45. Junk Trunk

I owe you a massive apology for not updating sooner, it's been nearly a week which is absolutely terrible - I've been ridiculously busy with summer plans, new boyfriend and a weekend in Quebec City that I haven't been anywhere near my laptop. So I've had to wait until today to bosh out this one, but more to come soon. Anyway this is inspired from this clip. I didn't know if it was possible to write a story about Jordan (or indeed any of the other Staals) that didn't include that snippet.


System of a Down - Chop Suey


JORDAN'S POV


Eric looked at me as I lay crashed out on the sofa watching some shitty reruns on TV. He cocked his head to one side and gave me that look – the look which kind of asks why I’m being a lazy bones when it’s such a nice day outside. On a day like today I should probably be out helping Dad not watching CSI or the Sopranos. Right now, this is exactly what I needed. I can’t bear to be stuck inside all day but Marc’s constant sniping at my new found singledom was really getting on my nerves so I’d escaped the scorching sun and headed inside for some mindnumbing TV. I didn’t say anything to him; I just closed my eyes and sighed, willing him to go away. I had told Mom, who had not so discreetly told the rest of the family, that I was now single so by now, the rest of Thunder Bay would probably already now know - Mom should have had a career in broadcast journalism or something, not here in sod central.

“You wanna shoot some pucks at crap?”

“Have we got any?” I asked referring to our annual summer tradition.

Eric nodded as a grin slowly spread over my face.


Every summer since I was about sixteen, Mom has her annual clear out of the house going from top to bottom. She hates clutter and forces Dad – who’s a hoarder – to liberally chuck everything away that we no longer use or need. Mom used to put all of the items in the barn for Dad to load them onto a trailer and take them to the rubbish dump in town. One year, Eric and I set all the items up in the barn and shot pucks at them. Since then it’s become an annual tradition which has turned into a friendly competition between the four of us – always Eric and me against Marc and Jared. The items in our affectionately named ‘Junk Trunk’ which comes from the trunk in the attic full of old crap, usually consists of old faded plates; hideous china ornaments that Mom and Dad have received as presents at one point or another, and anything that’s breakable that lies around the house. If we’re really stuck we go through the recycling for wine and beer bottles but usually Mom gets enough junk for us to smash us.

Dad used to be worried that we might hit holes in the barn wall, but none of us have a hard enough shot to punch a puck through wood and corrugated metal even if we tried.

"What time do you make it?” I asked as I went upstairs to find a stick in my kit bag.
“Four, I’ll go get the carrots,” Eric said referring to Marc and Jared.

Together we noisily made our way out to the barn to see the assortment of accumulated junk Mom had put together for us this summer. There were a few beer bottles lined up on top of the shelf as well as some plate that I’d never seen before. Mom always put these things away for a rainy day, or just a day in the summer as she’s dejunking the house.

“Dude, Mom got two of these!” Jared said holding up an evil looking Santa who used to light up. The other one had been destroyed a couple of summers ago so I’m guessing either someone knows we destroyed the first and kindly gave her another one, not knowing it would come to the same fate as the first – or Mom deliberately held back Santa number 2 back so Santa bashing could recommence this year. He carefully put him back on his perch and started looking at the other items.
After deciding on the same teams as always, Marc went to the chalk board and rubbed off last year’s score.

“He buried it, dude!” I shouted as the can fell noisily to the ground.

“You surprised or something?” Eric said turning to me. What can I say? Yeah? Normally he takes a few misses before he hits something, but he’s better than Marc. And he got a can too, but they fall pretty easily. The best thing about the junk trunk has got to be the thrilling sound of glass or china smashing.

“Yeah, a little surprised,” I said.

We all stood around laughing as Marc took two pucks and missed with both. He’s got bad aim – which is why we used to make him play defence – he hasn’t got the hands for anything else. When we go play golf he takes a few swipes before he even manages to tee off – always way behind us in scoring. Out of all of us he sucks the most at this game.

As Jared stepped forward we watched as he swung like a maniac and sent the puck whistling through the air – not what he aimed for but he’s got a destructive streak and he’s one up on Marc so Eric and I will let it go.

Feeling the pressure from Eric not to let our team down – I took my first shot which ricocheted off the back wall with a resounding thud. Picking out another target, I buried the plate as it smashed to smithereens on the barn floor. I wanted to keep going and Eric said I could have his go. What the hell was that? I squinted trying to make out the item in the dim light of the barn. I didn’t want to pick one of the wine bottles as they were too small and high up for me to be accurate. I needed a safe pick, something low down and big.

“I’m going to go for Santa,” I said feeling triumphant that I could wipe the smug grin off his painted face. I drew the puck back and forth, taking aim before I was ready to go. Santa was going down.

“That old thing,” Marc said as I tried to focus on the target and nothing else. I can’t have the gingers distracting me – they never win Junk Trunk and I’m damned if they’re going to put me off. Shooting quickly I knocked his head off, as his chirpy Christmas face was blasted to the floor.

“He knocked his head right off!” Eric said. I took one look at the headless Santa before looking at Marc, daring him and Jared to beat me.

The rules of the junk trunk state that if you hit something you or your team mate get another go. As I’d just decapitated Santa, it was now Eric’s turn. He went for the lightbulb. That’s so typical of Eric to choose something tiny – always setting himself the hardest challenge possible. With the grittiest look of determination possible on his face, he launched the puck towards the pile, bouncing off the back wall and hitting a pole with what looked like an old lantern on it.

Eric went for the plate but only chipped off the top half so we moved the plate down for Marc to make it easier for him. The guy’s got no aim, he needs all the help he can get. Eric and I watched, willing Marc to miss, which he did, no surprises there, hitting the back wall and knocking into the back of the cupboard.

I always hope Jared has more luck – he gets so much stick from us for not making it into the NHL earlier like us and he tells me and Eric there’s so much pressure to live up to that he worries he’s not good enough. I have no idea why he worries so much – he’s hands down better than Marc; Jared could be blindfolded and be better than Marc.

Jared picked his big target of some blue vase Aunt Meredith had given her one Christmas and missed, smashing two other items behind. However he got it on the second, exchanging high fives with Marc.

“The door,” Eric said referring to an old wooden door leaning against the back wall that used to be the old side entrance into the house. The peeling blue paint was clear enough for me to see from here. The top half of the door was divided into nine small panes of clear glass, each separated by a thin strip of wood. I looked back at Eric. He had just said the door, nothing more specific, and I wasn’t going to specify which pane I was going for.

“Deal,” I said, flicking a puck towards me as I lined up. I stood side on, focusing on the old door in front of me.

“Not going to do it.”

“You suck.”

“Fail, fail, fail.” I heard Jared and Marc trash talking me as I prepared to take the shot. Blocking them out of my mind like I did against Carcillo, when we played the Flyers, I closed my eyes and lifted my stick.


“No fucking way!” Jared said as if Marc had just told him Jesus was a Mexican. I opened my eyes at the noise of glass shattering to see where my puck had gone, looking at the door in disbelief. I couldn’t believe it – but I had done it – the middle pane of glass shattered as the door gently shook from the impact. I felt Eric pat me on the back as I raised my stick in the air. This felt almost as good as beating the fucking Flyers.

“I know, I know, I’m too good,” I said as I threw my stick in the air to being hit by Marc and Jared who I’m pretty sure were going to do their best to bring me down.


After Eric and I had safely sealed our victory, by 7-4, we went for a free for all seeing as there weren’t many remaining unbroken things.

“You outta your slump now?” Eric said as he began clearing the pieces up as the carrots slumped back to the house in defeat. You can tell he’s the oldest, he’s the most responsible as he always clears up and rounds the rest of us up.

“Yeah, think so,” I replied. Smashing things up had been a good mood lifter.

“You wanna tell me about it?” Eric said as he lifted part of Santa’s head out of the straw.

“Maybe tomorrow,” I replied, “I have a phone call to make now.”

44. Vinnie

The Daylights - Outsider


ELLA'S POV


“I play hockey.” I swallowed, trying not to let my face show any signs of emotion as I heard the three words I liked the least. I felt like I’d just been hit by a ton of bricks. Needing to do something, I nodded in acknowledgement to show I had at least heard what he was saying. Suddenly it hit me – if he played hockey, he knows Zach, and he’ll know Jordan.

“You’re quiet,” Vincent said as I reached over for his ice cream carton. I just needed a moment to think. Jumping to my feet, I walked the few metres to the bin, feeling his eyes on my back. When I turned round and walked back I had a smile on my face.

“Yeah, sorry,” I replied trying to focus on what he had just said. I stood up ready to leave. As much as I love coming up here, I needed a change of scenery and a change of subject. I didn’t want to talk about hockey and I wasn’t going to lie about why I was suddenly a lot quieter. I wasn’t ready to justify myself to this guy I had just met. “You ready to go?” I asked hoping he would take the hint to head back down the hill.

Vincent frowned briefly before standing up, dusting the grass cuttings off his jeans. Quickly he pulled his sweater over his head which dragged his t-shirt with it, giving me a more than ample view of his toned abs. I swallowed and turned my head away. I hadn’t had sex for six weeks and my body knew it - reacting to just looking at his stomach was having an effect was bad even if his body is more than tempting.

I started walking down the wooden steps that would lead us back to Avenue des Pins and McGill.
“Ella, wait up!” Vincent said, running after me. I slowed down a little giving him time to catch up as we walked down the steps together.

“Something’s bothering you,” Vincent said as we reached a corner. I stopped and looked out across the view, half shaded by trees.

“A little, but it’s OK,” I replied. I didn’t really know what was wrong with me, I had automatically gone into that ‘fight or flight’ mode as soon as I’d heard the word hockey. All my defences had gone up despite feeling comfortable around him moments before. I wasn't sure if it was because hockey reminded me of everything Jordan related in the last few months, or because I was having deja vu but I didn't want him to probe into my words. Slowly placing a hand in the middle of my back, he led me over to a nearby bench and sat me down.

“So I don’t know you but you looked so lost this morning, like you needed rescuing from something or someone,” Vincent said.

“So you decided to rescue the damsel in distress,” I replied rather too sarcastically. “Sorry that was rude,” I added, catching sight of the brief look of amusement on his face. He was only trying to help me out and here I was pushing him away as quickly as I could.

“You looked like you needed fixing, or just someone to talk to. I don't rescue damsels unless they're trapped in a tall tower with a dragon,” he playfully shot back.

Fixing? Someone to talk to? I thought about his gentle words as I wanted to tell him about what happened yet I didn’t feel that I could open up to him. I had known him for less than three hours and already I trusted him, yet telling him would feel like I would be betraying Gina and Félix whom I had barely spoken to this last week. I felt a pang of guilt as I had neglected my best friends – yet I was on the verge of pouring my heart out to this stranger. Perhaps I did need fixing – but who was I to This last week I had felt like a broken china doll who needed someone who loved and cared about her to put her back together, painstakingly gluing all of the tiny pieces back into place.

The reason I felt broken was entirely my fault. I had called off our relationship as I had felt neglected and unwanted by Jordan. He hadn’t appreciated me or even called to say anything and it wasn’t for my lack of trying. I had called him several times, left voicemail messages and text messages which all went unanswered. After a week I gave up – what point was there when I wasn’t going to get a reply? I didn’t know why Jordan had just disappeared but it hurt like hell and I was fed up of being treated like shit, or worse, that I didn’t even exist.

“Well, thank you. I’ve just been an awful friend and I’ve been so self-involved recently. God, I’m emotionally dumping on you. This isn’t what you want to hear Vincent,” I said feeling sorry that we’d just opened a whole new can of worms.

“Vinnie, please, Vincent is so formal and French. So why are you an awful friend?” he asked completely ignoring that I was just loading my problems onto him.

“I split up with my boyfriend, we both loved each other but he recently lost out in this competition that was really important to him, and we didn’t speak for a month despite me calling him and texting him. And since then I haven’t really been focused on anything. I just ignored my friends because I knew Gina was going to give me the third degree about why I did it – everyone loved us being together, we were so good for each other… That sounds so sixth grade but that's the shortened version...” I trailed off. It was hard to explain the situation to a stranger without going into all of the ins and outs of our relationship. And I didn't want Vinnie to make the connection with Jordan so I avoided mentioning hockey.

“Sounds like you’re still in love with him then,” Vinnie replied.

I sighed. “I think, I am, but it's too late.”

“It's never too late. Well how about you go see him?” Out of the question. I can’t just turn up in Thunder Bay as some crazy ex who changed her mind. And I have too much pride to tell him I want to get back together with him, I don’t want to admit I made a mistake - not to mention that I can’t play with someone’s heart like that.

“No, he lives in Central Canada and I have this internship until the end of August. I can’t just go.”

“You want him back?”

“I don’t know.”

“It sounds like you still love him but you need to swallow whatever's holding you back. It also seems like you think you have made a huge mistake but you’re making excuses for yourself as to why you can’t go and get him back. And he loves you?” I nodded. “Well, if he still loves you, he’ll come and get you back, he’ll let you know that he still wants you.”

“Mmm…” I said. I’m not really sure, thinking back to Vinnie's comment about princesses and dragons. Life isn't full of happy-ever-afters and the good guy getting the girl - it's about the nitty gritty struggle of reality and the choices you make given on the chance you have.

Who knows if Jordan is my 'knight in shining armour'? I know firsthand that Jordan’s quite good on the romantic gesture thing – like the time he tried cooking me a curry for dinner or the time he filled his living room with hundreds of candles and blankets and we curled up watching a movie though (although he did that, I’m not sure he’s perceptive enough to know about this state that I'm in now - he would have to be a mind reader). I don't know or think he would do anything like that now. As far as he's concerned we've split up. I'm struggling with myself as to what to do. And how is he going to know how I feel now that we’ve broken up. I can’t tell him – that’s putting him in an awkward position and making me look weak.

“OK, well what do you want to do now?” Vinnie asked. I wasn't sure. Honestly I wanted to go home and think all of this through on my own and talk to Felix a bit. I feel like I've neglected him recently.

“Well, I have a doctor’s appointment,” I lied. I didn’t but I didn’t want to hurt this nice guy’s feelings by telling him I planned on going home. I wanted to go home and talk all of this through with Félix and call Gina. I needed to apologise to them both about how I’ve treated them for the last week. I haven’t been myself and I really didn’t need to ignore them – they’ve always been there for me when I make stupid decisions like this.

And it really wasn’t his fault that the fact he played hockey freaked me out – it’s just almost too much of a coincidence for my liking. I date a pro hockey player, ditch him and then another hockey player finds me in Montreal – it’s like I have a type or something.

“Well, can I have your number?” he asked. God this suddenly felt awkward. I quickly gave it to him and he buzzed my phone so I would have his.

“If you ever need someone to talk to,” he said, “about anything and you want some impartial advice, I'm always here. I think you should just pick up the phone and call him, just talk to him, show him that he’s still on your mind.” He flashed me a warm smile that I’m sure breaks many hearts in Florida before pulling me closer to him. Am I about to kiss him, I thought quickly as Jordan flashed into my mind.

“Thanks,” I said as Vinnie embraced me in a tight hug before dropping a kiss on my cheek. “I will do. Have a safe flight back to Florida and let me know when you’re next back up here.” Vinnie grinned, nodded and turned on his heel. I watched one of the nicest guys I’ve ever met walk away from me through the trees.


Sitting on the same bench, I pulled out my phone and turned it on. I had a couple of texts from Félix which I ignored – I can speak to him when I get home in a bit. Pressing 3 on my speed dial I called my favourite girl – Gina.

“Ella!” she practically shrieked as she picked up the phone. “I’ve been wanting to talk to you for ages!”

“I know, I’m really sorry about all of that. How’s New York going? And the job?”

“Well, I’m not in New York at the moment…” I listened as she hesitated on the end of the line as I heard guys’ voices in the background. “I’m in Thunder Bay at the moment. My boss got fired last week for misconduct and they’re deciding what to do with me since they haven't found a replacement, long story, and Max was going to Ontario so he asked me to come with… and we got here yesterday… it’s all a bit crazy right now..."

“Thunder Bay?” I repeated, wanting to be sure. I’m pretty certain there’s only one Thunder Bay in Ontario. Which meant one blonde haired hockey player from Pittsburgh.

“Yeah, Max went to see Jordan, it had been planned for a while and I'm sort of tagging on.”

“How’s he doing?” I asked hoping he was OK. I didn't know if I wanted him to be OK. A tiny horrible part of me hoped he was hurting and crying over me. I quickly tried to banish that from my mind, that was horrible and low from me. Jordan would move on - as Noah had frequently told me, there are hundreds of girls who would cut off a limb to be in my position.

“Good. He asked about you actually.”

“And?” I pressed. I wanted Gina to tell me everything: did he look OK, did he look happy, what was he doing now, why didn’t he call me.

“You’ll have to speak to him yourself,” Gina replied.

“Gina! That’s not fair,” I said. “Wait, is he there?”

“No, it’s just Max making a lot of noise with the hairdryer in the bathroom right now. I still can’t believe he dries his hair with a hairdryer,” she whispered to me. “It’s so, unmanly,” she finished. I could totally see him doing this – he spent as much time in the bathroom as Gina did not to mention his love of shopping for clothes.

“Anyway, can I call you tomorrow?” Gina said, “I have to go now, but promise me you’ll pick up and then you can update me on everything and I’ll fill you in on everything else!”

“Promise on my life,” I said smiling. I had missed talking to her so much this last week I now wondered why I hadn’t spoken to her.

“Good, well we might be coming to Montreal in a few days too, so see you then?”

“Absolutely!” I squealed with delight before we said our goodbyes. Just speaking to Gina had already made me feel a lot better as if someone had lifted some weight off my shoulders. It was all my own doing, but I feel like I’m digging my way out of this crater I’ve thrown myself in to.

Even today, talking to Vinnie, a complete stranger before this morning, had helped clear my head and put things into perspective. I had been self-indulgent this last week to the point I had pushed everyone away from me as I played the victime. It was time to stand up for myself and stop being a spoilt brat and face life head on.

43. Advice

Sorry about the delay, I had a few problems writing something that I was happy with. Hope this clears a few things up for you :)


Song: Band Of Horses - The Funeral


JORDAN'S POV


“Max? Gina?” I said as I looked between the three of them as they still sat on the grass, wondering how and why they were both here. They looked a bit sheepish as they looked at each other before looking back at me. Connor was the first one to his feet, walking quickly over to me. Somebody had better start explaining what’s going on here. My head is hurting too much to deal with all of this right now.

“Dude, they just showed up, like five minutes ago then I said you weren’t back. Go and get a shower, you look like shit. Your Mom thinks you crashed at mine,” Connor said quietly. He always had my back. In times like these I don’t know what I would do without him. Connor is a walking, talking lifesaver. I walked quickly down the drive, hoping no one would be around to question me as to why I’m still wearing yesterday’s clothes and look like shit. The last thing I need is for Marc or Jared to remind me of this moment for the next couple of years. And it’s not like any of them are innocent either – we’ve all got our dirt.




I let the hot water douse over me, letting it wash away any guilty traces of alcohol and Cindy. The water wasn’t hot enough to take away the pain of my hangover or the emptiness in my heart that I could still feel. I let my mind drift back to last night and the black void that happened after the second round of shots. Maybe Connor could fill in the large blanks for me from last night? And Gina could fill in all of the answers to the Ella questions I had.
Shit!
Gina must not find out about Cindy last night – I don’t want that getting back to Ella, not that she even cares anymore but all the same, it's a fuck-up I'd like to forget about.

There's been a few of those fuck-ups over the last couple of years - all of them had concerned alcohol. Obviously there's Cindy, the most recent, then there was Lola who quickly became a bad habit. And before Lola there was Mel - the psycho girl in my Biology class who I'd drunkenly slept with to get her to do all my homework. She had then informed my then girlfriend what had happened. I didn't want a repeat of that - there was no way Cindy was going to tell India about last night. Then there were the one night stands, of which I'm guilty of having a few, both on the road and in the 'burgh. I think I've learnt my lesson now not to get hammered off my face and then go home with the nearest thing with tits.



Walking down the stairs in a fresh pair of jeans and t-shirt, I saw Max, Gina and Connor sitting at the kitchen table. Mom had put out some of her fresh carrot cake which only served to remind me of Ella and her love for carrot cake - like the time I’d gone to Starbucks with Zach to get her some after she had her seizure outside Diesel. They were talking quietly, Gina saying something in a hushed voice to Connor who was gently arguing back - Connor’s such a pacifist, I'm surprised he was arguing. As I stepped into the kitchen, Max gave Gina a little nudge and whistled at me. “Someone’s looking fly this afternoon,” he said.

“Funny, it can’t be you Max,” I replied, helping myself to cake. Mom’s cake is the best. Max feigned looking hurt as he pouted, sticking out his lower lip. Obligingly, Gina stroked his shoulder and kissed him on his stubbly cheek which instantly turned Max’s pout into a little grin.

“So what brings you two to Thunder Bay? Just for a visit?” I asked. The longer we sidestepped the issue of whatever it was, probably Ella related, the more awkward this conversation would become. I didn’t believe Max and Gina were on a flying visit off Western Ontario.

“Just in the area, y’know,” Max said. Bullshit. Max doesn’t leave Montreal in the summer unless he’s going to visit Sid or go to the south. I nodded, not believing a word he said. I haven’t really spoken to Max since I left the ‘burgh, so for him to just be here the day after Ella and I break up is too much of a coincidence.

“Yeah sure, Max. Pull the other one,” I said. Max heaved a sigh, rolled his eyes and shrugged his shoulders before starting again.

“So how’s your foot?” he asked.

“Fine,” I said. In all honesty it was fine now and I’d been to see a physiotherapist on Bylsma’s recommendation even though we’d finished for the year, I still needed to get it looked at. After my final session a couple of days ago and being told to take it easy, I was happy I was going to have an unaffected season next year. I had hated losing my record of unmissed matches by one big blob of an accident.

“So we’re here because we want to talk to you about Ella,” Gina said quietly, putting both of her hands on the table. Max slung his arm casually around her shoulders as he leaned back from the table. It was clear he wanted no part of this conversation.

“What’s there to talk about?” I said, clearly confused. “She ended it because I didn’t make enough effort and we’re through.”

“No,” Gina stated simply, looking me straight on. For someone so small, Gina looked like a tough cookie sitting on the other side of the table. I could take her in an arm wrestle but I bet when she got fire in her belly, you wouldn’t mess with her. I bet Max is under her thumb.

“Ella is hurting, a lot. She’s pushed Félix out, which is strange because as you know, Félix is her twin as well as her best friend.” I remembered the day when I found out Ella had an identical twin. Gina had called him Ella’s ‘confidant’. Gina went on, “she’s not responding to my messages and Félix says she hasn’t been herself. She’s not bubbly, she’s not running, she’s not even playing tennis. Apparently she’s just become this hollow, drifting shell. She’s hurting just as much as you are. I saw both of you in Pittsburgh, you were both so in love, I think she still is.”

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing, it was twisted logic. Why would you finish a relationship if you were still in love with someone? I wasn’t sure I understood, but if what Gina was saying was correct, Ella was still in love with me. If only I could find out whether that was the truth or not, I just needed to know. It hurt me that Ella was hurting as badly as I was, I didn’t feel any justification or happiness from it, knowing that she was broken made me feel worse. I wanted to fix her, put her back together, make her happy and fill her with life. Ella’s one of the most vibrant people I know; I couldn’t imagine her as a ‘hollow, drifting shell’.

“But that doesn’t explain why she ended it,” I said, thinking out loud. Sometimes the more I think I know a girl, the more they mystify me.

“She ended it, and this is what she briefly told Félix – she ended it because she was fed up of not hearing from you. Ella thrives on communication and not hearing from you really hurt her. Even one text a day or every other day would put a spring in her step. Ella likes to know she’s wanted, it makes her feel good. Hell, it makes us all feel good. She was in denial about your relationship, and because you’re now a thousand miles apart, she thought it would be easier to end it, rather than be in a silent relationship. Yes she loves you, I’m a hundred percent certain of that, but I’m not one hundred percent sure that she fully trusts you. And having time apart lets her think about this, the more she thinks about it, the more doubtful she becomes. She over thinks everything. And allowing her to over think things gives her time to draft up multiple reasons why you didn’t call her or text her or even acknowledge her existence for a month,” Gina sighed as she finished, the tension in her shoulders easing as she slouched a little.

I had a lot to think through and I wasn’t sure I knew what to do. I was grateful that Gina and Max were here to help me though fat lot of help Max was doing here.

“Why does she think I didn’t call her?” I said, pushing Gina for more information about Ella. I just didn’t understand: if you love someone and you’re both in love, you don’t just end it. Now that Gina had begun to explain Ella’s complex initiatives, I was beginning to feel that I knew Ella a little more, even if her motives baffled me.

“I don’t know. She didn’t tell Félix that. But I’ve known Ella for a long time – so I think she thought you had moved on or just decided to ditch her the cowardly way. Just out of interest, why didn’t you call her?”

How could Ella have thought I would move on? She’s perfect, she’s smart, she makes me laugh and she’s hot between the sheets. I’m ridiculously in love with her, and I’m not ashamed to admit it. Moving on would mean that I had found someone else – someone else better to replace her with. I don’t think there is anyone who could replace her.

“Wrapped up in myself, in my injury, going out to the last seeded Habs, media interviews, physiotherapy, clearing out my locker, closing up my place in Pittsburgh, getting drunk for a week with Tyler after the loss…” I trailed off my excuses, none of which were a valid reason for not calling her.

“Fair enough,” Max said absentmindedly. Gina shot him a look which silenced him immediately and I watched him back away from the table again.

Ha. Max is so pussy whipped.


I remembered smashing my phone, I had lost her number and Max’s and everyone’s number.

“Um, do you have her number?” I asked sheepishly.

“Of course,” Gina frowned. “Shouldn’t you know it?”

Off by heart? Is she joking? I have problems remembering my license plate and peoples’ birthdays to remember anyone’s phone number.

“No, and I broke my phone-“

“-Against a wall,” Connor interjected. I slapped him on the back. Too much, Connor, too much.

“Thanks dude, really necessary.”

Gina crossed her arms, obviously deep in thought as to what to do. I thought back to the day when I had first seen the pictures of Ella and Félix. I remembered Gina telling me she wanted Ella and I to be good together and here she was, helping me to get Ella back. I was glad that I had a friend of Ella’s on my side. I don’t know if Max had talked her into this, or he was just here for the ride, but I felt an overwhelming rush of gratitude to both of them for just being here.

“Anyway,” Gina said, suddenly unfolding her arms and standing up. She went and stood with her back to the sink, facing the table. “You should call her, but you need to give her a week. She’s broken, and she needs to be stronger when you call her.”

“What if by the time she’s stronger, she’s over me?” I said feeling insecure. Ella was hot and I knew in Montreal she could easily find a replacement for me. Everyone checks her out: guys do because she is smoking hot and girls do because they are jealous.

“She won’t be, she loves you. I’m not saying wait a month to call her, a month is too long, you know that. Give it a week before you do. Don’t fly down there, no big romantic gestures, don’t send her flowers, just call her and see how she’s doing.”

“And if she doesn’t want to talk to me?” I asked. I couldn’t see myself being welcomed with open arms.

“We’ll see what happens first,” Gina said. “I don’t think she’s looking to replace you, but this is Ella, she does things on a whim. I’m going to stay in touch with Félix and I’ll keep you updated.”

“Won’t Ella know we’re sort of spying on her?” I replied. There was something about this method that Gina was suggesting that just felt a little wrong - like Ella didn't have her privacy. And there were too many people involved for my liking.

“Nope, she’s got this internship, it’s keeping her busy by all accounts. And Félix knows her better than anyone – he’ll know what’s best and the best way to do this.”

I nodded, helping myself to another piece of cake, knowing that the information was coming from Félix. Maybe Félix would be on my side too. I only met him once and that was when we had that ‘tiff’ when we were playing at the Bell Centre and then he had merely nodded at me. I’m not sure if he approves of me and Ella, but then I’m not dating him, I’m dating Ella.
Or I was.

42. Mont-Royal

So I lost a follower which I was a little disappointed about but I'm glad so many of you are sticking with the story and I just wanted to say THANK YOU!


Song: Andrew Allen - Amazing


ELLA'S POV


I hadn’t slept that night, just tossing and turning in my bed, looking at the ceiling illuminated by the moonlight outside. I thought about what I’d just done, was it the right decision? I felt empty and sick knowing that I’d not just broken his heart; I’d also broken my own heart.

Letting Jordan go had probably been one of the hardest decisions I had had to make recently. It was a lesson for both of us. For me, that I should follow my head, despite what my heart says; a woman’s tuition is incredibly valuable and is not to be underestimated. On the other hand, he should now know that a relationship is a two way exchange, and I had had enough.

A week had passed since I had made that phone call and to say I hadn’t been affected by what I had done was a lie. I hadn’t slept, I hadn’t been eating and I hadn’t been performing as well at work. Indeed work was a very welcome distraction but I felt that life was passing me by, like it was a blur and I was sitting on the outside watching a fuzzy video of my life and trying to make sense of it all at once. I was going through the motions, getting up, going to work, coming home, going to bed, barely eating anything, not wanting to go out. I had ignored Gina’s frantic messages, Félix was keeping an over observant eye on me, as if I was on suicide watch and my mother fluttered in and out, praising me for losing weight I didn’t need to lose.

Having had enough of my constant drifting for the last week and my recent insomnia I decided to get out of the house. I’d barely left Westmount except for work and I’d been turning down Marie-Pier’s offers of after work drinks, a dinner party and a trip to the cinema. I hadn’t wanted to be rude, I had just wanted time to myself.

Rising early on a Saturday morning I went for a long walk into Vieux Montréal to get away from Félix and his over protectiveness. Right now, I really didn’t want his opinion, even though he meant well, I just wanted some alone time. I took my purse and my book before scribbling a note for Félix to let him know where I’d gone.

Letting the fresh air clear my head, I walked alongside the edge of the St. Laurent watching the sunlight sparkle on the water. Not really walking with much purpose or in any particular direction, I followed the river east until I came to a small café in Place de La Commune. In my hurry to get out of the house this morning I hadn’t eaten any breakfast and my rumbling stomach was reminding me that it needed feeding. I ordered a coffee and a pastry before sitting inside in a corner of the quiet cafe.

“He had ceased to express his fondness for her in words, and recoiled with angry suspicion from her girlish caresses, as if conscious there could be no gratification in lavishing such marks of affection on him.”

A tear trickled down my cheek as I realised that Jordan wasn’t going to love me anymore. I’d broken his heart, and in its place I’d given him hate.

“Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same; and Linton's is as different as a moonbeam from lightning, or frost from fire.”

Another tear trickled down my cheek as I finished the ninth chapter. I was totally in the mode for wallowing in my self-pity this morning. I was broken from my solitude by a male French voice.

“Is the book really sad?” I looked up at the voice I’d just heard to see a gorgeous guy standing in front of me, offering a small pack of tissues which I politely declined.

“I don’t know, it’s just too much,” I began in French, feeling utterly embarrassed and helpless that someone had caught me like this.

“Well like you, I’m in need of cheering up too, I just buried my grandmother yesterday,” he said. Oh god, what did I even begin to say to this handsome stranger who’d just told me all of this.

“I’m so sorry. Sorry is never enough to replace someone’s loss,” I tried to justify which immediately sobered my tears. Why was I crying and feeling sorry for myself when this gorgeous guy had just had to see his grandmother pushing daisies? Instead of accepting my sympathies, this man just laughed at me.

“I’m telling you all of this, and we haven’t even introduced ourselves. Hi, I’m Vincent,” he offered me his large, tanned hand.

“Ella,” I replied, firmly shaking his outstretched hand. “Nice to meet you.”
“Mind if I join you?” Vincent asked.

“Not at all.” It’s nice to have some new company right now, I thought. He asked me about my book, to which I explained I was reading Wuthering Heights, which he told me he’d never read. I briefly explained the plot and about Kathy and Heathcliff. I don’t know why I did, but he seemed interested and it was nice to have a friendly ear.

“So what brings you to Montréal?” Vincent asked me after I’d finished giving him the brief synopsis of my book.

“I live here, came back after graduating and doing an internship in the city.”

He was so easy to talk to and it was easy to hold eye contact with him. Something about him made me feel that I could trust him; his eyes were soft, never judging or laughing but attentive. If there’s such a thing as listening with your eyes, he could do it. “And you?” I felt I should know something about this stranger to whom I’d just blabbed to for the last half an hour.

Whoever said ‘Don’t talk to strangers’ was very, very wrong particularly when the stranger is talk, dark, tanned and French. Yet it was also refreshing to be talking to a complete stranger about very trivial things which took my mind off the events of the last week.

“To bury my grandmother. I don’t live here anymore, I’ve relocated to Florida, but it’s always nice coming back to Montréal. It’s like a, what’s the word, aimant?” Vincent said.

“Magnet?” I suggested. Clearly his English was good, but I know the feeling when you forget the word. And Montréal definitely has that magnetic quality to it – there’s something about it which keeps drawing me back, I always come back for more.

“Yes, that. Magnet,” he grinned at me. We continued talking about Montréal for a while and his coffee was delivered to my table.

"I'm thinking about moving back, I forgot why I left this city, almost fell out of love with it," Vincent said. I didn't see how anybody could fall out of love with it.

"Excuse me? Fell out of love with it?" I said, I had to make sure he was being serious. He nodded, putting his coffee down.

"Too intense sometimes. Life in Florida is really easy going, you have continuous sunshine which is great and the beach is on my doorstep. Winter here is hard, it's grey, miserable and "

He had a point I guess, I've just never thought of Montréal in that sense. To me, winter in Montréal is beautiful - everything looks fresh and Christmassy covered in snow - cross country skiing, the lights and wrapping up in lots of layers. For me, winter cannot be considered winter without snow.


“So what are you doing for the rest of the day?” he asked me.

“Not a lot, enjoying my weekend and the sunshine,” I replied. I hadn’t planned anything for today, just to kick back and relax, get out of the house and enjoy the sunshine. I had thought about going shopping but braving rue St. Catherine on a Saturday is no mean feat.

“Come climb Mont Royal with me,” he said. It wasn’t much of a climb but it’d be fun. I hadn’t climbed the hill since last summer and I missed the view from the top. I knew that the fresh air and the pleasant breeze would wake me out of my zombie like status I’d had for the last week.

“Sure,” I said, closing my book and slipping it into my purse.

What had I got to lose?

______________________________________________________

When we finally reached the top, the view was spectacular. The sun was shimmering creating little heat waves over the city as we looked at the skyscrapers and the view of south of the river. We stood looking out over the stone balustrade, both out of breath after racing to see who would get to the top first. Sadly he had won, but I was a gracious loser despite my competitive nature.

“I forgot how beautiful it was,” Vincent said as he stood with his hands on his hips, squinting from the sunlight as he took the view in. I nodded, still getting my breath back. Whoever’s idea it was to race up here needed their head examining.

“Ice cream?” he suggested, taking his eyes off the view to look at me. I nodded. Ice cream sounded great right now. I’ve been up here many times but I’ve never had ice cream up here. We walked over to the building in comfortable silence, still a little out of breath, but neither of us would admit to it.

“Chocolate?” I said as Vincent plucked a small carton out of the freezer. I didn’t mean to sound surprised but I don’t know any guys who like chocolate ice cream; and even if they did, they were too manly to choose or admit to it.

“Oui, t’as choisi pamplemousse, t’es folle” he said, raising an eyebrow. I wasn’t going to defend my ice cream suggestions to this stranger. I shrugged, I didn’t have a come back and he knew it.

As we made our way out to sit outside on the grass, I felt an overwhelming urge to thank Vincent. He had dragged me out of my comfort zone and made me feel alive. That sounded clichéd but I needed to say something.

“Thanks for bringing me up here,” I said as we watched two squirrels fight over something beneath a tree.

“No problem,” Vincent replied. “We both needed cheering up, and you looked like a lost soul this morning when I saw you. You needed a friend.”

Crap, I thought, thinking back to the coffee shop where I’d been reading Wuthering Heights. I grimaced ever so slightly – he had altered my mood in two hours from down in the dumps to feeling on top of the world. I shook my head, smiling ever so slightly and grateful that I had run into Vincent. ‘You needed a friend’ – I replayed his words in my head. He had said ‘friend’ – thank god because I’m sure as hell I don’t need anything else right now and you can never have too many friends.

“So, you know what I do,” I said, plucking at the grass beneath my fingertips, “but you haven’t said what you do. Is it a big secret?”

“No, not at all.” He grinned back at me, as I continued plucking grass. “I play hockey.”

41. Sorrows

A/N: I'm sorry I haven't updated sooner, I've been spending a lot of time in hospitals. I'm not dying I promise - just stupid doctors taking hours to tell me something I self-diagnosed on webdoctor. So here is the next one.
I feel I might need to explain the situation a little better: Would you stick with your boyfriend, no matter who he is, when he didn't call or text you for a month? No, I don't think so, which is why Ella made the decision she did.
I've tried to make this update a little longer - there's a lot to say and to be understood and I wanted to say all of it in one chapter. I hope you enjoy it, and please let me know what you think.


Song: I-94 - The End


JORDAN'S POV


When we’d lost to Montreal I know I’d never hear the end of it from my brothers despite none of them making the playoffs. About one percent of me was relieved that we were out, probably the nerve in my foot which still hurt even if I wasn’t going to show it. I’d managed to prove that I could still be Gronk out on the ice and deserved to play. I didn’t want to bring team morale down by being scratched out.
And when we had gone out, I’d sulked around for a week, not wanting to talk to anyone, my parents, Ella, chirpy Max or even my brothers who usually knew what to say after, especially as Eric knew what it was like to be thrown out of the playoffs.

I hadn’t spoken to Ella for weeks. I hadn’t not meant to call her - it had just happened. She was always working when I wasn't and we could never both find a good time to chat. The time between our conversations grew longer until it just petered out. From packing up my stall, the apartment to arranging last minute flights home and then work on the sodding farm all just happened. Life was busy which was good – it took my mind off my foot and going out to the fucking Habs at home! We couldn’t even finish off the Mellon with a win. Without sounding like a total narcissist, I had bigger fish to fry than talking to Ella. I hadn’t meant to put our relationship on a backburner, like I said, it just happened, and somehow she had gone from being one of my biggest priorities to slipping right off my radar.

So I’d just thrown myself back into life in Thunder Bay. I’d caught up with Connor who I’d gone to Mexico with, I got to see my brothers again and help Dad out on the farm. And Mom fussed over us all with her cooking. It’s nice to be fussed over every now and then – she was layering it on thick as well since I’d been knocked out – triple portions of apple pie, well, I’m guess I’m still growing.

The four of us plus Dad had been working outside pretty much all day every day. It’s a grounding experience. However, I’m not allowed to drive the tractor – ever since I was fifteen I’ve been banned after I crashed one into a tree and drove the other one into a ditch. Marc and Eric used to have tractor races when we were younger, but Dad quickly caught on and the threat of no outdoor rink was given. Apparently I’m a bit of a liability. Plus, Marc says I drive in wiggly lines, like he does any better with his weak hands. So naturally, Eric gets the tractor whilst we get the manual labour.

When Tanya had run outside, yelling my name, I knew something was up. Tanya doesn’t yell, like ever. She’s like the calmest person I’ve ever met – she didn’t even yell when the cat crapped on her white sweater last Christmas. So when she yelled Ella’s name. I ran inside, forgetting about the pain on my foot, every now and then I get a little twinge especially if we’ve been working outside all day.

“’Sup?” I asked as Tanya stood there holding my phone as if it might bite her. I took it from her, glancing at the screen. Nothing unusual, it hadn’t grown teeth since this morning so I don’t know why I was so scared of what Tanya was about to tell me. It’s just a phone call.

“Ella called,” she said. “She didn’t sound too happy.” I’d better call her back, I thought. I know I’ve been a shit boyfriend recently but I’ve just needed to get my head around things like not winning the cup again and this stupid foot.

I walked upstairs to Jared’s room, the highest point in the house, hoping I’d get maximum signal up there. Living on a farm sucks sometimes, like when you have to make important phone calls for the pizza delivery man or like this. I felt my hands begin to sweat as I dialled her number, wondering why I was so nervous about what she had to say.

“You’ve got some nerve,” she said bitterly down the phone. What have I or haven’t I done? Is it wrong I’m so clueless?

“Ella, hello, how are you? And what you talking about?” I replied trying to be as rational about this as I could.

“The girl?” she bit back. What girl? I’ve been as faithful as a dog, I haven’t been sniffing around. Then it struck me. Tanya had answered my phone. Was she being insecure about that? Seriously?

“Tanya, Eric’s wife. I was outside with Eric and Jared,” I stated. “She heard my phone ringing.”

“Oh, oops.” She didn’t apologise though. Anyway, it wasn’t a big deal. It was just Tanya. She’s like our sister, or Eric’s bitch, whichever way you want to look at it.

“So why were you calling?” I said. As soon as I said it, I regretted sounding so blunt. I haven’t spoken to her in like ages, and I miss her, my body misses her, and I haven’t got any since she left. Being sex starved is not good for me, I don’t think straight. For some reason I just couldn’t say what I thought, my mouth just trotted out whatever, which wasn’t going to be a good move in this conversation.

“Well,what are we? I don’t know if this is the right thing for us, I’m not sure I can do this. I love you, and I think I always will, but I can’t do this. This. I can’t do this long distance relationship thing if we’re pretending to be in one. I mean I’ve barely heard from you since you left Pittsburgh. This, it doesn’t feel like we’re in a relationship if we’re not talking to one another.” I listened to what she was saying. Was she saying what I thought she was trying to say? At the moment, her voice being a little bit cross and highly strung was turning me on.

“Is that what this is about?” I said trying to be serious. Right now, I wanted her to get me off over the phone, not talk about our relationship. That kinda bores me. I like our relationship, but I don’t like talking about it.

“Yes. And relationships take effort and time and communication,” she went on. So she was reminding me that I hadn’t exactly been playing fair, I hadn’t put my fair share of time and effort into this. I had my reasons. Nothing prepared me for what she was going to say next. “Which is why I think we should take a break if we can’t make the effort.” A break? Isn’t that what people say when they’re going to break up? Or is this like a trial break up? Are we still friends? Do we still talk? The questions flitted through my head as I didn’t know what to say. So I went for the obvious, the one thing I wanted to tell her. Maybe I could change her mind.

“But I love you,” I begged. Clearly what I wanted, wasn’t going to happen. And I hoped that saying those three words would change her mind. She can’t break up with me. She loves me, and I love her. Things don’t happen like that. You can’t split up if you both love one another. That’s crazy and irrational and stupid and something that doesn’t happen in real life. And fuck!

“And I love you too, which is why it’s so hard for me to do this. I don’t want to, but I think it’s for the best.”

So she still loves me too. That felt like a death blow in itself, I didn’t know whether to be consoled by that or feel ten times worse that she’s still in love with me. “For the best,” – those three words echoed in my mind. For the best for who? For Ella? She’s hurting herself as well as breaking my heart.

“And what about what I think?” I shot back. “What if I don’t want to break up?” I closed my eyes, hoping this was all a horrible nightmare and I’d wake up any minute now. Chicks don’t dump me, I'm a Staal.

“Well, then you’ll have to respect my wishes on this,” she said as the tears began to fall. “Goodbye Jordan.” I listened to the quick click as she hung up the phone as I pulled my phone away from my ear. Not knowing what to do next I threw my phone as hard as I could against the wall, the phone shattering on impact.


“Dude, what did you do that for?” Jared said shocked, coming up the stairs.

“What are you doing here?” I snapped back. I didn’t mean to snap but I was now in a terrible mood and he was the first person to cross my path.

“It’s my room, remember, and I came to get a different t-shirt. Now get out.”

Fuck, I thought, picking up the pieces and heading down the stairs. I can’t even contact her now. I don’t even have her number to text her back or anything. I don’t have anyone’s number anymore. I’m such a prick. I walked downstairs to see Mom and Tanya making something for supper. Not wanting to divulge too much, I asked Mom if she still had her huge address book. She’d start asking questions if I said anything more. With a floury hand she pointed in the direction of the telephone book and the yellow pages on the dresser. Flipping through her address book, I found Connor’s number with my name next to it in brackets – Mom’s way of remembering who everyone’s friends are. Feeling fifteen again I called Connor.

“I need to get drunk tonight,” I said.

“Sure, meet me in town in an hour,” Connor said. He knew better than to ask why. Thank fuck for Connor, he’s always got my back. And hopefully getting wasted off my face would also lead to a consolatory screw, now that I’m officially single.
___________________________ ____

“So what happened?” Connor said as he nursed his second beer as I finished my fourth, or maybe my fifth. I’d lost count but it didn’t really matter, I only want a way to take the pain away and I was well on the way to numbness.

“She ditched me. Something about not putting effort into a relationship because I haven’t called her. At the end she said goodbye. I’m not stupid, but that means the end, finito. She’s in Montreal, I’m here. I’m fucked,” I moaned, staring at the bottom of the bottle.

“Well, you go get her back,” Connor said rationally. Yeah, and miracles just happen. Maybe this is one of those fucked up girl tests and she dumped me to see if I care and if I call her twenty thousand times. Though that would be a sick, fucked up kind of test. “I saw how you were around her in Mexico, she’s the first girl that’s got to you, she’s a keeper, don’t give her up. And it’s ok to fall for someone, Jordan.”

“I broke my phone, can’t even call her,” I muttered. “Chucked it against the wall.”

Connor patted me on the back but it didn’t do much to alleviate the pain. “Well, tomorrow we’ll get you a new phone and then you go to Montreal. You know where she lives right?”

“Nope.” God, I really was a shite boyfriend, ‘was’ being the word here. I really fucked it up – I loved her, I mean I still love her but I need her to give me another chance.

“There’s gotta be someone you can find that out from?” Connor pushed.
I thought about it. My brain functioning about three times as slow as usual. The only people who might know would be Gina and Max. I wasn’t going anywhere near Sophie – that chick was psycho. I nodded and turned to Connor. “You might just be a genius. Let’s get shots to that.”

__________________________________________

I cranked open an eye wondering why Mom had come into my room and thrown open the curtains. That was cruel, and she’d stopped doing that when I was fifteen, or so I thought. I know I’ve got to get up to help out with the watering today, but having what felt like half of the sun in my room was not going to make me get out of bed.
My head was banging head from whatever Connor and I had decided to consume. I looked over to the blinding light source – that is not my window. And this is not my bed. I sat up, making the white and grey room spin. what looked like a motel room. How the fuck did I get here, I thought as I looked around me. The last thing I remember was getting shots with Connor to celebrate getting Ella back. Ella, I thought, as a little smile flitted across my face which was clouded by the memory of that phonecall.

That phone call was the reason I’d called Connor so I could get fucked off my face and forget about it. Which had somehow led to me being in a foreign looking motel room by myself with a throbbing head. I looked around for signs of life and found a note with ‘Tony’s Motel’ across the top of it. The pink, glittery pen hurt my eyes right now, but I focused my eyes on it all the same, thinking it might give me some sort of clue as to why and how I was here.

“Jordie,
Thank you so much for last night,
You were insatiable.
Back in 20,
Your Biggest Fan
Cindy xxxxx

The note was surrounded by lots of pink glittery hearts and flowers. I thought girls stopped drawing hearts and flowers after 9th grade, obviously not. And who the fuck is Cindy? I don’t know anyone in T-Bay called Cindy? And by the looks of her handwriting and that eye-offendsive-ink, I think I’ve just slept with Barbie – Barbie my ‘Biggest Fan’?! Either that meant she was a ten ton Tessie or she was a major puck. Trust me, Thunder Bay is just as bad for pucks as Pittsburgh, they’re just a little more obvious here.

I didn’t know how long ago she’d left, but I knew I didn’t want to be here when she came back which would force me to face the harsh reality of what I’d just done. Trying not to think about what I’d just done, I swivelled myself up and off the bed. In a dream-like state I gathered my alcohol stained clothes, dressing as quickly as possible before checking out and calling a taxi. I wouldn’t call Marc or Jared, they would just laugh at me and bring this up at family meals for like forever.

I breathed a sigh of relief as the driver pulled away from Tony's "deluxe" motel and headed out of town. I'd had a narrow escape, not having to face Cindy. God only knows how that had happened and I was a little pissed at Connor for not looking after me better.

As the taxi approached our driveway, I could see three familiar figures sitting on the grass, a girl and two guys. Knowing it wasn't one of my brothers - Dad would kill them for slacking, I squinted, trying to work out who it is. As we drew closer, I looked a little closer - surely they didn't drive all the way here? Connor was sitting in the shade of a tree whilst the other two were a little further apart. My brow furrowed, not sure why they were here, it could only mean good things, right?

"Max? Gina?" I asked in disbelief, getting out of the taxi.

40. Intern

I can’t believe I’ve made it this far. Originally there were only going to be forty chapters, but now it seems there will only be another twenty more. Everything must come to an end, I’m afraid. I wanted to thank you all for sticking with this story so far, it’s been fantastic to hear all of your comments, suggestions and ideas. Thank you!
On an another note, this one and the next one will be from Ella’s POV, as we all (sadly) know what happens to Jordan and the team against Montréal. I know we all love Mr. Staal but I found creating his point of view really hard for these next few updates.
Sorry for the long note but I just had to express how much I love hearing your feedback for what you think is coming next… just don’t hate me at the end of this. India xxx


Song: Fleetwood Mac - Go Your Own Way


ELLA’S POV


A month had passed and it was now the middle of June. I had barely heard from Jordan since I’d left Pittsburgh which at the beginning I’d put down to the playoffs. When Pittsburgh had been booted out of the playoffs by the Habs, I’d excused his lack of communication to disappointment at losing to eighth place Montréal and his foot. As Félix had frequently told me, “You just need to give him time.” But how much time was I supposed to give him? It had been three weeks since I’d even received a call from him and I just didn’t think this was acceptable. Was I just supposed to sit around and wait for him to call me? Life doesn’t work like that. And it was hardly down to lack of effort for my part. I hadn’t smothered him but I had sent him a couple of messages and a long voicemail after their loss against Montréal. He was just wallowing in his own self pity.

From La Presse I’d been able to find out that all of the Penguins had packed up their lockers and the majority had left Pittsburgh to return home for the summer. Which meant one thing – Jordan was back in Thunder Bay. And I’m pretty sure Western Ontario had electricity and phone lines up there which really didn’t leave him with a leg to stand on. I wasn’t sure what was going on with him, but whatever it was, I was going to get to the bottom of it. I’d gone from being happy in love, to confusion, to a little insecurity to anger and then to beginning to wonder if I even cared. There are plenty of hot men in Montréal, Jordan shouldn’t think he is irreplaceable.

KPMG had been going really well so far. At the beginning I had felt that I was being fed to the sharks, the office was a cut throat environnement where everyone strove to be the best. The other workers were sharp, competitive and would do anything to be promoted. After initially being seen as ‘the new intern’ and going on coffee runs – not what I’m here to do, I had put my foot down on that after a week, I began to be given real work. Coffee runs were for the sixteen year olds here on work experience, not the top honours graduate that I am.
Having said that, I did manage to make a few new friends. The tenth floor became my home and a lot of the staff here were only a year or two older than me with their own related degrees in math or finance. I had been assigned to work in a team with three others on auditing the previous year’s accounts of a large Montréal firm. Quickly Marie-Pier, Xavier and Etienne, on my team, became my closest friends on my floor. We’d take lunch together at the bottom of Mont Royal and go for drinks after work together.

One Friday evening we’d gone over for drinks on St. Laurent which wasn’t unusual by any means. We liked to go out and have fun and let our hair down. We’re young for god’s sake. Anyway, it became quite clear to me that Marie-Pier and Xavier had quite a thing for each other, the looks, the flirtatious banter, and the brief moments stolen together by the water fountain.

“What do you think of Etienne?” Marie Pier asked, as we were seated at the bar as the guys were playing a competitive game of pool. I could see what she was trying to do here, and besides I had Jordan, if you could call it that. Even if I didn’t, Etienne was the last thing I wanted with his curly brown hair and his artsy fartsy geek glasses which weren’t fooling anyone. He’s nice enough, he’s just not my type.

“Really?” I asked, taking a sip of my rosé. I thought I knew Marie-Pier better than this, than have her try to set me up.

“Et pourquoi pas?” Marie-Pier asked, looking at me, trying to figure out if I was joking or not.

“Because, I’m in a relationship,” I argued back. If you could still call it that.
Marie-Pier looked stunned. I’d never talked about Jordan and I didn’t really want to talk about him now – I was still trying to get my head around what was going on, before I could begin to explain to anyone else, whom I barely knew that well, what the current story was. I watched as she grinned at Xavier, sending him a little flirtatious wink as she sipped her cocktail.

“Well, boyfriend or not Ella, you deserve to have some fun,” Marie- Pier said, her gaze focusing on Etienne.

“Maybe, but let’s forget about Etienne,” I said, trying not to look at him. I really didn’t want him to think I had the hots for him or anyone else in our office - that would make the next two months super awkward and I really didn’t need that.

___________________________________________________________________________________


As I sat on the warm, stuffy metro back home, feeling ever so slightly tipsy I let my mind drift back to what Marie-Pier had said. Watching Marie-Pier with Xavier reminded me of what I was missing out on. Sure, I deserve to have fun, and you can have a lot of fun in Montréal, as I knew from my last year in high school. I decided to ring Jordan when I got home and see exactly what was going on.
I walked the few roads home in the late evening sunshine, thankful it was still light and planning out exactly what I wanted to say to him. I didn’t want our conversation to be awkward though it was likely it would be as we haven’t spoken for a month.

I scrolled through my blackberry down to Jordan’s name and pressed ‘Call’. After about seven rings the phone was answered.

“Hello?” a girl’s voice answered.

I knew it. Cheating bastard. And that voice was definitely not Linda’s.

“Just tell Jordan Ella called, goodbye,” I hung up absolutely furious I had even bothered to call him. And he was stupid enough to let another girl answer. What an idiot.

Five minutes later my phone rang again. Frowning I looked at the screen. He had the
cheek to ring me back. I wasn’t sure I wanted to know what grovelling excuse he had to give me, but part of me was curious. Eventually curiosity got the better of me.

“You’ve got some nerve,” I said.

“Ella, hello, how are you? And what you talking about?” Jordan’s cool voice came from down the line.

“The girl?” I questioned.

“Tanya, Eric’s wife. I was outside with Eric and Jared,” he answered. “She heard my phone ringing.”

“Oh, oops.” I felt like a class idiot now. Tanya was family to him - I felt guilty I’d almost accused of him cheating.

“So why were you calling?” Jordan asked. And it’s nice to speak to you too.

“Well,” I began. “What are we? I don’t know if this is the right thing for us, I’m not sure I can do this. I love you, and I think I always will, but I can’t do this. This. I can’t do this long distance relationship thing if we’re pretending to be in one. I mean I’ve barely heard from you since you left Pittsburgh. This, it doesn’t feel like we’re in a relationship if we’re not talking to one another.”

“Is that what this is about?” Jordan said, the tone of his voice showing his evident frustration.

“Yes. And relationships take effort and time and communication,” I went on, not sure if it was me or the alcohol talking. Whichever it was, it needed to be said. “Which is why I think we should take a break if we can’t make the effort.”

“But I love you,” Jordan said. That’s only making it harder for me to say all of these things. I felt my stomach clench as I knew I loved him too. I always would. It’s hard for me to walk away from this knowing he still loves me too. How hard it was for me to say all of these things. I wasn’t one hundred percent sure as to why I was doing this to him, and to me, but it felt sort of right. And there’s one thing my insane therapist for a mother has instilled in me – ‘Always stick with your gut instinct.’ And my gut was telling me to call this relationship off even if my heart was screaming at me to fly out to Thunder Bay to be with him, something my head was telling me not to, that I’d lose my internship.

“And I love you too, which is why it’s so hard for me to do this. I don’t want to, but I think it’s for the best.”

“And what about what I think?” Jordan said. “What if I don’t want to break up?” I closed my eyes, trying to blink back the tears as I lay on my bed, staring at the ceiling, willing it to bring me strength.

“Well, then you’ll have to respect my wishes on this,” I said as the tears began to fall. “Goodbye Jordan.”

39. Goodbye

******THIS IS DEFINITELY NOT THE END******


I don’t know about you, but I’m always on the lookout for new stories, different angles on the same characters…and I’m really liking these two at the moment: Not So Saint Sidney - You’ll like it if you want to see a badass Sid (v hot by the way). And a new Geno story: Ice Time. I do this because someone was kind enough to give me a shout out on her story, so I only think it's fair to do this for someone else.

I found this post really hard to write and I don't think it's fluid enough, but I just wanted to get it done.


Song: Keane - This Is The Last Time


ELLA'S POV


Sitting in the middle of a half empty living room with Gina, I looked around at the remaining three boxes to go in my car. Gina was staying here for another week before moving to New York for the summer, and the furniture would be left for my tenants during the summer. On a whim, I had decided to drive the eight hour drive from Pittsburgh to Montréal as my epilepsy had only recently been considered stable enough that I can drive again.

I took a deep breath as I took a look at the apartment. I was sad to be leaving Pittsburgh because it meant the end of college and the beginning of adulthood, real life, responsibility and ultimately, a career. Leaving Pittsburgh meant leaving my friends behind, leaving Jordan for the summer and leaving behind a world I had created for myself only to create a new world in Montréal.

That didn’t mean I wasn’t happy to be going back to Montréal – I’m always happy to return to my home city, it’s just that this time it feels so final and there’s someone I don’t want to leave behind. Jordan. The more I thought about him, the more I felt like staying. And I could, but I’d be throwing away a fabulous opportunity on my doorstep, the paid internship of my dreams.

I was glad that Jordan was now being supportive, he was going to come and visit me at some point during the summer for several days and I had said I would try to visit him in Thunder Bay for a few days, if I got the chance. We had never got round to ‘the talk’ but had come to a mutual understanding that we would take our relationship as it comes.

Gina helped me carry the last boxes out to my car and threw her arms around me in a massive hug, crying into my shoulder. I’m going to miss her so much. After Félix, she is my best friend, one in a million. “I’m sorry Ells, I’ve tried to be strong, but I just can’t. It’s so sad, it’s the end of an era. An era. We’ve officially finished college and graduated. Can you believe we’ve finished? Finished! It only feels like yesterday that we started. We’ve never been separated like this before. You must, MUST come and visit me in New York if you get the time to,” she said as I hopped into my car. “And keep taking the medication.” I would. I would never ever slip up like I had at the beginning of March. I knew I would be in New York at some point this summer. Dad says the financial markets don’t stop in summer time and he has to keep working so it’s inevitable Félix and I will fly down.

“I’ll be there, not sure when. But I’ll be there. And don’t let Max mess you around,” I replied. “Keep hold of him.”

“Same with you and Jordy,” she said, closing the door. I smiled. I was going to do my best to keep hold of him, I didn’t want to lose him. I don’t think I’ve ever been as in love with someone as I have with Jordan, which the more I thought about it, the more scared I became. I’m about to test our relationship by moving into the long distance territory. We had agreed that we would try and make it work but only time would tell. Just thinking about Jordan, it seemed ironic that I would be going to Montréal just as he was leaving, - like two ships passing each other by. I also hadn’t wanted to leave him after he’d just hurt his foot in the first game against the Habs. He was really annoyed and grumpy that he’d broken his winning streak of not missing a game. “These things happen,” did not appease his mood. Jordan had sulked around, determined to get back on the ice as soon as he could. Admittedly his anger had led to some hot, angry sex which had left him with a broken bed and a little less tension.

I started my car, and reversed out onto the street heading north east out of the city. I opened my windows letting the cool morning air flood in as the early morning sun was beginning to climb in the sky. Turning on the radio, I couldn’t help but feel the tears slide down my cheeks as I drove out of Pittsburgh. I had so many memories of good times here that I was reluctant to leave.

I let the tears continue to roll down my face as I passed through the Pennsylvania countryside, through fields of crops, animals, onto the highway. This is the last time I’ll be in Pittsburgh, I thought sadly. As I headed up to Buffalo, I thought about Sophie. She would be out of rehab in a week. Did I want to talk to her? Was she going to apologise for what she’d done? Would she remember the Jordan incident?

Driving on the empty highways gave me a chance to clear my head and put these questions into perspective. Of course I would speak to Sophie; she’s a friend and right now she probably needs friends and support. So she had stolen my Chanel purse, but she was high on drugs – do I forgive her for it because she was high and not thinking or because she was on a come down and looking for her next fix? I don’t know. Maybe she’ll quit the partying lifestyle she was leading before so as not to give in to the temptation of coke. However she lives in Harrisburg, so it’s unlikely I’ll get the chance to see her very often during the summer, but I will do my best to be there for her.

I drove non-stop all the way to Montréal, only stopping for gas along the way. I was exhausted when I pulled up at the border but relieved that I only had a few more kilometres to go. The sun was still beating down for a spring afternoon and I relished the sight of pancartes (road signs) and Timmy Ho’s. I stopped for coffee and four chocolate Timbits before braving the Montréal rush hour.

After crossing the river on the autoroute Jean Lesage, I headed onto the 720 to Westmount. It felt so good to be back in Montréal, the city just has this constant buzz about it – sometimes I wonder why I ever left. It’s quieter and safer than New York yet being very cosmopolitan and European at the same time. My phone pinged. I glanced briefly at the screen, reluctant to take my eyes off the road.

“Hope you’re nearly home safe, give me a buzz when you do. Love you XXX”

That put a smile on my face. Jordan can be such a sweetie sometimes, though he’d hate for me to call him that. Despite his huge exterior, he has a heart made of gold even if he does act like a total goof at times.

As I continued on the Boulevard into my neighbourhood I felt sad that I was nearly home. On the other hand I was happy that I would see Félix. Springtime in Montréal is gorgeous; the trees were full of leaves, the flowers were out in force and there were people walking around, happy to be out in the warm sunshine now that all of the snow had melted.

I took a left onto my road, pulling up in front of our house, gazing up at the windows. Suddenly a female head popped out of the window, followed by Félix’s. Ah, the infamous Rosalie, I thought. At least there was someone else here to help me unpack my car.

“Ella!” Félix said, as the front door flung open and he ran down on to the street. He enveloped me in a massive hug. “I’ve missed you, so much. And Rosalie’s here, you have to come meet her!” he said all too quickly. Félix talks a mile a minute when he’s excited. He took two boxes and walked back towards the house as I stood leaning against the side of the car. It felt so good to be home.

As I unpacked my things, I looked around my room. I hadn’t been here permanently since I was in high school, my room definitely needed some updating. There was still a photo of Jamie and me in the frame beside my bed, my tennis awards and cups dominated one wall with a mixture of old, faded photos. I wanted to upgrade them. Opening the box with all of my items from my corkboard from Pittsburgh, I pulled out a photo of Jordan and I taken at his house when Max had called for strippers. Removing the old photo of Jamie and I, I hung the new one of Jordan and me in its new rightful place.

38. Forever

Thank you for all of your feedback. Keep the comments coming... Another fluffy filler.

Also please check out Beth's story on LeTang here because she deserves more followers.

This song inspired most of this chapter: Snow Patrol - Make This Go On Forever

JORDAN'S POV



I still couldn’t believe Lovejoy had been stupid enough to shack up with Lola. His reason being 'She told me I was amazing and I was her favourite player' - words I'd heard before from Lola. I know I didn’t have the power to send him down to Wilkes Barre if he pissed me off – but telling el Sid who did have the power was a certain way of getting rid of him. Also Lola was breaking her court order which would stress cappy out if she started stalking him again, another reason to get rid of Lovejoy. There'd be no joy left in him if he continued to piss me off like this.

I hadn’t wanted Lola to see me, so I’d hidden in one of the therapy rooms knowing Ella would have to walk past me to get to the locker room. It was nice to see her before her exam, even though I’d seen her merely an hour before. I had forgotten to wish her good luck so I felt I’d made up for it by wishing her luck even though she’d had to endure that shit from Lola before her final exam. Having said that, there are no skeletons in the closet any more; we have no secrets which is how our let alone any relationship should be.

“Iron Man! Run! Tanger’s it!” Max cried, running past me, his arms flailing in the air as I stood in the middle of the corridor, wondering what to do next. Tanger’s always it? I paused for a second before turning on my heel and sprinting off into a smaller corridor which would take me to the visitor’s locker room. This was where I’d met Ella again and where Ottawa would be tonight. Enemy territory. I opened the door and stalked through their smaller locker room to the showers. Tanger wouldn’t think to come here.

Flipping out my phone I sent a message to Ella:

“I know youre having lunch with Noah - wanna celebrate your freedom and a W later? XX”

“Cant, nice thought but Gina and I are going out as soon as we finish this afternoon. All day celebration. Love you XX”

She wasn’t even going to watch my game tonight? This was a big moment in Ella’s life and I wanted to celebrate with her, but with the playoffs it wasn’t necessarily easy. Ella was leaving in two weeks for Montreal and I wanted to spend as much time with her as I possibly could. The playoffs weren’t helping me to do this, especially if we were going to go to the final like last year and win it again.

“I’ll be in Ottawa tomorrow? Ideas?XXX”

“Soon XXX” Ella replied.

I sat there crouching in the dark for what felt like hours before my phone started buzzing. It couldn’t possibly be Ella – she had an exam. I looked at the caller id. Thank fuck it wasn’t Lola.

“Dude where the fuck are you? Tanger gave up ages ago?” TK said down the phone. Ha, Tanger's such a quitter. Thanks for filling me in.

“And you just let me wait here?” I asked.

“Where are you?” TK said. He hated being beaten at our ritual game of hide and seek. TK just couldn’t keep quiet – he couldn’t even breathe quietly and he chose to hide in the most obvious of places – like under a bench in the corridor.

Should I tell him? Would TK use my hiding place in the future? I didn’t know. “Can’t tell,” I said, not wanting to give up the new best hiding place in the whole of the Mellon arena. My previous places had been in the press box or up in the stands – Kris didn’t usually venture out onto the ice to look for us. I flipped the phone shut and put it in my pocket, walking out of the showers. I was tempted to write something along the lines of “Sens suck Pens cock” or something unsportsmanly on the visitors whiteboard. Something that would get them riled up before their game tonight. After deciding it wasn’t the best time – they might get riled up in the motivational way, I dropped the board marker I’d be holding and sprinted down the corridor.

“Coming!” I yelled, hoping TK could hear me. About three seconds later I heard the familiar ‘that’s what she said’ followed by Max’s loud guffawing. Geno speaks amazingly good English when he needs to – sneaky shit.

_____________________________________________________________


I arrived at Ella’s place fresh out of the shower after our Game 7 victory over Ottawa. Ella only had another week left in Pittsburgh and she was already packing up to move back to Montreal. After the next four days together, I didn’t know when I was next going to see her. One afternoon last week I had called her as she had just started packing. “It’s my apartment, but as I don’t know what I’m going to be doing – Gina’s going to New York for a four month internship – I might as well rent it out to somebody,” she had justified to me on the phone.

“Proud of you babe,” Ella said, standing on tiptoes to greet me at the door. She smelt gorgeous as I picked her up and carried her through to the living room. “What you cooking?” I said settling her down on her sofa as my nose picked out something delicious wafting through from the kitchen.

“Actually it was dinner. Dinner that Gina and I cooked before she went off with Max to celebrate chez lui.” I was a little disappointed that there was none left, I mean I’m still growing and I need all the energy I can get.

“So you’re gonna leave me starving!” I joked. Gently she took my hand, leading me through to the kitchen.
“We made you up a plate, because I knew you’d be hungry,” she said handing me a plate of grilled salmon and vegetables. She was seriously thoughtful and I wanted to show her just how much I appreciated her. Carefully I lifted her light frame up onto the work surface so that I was standing between her legs. “I love you,” I told her before kissing her lightly.

Those three words mean so much to me. I love how I can say those three big words and not be scared with her. I loved how she had accepted me for who I am and not ‘Jordan Staal – Pittsburgh Penguin’. I love how she has her own ambitions and doesn’t let anything stop her from achieving her goals. I love the way her hair falls across her face when she fixes her huge green eyes on me. I love how I don’t have to pretend to be anything around her, just myself.

“I love you more,” she said smiling against my lips, her breath warm on my skin. I don't think that's even possible.

“Forever?” I asked.

“Forever? Forever ever” Ella giggled.

“Who knew Outkast would be joining us in this,” I said as Ella kissed me again, wrapping her legs around my waist. I picked her up, leading her down the hallway to her bedroom.
The salmon can wait.

37. Whore

I know we're all in a state of mourning at the moment so here is a little light relief. Hopefully Boston will knock out the flyers in the next round - I couldn't bear to see Carcillo in the EC final. Happy Commenting - I welcome all comments as your ideas and support help me for the following chapters so any ideas are always welcome. It's always nice to hear your feedback. And for MelTing - the key is cranberry and raspberry juice mixed with sprite!


Song: Jane's Addiction - Just Because


ELLA’S POV


Jordan had left his phone on my bedside table when he left for practice this morning. We’d had a fantastic night together last night after celebrating the two away wins in Ottawa and I hadn’t wanted Jordan to leave. My exam was this afternoon but I figured I would go and drop off Jordan’s phone on the way in to school. I had resisted any ounce of temptation I’d had to look through his phone – in truth I didn’t want to know – and I knew that embarking down that road was a long and slippery slope. So I put it in my purse and walked the few blocks to the arena. I used my pass to get through security and walked in the direction I thought the locker room was in. Jordan had told me that the main corridor is one long circuit under the seats, so whatever happened, I couldn’t get lost.

“What are you doing here?” I looked up to see who was talking to me. I’ve never seen her before in my life and she’s not someone I know from school either. Weirdly she seemed to know who I was, especially if she was asking why I’m here. I took in her appearance: the ragged mini denim skirt, the ripped black tights, totally inappropriate for a warm sunny day like today, the leather jacket with a Hells Angel symbol on it, the purple crop top with a tattoo poking out from the line of her skirt. And then there was her face – pierced nose and several in her ears and metal bits in her lips – how could anyone eat when they had metal in their mouth like that? She was kind of pretty if you like that whole alternative-bad-girl-look.

“Just dropping something off,” I replied. Dressed like that she clearly did not work for the Pens organisation.

“For?” she demanded.

“None of your business,” I said, trying to move past her as she blocked the wide corridor. She grabbed my wrist, forcing me to turn around.

“It’s Jordan, isn’t it?” she hissed. “He’s mine. Keep your filthy blonde mitts off.”

I tried not to laugh. He’s yours? Oh really? How the hell had she got past security, I thought. They really need to step it up around here.

“Yes, it is. And who on earth are you?” I tried to be civil with her though my patience was waning. Whatever thing she had for my boyfriend was getting on my nerves. I didn’t need this today of all days. I only came to drop off his goddamn phone.

“Lo-la. And he was mine before he was yours, if he really is yours,” she snarled. She pronounced her name as if it was exotic and I couldn’t help but be reminded of that dancing slut Cha-Cha in Grease.

“Oh well hi. And thank you, but he’s mine now,” I said moving away from her.

“But he’s come crawling back to me, and he always will,” this Lola replied, stepping closer so she was in my personal space, almost in my face. I didn’t like her sneering. “Clearly you don’t have the power to keep him. Does he still call out my name in bed? Does he love you like he loves me?”

I couldn’t take anymore. With all of my 5’6 strength I slapped her across the face, hoping it would leave a bright red mark. I’ve never slapped a girl before and I honestly never thought I would – but those last few sentences had really stirred me up, making me see red. I turned on my heel and ran down the corridor until someone grabbed my arm, dragging into a nearby room. I looked round at my captor. Jordan, thank God. No other crazies in the Mellon today. I looked around at the room – there was a bed and a few cabinets and sheets on the wall and several huge bottles of something or other.

“I’m sorry,” he said, pulling me to him.

“I came to return this,” I said, handing over his phone. From the look on his face, he hadn’t even realised it was missing. “I just met an interesting girl. Think her name’s Lola.”

Jordan looked apologetic. He must have seen or heard our little conversation; those corridors are pretty
echoey. “She was a mistake, an error, a fuck up,” he said, holding my hands, looking down at me.

“She said you’d gone back to her,” I said quietly, my eyes downcast. I trust Jordan but I wanted that what I’d just heard was total bullshit. “She was the girl from Diesel that night,” I added. It had made sense. Jordan had taken her back home after I’d gone and screwed her.

“Yes, but nothing happened. I promise. I love you. She shouldn’t even be here. Lovejoy brought her in. She’s got a restraining order against cappy so she shouldn’t be any closer to the arena than 200m,” Jordan said. Her restraining order did not explain why Jordan had slept with her. It only confirmed to me that she was a delusional loon.

“But since you’ve met me, you’ve been with her?” I pushed. I’m not sure I wanted to know the answer to this question, but part of me was curious. I shouldn’t have to be asking this, we’re both adults and we should be honest with each other.

“She’s been back to my place, but I didn’t sleep with her. I was so out of it, I didn’t even know she was there,” Jordan said. “That was the night she danced with me in Diesel.” That made me feel slightly better though I’d prefer not to have been reminded of that night if at all possible. If he’d been out of it, there was no way Jordan could have got it up, which means Jordan did not have sex.

“Any other times?” I asked. I couldn’t believe I was asking him this – I sounded so insecure, but I might as well know.

“Well, Sophie tried to kiss me, but she was off her head, so that doesn’t count,” he admitted. I was going to let that one go by. I know how much of a flirt Sophie is, and if she was on the coke, god only knows what she was like. And Jordan said ‘tried’ so obviously she didn’t get very far.

“Anyone you should tell me about?” Jordan joked. I gave him a little push in the stomach – as if he had to ask that question. 6’4 Jordan was more than enough man for me. “Only Noah, Felix and you - the three men in my life.”

“Noah?” Jordan questioned, raising one of his blond eyebrows.

“Yes, Noah. And for the record, he’s gay Jordan. He’s about as straight as the head on your hockey stick, not very.”

“I knew I could have taken him anyway if he wasn’t. He’s just not Jordan Staal,” he joked back.

“No, he’s Noah Greenbaum,” I emphasised being silly. I reached up to give him a kiss on his cheek. “Now I have to get going for lunch with Mr. Greenbaum and do my final exam.”

“Good luck or bonne chance,” Jordan said kissing me. I winced at his horrible French pronounciation before giving him a wink and walking out. Hopefully Lola had been forcibly removed from the arena and banged up in jail for breaking her restraining order.

“Merci ma cherie, à tant tôt.”

36. Resolution

TWO CHAPTERS TONIGHT - MAKE SURE YOU'VE READ 35 BEFORE YOU READ THIS ONE!!!
What a horrible result. Anyone up for an early visit to a certain sod farm in T-Bay? I'm going Staalwatching. As a little consolation and a Jordan goal tonight, I'm putting up two chapters tonight :) Let's keep those comments up.


Song: Pearl Jam - Just Breathe


JORDAN'S POV


“So how’s woman?” Geno said, flopping down in the seat next to me on the plane. “You happy again?”
I gave him a little grin and he shook my hand, patting me on the shoulder. Geno was a guy of few words, partly due to his lack of English, but what he lacked in language, he made up for by his actions. He knew when everyone of the guys on the team was down or dejected and did his best to cheer them up.

“What is problem?” Geno asked. I wanted to be able to explain it to him. I know he understands more than he lets on – he’s a sneaky shit sometimes, but unlike TK, he’d figured out something was wrong.

“Ella, well, she’s got this amazing internship in Montreal this summer. And it’s a great opportunity for her. She’s graduating next week, and well, I want to spend the summer with her. I want her to come to the Bay with me.”

“You farm in summer?” Geno said. I nodded. Everyone knew the Staal boys worked on the sod farm when we weren’t playing hockey. Stupid question Geno. “Well, go Montreal. You have brothers. They not miss your little work.” Yeah sure. I may not be capable at driving a tractor like Eric but I sure as hell worked harder than Marc or Jared.

“Thanks Geno, your advice is, er, appreciated?”

“COD now?” Geno said, taking out his PSP. Of course, what trip wouldn’t be complete without an epic cod match. “Sid going down,” Geno said, his tongue sticking out between his teeth as he focused on the screen.


I was playing, I really was, but my mind was elsewhere. As I’d explained to Geno, I had to help out on the farm during summer – it’s an important time of year for us and well, my Mom really appreciates having all four of us under the same roof. However I couldn’t go to Montreal, life wasn’t as simple as that. What was I going to do in Montreal? I can’t speak a word of French beyond ‘bonjour’ and ‘tabernak’ and words I’ve picked up off Max – generally the most offensive ones. I didn’t know if we would work long distance, it was something I’d be willing to try, but who knows what would happen after the summer. Would Ella stay in Pittsburgh? Would she move abroad for work? These questions I didn’t have the answer to and only time would help me.

“Dude, Marc is shot you. He’s crap,” I heard Geno say. My mind wasn’t in the match, so I switched my psp off, leaving Geno to fend for himself.

“Gronk!” he muttered still engrossed in the game.

I shrugged, getting up and going to the back of the plane where Mario was sitting. I don’t talk to Mario too often, but when you need a fatherly figure or some unbiased advice, Mario’s the man.
“Have you got some time?” I asked, standing in front of him. Having played for his team for three full seasons, I still felt in awe of the man every time we were face to face. He had been one of my childhood heros, and I think he had this effect on everyone.

“Sure, take a seat. I’m all ears,” Mario said, closing the laptop down.

“Well there’s this girl,” I began. Mario rolled his eyes.

“All problems start with those four words,” he replied. He’s probably right, but right now I don’t need to hear that. I want to know what he has to say. I poured out the story about Ella, her going to Montreal in the summer, me being in the Bay, and what should I do. Ella was already on Mario’s radar after the whole PR – epilepsy thing back in March so he knew I had been seeing her.

“Well, if you want to make it work, you’ve got to do whatever it takes,” Mario said. I knew that. I would do whatever it took to be with her. “With Natalie, when I wasn’t playing hockey, I followed her everywhere. When I was playing hockey, she followed me everywhere. You think she’s worth it? Will she still like you if you stopped playing hockey tomorrow or discovered you had cancer? Natalie has stuck by me through everything and she’s the only woman I’ve wanted to have children with – and now we have four.”

That was certainly food for thought. Ella didn’t even know I played hockey when I first met her – that’s not the reason she’s with me. When I found out she was epileptic, I stuck by her. It’s epilepsy, it’s serious but it’s not life threatening as long as she takes her medication and avoids certain situations. Would Ella stick by me if I got cancer or was paralysed? I didn’t know. Maybe I should take a leaf out of Ella’s book and deal with it when we get there.



Strolling into the Mellon Arena the next morning for practice I was surprised to see a familiar racoon haired girl with what looked like Lovejoy in the corridor outside the locker room. As soon as they heard my footsteps they broke apart. You’ve got to be kidding me, I thought as I looked at them both. Surely Lovejoy is smarter than to mess around with Lola? Having said that, he’s just come up from WBS, so he probably doesn’t know the rules around here yet.

“Lovejoy, I need your help. Byls wants to talk to both of us,” I said making up the first bit of bull to come into my head.

“Hi Jordie,” Lola cooed doing some sort of baby wave with her hand. I ignored her. She was the last person I wanted to see this early in the morning. Sure she was great in bed but she’s a bonafide puck, and the reason Ella ran away. Luckily Lovejoy had more sense than necessary and followed me down the corridor until we took a turn. It wasn’t the way to Dan’s office and he knew it. Yanking open the cleaning cupboard I shoved him inside before stepping in after him.

“Why?” I asked, trying to keep my temper.

“Lola? She’s hot, met her at Diesel…”

“Everyone’s met her at Diesel. She’s not allowed in this arena. Technically she has a restraining order against Sidney so she really shouldn’t be here. People will shit bricks if she’s seen. And I thought you had more sense than to go with her. She fucked up my relationship with Ella…”

“No, you did that yourself,” Lovejoy bit back.

“What the fuck do you know? Now get out of my sight before you get sent back to the baby pens where you belong,” I said, shoving him out of the cupboard and into Dana.
“I don’t even want to know,” she said rolling her eyes as Lovejoy nearly fell over. He’s such a twat.


As I rounded back around the corner, I could see Lola with her hands on her hips talking to a bemused looking Ella. Whatever they were saying – it couldn’t be good.