When I get to Brian's office without a second to spare, I know I'm in deep and utter shit.
He sits with his hands folded in front of him on top of the large, mahogany desk that takes up the majority of the room. His mouth is set in a firm line, showing no trace of the cheerful man he normally is around me. It brings me back to the night he caught Esme and me sneaking home from a party, and my pulse ticks in response as I sit into one of the chairs adjacent to the desk.
"Is there something you'd like to tell me?" He asks.
Oh, god.
This is how he's going to play it? Act oblivious until he wears me down and my nerves get the best of me and I tell the truth? What has he heard? I'm left with nothing to go on, not an inkling as to what he might be aware of, and the thought of that is terrifying.
"I don't know what you mean," I cautiously reply. My knee bounces—a nervous habit—and Brian's eyes flick to my lap. He's known me for practically my entire life. If anyone could catch me in a lie, it'd be him.
There's only twenty minutes left until the game starts, so maybe if I stay silent long enough, he'll let me leave.
Doubtful, but it's worth a shot.
Beneath his scrutinizing gaze, I can feel my walls threatening to crumble.
"So, I should let these rumors of you and Connor be just that, then? Rumors?" I gulp loudly when he leans forward and rests his elbows on the desk. "Be honest with me, Aria. This will be a whole lot easier if you tell the truth."
My brain tries to keep up with my thoughts, but it's no use. I can't think of a good enough lie, and, if I'm being honest, I don't want to lie. I'm tired of hiding my feelings for Connor. Tired of going on these away games and not being able to kiss him as soon as he steps off the ice. Tired of not wearing his number to show him my unwavering support.
"Did he rope you into something you weren't comfortable with?" He asks.
"What? No, I..." Is that what everyone really thinks of him? That he'd force me into something? My mind strays to the photographer who used him as leverage by showing those photos, and my jaw ticks from annoyance. I've never been one to hold my tongue, certainly not around Brian, so I reply, "Connor's been nothing but a gentleman since I met him, and if you really had to ask me that question, it's clear you don't know your star play at all."
He arches a brow. "Oh?"
"Yes, oh." I rise to my feet with my palms flat on the desk. "The previous photographer? The one who claimed he talked her into taking them in the first place? It's not true. None of it is, but Connor didn't want to tell the truth in fear you wouldn't believe him. He's..." I sigh, blinking up at the ceiling as I search for words. "He's the best person I know, and yes, we've breached the contract. It's not a hook-up or a fling, it's a relationship, but I'll understand if you have to let me go. Just please don't take this out on Connor, Brian. He's already been through—" Brian's laughter cuts me off, and my eyes snap back to his only to realize he's smiling. "Why are you laughing? This isn't funny."
When he finally calms down enough to speak he says, "Aria, the clause is a formality. Is it frowned upon? Yes, but you're... You're not just an employee to me, you're family. I know you wouldn't start something with one of the players unless you were serious about them. Truthfully, I can't believe you allowed someone in enough to get to the point of being in a relationship, and I don't mean to laugh, but I'm just...relieved. I'm happy you found someone, and I'm pleased my stern act was enough for you to confess. I was growing tired of you both tiptoeing around me."
My eyes grow wide. "You knew?"
"It's not hard to piece it together when my star player stopped making headlines for bringing a female home after the games. I've always known Connor was a good man. It's why I didn't fire him after the last photographer presented those photos to us, and I went into a legal battle to get his name cleared for a reason. Originally, I didn't bring it to his attention as I thought it would be an uncomfortable subject for him to talk about, and it hurts me to know he feels I wouldn't believe him. I've seen the way he is around his family when they're at the rink. As much as he can be a conceited ass at times, he's a good person."
I slump back into the seat, completely dumbfounded.
Brian isn't upset we're together. Connor and I will both get to keep our jobs, and all the anxiety I felt over being discovered evaporates like the drop of a hat. We're free to be together. Free to be happy.
And it seems too good to be true.
It's about a minute until I can finally muster a reply. "I don't know what to say."
"You don't have to say anything at all. I just wanted to tell you that I'm happy you're happy, and despite what you think, you deserve to feel this way, Aria. I'd never take that chance away from you."
Well, now I'm fucking done for.
The tears drop freely onto my cheeks when he opens a drawer below his desk and tosses a jersey over to me. It's Connor's. "Figured you'd want it for tonight."
***
By the time I changed and grabbed my equipment from my car, I barely made it back in time before the game started. I'm feeling really good proudly wearing Connor's number, and my skin is practically tingling while I await his reaction. I don't expect him to notice right away since the game has already started. Normally his flirtatious grins and secretive winks happen during warm-ups.
But during halftime...
I can't wait to tell him how the conversation with Brian went. He's been on edge, too, but after tonight's game I can surprise him and wrap my legs around his waist after the game. I can plant a big smacking kiss to his lips and tell him I love him. Now that this major obstacle is out of our way, I can tell him how I truly feel, and there's no one else I'd rather be vulnerable with than him.
Matti and Cal race across the ice with Connor, who currently has the puck. The pair try their best to clear a path for Connor, and I line my camera up in preparation for the shot in case he scores. This version of Connor is the one I like best. The focused, determined expression on his face as he draws closer. His eyes dart side to side, attempting to see where the opposing players are, but I keep my lens focused on him, unable to look away from those green of his eyes. The color of a four leaf clover. Fresh summer grass.
But then an opposing player cuts a sharp right, causing him to skate behind the goal with the puck instead and missing his shot, but another opposing player is waiting, and before I can even blink the man throws himself against Connor, and his helmet thwacks the board with enough pressure to—
Cal crashes into the pileup and falls directly on his shoulder. I can hear the muffled groan even from behind the glass, but that's not who I'm focused on. My camera sits around my chest while I stare at no one but Connor, who falls to the ice with a thud.
He's...not moving.
Why isn't he moving?
"Connor?" I smack the glass as if that'll wake him up. As if he can hear me over all of the pissed off fans behind me. I wait for the cocky grin to fall on his face and for him to roll his eyes at me before telling me I'm being dramatic, but it never comes.
"Blow the fucking whistle!"
"Put his ass in the penalty box!"
"Too hard of a hit!"
The refs blow the whistle to pause the game, but I hardly hear it. My heart is pounding in my ears at the sight of Cal gripping his shoulder and Connor lying on the ice unconscious. He's not moving. He's still not moving.
"Connor!" I yell, blinking through my tears. "Connor, get up! Please get up."
One after another, memories swarm my head of my sister lying unconscious on the bathroom floor. My heart pounds like a drum, and I suddenly can't find the room to breathe. My lungs feel constricted when the paramedics reach him. They're checking his pulse before they signal for a gurney.
He's going to the hospital.
They're taking him away just like they did my sister, where they declared her dead within five minutes of being there.
I can't lose him, too.
I fucking can't.
Every single insecurity I thought I've been mending comes undone like a set of stitches ripping open. All of the hard work, all of the effort was fruitless as they strap him into the gurney, and now I'm panicking when my fists hit the glass angrily. Desperately.
"CONNOR!" I scream. My throat feels hoarse, and now I'm wondering just how much I've been screaming for it to feel this way. None of this feels real. I'm in a nightmare that I'd give anything to wake up from, but then a set of hands spin me around and Matti stares down at me with tears of his own threatening to appear.
"Aria, It's okay. They're going to be okay." Matti left the bench for me, and... God, I didn't realize how much I needed to be held together until now.
I can't go to a hospital again after they told me my sister passed.
I can't fathom them telling me the same thing happened to Connor.
I want to crawl out of my skin. I want to be anywhere but here.
I need to get out of here.
I need to...
Pulling out of Matti's grasp, I place a hand over my heart as I try to calm down my gasped sobs. I'm full-on sobbing, and I don't know how to stop it.
"I need a...minute," I cry. "I... Fuck, I need fresh air."
Everyone is shouting and yelling around me, fully confused as to what the hell just happened. Not one, but two of their best players are injured, which could very well mean the season is over for the team. However, that's the last thing I'm concerned about as I race for the exit to the stadium.
Let me get fired or reprimanded for leaving early.
I don't care.
I want nothing to do with sticking around and hearing the news that the only person I've let in since my sister's passing is gone, too. That I lost the one person I...
Once I'm outside, I bend over with my hands on my knees to wretch into the grass as an overwhelming wave of regret floods me from the inside out. A feeling that's an old friend of mine. One that seems to remind me that I will never be rid of it no matter how hard I try.
I never told him I loved him.
Author's Note:
OMFG
Poor Aria
She worked SO hard
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