The Boston Brute Series: Pt. 7 (Maleficent)
Pairing: NHL!Chris Evans x Athletic Trainer!Reader (female character)
Summary: When you graduated from Northeastern University, you had your sights set on the West Coast. And then you were offered a position with the Boston Bruins Athletic Training Department. And then you met Chris. A 6′3″, ruggedly handsome hockey player dead set on making your life a living hell by pushing every button and getting on every nerve. Despite your obvious disdain for each other and the 'No Fraternization' clause in your employee contract, you're drawn together in a passionate, fiery love affair that seems to burn everything in its wake.
Warnings: Crude language. Chris is an asshole. Somewhat toxic relationship/situation. Lots of Angst, neglect from the previous part is mentioned in this one, too. (18+, please. Minors will be blocked.) Mentions of violence. I did write something about the reader not eating very well due to stress. Please do not read this series if you are not a fan of asshole Chris or fics with a lot of angst. As always, let me know if I missed anything!
W/C: 7.7k
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. All players and scenarios are made up completely. This story does not reflect things that actually happen in the NHL or with its players. Additionally, I talk about Chris's family in this fic. Again, work of fiction and is no reflection of his parents or grandparents in real life.
Monday:
It's been 2 weeks.
2 weeks since you walked out of Chris's hotel room, his soft plea echoed through your mind constantly. For 14 days, you've heard Chris in your head telling you not to give up on him. You weren't sleeping well, your appetite was nonexistent. You were taking this harder than your breakup with Dean.
Thankfully, 2 weeks is also the recommended recovery time for concussions. So while you were traveling with the team for the majority of the 14 days, Chris was home and recovering and you didn't have to face him every single day.
Unfortunately, Connor was traveling with the team after being cleared to play. So every day, you were asked with a sad smile how you were feeling and what he could do to help. While you did appreciate it on some level, it was also starting to drive you crazy.
Which is exactly what got you to where you were now.
You'd gotten home late last night and promised yourself that the second you landed in Boston, you wouldn't let Chris bring you down anymore.
So here you were at 6:30 on a Monday morning, standing in front of your full-length mirror in workout clothes, getting ready to go on a run. It was the first week in October, so you paired your workout leggings with a Bruins dri-fit quarter zip to keep warm, then threw on a pair of tennis shoes, grabbed your phone and AirPods, and headed downstairs.
Running has always been your favorite way to clear your head. After your break up with Dean, you ran 3 days a week for almost a year. Rain, sleet, snow, heat, or freezing cold. Concentrating on not passing out while you gasp for breath did a pretty good job at distracting you from your thoughts of asshole men who didn't deserve you.
You trotted down the stairs, rolling your eyes when you saw Connor standing in the kitchen shirtless. "Jesus, do you live here now?"
He smirked, standing up from his bent-over position in the fridge and drinking OJ straight out of the container.
"Gah! Connor!" You walked over and snatched the carton from him. "You're disgusting."
He chuckled, running his fingers through his bedhead. "I love this, it's like living with my little sister again."
"Well. I'm glad one of us is enjoying it." You grumbled, putting the OJ back in the fridge and pouring yourself a glass of water. You took a large sip, eyeing Connor over the brim of the glass.
He gave you a once over, arching a brow. "Are you going on a run?"
"Yes. Don't act like it's so crazy to see me exercising."
His smirk grew. "It is crazy. You've gone crazy."
Rolling your eyes again, you took another big gulp, finishing off your water. "I did this after my breakup with Dean. Wheezing and feeling like I'm about to keel over dead is a better distraction than watching TV all day while stuffing my face with Ben and Jerry's, which is honestly what I'd rather do."
"You going through a breakup that I don't know about?" He asked, raising an eyebrow again while he peeled one of your clementines.
"Whatever I'm going through feels an awful lot like a breakup. And it just so happens to be your fault. So thank you for that." You replied, snatching the unpeeled fruit from his hands. "He'll be worth it, my ass." Separating one of the wedges, you popped it into your mouth. "In case I don't come back, I'm running along The Charles."
"Can you at least tell me which trail so I know where to find the body?"
"Dudley." You replied, chewing on the orange still.
Grabbing your car keys from the entryway table, Connor laughed. "You're driving there?"
"Connor, it's like a 4 mile run from here. I'm trying to clear my head, not drop dead on the side of the road. Plus, I have to work... If I ran there and back, it'd be lunchtime before I even showered."
He snorted out a laugh, grabbing another one of your clementines from the bowl on the counter. "Call me if you need to be resuscitated."
Once you got to the trail entrance, you parked your car and stood outside of the driver's side door while you stretched. The sun rose over the river, reflecting an ombre of yellows and oranges onto the water. This is something you'd miss about Boston. You would never tire of the beautiful sunrises and sunsets here. Sure, when you inevitably moved out to the west coast, there would still be sunrises and sunsets, but there was just something about seeing the sky come to life over the cityscape that made you feel at home.
There are really only 2 things you'd miss about Boston.
1. Marlowe.
2. Sunrises over the city.
That's it.
You've spent most of your adult life here and you would miss two whole things. Maybe that should've made you sad, but it didn't. No baggage and no connections mean it's easier to up and leave when you need to and as soon as you have enough saved, that's exactly what you're going to do.
Once you finished stretching, you connected your AirPods to your phone and threw on your favorite playlist, locking your car and tucking your keys into the pocket of your pullover. This was going to suck.
You inhaled a deep breath through your nose, scrunching your face. What you expected to smell like fresh air and trees, smelled more like dead fish and wet dogs. "Refreshing." You mumbled out loud before walking over to the bike path and getting your run started.
While running, you watched the sunrise into the sky further and further, keeping a steady, kind of slow, but decent pace. A mile in, you concluded that this definitely did suck.
Focusing on the path in front of you, it took you entirely too long to realize that someone was jogging only 3 or 4 feet away, keeping the same pace as you. You brushed it off at first, keeping your focus straight ahead, but you started to get nervous after several more steps.
You peered at the stranger out of the corner of your eye, almost tripping over your own feet. It wasn't a stranger. It was worse.
You came to a stop, staring up at Chris with your mouth parted in surprise. How does he just keep showing up everywhere uninvited? How did he know where you were? You pulled your AirPods out, panting hard as you tried to catch your breath. "Fucking Connor!" You exclaimed, shaking your head. Gripping your left wrist in your right hand, you rested them on top of your head. "What are you doing?"
Chris jogged in place with a playful look on his face. "Jogging." He responded matter-of-factly.
Why did you constantly feel the want to slap this man? Each time you looked at him and he had that smug ass look on his face, you discovered you had a lot more willpower than you originally thought. He must've noticed that your patience was running thin because he backed up ever so slightly. Your hands dropped to your sides with a smack and you tried to imagine if that's what it would sound like if you ever built up the courage to smack Chris.
"Okay, I can see that. Why are you jogging here and why are you jogging with me?" You snapped. "Leave me alone, Chris."
"Oh, come on, princess–"
You held your hands up to stop him from talking, your anger towards Chris bubbling to the surface. "Am I in a fucking fever dream right now?! Don't come over here with that princess shit, Chris. Maybe when you hit your head, you forgot about fucking me and kicking me to the curb, but I didn't. I didn't forget. You are a piece of shit. A piece of shit I want nothing to do with. So please, leave me alone. Go back to whatever hole you crawled out of in hell. Tell Satan I said hey." You turned, putting your headphones back in, and started your music, thankful they were noise canceling. You could see Chris's mouth moving as he jogged slightly ahead of you and heard nothing but Olivia Rodrigo as you ran.
Instead of making eye contact, you stared straight ahead, your face expressionless. You weren't going to entertain this. Did he seriously just think that he could just show up after 2 weeks and things would just be fine? That you'd just forgive him like that? He probably did! The man was fucking delusional.
And a prick.
And goddammit, CONNOR. You were going to wring his fucking neck when you got back home. What a jerk. Could you trust no one?
After a minute or so of trying, but failing to get your attention, Chris fell into step beside you and just jogged. He didn't attempt to get your attention or stop you, nothing. Part of you was thankful. Part of you was annoyed. He knew that he hurt you, why wasn't he doing more to apologize? If he was truly sorry, he should be doing more to apologize.
Because he's an asshole, Y/N. You reminded yourself.
The two of you stayed like this for another mile or so and then you were just annoyed. Pissed off might be a better word. Why did he just feel like he could show up unannounced and you'd be okay with it? The more you thought about how fucked up this was, the more annoyed you got.
You came to an abrupt stop, turned on your heels, and started to jog back towards where you started your run 2 and a half miles back. You didn't stop to see if Chris had turned to keep up with you, but you assumed he did. Your assumption was confirmed when your bicep was grabbed, pulling you to a sudden stop.
That did it.
You ripped your headphones out of your ears, turning to face Chris. "What the fuck is your problem?! Can you not get a fucking clue, Chris?!"
The playful expression on his face from before was gone, replaced by one much more serious. The games were over. Fucking finally.
"Y/N... I am so sorry."
Dammit. He was seriously doing this right here, right now? Your bottom lip quivered as you tried your hardest to hold back your emotions. "GOD, Chris!" Your voice raised as you interlaced your fingers, resting your palms against your forehead. "You don't get to do this to me!" You looked away from Chris, your eyes welling with tears. You were angry and sad and hurt. Pissed that Chris wouldn't take no for an answer, but pissed that he wasn't trying harder to win you back.
You sniffed as he approached, the first few tears trickling down your cheeks.
He pinched your chin between his fingers, tilting your head so you were looking up at him again. Chris's blue eyes stared into yours and the words that left his lips broke you down. The sincerity behind his voice and within his eyes when he whispered, "How can I fix this?" shattered whatever facade you'd thrown up to pretend like you weren't actually hurting as much as you were.
It's been two fucking weeks and your heart was still broken over the way he treated you. Someone you weren't even involved with. It was one fucking night. One night and you were ruined. You gripped his shirt as you cried, your eyes pinching shut. He pulled you close, securing his large arms around you, barely pressing a kiss to the top of your head. "I'm so sorry."
You gave yourself a second to cry, being vulnerable in front of him one more time, appreciating the way he treated you with such tenderness before you pushed him away, wiping your tears. "I don't think we can fix this, Chris. I don't trust you. "
He exhaled audibly like you'd punched him in the gut. In a way, you had. Your words seemed to shatter what little hope he had that this would end up working between the two of you.
Neither of you said anything for a second, your eyes locked on each other.
Chris chewed his bottom lip for a second before he nodded to himself. "Okay. Put your headphones in. Let's go."
You stared at him visibly confused.
"I'm not letting you run back on your own, but if you wanna head back, let's go. I'll stay behind you. Promise."
Why was he like this? One minute you wanted to strangle him. The next you wanted him to wrap you in your arms and never let go. Being around Chris is exactly what it feels like to jump into a pool of freezing cold water after sitting in a hot tub. Two extremes of hot and cold with no middle ground. It's a rush, exhilarating in the best and worst ways.
Without saying anything, you put your headphones back in your ears, the music resuming immediately. The urge to run had passed. You felt defeated. You walked slowly for a few minutes, Chris keeping his promise and staying a few feet behind you.
'Truth Hurts' by Lizzo blared through your headphones and your confidence slowly built back up, your walk building into a slow jog. You were annoyed with yourself for letting him get to you. Annoyed with Connor for telling Chris where you were. Annoyed with Chris for having the audacity to show up.
If the rest of this week was going to go like this, you should've just chosen to stay home and drown in chocolate ice cream.
When you got back to the start of the trail, you pulled your headphones out of your ears and walked to your car. Chris said your name softly, but you chose to ignore him, climbing into your car and locking the doors. You fought to catch your breath, your hands shaking as you buckled your seatbelt.
He stood outside of your car, his chest heaving in sync with yours as he leveled his breathing.
You ignored the apologetic look on his face and started your car, pulling out of the parking lot and heading home.
When you pulled up to your house several minutes later, you rolled your eyes seeing Marlowe and Connor standing in the doorway. He tucked a strand of her short black hair behind her ear, his hand lingering while he pressed a kiss to her forehead.
"Connor! I swear to god, if I wasn't responsible for nursing you back to health, I'd break your fucking neck."
You heard Marlowe scold him under her breath.
"You had no right to tell him where I was!"
Marlowe eyed you apologetically before disappearing back into the house, leaving you and Connor on the front porch.
He smiled that crooked, boy-ish charm grin that always seemed to work on people. "I'm sorry! I didn't like the idea of you running alone."
"So you called Chris?! What is wrong with you?!" You yelled, shoving his shoulder with the heel of your hand and pushing past him to enter your home.
Connor turned to come back inside. "Come on, Y/N." He followed you to the kitchen, a wide-eyed Marlowe standing at the counter, pouring herself a cup of coffee. Her eyes quickly bounced back and forth between the two of you.
"We're just worried about you," Connor stated, dropping his bag on the floor in the kitchen.
"We who?" You asked.
"Me and Marl—"
"Aht! No. Absolutely not. Do not bring me into whatever this—" she pointed and wagged a finger back and forth between the two of you, "—is." She added creamer and sugar to her coffee, then walked over, pressing a kiss to your cheek. "I love you." She turned to Connor. "And I like you. But no. Handle this yourselves." She stretched up, pecking his lips, and walked away.
You were never going to get used to that. Ever. As soon as she disappeared around the corner to head upstairs, you turned to Connor.
"I don't need you to worry about me. Stop being so pushy about this! It didn't work out. Okay? It's done. Leave it alone!"
He shook his head. "No."
"Connor!" You threw your hands up in defeat, groaning loudly.
He grabbed his bag from the floor, slinging it over his shoulder. "See ya in a few hours!" He replied cheerily, the pep in his step making you want to chuck your tennis shoe at the back of his head.
"You owe me a week's worth of coffee for this!" You shouted behind him, rolling your eyes when the front door opened and shut. "I hate your boyfriend!" You yelled from the kitchen.
You heard Marlowe's footsteps as she exited her room. "NOT MY BOYFRIEND!" She called down the stairs before turning and disappearing into her room once again.
Why was Connor pushing this so hard? It was clear to you that you and Chris just weren't meant to be. It didn't work. Why couldn't he just leave that alone?
Almost 2 hours later, you were showered and dressed, getting ready to leave when your phone buzzed.
Connor: Coffee is taken care of.
You: It better be.
Tucking your phone in your pocket, you locked the front door behind you and started the drive to work.
The best part about this job during the season is that if you had all the clerical things taken care of, you only had to be in the office while the guys were there. They had weight-lifting at 9am, light practice at 11am, and then you were free to go after they cleared out around 1pm. You had to stay back if someone decided to stick around any longer than that, but the salary was worth it.
Today should be a relatively easy day, maybe a few stretches and ice packs after practice, but you were hoping to be home by 2pm.
Your run this morning had absolutely worn you out, especially given the emotional encounter you had, too. You were mentally and physically exhausted and might actually strangle Connor if there wasn't a latte waiting for you.
You were surprised when you pulled into the lot that some of the players were already there. Their lifting session didn't start for another 30 minutes and they normally waited until the last second to show up. But there were several cars out front already, so you weren't surprised to see the practice rink lit up. You could hear music blaring from the weight room and the echoes of the clanking cast-iron weights being dropped onto the rubber mat as you made your way to your office.
Outside of your door, there was a small, thin table set up that had business cards, flyers for events and charities, etc for fellow staff members and players to take from. Normally, the same 7 or 8 things sat on top of the tiny oak table, but this morning, there was a small brown bag with your name written on the outside.
You peered inside, grabbing the note that sat on top of a Starbucks cup.
Of course, he writes in all caps. All caps and black coffee? Could this man be any more predictable?
After staring at the note for far too long, you tucked it into your pocket and retrieved your keys, unlocking your office door and pushing it open. Your stare then turns to the brown bag that sat perched on the corner of the table. Why couldn't he just let you hate him?
Letting out a resigned sigh, you grabbed the bag and brought it to your desk, desperate enough for caffeine that you could overlook who had purchased it for you. After all, it wasn't just Connor that owed you for ruining your run this morning.
And that's all that it was. Coffee. There was no mention of a truce, he wasn't begging for forgiveness. It was a simple gesture to make up for the fact that your run was interrupted. Nothing more.
Tuesday:
When you pulled up to the rink this morning, you were thankful to see you were the only person around. Your run this morning was particularly painful and you were looking forward to relaxing in your office before someone needed something and you had to use muscles you preferred not to at the moment.
You'd half expected Chris to stop by your office at some point yesterday just to make sure you hadn't thrown out the coffee he'd left for you, but he didn't and you hated that you had conflicting feelings about it.
On one hand, it seemed like he finally got the message you were trying to send. He knew that you were hurt and not sure if you were able to move past being so upset with him.
On the other hand, the olive branch that he'd extended chipped away at the wall you'd built inside to protect yourself from him.
After a few hours, people started filtering in and out of the building. You'd just finished stretching Brett's shoulder and taping on an ice pack when there was a knock on your door.
"Yeah?" You called out, patting Brett on the arm and moving so he could hop off of the table.
An older gentleman poked his head through the door. "Y/N?"
"Yes?"
He pushed the door open all the way, carrying a giant bouquet of red roses. "Delivery."
Your brows furrowed in confusion. "For Y/N?"
After setting the vase on your desk, he grabbed the order form sheet from his pocket. "Delivery for Y/N Y/L/N." He held it out to you, along with a pen. "Sign please."
Despite being incredibly confused, you grabbed the pen from him and did as he asked. "Is there a card?"
He jerked his chin towards the large bouquet. "In the middle. Have a great day!" He turned, leaving you in a state of shock. Who the fuck sent you flowers?
You snagged the card from the middle of the bouquet, opening the tiny envelope and pulling out a small piece of stationery.
You stared at the card, your mouth parted slightly in surprise. Brett stood in your office, a smirk on his face.
"Who are they from?"
Your eyes snapped up, meeting his.
Fuck. What does he know?!
You felt your neck and cheeks warm as you tried to come up with anyone but Chris, his smirk growing into a grin at your hesitation. "My roommate."
He rolled his eyes. "Your roommate sent you 2 dozen roses?" Brett inquired with a dubious, playful tone to his voice.
"Mhmm." You nodded, several times while tucking the card in your pocket.
"You're a horrible liar."
"I'm not lying!" You argued, clearing your throat when your voice raised, cracking slightly.
Brett snorted out a laugh before turning to leave. "Have a good day, Y/N!"
You shuffled back to your desk, plopping down on your chair and burying your face in your hands. Dammit, Chris! You groaned into your hands and while you were mortified that Brett knew something, you couldn't stop the smile from forming on your lips when you sat back up and admired the bouquet.
"He sent me flowers." You whispered to yourself, your hand reaching up to stroke the soft, velvety petal of one of the roses. No one had ever sent you flowers before. In all the years that you dated Dean, he never thought to send you any. Not for your birthday, not for Valentine's Day. And while Chris didn't send these just because, you felt a little flutter in your stomach anyway.
Dammit.
Wednesday:
The guys didn't have practice since there was a home game today, so you didn't have to be at the rink until around noon. You took your time getting ready for your run, deciding that you could wait until the sun was already in the sky before driving over to the trail.
You'd rolled your eyes when you saw Connor and Marlowe cooking breakfast together in the kitchen. It was nice seeing her happy and you loved that Connor was treating her with the respect that she deserves, but it really was like living with a younger sibling. He spent the night almost every night and you guys were constantly bickering.
"Good morning, sunshine!" Marlowe called out to you, extending her arms to pull you into a hug. She pressed a kiss to your cheek, making you scrunch your face.
"I don't know where those lips have been recently, maybe refrain from kissing me." You teased, grabbing a blueberry from the counter and popping it into your mouth.
"I could tell you all about where those lips–"
You held your hands up, covering your ears. "NO! DON'T!" Marlowe reached over to slap Connor's bare arm while you walked over to the fridge, pulling it open. "What's this?" You asked, pointing to the brown bag sitting dead center in your refrigerator.
"Oh, right!" Marlowe turned to Connor, her lips pinched together to stop herself from smiling. "You had a delivery this morning."
Reaching into the fridge, you pulled out the bag and turned to set it on the counter. There was a little white card sitting on top of the green drink inside.
You chuckled at his comment, shaking your head. Flipping the card over, you saw a note that said 'In case you might be allergic to something' with the ingredients that he used in the smoothie. He made you a smoothie for your run and brought it over.
Suddenly aware that Marlowe and Connor were both staring at you, you scrubbed your hand over your mouth to stop yourself from smiling. "This is borderline stalkerish." You said, placing it back in the fridge.
Connor rolled his eyes. "You are so full of shit."
Marlowe groaned. "Come on, Y/N! He's doing sweet things. He wants to win your affection back... He obviously likes you."
"Yeah, well. Maybe he should've thought about that before he told me not to read into things. This is just him trying to clear his conscience."
"You know what? You two really are a match made in Hell. You're the most stubborn and prideful people I've ever met in my life." Connor replied, shaking his head. "Seriously. You guys are the worst. Did you know he's called me almost every night to see what else he can do? He also tries to call you every night, even though he knows you blocked his number. Did you know he called his mom? His mom, Y/N! Yes, he feels horrible about what he did. It doesn't take a rocket scientist to see that, but this is so much more than clearing his conscience. The guy cares about you. And as much as you try to hide it, I know you care about him, too."
He called his mom? You stared at Connor for a second before sighing. "I don't trust him. I already tried that once and it bit me in the ass. I won't put myself out there again."
Marlowe shook her head and you could already tell what was coming. "'If you don't put yourself out there again, you might miss out on one of the best guys out there.'"
You shook your head. She was using your own words against you. "This is different."
"Y/N, come on."
"Mar, you'd just been cheated on and you were nervous about Connor. You were hurt by a different person and I knew that Connor was good for you! How does this even compare? How can you say that the person that hurt me is the one who's good for me?"
Connor leaned down, a small smile on his lips as he kissed Marlowe's shoulder. "I think we can all agree that Chris was an asshole. He fucked up because he got scared. But he's trying to prove to you that you can trust him. Give him another shot, Y/N."
You groaned, throwing your head back in defeat. "I hate both of you." You snagged your keys off of the counter and made your way out of the door.
You hated the possibility that they could be right. What if Chris really would be good for you? You knew he was scared. He'd already told you that the feelings he had for you and the way he thought about you constantly freaked him out. But you never thought he'd be the kind of person to run from it. Or the kind of person that would hurt you to protect himself.
The entire time you ran this morning, your mind was on Chris. Did you actually have it in you to forgive him? Did he have it within himself to treat you right? There were still so many unanswered concerns and you just didn't know what to do.
Once you got back from your quick jog along the river, you were thankful that Marlowe and Connor were gone so you could enjoy the smoothie that Chris made for you without them teasing you.
Thursday:
After their win last night, the guys were on cloud 9. Rick brought in coffee and donuts for everyone this morning to celebrate, most of the guys were hungover and wearing sunglasses while they stumbled around inside.
You'd given out one too many Advil's this morning.
You were sitting at your desk updating everyone's medical notes when someone knocked on your already opened door.
Chris's head poked through when you looked up. "You got a sec?"
You stared at him with wide eyes, not really sure how to answer his question. "For something personal, no. For something professional, yes."
His mouth twitched into a small smile. "I guess this isn't entirely personal or professional." He stepped through the threshold, a cup of coffee in one hand, a glazed donut wrapped in a napkin in the other, and something tucked under his arm. "I didn't think you'd had a chance to stop by the celebration, so I just wanted to bring these to you." Chris walked over to your desk, set the food, drink, and black gift box down, then went to walk away without saying another word.
"Chris.." You called out softly, looking down at everything and then back up to him. He turned, his expression hopeful. "You don't have to buy me things or bring me things..." You told him, your voice trailing off towards the end, wanting to say more, but not really sure what.
He shrugged. "I know I don't have to, but it's the least that I can do to show you how sorry I am. What I did... was... unacceptable. On so many levels. I let my fear of fucking things up with us... fuck everything up. Honestly, I miss seeing you smile. I miss hearing your voice. And I know that I don't deserve to enjoy either of those things yet, but if leaving coffee on your desk makes you smile or if leaving a note on a smoothie might make you laugh, even if I'm not there, it's a win in my book."
You stared at him in awe for a second, appreciating the fact that he's putting himself out there.
"I meant it, Y/N. I know I hurt you and I will never forgive myself for that. But please don't give up on me."
Before you could say anything in return, he excused himself from your office and left you sitting there with your jaw on the floor. Theoretically. Because realistically, you were pinching your lips together in a tight line to keep yourself from calling out after him.
You could feel yourself forgiving him. The brick wall you'd built around your heart was being chipped away by tiny little construction workers that all looked like Chris and they were working overtime.
Dammit.
You cleared the papers from in front of you and set the black box down, unraveling the ribbon and pulling the top off. There was a little white piece of stationary that sat on top.
You inhaled a shaky breath. Even mad at him, your heart ached at the thought that Chris might be unhappy or unfulfilled in life. No one deserves that.
Pulling back the tissue paper, you let out a small laugh when you realized what it was. You pulled it out, holding it up in front of you. It was a vintage sleep shirt that had a picture of Flora, Fauna, and Merryweather from Sleeping Beauty on it with the falling cake being held up by a broom.
Maybe Marlowe and Connor were right... Chris was trying super hard, while still maintaining the distance that you'd asked for, to make sure you knew how sorry he was. Would it be so bad to give him another chance?
Friday:
Chris's game was off.
He seemed fine in the beginning, even scoring the first goal of the night. But he looked into the crowd with a huge grin on his face as he did a victory skate towards the bench and then his smile dropped, his face blanching and his jaw hardening.
You'd done a subtle scan of the crowd, trying to see whatever he did, but you couldn't put your finger on anything out of the ordinary.
From then on, he was off. He fought, twice. Almost getting thrown out after the second one. Kip fixed up his bloody lip and after a talk with Pearson, he was back out there, but he missed passes, tripped over his own teammates. He was a mess.
"Rick." You called out softly. Chris was on his 3rd penalty of the night and you were a little worried, despite clearing him, that it might be his head.
Pearson turned, his shoulders stiff. He raised his eyebrows, waiting for you to continue.
"Do you think it's his head? Should I check him?"
"No." Rick shook his head. "I talked to him. I know what it is. It's his head, but not the concussion."
You nodded, silently sitting back in your chair. You knew Chris was into you, but you weren't conceited enough to think that his game was this affected because of what was happening between the two of you. That couldn't be it, right?
You watched the rest of the game, cringing every time Chris missed a pass or a goal. You were just thankful this game was against the Penguins and not Montreal. If Chris was playing like this in front of Dean, Chris never would've heard the end of it and Dean probably wouldn't have left alive.
The game ended with a loss. 4-1. It was not a good game, at all. Rick was pissed, the players were pissed. Even the fans were pissed. Everyone could tell that Chris was off his game for the first time in a long time.
You decided to wait for him tonight, just to make sure he was okay, telling yourself it was to double-check the concussion you'd cleared him from and not the little flutter in your chest when you thought about what he'd said to you yesterday.
The game ended around 9:30pm and it was getting late. You knew Chris usually took the longest out of everyone, but it was pushing 11:30pm and something felt off.
You left your office, heading towards the locker room to see if he had already left and you just missed him. Surely, he wouldn't have left after seeing your office light still on. He walked you to your car, even when he acted like he couldn't stand you.
Pulling open the locker room door, you came to a stop when you heard the yelling.
"You're a pathetic piece of shit. I can't believe I wasted all those years thinking you'd actually make something out of yourself."
Chris laughed sarcastically. "I'm in the fucking NHL, prick. I'm doing pretty fucking fine, no thanks to you."
"All thanks to me, I'm your father!" The man shouted back.
His father?
His father was here?
You instantly wondered if that was who he saw in the crowd.
"I'm 40 years old. I don't need to fucking listen to this. What do you want? Money? You can have it. Let me know how much you need to get the fuck out of my life."
You couldn't see the argument from where you stood, but you heard Chris's father scoff. "I came to watch my son play hockey and you know what I saw instead? Some of the worst fucking skating I've ever witnessed in my life. You'll never amount to anything, Chris. You've always been a pathetic man. I failed you by leaving you with that woman."
Something... or someone hit a locker, Chris's voice booming through the room. "Don't you dare say one negative thing about her! She fucking raised me and put up with your sorry ass for years–"
"And I would've left her soon if I would've realized how pathetic you'd turn out to be!"
Okay. That was enough. You needed to stop this before Chris lost his temper.
Taking a deep breath, you noisily pushed through the door. "Evans!" You called out, your voice stronger than you thought it would be. "You still here?"
"Y/N?"
"Yeah." You walked around the corner coming face to face with Chris and his father. "Pearson wanted me to go over your concussion clearance after the game. Can you come to my office? I'm sorry to interrupt."
Chris stared at you like he could hear the way your heart pounded in your chest.
"It'll only take a minute or so." You assured.
Chris's father looked at you and then back at Chris. "I was just leaving, sweetheart. Not interrupting a thing."
You looked at Chris's dad, swallowing hard. "You can address me by my name or nothing at all. This area is for employees and players only, so you need to leave anyway."
His jaw ticked in a similar way that Chris's did and you waited for the rebuttal, but nothing came, giving you a little more confidence.
You turned to Chris first. "Evans, I'll wait for you in my office, take your time. Sir, you can come with me or I can call security to escort you out. Your choice." You smiled wide, looking at his father.
"Security not necessary, Y/N. I'll leave with you."
"Great." You responded sarcastically, stepping back around the corner and holding the door open. Your hands were shaking from the adrenaline but you wouldn't let him know you were as scared and nervous as you were.
Chris's dad followed you out, not saying a word as you lead him to the back entrance where the players normally came for game days. You pushed the door open, letting him walkthrough.
"Not that Chris needs anyone to stand up for him and not that I know him well at all, but from the look of it, Chris did just fine without you. And from the sound of it, he is ten times the man you have ever been and will ever be. Have a good night." You snapped, backing up and pulling the door shut with a slam behind you.
You turned to walk back to your office, stopping when you saw Chris standing in the dim-lit hallway in front of you. If you weren't worried about him being upset with you after overhearing what you just said to his dad, you might've laughed. It was like a scene from a horror movie. The fluorescent lights flickered a few times, Chris's tall figure standing a few feet away as he stared down at you. Perfect set up for a murder scene.
"Let's go back to my office." You said quietly, stepping around Chris and walking away. You heard his footsteps following closely behind, your heart pounding so hard in your chest it was almost painful. Once you got to your office, you pushed the door open and stepped inside, closing it behind you after Chris walked through.
He stood in the middle of your office, the only light coming from a small lamp in the corner. Chris faced away from you, his shoulders rising and falling slowly as he let out a deep sigh.
"Chris.." You breathed out, taking a couple of steps towards him. "I'm sorry if I overstepped."
He shook his head, turning to face you. "You didn't." He insisted. His voice sounded off, a lot softer than normal.
"You okay?" You questioned, taking another step towards him and tilting your chin to look up at him. His brows pushed together as his eyes became glossy. "Hey..." you crooned softly, your right hand cupping his cheek.
A tear fell from his eye and your heart broke.
"Chris.." You reached up, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling his body into yours. "It's okay." You assured him as his arms secured tightly around your waist. He fisted your shirt, burying his face into your shoulder as he broke down.
You held him tighter, your hand cupping the back of his head as he cried silently into your shoulder. With every second that passed, your heart broke more and more.
What he did to you was wrong, but seeing how he interacted with his father tonight and how he broke down in front of you right now, just shows that Chris is just scared. He truly is scared of being his father. He's scared of hurting you in the long run, scared of disappointing you. You knew, especially after tonight, that he would never be his father.
This past week proved that to be true. You knew it was true. But he didn't. He didn't see it. All he saw in himself when he looked in the mirror was a man who would break you and you weren't sure how to make him see that that wasn't him.
After a minute or so, you pulled away, framing his face with your hands. "Look at me."
He reached up to wipe his eyes, his face blotchy and red from crying.
"I meant what I said to him. You are not him. Chris, you are caring and protective, and yeah, kind of an asshole, but you're also sweet and a good friend. You are nothing like him."
He sniffed, reaching up to wipe his cheeks again before resting his hands on top of yours. "I hurt you."
"I know." You responded, nodding a little. "You did. But you also walk me to my car to make sure I get there safe and save me from creepy hockey players at bars. You leave me cold water when I'm hungover and the night that we had sex, you were so attentive and worried about taking things too fast. You have a kind heart, Chris. That's the difference. He's an asshole through and through. You're an asshole because you want to protect yourself, not because you feel that way in there." You took your index finger and pointed to where his heart sat in his chest. "You hurt me, and I'm really trying to forgive you. But you did it because you thought you were protecting me, right?"
Chris nodded then pushed your hands from his face. You thought he was going to push you away, but instead, he gently placed his hands on your cheeks, holding you like you'd just been doing to him. "I'm so sorry that I hurt you. Please. Just– just know that. I'm sorry."
You smiled softly. "I know you are. I really do." You took a deep breath, closing your eyes for a second. You knew you were going to give him another chance, but you needed him to know that if anything like this happened again, you weren't sticking around. You could do what Marlowe and Connor said and put yourself out there again, but you wouldn't do it a third time.
"Listen," you opened your eyes, looking into his, "We can take baby steps, Chris. Baby steps."
His lips curved into a smile as your hands found his waist.
"But if we do this, you can't shut me out, Chris. You can't. That's not how relationships work. We would be a team. You have to communicate with me just like you talk to them out there on the ice. I'm not stupid... I know there's something here that has the potential to be amazing, but I respect myself too much to be walked all over or pushed to the side. I won't stay if you shut me out."
He didn't say anything for a second as his eyes scanned your face like he couldn't believe what you were saying. "Really?"
You nodded, smiling again. "Really."
"I promise, Y/N. I really do. I won't shut you out, I just... I've never had a real relationship before... I don't know how to be a good boyfriend."
Your smile grew. "I'll be happy to help you with that one. But just talk to me. You know, I was raised by a single mother, too. I get it. We just have to work together. Through every argument, every insecurity, every.... Everything. And we'll be okay."
His thumb stroked your cheek softly. "I really wanna kiss you right now."
You laughed. "Well, it's what a good boyfriend would do."
You could tell he wanted to laugh, but the want to kiss you clearly won as he dipped his head and pressed his lips to yours. Melting into his chest, you tightened your grip around his waist and held him closer. You felt his shoulders relax and it was like the stress visibly left his body when he kissed you.
He pulled away, immediately smiling as his forehead rested against yours. "I promise, I will try so hard to be a man you deserve."
"I just need you to be you, Chris. That's all I need. Open, honest, less tense. Maybe stay the night next time we have sex. You know, the little things."
He snorted out a laugh, shaking his head and standing up straight, his hands moving to your waist. "I've been groveling for 3 weeks and 2 seconds after I kiss you, you're already making jokes?"
Smiling, you snaked your arms around his neck. "You needed to be knocked down a peg or two."
"Or four." He agreed, making you laugh again. He pecked your lips, pulling back to look into your eyes. "Baby steps."
You nodded. "Baby steps."