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.
It has been three weeks since we were last together, since I left him in Pittsburgh to return to Montreal for the beginning of NHL camps. Now I have no idea the next time I'll be able to see him.
"You could move to Pittsburgh. After the Toronto stuff clears out of course," he adds quickly and I smile.
"Oh how much I wish that would happen, Nick," I sigh into the phone and turn onto my side to glance at the clock. "But for now, I have to be a big girl and get to work."
"Alright, I'll call you after practice?" He says it like a question and I roll my eyes.
"Just like every day," I say dryly and he chuckles.
"Love you."
"Love you."
And we hang up.
Twenty minutes later I'm pulling my wet hair into a twist that looks both messy and professional, basically my life in a nutshell. I pick up my discarded cell phone and open a thread to Mason.
What room are you in?
I send and get dressed while waiting for his response, thankful once again that there isn't a pregame skate and I don't have to dress nice. A pair of jeans and a blouse are plenty professional, right? My phone vibrates on my bed and when I pick it up I scoff at Mason's response.
As if I would tell you that. I'll meet you by the elevator in five
Taking a deep breath in and close my eyes for an instant to think about the snide remark I have and if it's worth sending. It is.
I don't think you have anything worth stealing at the moment.
That's what you think.
-
I raise my eyebrows when he strolls up the elevator three minutes late.
"Took your time making sure the bald spot was covered?" I ask sweetly and he pretends to ignore me. Though when we step into the elevator I notice his hand tentatively pat the back of his head when he thinks I'm not looking. I repress a laugh and push the button to the lobby.
Mason and I ride down in comfortable silence, I note that he hasn't brought any of his tablets or laptop. Neither did I.
When the elevator opens, he hesitates so I take a step forward only to be pushed to the side as Mason jumps in front of me. I gasp in surprise and catch myself on the doors and scowl at Mason's retreating form.
We get our food in silence before sitting at a table near the middle of the small dining area, only a few other players other guests at the hotel are already eating.
"So," I start, stabbing my hash browns with my fork, "what have I missed?"
"Do you always start dates so formal?" Mason asks, eyeing me over his glass of orange juice.
I scoff again and roll my eyes to the heavens. "Shut up and give me the low down, Mason. And you shoved me in the elevator! If that's how you greet all friends I can see why you're still single."
He grins at this. "First of all, you're not my friend. Second of all, what if I'm not single?" He asks and I still in my seat, unsure what to say as he regards me across the table.
Then he bursts out laughing. I frown at him as he snorts into his pancakes and a few people glance our way.
"Oh, you should have seen your face," he says after another ten seconds of laughter, not caring the slightest about the stares directed at us. "One of those is a lie," he adds but I ignore him, too busy shoveling French toast into my mouth to care.
Within a few minutes of unsuccessfully getting my attention by either making snide remarks or flicking granola at me, he dives into the ins and outs of the Toronto organization. The dining room gradually fills as more players and coaches float down from their rooms. A few introduce themselves, others don't give me a second glance. I don't give them one either. I have no desire for a friendship with anyone in this room.
Until Mason's attention goes over my shoulder as I'm discussing the aspects of articles or video interviews in the Toronto media and which is preferred. A slow grin creeps across his face as he looks slowly back to me and I half turn to look over my shoulder, eyeing him warily.
"What?" I ask, but he only quirks an eyebrow at me before breaking to a smile as someone appears beside out table.
"How's it going, Mo?" Mason asks and proceeds to engage in a difficult and confusing handshake with the Leafs defenseman that captures my attention so fully that I don't comprehend who Mason actually just addressed.
I startle when Morgan replies, hearing his voice taking me by surprise after having two awkwardly long staring sessions. So much so that I don't hear his response. He glances at me somewhat hesitantly and Mason takes the cue.
"This is Y/N, a temp until we hire a few more people," Mason says and I glares at me across the table much to my amusement. "Hopefully gone within a couple weeks," he adds under his breath but both Morgan and I hear him.
Morgan raises his eyebrows and nods slowly as Mason's introduction and holds out a hand to me.
"Morgan Rielly," he says and I fight a smile at how odd it is for someone you already know to introduce themselves.
Now it's my turn to hesitate, for a reason unknown to me, before I reach out and shake his hand quickly. It's warm and surprisingly soft considering all the callouses and scars on his skin.
"Nice to meet you," I say politely and then drop his hand just as fast.
"Likewise," Morgan smiles and I feel myself smiling in return. "I'll let you get back to your conversation, Y/N. Sounded riveting from where I was standing earlier," he adds, his eyes twinkling mischievously. I glance around, wondering how loud I had been talking but Morgan laughs quietly and pats Mason on the shoulder as he turns to head to the buffet.
Again, my gaze lingers on his retreating body before I realize what I'm doing and quickly look back to my water glass. When I look up Mason is regarding me with an amused expression that I don't even bother asking about.
"I don't want to know what you're thinking. Just finish your little lecture so we can go back to ignoring each other," I sigh at him.
"But we can't ignore each other, Y/N," Mason says with mock enthusiasm, reaching across the table and squeezing my wrist. "We get to see each other and work with each other every day!"
I give him an unamused stare and he drops the façade and within fifteen minutes I'm walking back to my hotel room alone. But not before taking one last glance over my shoulder at the table in the corner currently seating Jake Gardiner, Morgan Rielly and James van Riemsdyk. Mason is currently pulling up a chair to their table as well which strikes me as funny.
But my glance doesn't go unnoticed. Morgan raises his eyes to mine for a split second that seems to last an eternity. I flush and turn my head back forward and march out the dining room with a little less dignity than when I walked in.