and I’m not…”
“Shhhhh,” he brushed my hair back soothingly. “Stop thinking so much. You’re going to hurt yourself.”
“You’re an ass,” I tried not to smile.
“I’m serious, there’s nothing you can do about it so there’s no use worrying about it. Oh and I’m not going to get you pregnant or leave you, partially because I don’t doubt your decapitation abilities and because I kind of like you and stuff.” He hooked his finger under my chin and tilted my head so I was looking at him.
“I don’t like seeing her this upset.”
“And I don’t like seeing you upset,” he kissed me with more passion than before.
“Stop trying to distract me,” I pulled away from him and couldn’t help but smile.
“I’m not,” his hand moved back to my thigh, this time slowly moving between my legs.
“I’m not having sex with you in bathroom, bro.” I clamped my legs shut, his hand still between them.
“Did you just call me bro?” His forehead was crinkled and his lips curved on one side. He moved his other hand to the button on my pants and started to fiddle with it, teasingly. I couldn’t believe he was getting me hot and bothered on an airplane.
“Ugh, now I want to,” I groaned. “But I just said I’m all freaked out about Serena and I don’t want you getting me preg…” He interrupted me with his lips on mine, his hand pushing my legs open then undoing my pants.
“I didn’t say anything about sex,” he growled, his breathing heavier than usual. “I’m going to make you come with my hands and only my hands.”
I stared at him wide eyed and taken aback. He’d never been so domineering or blunt. It was incredibly hot. “Good luck,” I whispered before pressing my lips to his and lifting my hips so he could slip my pants lower. He slid his hand down the front of my black cotton underwear, his tongue moving against mine. I groaned as the callused skin of his fingertips made contact with me. His touch was all consuming, his free hand moving to my chest as he bit down gently on my lip. My body was heating up, his fingers finding a rhythm against me, two inside with the pad of his thumb against my clit. It wasn’t so much then sensation of the direct pressure on the bundle of nerves, or the feeling of his fingers slipping in and out easily- slightly curved in search of the perfect spot- that had me melting against him. I’d done this to myself countless times- perhaps not at the same glorious angle, but a version of it. It was the feeling of his lips against mine, the urgency and determination in his movements, his one track mind now focused entirely on me. I’d captivated him in a way I’d only seen his job do. It was knowing that all he wanted was to feel me come undone on him that made my muscles tense and my head tilt back. Knowing he didn’t expect anything in return because his only goal was to be there for me. I felt the explosion of affection and release, my head pressed against his shoulder, biting down on the fabric of his shirt, soft skin underneath. A flood of zen-like calm and accomplishment washing over both of us.
“Well done,” I mumbled sleepily, my face buried in his neck. “You sure know how to distract me.”
“It’s one of my finer talents,” he kissed the side of my head and sighed.
“When you’re in the Hockey Hall of Fame they’re going to have a plaque next to your gear that says ‘amazeballs with his hands in more ways than recorded.’ I swear.” I giggled and smiled up at him.
“You’re going to make sure of it eh?” he stroked his finger down my cheek.
“Absolutely.”
“That’ll be some interesting press conference,” he chuckled and I winked. “I guess we should get back, it won’t be much longer until we land.” He took a step back, giving me enough space to get off of the sink.
I returned my pants to their place on my hips and straightened my shirt, turning with my back pressed against him to check my reflection in the mirror. I pulled my hair out of the messy ponytail and ran my hands through it before putting it back up. He slipped his hands in my front pockets as I wiped away a smudge of mascara. I could feel the bulge in his pants.
“I love you,” he murmured, kissing my neck.

We landed in Montreal and were given the day to do with as we pleased. Days off on road trips proved to be challenging for our sub rosa relationship. In Pittsburgh we knew where we could go to avoid the media, we had the house and our daily routines, but away it was nearly impossible to maintain our clandestine activities. I lay on the bed in my underwear flipping through a local magazine, we’d taken the opportunity to finish what was started on the plane in the comfort of my hotel room. For reasons unbeknown to me we were still booked separate rooms even though we both ended up in my suite.
“We could just stay in here and make out all day,” I suggested, scanning the page in front of me, Sid’s long body stretched out beside me.
“So tempting,” he traced his finger along the curve of my hip. “But socially isolating.”
“Well you suggest something then,” I rolled my eyes playfully. “Preferably cheap or free.”
“We could go to the art gallery, you like that stuff,” he pressed his lips against my shoulder.
“Don’t be a martyr,” I laughed and lay my head on my folded arms. “I like you too much to subject you to the Beatrice Keller method of maximum gallery experience.”
“Oh?” he wrapped his arm around my waist, nestling his hand under my stomach.
“Mille has ditched me in galleries because I take so long, and she loves art.”
“I appreciate the warning,” he chuckled.
We lay on the bed flipping through channels and trying to find something to do, the sun began to set and we still hadn’t decided. By default my suggestion had won and I was enjoying the heat from his body against mine, perfectly content to spend the rest of the night snuggled in bed. His hands roamed my body casually and I rolled so we were facing each other, one of his legs nudged between mine. I couldn’t help but run my hands down the solid surface of his chest, his eyelids fluttered and he smiled, breathing softly. He wasn’t asleep but he looked angelic, a kind of peaceful I hadn’t seen before. I’d learned early on that it was rare to find him relaxed during a road trip. He was his most comfortable at home, away from the press and attention, and the constant flurry of activity the came with away games made him tense. I’d tried many times to imagine the pressure he felt, the pressure from the media, the league, but most of all the pressure he put on himself.
“What are you doing?” he opened one of his eyes and looked at me suspiciously.
“Nothing,” I snuggled closer. “Just looking at you.”
“How is that working for you?” he laughed softly, pulling me tight against him.
“I’m not complaining,” I smiled and kissed the spot below his ear, earning a moan. I continued, sucking lightly and nipping at the soft skin. I felt his erection swell against me.
“If you keep that up we’ll never leave this room,” he whispered, his husky voice in my ear, breath hot on my neck.
“If that’s supposed to be a threat it’s not a good one,” I giggled and sucked a little harder on his neck, knowing damn well I shouldn’t be.
“Good point,” he slipped his hands down my underwear and cupped my bum in his big palms. “Are you marking me or something?” he squeezed affectionately.
“That wasn’t my intention, but I guess it’s better than peeing on you.” I moved so I could see his face again.
“I’m glad you agree,” he smirked. “I’m a pretty open guy but that’s not my style.”
My fingers crawled down his chest and stomach, making him shiver as I grazed the fabric of his boxer briefs. “What is your style, Mr. Crosby?” I asked, putting on my best interview voice.
“Well Ms. Keller,” he began, playing along. “I like to think I play a game of skill and physicality. It’s really about team work though. I’ve got a great partner and that helps a lot. I really like to try and get it into the zone as much as possible.”
I grinned and tightened my hold on his bulge slightly. “So humble,” I brushed my lips against his. “Do you ever find all the attention getting to your… head?” I slowly slipped his boxers down, feeling him spring up against my hand. I brushed my thumb over the tip, feeling a bead of moisture on the pad of my finger. He groaned and kissed me gently.
“Beatrice!” There was a loud knock on the door and a distinct voice calling me. I glanced back at the clock and remembered the team dinner we had both planned to attend.
“For fuck sakes,” Sid growled and rolled onto his back, pulling his boxers back on. I sighed and climbed off of the bed, grabbing a robe on my way to the door.
“Bea!” Geno grinned when I opened it. “You just wake up?”
“Something like that,” I muttered. Through no fault of his, Geno was the last person I wanted to see.
“I called, no answer.” he looked at me concerned. “Sid same.”
“Sorry about that,” I heard Sidney’s voice behind me and felt his hand on my shoulder. “We dozed off. Tell the guys we’ll be there in five minutes.”
Geno smiled and winked, then turning back down the hallway.
“We could have skipped it,” I whined, turning around to find Sid already dressed.
“We could have,” he smiled and went into the bathroom to fix his hair.
“We could have skipped it and spent all night in bed,” I pouted, pulling a black full skirted dress over my head.
“I’m fresh out of condoms, and I wouldn’t want you to have to rely on only one form of 95% effective birth control,” he teased.
“You suck,” I came up behind him in the mirror, fixing my hair and clearing the smudged makeup from around my eyes.
“No dear,” he moved me in front of him and put both hands on my shoulders. “That’s your job.”

Most of the restaurants chosen for team dinners were expensive steak houses with dim lighting and extensive wine lists, this was no exception. I sat between Sidney and James, as per usual the only female at the table. James seemed preoccupied, occasionally glancing at his cell phone and looking up disappointed.
“Are you okay?” I whispered causally, taking a sip of my wine.
“Yeah,” he smiled weakly. “I was just expecting a text.”
“A watched cellphone never vibrates,” I winked.
Sid’s hand slipped under my dress and up my thigh, stopping a few inches above my knee. He squeezed affectionately and I leaned closer to him, the warmth of his body providing little comfort to my chilly bare arms. The waitress came to take our orders and I felt little desire to eat, especially not in front of a group of men. I ordered a salad and cursed myself for becoming ‘that’ girl.
“You can have some of mine,” Sid whispered to me, after ordering steak.
“I’m fine,” I smiled, resting my hand on top of his.
He rolled his eyes and shook his head before returning to his conversation with Marc.
“You alright?” James whispered, leaning into me.
“Yeah,” I smiled weakly. “I’m just not feeling well.”
“Drink more wine, that usually does the trick,” he laughed and checked his phone again.
I saw awkwardly, waiting for the food to come. Normally I’d have joined the conversation effortlessly, but I couldn’t find the energy. I hadn’t been lying when I’d said I wanted to skip it. I loved the team, and the guys were great, but I didn’t want to be around people, the only person I wanted near me was Sidney. My mind felt so bogged down with worry and confusion that I found it hard to concentrate, let alone carry on a conversation. Despite things going smoothly in most areas of my life, I still felt anxious.
I picked at the salad in front of me, my mind drifting off to Serena. I could feel Sid’s eyes on me but I tried to ignore him. I knew what he was thinking and I didn’t want to hear it. I didn’t expect him to understand, but I expected him to respect my decisions as an adult. He’d eaten half of his steak and the waitress was bringing the second round of drinks when he dropped his knife and fork.
“Would you please eat something?” he growled, louder than he'd intended to.
“Excuse me?” I looked up at him shocked to hear his voice so clearly.
“You’re driving me insane with the lettuce picking,” he said a little softer. “Just eat some of my steak.”
“I’m fine, Sidney,” I said coldly and shifted away from him. My face was red knowing the rest of the table likely heard him. I resented him for drawing attention to us.
“Yeah,” he scoffed. “You’ll be really fine when you pass out again. Are you going to try and do it in every locker room of the NHL?” he said cruelly.
“We can talk about this later,” I folded my hands in my lap and hoped no one had heard his outburst.
“Eat.” he dropped a piece of steak on top of my picked over salad. His domineering act did nothing but make me angry. But instead of lashing out I just laughed, playing it off as a joke.
“Wow Sid,” Marc Andre chucked, “how very Christian Grey of you. Demanding people eat.”
“What did you just say?” Pascal Dupuis called from across the table.
“Y’know, Christian Grey, from the Fifty Shades books,” Marc tried to explain.
“Yeah I heard that part,” Pascal smirked. “But the real question is why have you read those books?”
The table erupted with laughter and Marc blushed, shaking his head. “They’re not that bad,” he tried to reason, but instead dug himself into a deeper hole.
“Y’know, I’ve never even read those,” I sipped my wine and smiled, adding fuel to the fire that drew the attention away from Sidney and me.
“Vero had them, I wanted to see what the fuss was about!” he replied, flustered.
“Serena read them,” Geno added, smirking.
“And how is that working out for you big guy?” Beau clapped him on the back.
Geno remained quiet and grinned.
For once I was relieved by the short attention span of everyone around us.

“I’m sorry,” Sid looked at me with pleading eyes, the second the door closed behind us.
“Are you really?” I scoffed, slipping my shoes off and putting them in the closet.
“Of course I am. I wouldn’t apologize if I wasn’t,” he tried to wrap his arms around me from behind but I shook him off.
“Whatever,” I walked into the small bathroom and unzipped my dress.
“I’m serious,” he slouched against the doorframe, I could feel his eyes on me.
“I know you are.” I let my dress fall to the floor. “I don’t want to have this conversation right now,” I sighed, shaking my head and picking the dress up off of the floor.
“When else are we going to have it?” he reached out to take my hand but instead let his arm fall back to his side.
“Does it really matter? It’s always the same, I get angry, you apologize, I forgive you, it happens again. So what difference does it make? I can tell you until I’m blue in the face how much your controlling bullshit bothers me but that doesn’t seem to make a difference.” I couldn’t look at him. Instead I focused on brushing my hair, my eyes on my reflection in the mirror.
He didn’t say anything, instead just stared at me with a despondent look on his face. I didn’t want to feel bad for him. I wanted to be angrier than I really was, furious at him for embarrassing me and being so damn controlling. But I wasn’t I was hurt and exhausted, but not angry. It would have been easier to throw things and scream, hate him and leave, slamming the door behind me. The idea of leaving made me cringe, my skin crawling and a panic building inside of me. Scarier than my attachment to him was that in some twisted way I understood his behaviour, I didn’t condone it, but I could see the origin of his false logic. There was a part of me, a stifled part, that said the same things he had. A pleading corner of my mind that begged me to eat. Unfortunately the demons dwelling in my psyche were far stronger, far more controlling than he ever could be.
The silence was impossible, I could feel the tension between us and anxiety building within me. “Look,” I finally turned to him. “I get it. It’s annoying and uncomfortable. It’s a problem that you want to fix. Everyone wants to fix it, myself included, but there’s no easy solution. You behaving like that just makes it worse. No matter what your intentions were, treating me the way you did is not okay.”
“How am I supposed to treat you?” he ran his hand through his hair, frustrated. “Am I supposed to just watch quietly while you head down a path of destruction? I can’t do that. You’re right, I do want to fix the problem, I always want to fix the problem. Think of it this way, what would you have done if refused treatment after the concussion? If I had told the doctors I was fine and got back on the ice, then drove home and spent the night reading or going into a deep sleep. You would have gone fucking crazy. You’d have called me an idiot and told me I was risking everything. That’s how I feel when I watch you do this shit.”
I crinkled my brow, not knowing how to respond. There was nothing I could say. What he said made sense, it made too much sense for my liking. “I think I want to sleep alone tonight,” I mumbled, my eyes dropping to the floor.
“Don’t do that,” he placed his hand gently on my arm. “Don’t push me away. It’s not fair.”
“I’ll talk to you in the morning,” I pushed past him and hurried to the bed, crawling under the covers and pulling them tightly around me. The room was dark, only a glow coming from the bathroom light around the corner.
“I love you,” he said softly, flicking off the light and leaving the room, the loud click of the heavy door echoing inside me.

Tears pricked my eyes and I tried to will them away, telling myself this was the right thing to do. It was only one night, one night for me to clear my mind and be alone. I’d spent plenty of nights alone and had lived to tell it. Yet that thought did little to comfort me and quickly salty tears dripped down my face. With the knowledge that everything feels worse at night, I let myself cry, hoping to fall asleep sooner rather than later. I’d see him in the morning. Everything would be better in the morning.

Notes

Eleven days without an updated? What even! Sorry for the delay, I was off for reading break and went to rural New Brunswick to see family. The thing about rural New Brunswick is that it's rural... I'm talking no cellphone reception, no wi-fi, and therefore no way to post chapters.

Also, I meant to add in my last note that I'm not happy about the Talbot trade and the day that I started writing the outline for the scene where Bea meets him was the day he got traded.

I hope you all enjoy this chapter. Keep the comments coming :) xx- T