Morgan Rielly Imagine

Only Temporary

I awake to the blood red run appearing over the horizon.  From my hotel room in Detroit I can see Windsor outlined in the new light of the day. So much as changed.

I shimmy out of bed and pad over to the window, wishing that it was one that would open so I could feel the cool autumn breeze. After we had arrived at the hotel last night, I had barely managed to undress myself before collapsing onto my bed and passing out. Luckily, there was no pregame skate this morning, having played last night.

Suddenly I grasp at the fact that I quite literally have no friends here or in Toronto. A strong surge of loneliness flows through me and within one day of leaving Montreal, I'm home sick. I glance at the clock and decide it's not too early to call my boyfriend currently residing in Pittsburgh.

The phone rings several times before his groggy voice comes on the line.

"Morning, babe," he says and my heart warms as I imagine him rubbing tired eyes and his hair sticking in every direction like it is every morning.

"Hi," I say softly into the phone, unable to repress the smile that appears. My childhood sweetheart, who I reconnected with when he came to Denver for a football camp at the university I was studying at. Now, nearly three years later I still get shy and my face heats when I first hear his voice or someone mentions his name.

"How's the new gig going so far?" Nick asks me, this time his voice less groggy.

"It's okay," I reply, picking at the bedspread idly, still staring out the window at the now orange sun floating higher and higher into the sky.

"That doesn't sound very enthusiastic," he notes and I know his eyebrows are raised in questioning.

"Have I been even close to enthusiastic the last week?"

Nick laughs quietly. "No, I guess you haven't. But, it's something that you have to do, right?"

"Yes," I grumble, flopping back down into my pillows and scowling at the ceiling.

"And it's only temporary, right?" He continues.

"That part I'm not so sure about..."

So many signs are pointing to me staying in Toronto and I'm still trying desperately to switch the sign in the opposite direction. My heart is torn between two places, Edmonton and Pittsburgh with Nick. Now I'm stuck in the middle, neither place beckoning to me.

"Hey," Nick says softly and I startle.

"What?" I ask.

"I asked what you were doing today."

"Oh, I don't think anything special. I have a draft to complete for a preseason report card on Montreal and another on Edmonton. Plus I have to hunt down Mason and get him to give me a run down on everything that I'm coming into late," I cringe at the thought of actually having a conversation with the shithead.

"Ahh, the Mason is who I think you're referring to?" Nick asks and the scowl again crosses my face.

"Yes."

"Why do you hate him again?"

I open my mouth to retort but I hesitate. It's a good question. One that I don't know the answer to.

"I guess it's just always been like that... I don't have a particular answer," I say after a moment and I hear his laughter through the phone.

"Well, to me it sounds like he is pretty much all you got there, honey," he says.

"I know," I say miserably. "I wish you were here with me, or I with you."

"Me too, baby, more than you know," he says gently back and my heart hurts for a second.