Off The Ice // A Patrick Kane Fanfic

A Word of Advice

Not good night. Bad night, awful night, those are better adjectives for what I go through sleeping alone for the night. Anything but good.

I don’t think I sleep solidly for more than ten minutes the entire night. I keep turning over, looking for the body that I’ve gotten so used to feeling next to mine.

I lay in bed for a while, trying to avoid getting up to face the day. I think I know what it means that I can’t sleep well without Patrick, but I don’t like the implications of it.

I don’t need him. I don’t need anyone. I only need me. Sure, I want him around and I like having him around, but I don’t need him. That has been true of everyone else before him, and it will be true of him too.

I yawn in complete contradiction of the lie I’m trying to tell myself.

I toss the covers back angrily, and dress to face the day. Last night was a fluke and I need to forget about it. I don’t need him to sleep well. I don’t need him.

As I head down the stairs I glance almost involuntarily towards the door of the room he stayed in last night. It’s wide open, none of his stuff inside. I push down on the knot of disappointment trying to form in my stomach.

See, he doesn’t need me either. There is no need involved here at all.

“I’m going insane,” I mutter, walking into the kitchen.

“Yeah, especially if you’re talking to yourself.” I jump, not having seen anyone when I walked in. “Sorry Jen, didn’t mean to scare you.”

“No,” I say. “It’s fine I just didn’t see you. Thought you and Kailey wouldn’t be up yet.”

Jonathan shrugs, smirking. “She’s never up before noon if she can help it, and she’s nice and hung over today. She won’t be down here before twelve thirty, mumbling about how she hates the world and is going to kill me in my sleep for letting her drink that much.”

“Wow, she’s really lightening up then.” I joke.

“Oh absolutely,” he laughs. “So, this house is hangover central today. I’ve already got coffee going, or if you’re like your strange and lovable best friend, there’s orange juice in the fridge.”

“I forget,” I say, taking the offered coffee despite being hangover free. “Why does she seem to think orange juice cures hangovers?”

“Because she hates coffee and refuses to be wrong about anything,” he glances behind him for a second.

“Afraid she’s going to come and yell at you?” I mock.

He scoffs. “Hardly. Afraid she’s going to set the jersey I bought her on fire again for revenge. Yeah, that’s more like it.”

“Again?” I ask, only a little bit shocked.

He looks uncomfortable. “Apparently I’m ‘possessive’ and ‘inappropriate’ by buying her custom jerseys.”