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ohmyeyesmyeyes · 1 month

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supermarket run-ins (the start of something new)

summary: nathan mackinnon x f!reader // the supermarket meeting...eventually they'll get married (from this)

warnings: nate being adorably awkward

word count: 3.2k

< i'm gonna link this to a series called 'funny how life works out' (in the works) on my main masterlist and if there's anything you want to see from this universe, please shoot me an ask, my requests are open! >

Nate knew there was always going to be a risk of running into someone he went to school with when he came back to Cole Harbour: the place was pretty small, and nearly every time he’d gone out he’d see a familiar face hiding around the corner, but he wasn’t sure if he could take another awkward conversation, least of all when he was grocery shopping.

It was early May, and the second round loss in the playoffs against the Sharks was still a remarkably sore ache, and the last thing he wanted was for someone to offer their condolences for it: he knew people meant well, but sometimes it did just rub salt in the wound – and for that reason, he decided the best course of action was to do his grocery shopping a little way out of town and at the strangest time possible, i.e. seven A.M on a Thursday morning, because who the fuck else would be insane enough to go grocery shopping that early in the morning?

Or, at least, that was part of his strategy. The other part involved wearing his sweatpants and zip up (it was chilly that early in the morning) and a baseball cap inside to make himself seem as glum and as unapproachable as possible. He wasn’t necessarily trying to hide his identity – it never worked with a baseball cap in those superhero movies – nor did he actually believe that people in Halifax would genuinely care who he was, because he wasn’t the only person to have made it to the NHL in these parts, and he certainly wasn’t the most famous, either. In fact, people were more blase about it than not.

Still, that didn’t stop him from keeping his head down when he walked through the doors as soon as the store opened, nor did it stop him from keeping his eyes on the floor as he navigated his way through the aisles, listening rather closely to the faint music playing over the intercom as he picked up a basket and made his way for the fresh fruit and veg aisle.

Despite having only been back home for a few days, he already had plans, and those plans consisted largely of cooking, eating, working out, and then walking the short distance from his house to Sid’s so they could mourn the devastating loss of their Stanley Cup for this year. Though, Nate did feel as though he had more of a reason to mourn this time: Sid had won it three times already, and this season the Penguins didn’t even make it to play-off contention, whereas the Avs had. Second round. Still bitter. And Nate had yet to get his hands on Lord Stanley.

Even the mere thought of it made his jaw clench. He wondered what he must look like to an onlooker: murderous glares at the carrots usually weren’t a good sign for anyone. In fact, even that thought had him swiping a bag of carrots and looking both ways down the aisle as a precaution, as though he was guilty of doing something – yet, as far as he was aware, the only thing he was guilty of was being this miserable sore loser at seven-ten in the morning.

He reckoned that was a new personal record – he could usually hold it off until half past the hour, but it seemed the early morning pining had gotten to him exceptionally early.

He took a step to the right, reaching for the bag of lettuce, when something caught his attention out of the corner of his eye. Usually he wouldn’t have bothered looking: he was in a supermarket, and people were expected to walk through pretty often, but he’d been the only person sad and mad enough to wait outside the doors until they opened up, and he knew for a fact that no one else had followed him in immediately after.

Only, when he turned his attention to the end of the aisle, he saw someone. A woman. She was walking down towards the back of the store, the aisle directly in line with his. He didn’t know if she’d seen him, but she had headphones on and was wearing athletic gear: shorts, trainers, a long-sleeved top under a short-sleeved one. Nate knew that because he recognised the logo on her shoulder and he had one of his own, only it a different colour, and it was much bigger.

He blinked, turning back to his own list.

He didn’t make it through another five seconds before giving in and looking back at her. He couldn’t quite shake the air of familiarity she encompassed. Even though he hadn’t seen her face, there was something undoubtedly recognisable in the way she moved and stood.

He’d seen that woman before. Knew her, even. He didn’t know who she was, but he knew that much. He just had a feeling, the kind that settles so delicately in your bones and has your heart pounding just that little bit faster – he couldn’t quite ignore it.

Still, he continued on with the rest of his shopping, even going so far as to treat himself with some cake mix (that he was probably going to just bake and give to his parents, because he’d have one slice and get bored and before he’d know it, he’d have to throw the entire thing away because it’d gone stale), and it was as he was making his way back up to the tills, walking straight through the ready meals aisle, that he saw her again.

She was standing in front of the refrigerated section, her basket on the floor as she held two boxes in her hands, seemingly undecided on something. A small part of him hoped that she’d see someone coming and look at them (him, really), so he could deduce who she was. In fact, a large part of him wanted that. It was all he wanted at that moment. He wasn’t sure if he could leave the supermarket without figuring it out before he left – and he immediately shut that thought down because he sounded like an absolute creep.

He kept his steps mildly loud and purposeful, not moving too fast or too slow to rouse suspicion, and he kept to the centre of the aisle. At some point his hands seemed to have made the decision to take his cap off his head, because when he briefly looked down at his basket it was sitting on top of the cat food (probably for the better, because it’d be weird if he ended up saying he didn’t actually own a cat even though he had cat food – that was guessing he’d even end up saying something anyway: it was all rather a large question mark in that sense), and he ran an anxious hand through his hair, fluffing it up from where it had been squashed, before looking up.

The woman reached down, dropping a box into her basket, the other one nestled safely back on the shelf, and whether he’d timed the entire thing impeccably well, or whether she’d actually seen him, she looked up. Right at him. And, before he could even do anything consciously, his legs had slowed to a stop.

He was right. He definitely knew her. In fact, the very woman standing in front of him was the exact same one he’d had a crush on in school from the age of ten to…well, he wasn’t quite sure when it stopped because he left shortly after that, but now she was standing in front of him, smiling politely, and Nate instantly felt like a giddy ten-year old again.

It was you.

You, who upon seeing he’d stopped in his utterly bewitched stupor, had taken the headphones off from over your ears and had turned to face him.

All because he stopped in his tracks.

“Hi.” You said, picking up your basket on the floor and regarding him with some sense of confusion.

He blinked, his mouth falling open dumbly, the words sitting right there on the top of his tongue, but he seemed suddenly incapable of even stringing anything together.

He shut his mouth almost immediately after that realisation, and the flush in his cheeks almost seemed inevitable — as did your curious quirk of an eyebrow, because even the people that didn’t know him well knew it was never a good sign for someone who was so used to being in the public eye, to stutter and make a fool of themselves simply trying to have a polite conversation.

“Is everything okay?”

He didn’t know it was possible to blush even harder, but he felt it tingle in his toes and the tips of his ears.

“Sorry, I—” he cleared his throat, heart hammering in his chest like there was no tomorrow, “You just took me by surprise, I guess. Haven’t seen you in years.” He managed, tongue feeling thick and heavy in his mouth. He’d never struggled so much before, but old habits do die hard and he’d never been completely normal talking to you when he was ten.

A look of pleasant surprise crossed your features, and only then did it occur to him that it might be weird of him to say something like that, because you two hadn’t really known each other at all. A few weeks sitting at the same table didn’t exactly constitute the kind of friendship that’d be so profound you’d shock him.

“Would that surprise also have something to do with the fact that we’re apparently the only two people with the thought to go shopping at this time?” You ignored the latter half of his bumbling ramble, probably for the better, and instead seemed to find some relief in the fact that he had regained his ability to talk.

He didn’t quite know which was worse.

Nevertheless, he stuck on a smile and tugged awkwardly at his earlobe for a moment, “It might, yeah.”

You hummed, rocking back on your heels with the faint trace of an amused smile on your face.

It was only then that he noticed the old, slightly worn in Halifax Mooseheads logo printed squarely on the front of your t-shirt, and he very quickly averted his eyes — only the more he seemed to look at your face, the more obvious it became that you were every bit still as beautiful as you had been to his ten year old self, if not more.

“So, where are you, how are you these days?” He asked, once again the words tumbling straight from his mouth with little thought, but you seemed to appreciate the question, if he read the look on your face correctly.

“I went to college in Montreal, and I’m still there. I work for a law firm as a legal translator…And I guess I’m doing well.” You shrugged, “What about you?”

Nathan swallowed nervously, the crushing weight of the loss almost crashing into him full force, and he knew he froze for a good couple of seconds, trying to get his head back into the present moment. He didn’t know if you could tell just where his mind had gone, or if you were just that patient, but you didn’t say anything or do anything to indicate his lack of immediate response.

“I’m good, yeah. I mean, I’m still reeling from the play-off loss, but it’s nice to come home and recharge.” He inhaled, “But other than that, Denver’s treating me well.”

“That’s good.”

“As good as it can get to say I got absolutely no choice as to where I had to live when I was eighteen? I’d say so, yeah.” He agreed, feeling himself ease up a little.

He couldn’t get his mind to quieten, and he felt jittery; he didn’t know what to do with his hands and he knew all of that would be solved if he just stopped thinking so hard about a simple conversation, but all he could think about was his poor younger self, who, upon finding out he had to move to Minnesota, did wonder what happened to you.

If his younger self could see him now…

You laughed softly at his sarcasm, and he felt the clouds part for a moment – a laugh meant he wasn’t completely making a fool of himself.

“What are you doing here now anyway?” You asked, wandering across the aisle, your basket still on the floor, and he watched, one hand stuffed in his hoodie pocket, as you picked some cheese off the shelf and made your way back to the basket.

“I’m restocking my fridge and avoiding any possible run-ins with people–well, with people I went to school with, actually.”

You just grinned, and for some reason he had an idea of what your next words would be before you even said them, “How’s that working out for you?”

Nate shrugged lamely, “There are worse people to run into.”

And from the comical look on your face Nate had an awful feeling that you knew exactly what he was talking about.

“Is that why you’re here too?” He continued, acutely aware of the fact that you were mid-shopping trip, and he knew for a fact that even if he did want to keep standing there and chatting to you for a little while longer, he couldn’t. Not really. Still, it hadn’t been quite long enough yet to end it now.

If he did, he knew he’d regret it if it was the last time he’d ever see you again for the rest of his life.

You shrugged, showing no signs of his presence or conversation either dulling or pissing you off, and answered without hesitation, your basket now in your arms again, “Yeah, but I’m also busy for the rest of the day so I couldn’t go at any other time.”

“Oh, anything nice planned?”

“It’s my Dad’s birthday, so there’s some family coming over and then we’re all going out for dinner.” There was a pause, and for a brief second Nathan felt himself get hot with panic at the mere thought of that brief pause turning into an awkward silence, but you spoke again, and his heart rate dwindled and his body temperature lowered with the help from the fridges, “You got any plans for today?”

Nate felt himself begin to nod before he could spew the words out, “Yeah.” He said, “I’m seeing Sid tonight.” It was only after he finished talking and had the chance to double-check that he hadn’t said anything wrong accidentally, that he realised that you might not know who Sid is.

He had no clue if you even liked hockey. In fact, he knew little to nothing about you apart from that fact that you were clever, played soccer quite violently from what he’d heard from some of his friends, and that you went to college in Montreal, and both lived and worked there now. And it was your Dad’s birthday today.

In fact, now that he thought about it, you hadn’t actually given him any indication that you knew who he was. You’d not said his name, how would he know you weren’t faking it to be polite?

He didn’t voice any of that, though. If he did, it wouldn't matter if you knew who he was or not, because the second he voiced exactly what was running through his head, this entire thing would turn into a car crash.

“Kind of crazy how that works out, huh?” You asked rhetorically, and Nate raised a brow, waiting for you to elaborate, “I remember you talking about him in class, and now…”

Nate grinned, only just resisting the urge to sigh in relief, and all at once his mind seemed to clear. It quietened; he could think properly now. All because you remembered him.

He felt a little bit pathetic, actually, at how easy it was for him to physically brighten because of one vague thing from fourteen or so years ago (fourteen!), that he probably told everyone who would listen – but he had a strong visual in his mind, then, of everyone else on that school table tuning out his Crosby-rambling, and you were the only one listening. He remembered you’d ask him questions, and…you liked hockey, he remembered that now.

It was funny how a moment so insignificant in the past could feel like a tectonic plate shifting under his feet.

“Oh, yeah.” He rubbed the back of his head sheepishly. God, he really did chat hockey a lot, didn’t he? “And they say don’t meet your idol.”

You fucking remembered him!

You breathed a laugh, and Nate felt something in his chest splinter at the sound, only when he seemed to really look at you next, you shivered, teeth pressed together and shoulders trembling. He didn’t know how he hadn’t noticed it before, considering you were standing in a cold aisle with shorts on, and him with full length sweatpants and a hoodie, but it was freezing. Really cold, and the guilt that came with that observation had him immediately stepping away slightly.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, I should let you get back to your shopping.” He rambled nervously.

“It’s okay, I’m not really in a rush.”

What was he supposed to say to that? What did it mean? Was it an invitation to stay longer? To keep chatting? He had no fucking clue, and he was sure the chaos of his thoughts was unfortunately also mirrored on his face judging from the way you were now looking at him (or was he overthinking that, too?); yet, the only thing that came out of his mouth was: “It was nice catching up with you–”

“I have three days left before I go back to Montreal.” You interrupted, and Nate blinked.

He blinked again. His heart was in his throat. What–Oh.

“Do you maybe want to get drinks before you go?” He asked, heart pounding so very painfully against his ribs. He didn’t know why asking that question was so nerve-racking, especially considering you’d half fone the job for him anyway, but there was something tugging at him that had his hands trembling slightly as he put his number in your phone. He looked over to see you doing the same on his phone, and though your fingers were shaking too he couldn’t say for certain if it was because of the cold or your own nerves.

“Tell your Dad happy birthday from me.” He muttered once he’d repocketed his phone and managed to make eye contact with you without a) smiling too hard and looking like a crazy person, or b) looking like he was constipated.

“I will.” You promised, “Have fun tonight, too.”

“I’ll try.” He managed a normal smile, “See you later.”

“See you.”

And he spent the entire walk back to his car trying not to scream out of excitement. He’d never been so giddy for later.

#nathan mackinnon oneshot #nathan mackinnon imagine #nathan mackinnon fic #nathan mackinnon x reader #hockey fic #nhl fic #nhl imagine #nhl oneshot #hockey oneshot #hockey imagine

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eyesthatroll · 3 months

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my champ | n. mackinnon

pairing; nathan mackinnon x fem!reader

warning(s); kissing, cursing, mention of insecurity/self pressure??

summary; not long enough for a summary but took inspiration sort of from this tweet!!!! (🥹🥹)

word count; 0.83k

author's note; guys, i don't know how it happened, but i became enamored with nathan mackinnon in the time span of like 17 hours. i don't know what it is, there's just something about him!!!!!! anyways, go canucks!1!1! also this was going to be a lot longer but i haven't written in a while and just wanted to get back into the swing of things, hope it's not too bad. love ya!

Entering the hotel room, you feel an overwhelming sense of fatigue, prompting you to collapse onto the plush queen-sized bed positioned at the room's center. Disregarding the conventional way of removing your shoes, you nudge them off with your toes, allowing them to tumble onto the soft carpeted floor, not really caring where they land while simultaneously hoping Nathan doesn’t trip on them.

"Baby?" Nathan's voice echoes from the bathroom. In reply, you emit a soft hum, the gentle cascade of water from the sink filling the room's silence.

Exiting the bathroom, he casually discards his jacket onto a coat rack affixed to the wall. Crossing over to the opposite side of the bed, he bends down to meet your gaze at eye level. "You okay?"

You roll your eyes, a subtle sigh escaping your lips. "Tired, hungry, dreading the weekend.”

He rises from his previous position, and you shift on the bed, making room for him to join. Settling in effortlessly, he turns his body to lie on his side, supporting his head with his elbow, giving him a perfect view of you. His gaze focuses on your left hand, where you absentmindedly fiddle with the gorgeous 4-carat radiant-cut diamond ring adorning your finger.

"I'll never get tired of seeing that on your finger," Nathan's voice is a gentle murmur, as if he fears that speaking any louder about your wedding ring would broadcast it to the entire world.

You respond with a soft smile, lifting your gaze to meet his deep blue eyes, filled with nothing but adoration. "It's a beautiful ring."

Indeed, it truly was. The diamond, precisely cut to the shape you desired, struck the perfect balance in size—not overly showy, as larger ones might seem to you, yet not too small, just perfectly proportioned. Leave it to Nathan to discover and present you with your dream ring, even though you had only casually mentioned your preferences maybe once in the past two years.

"You're beautiful," he comments easily, his free hand reaching out to gently tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.

Your teeth graze your bottom lip as you fight back a smile. "You're so corny.”

His thumb meets his middle finger to flick you in the forehead, shaking his head as he falls back onto the pillow. "Fuck off."

Seeing an opportunity, you use it to gracefully climb over him, your posture settling over the waistband of his sweatpants, which were hanging dangerously low. Taking a moment, you allow yourself to truly look at him, your breath catching in your throat as you admire your husband.

"What?" he asks, eyebrows quirked.

You shake your head. "You're so handsome."

He truly was, in every inconceivable sense of the word. You made it a point to express that sentiment and offer other compliments on a daily basis. Nathan, being a professional athlete, tended to be hard on himself and often overly critical. While you knew your compliments couldn't fully dispel what brewed below the surface, you liked to believe they provided some solace at least a little bit.

"Who's corny now?" he teases, his hands shifting from his sides to your waist, slipping under the thick material of one of his old hoodies that you've stolen.

"I'm serious," you groan, laying a gentle slap against his chest.

"So was I," he counters. "And I-"

You lean down swiftly, pressing your lips against his in an attempt to silence him, and it works like a charm. Though, you can feel his famous Nate Mackinnon giggle against your lips, prompting one of your own. When you pull apart, a soft smile graces your lips as your fingers trace down the scruff of his beard. "My Stanley Cup champ."

His cheeks redden at your words, and he lets out an airy laugh.

"I'm so proud of you, you know that?" you ask, and he nods. His tongue darts out to wet his bottom lip, undoubtedly carrying a lingering taste of strawberry from your tinted lip balm.

"You tell me every day," he answers with a quick retort, rolling his eyes. However, a smile lingers on his lips.

Raising a brow, you inquire, "Do you believe me?"

Asking the question seemed to hang in the air, the silence stretching before he responded. His brow furrows, and you could almost feel the weight of his thoughts. A heavy sigh escapes his lips, a mix of something you couldn’t quite put your finger on. “Course I do,” he finally answers.

You narrow your eyes at him, sensing his hesitation. That wasn’t a very convincing answer, but you decide not to pressure him further. Instead, you lean down and rejoin your lips with his. This time, his hands migrate from your waist to your bum, their grip firm and reassuring as he sucks in your bottom lip.

"I love you so damn much," he murmurs, between kisses down your neck.

God, did you love this man with everything in you.

#nathan mackinnon #nathan mackinnon x you #nathan mackinnon x reader #nathan mackinnon fic #nathan mackinnon fluff #hockey fic #hockey imagine #nhl fic #nhl imagine #nathan mackinnon oneshot #nathan mackinnon imagine #nathan mackinnon imagines

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laurenairay · 5 days

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you've been sent to save me - N. MacKinnon

Summary: what’s meant to be will always find a way.

Rachel Summers can’t stand Nathan MacKinnon. But when a mutual friend’s wedding pulls them together, will anything change?

Words: 3.4k

Warnings: some angst, some bad language

A/N: Here is my fic for @fallinallincurls birthday bingo! I chose wedding season/dates, forced proximity, meddling best friend, and invisible string theory. This was a lot of fun to write (and I can't believe I've never written a full fic for Nate before!), so I hope you enjoy it Bre! Sorry it's a bit late!

Title from always been you, by Shawn Mendes.

Invisible string theory suggests that everyone has someone in their lives who is attached to them by an invisible string that transcends time, distance, and geography. It’s fate.

June 2023

“There’s just one more thing.”

“Oh?” Rachel asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Nate’s going to be a groomsman.”

Rachel immediately groaned, tilting her head backwards. A little dramatic perhaps but for Nathan MacKinnon? It was justified. She’d been over the moon when her childhood friend had asked her to be a bridesmaid for her wedding next summer, but now knowing that Nathan was going to be in the wedding party too?

“It’s bad enough that I can’t avoid that grumpy smirky fucker whenever he’s back for the summer, but now I can’t even avoid him for the happiest day of your life?”

“It really will be the happiest day of my life, won’t it?” she sighed happily.

“Angie, focus,” Rachel snapped, unable to stop herself from huffing out a laugh. She wanted to stay mad at her friend, but it was hard with the dreamy look on her face.

Angela just giggled. “Look, Brad has been friends with him for years, you know that. And I can’t change that – I’m sure it’ll be fine?”

“Angie!” Rachel whined.

She just laughed harder. “Rach, I will make sure he won’t act like an ass. I promise!”

“I’ll believe that the day I see it.”

June 2024

It was finally time for Angela’s wedding. After a full year of planning – helping choose the bridesmaid dresses, the hair and make-up trials, the hen do itself, spending her weekends making table decorations – the fateful weekend had finally arrived. Rachel had been given the option to travel up a couple of days early ahead of the wedding ceremony on the Saturday, so she’d eagerly booked the time off work, and was travelling to Inverary Resort bright and early on the Thursday morning. Rachel was ready to settle in and relax with the rest of the bridal party, all friends over the years from Cole Harbour, to celebrate one of her oldest friends marrying the love of her life.

What could possibly go wrong?

After 3 and a half hours of driving, Rachel was ready to kick her shoes off and pick up a cocktail, and as she spotted Angela running happily out of the main building towards her as she parked her car, she found a smile spreading across her face. This weekend was going to be amazing, she just knew it.

“You made it! How was the journey? We got in a few hours ago and it was fine for us – was it still okay for you?”

Rachel just grinned at her friend’s happy rambling, throwing her shoulder-length dark waves up into a basic ponytail before grabbing her bags out of her backseat. Thankfully the transportation of the bridesmaid dresses – a gorgeous olive green that suited Rachel’s dark hair and tanned skin perfectly - were taken care of by Angela’s mom so she hadn’t had to worry about creasing that.

The two of them caught up as Angela walked her through the main lobby of the resort, picking up Rachel’s room key as well as a glass of complimentary prosecco. Rachel tried not to get too wide-eyed over the beauty of the venue, but it was hard not to gawp. The views alone were amazing, and she wasn’t even on the water’s edge yet. From what she understood, for the accommodation on site there was a main lodge with the majority of rooms, as well as whole bunch of individual cottages. Rachel had chosen to stay in the main lodge, as a single guest, so at least she didn’t have to walk far with her luggage.

“Alright, here you are. There are a few other guests already here so get settled and then come downstairs to meet us for drinks. It’s just a chilled day today, touring the grounds and relaxing really, with a dinner tonight at the Lakeside restaurant,” Angela explained, “I’ll see you soon?”

“You got it,” Rachel grinned.

Angela’s enthusiasm was infectious at the very least, and Rachel could feel herself buzzing as she unpacked her bags. She couldn’t wait explore the grounds of the resort – and she was more than ready for the spa morning tomorrow in the Glasgow house cottage that Rachel had set up for the bride’s party – but first, drinks.

After freshening up with a spritz of perfume and a swipe of lipgloss, Rachel left her room, phone and room key in hand.

“Look what the cat dragged in.”

No fucking way.

Rachel turned her head to see the last person she wanted to see standing two doors down from her with a suitcase at his side. He must’ve just arrived. It was just her luck that his room was so close to hers – Angela had better not had a hand in that – as always during the summers when he was home, it was like she couldn’t escape him. Nathan MacKinnon was everywhere.

“Look what the cat coughed up,” Rachel shot back, fake smile at full capacity.

Nate just snorted, rolling his eyes. “Aww don’t front, Rach, you know you missed me.”

“Like a thorn in my foot,” she said dryly, “And don’t call me Rach.”

Rach was for friends only. And Nate was no friend.

Nate held his hands up in surrender with a snicker, finally unlocking his room door.

“If you find yourself lonely in the middle of the night, you know where to find me,” Nate smirked.

“Eurgh, in your dreams,” she grimaced.

“Yes, frequently.”

No. Just no. The audacity.

Rachel gagged dramatically, hamming up the noises, and to her surprise Nate burst out into laughter, leaning against the doorframe as his face scrunched. That had to be the first time he’d laughed so genuinely with just her. She hated the way it made her stomach fill with butterflies.

“Oh man, I needed that,” Nate grinned, still chuckling, “I’ll see you down at the lounge bar?”

More bewildered than anything else, Rachel just nodded. “Yeah, see you.”

What the hell was that?

Angela’s plans for the spa morning on the Friday couldn’t have been more perfect, if for nothing else than to clear Rachel’s mind. Over the space of 4 hours, Rachel (plus the other three bridesmaids, Angela, Angela’s mom, and Angela’s soon-to-be mother-in-law) got a manicure, pedicure, and a facial, on top of full use of the sauna and pool. It was exactly what Rachel needed to wind down from her work week (and the weirdness with Nate yesterday) and relax ahead of the big wedding day tomorrow. By the happy glow on the bridal party’s faces, everyone else agreed.

After a light lunch, the full wedding party met up in the main lodge, ready for a rehearsal. Angela and Brad had wanted a full walkthrough of the running order, timings, and placements of the day, just so they were prepared, which Rachel wasn’t going to complain about in the slightest. It could never hurt to be ready.

Not even Nate’s irritating grin as he stood next to her, continuously nudging her with his shoulder, could ruin her peace.

“So, in terms of who will be walking who down the aisle, we’ve paired the groomsmen and bridesmaids up already.”

As the four pairings were called out, Rachel’s stomach sank. She was walking down the aisle with Nathan MacKinnon. Of course she was. So much for peace. This had Angela written all over it, the meddling wench.

“Rach, I-”

“Don’t even say a word to me right now, you giant potato,” Rachel hissed under her voice.

Nate choked out a laugh, leaving Rachel to make her face blank and calmly walk towards the other bridesmaids. Angela’s expression was all but begging her not to cause a scene. Like she would cause something as inelegant as a scene. No, she would wait until there was a moment to pull Angela aside because what the hell was she thinking?

“What the fuck, Angie?”

“Hi Angie, you look incredible Angie, thanks for planning everything ahead of your wedding tomorrow Angie.”

Rachel pursed her lips, hands on hips, but Angie just shrugged, an amused smile on her face. The two of them were in a little alcove in the main lodge, completely hidden from view even though everyone had gone their separate ways, so Rachel didn’t bother to hide her displeasure in her body language.

“I don’t know what you want me to say? The two of you are paired together to walk for all of two minutes. You can handle it,” Angie mused.

“Why him? You could’ve paired me with literally anyone else,” Rachel groaned.

“True, I could’ve, but it’s done now. Besides the two of you could use a little time to be friendly. Or, you know. Friendly.”

Bleurgh. Absolutely not.

“You are the worst and I don’t know why we’re friends,” Rachel grimaced.

“At this point, Stockholm Syndrome?” Angela beamed.

Rachel couldn’t help but to crack a grin, Angela just giggling at her victory.

“It’s two minutes, you will survive it. The two of you will look good together at least...”

What?

They were complete opposites – Nate was blonde, blue eyed, beefy and pale. Rachel was dark-haired, dark-eyed, slim and tan.

What?

“…and Nate’s obsessed with you anyway.”

“Ew, no, he’s not obsessed with me,” Rachel said, sneering slightly.

“No? With everyone else, he’s awkward and dorky. But with you, he’s laser focused. I wonder why,” she said, finishing with an innocent smile.

“Oh gee lucky me! I don’t know, because he’s an ass?” Rachel scowled.

“No, because Nathan MacKinnon’s flirting never matured past pulling pigtails on the school playground,” Angela shot back.

What?

“He’s not flirting,” Rachel scoffed.

Angela paused for a second, gazing over Rachel as if she was trying to figure something out, before she laughed incredulously. “Oh my God, Brad’s going to lose his mind when I tell him. You really can’t see it, can you?”

“See what?”

Rachel didn’t know what her face was doing to reflect her defensive words, but Angela held her hands up in surrender.

“Just take a step back and look at everything. He wants your attention solely on him and this is the only way that’s been successful in catching it. For twenty years – and you know it. Watch him with other people. Watch him with other women. He’s flirting with you, Rach. Just think about it.”

Watch him with other people.

Watch him with other women.

He’s flirting with you, Rach.

Just think about it.

Angela’s words swirled around Rachel’s head all through the rest of the day, and it was all she could do to follow her friend’s advice. She watched Nate, all through dinner and the drinks afterwards. She watched how Nate was beaming and friendly with Brad and their Cole Harbour buddies. She watched how Nate was bland and polite with women that flirted with him at the bar. She watched how Nate watched her when men approached her, always catching him looking at her, eyes intense and hot. Why did Angela have to put those seeds of doubt in her head? Why did she have to do it now, the night before the wedding, when there was so much else to think about?

Why did she have to be right?

Nate was so different with her than anyone else, even people they’d known all their lives, and it was completely turning everything she’d ever thought about him on its head. This wasn’t fair. She didn’t need this, not right now. It wasn’t fair.

The wedding day came with no further clarification for her thoughts, her head in full turmoil, and it took all of Rachel’s concentration and willpower to focus on being the best bridesmaid she could be. Angela wasn’t even aware of the way she’d swept the rug out from underneath Rachel’s feet, which was probably for the best if she was being honest, so Rachel just let herself get swept up in the excitement of all the bridal party getting ready together, hair and make-up and dresses and happy tears, all of them looking gorgeous by the end of it – Angela most of all.

As the time came for them to walk down the aisle, Rachel’s nerves were in tatters.

“Rachel Summers, damn. You clean up well,” Nate murmured.

She ignored the shiver his words sent down her spine.

“Bite me MacKinnon.”

He immediately raised an eyebrow, eyes assessing her.

“You okay?” he asked quietly, frowning.

Of course he noticed. Of course.

“Peachy,” she said through gritted teeth, plastering a smile on her face.

“I can tell you’re lying.”

“Gold star for you.”

It felt like an automatic defence to slip into their usual banter, Nate just huffed out a laugh, smirking slightly, all of it serving only to make her feel unsteady. How the hell had she missed this for so long? How easy their connection was? How his bitching was actually…flirting?

“Alright princess, let’s go celebrate our friends,” he mused.

As Nate stuck out his elbow, Rachel inhaled shakily but didn’t hesitate to slip her hand into the crook of his arm. Even through the jacket, she could feel the warmth of his body, the thickness of his bicep, and all she could do was try to keep a straight face, to not let anyone see how the simple touch was making her head spin. What the fuck was happening to her?

They walked in silence, in perfection symmetry, Nate sending her a small smile as they separated at the altar, and it wasn’t until the wedding march music started, signalling Angela’s imminent arrival, that she realised she was lost in thought. She needed to pull herself together, and quickly.

Rachel locked her eyes on Angela and Brad all through the ceremony, letting their happy smiles and obvious love for each other fill her mind, a smile of her own easy on her face. This was Angela’s day, that’s all she had to focus on. That’s all she needed. Still, in the drinks reception and through the sit-down meal, Rachel found her eyes drawn back to Nate, the two of them seated at the same table (of course, albeit not next to each other so her gaze was able to float over him without looking too obvious.

Just as the night before, the way he smiled at other guests versus how he smiled at her was completely different, and she was just glad for the prosecco nearby. She was going to need it to get through this night, she knew that much. As the speeches went on and the food was served, she felt herself getting more and more overwhelmed, feeling more and more stupid for how much Angela’s revelations were affecting her. Why was she making such a big deal out of this? It’s not like it was going to change anything, right? She’d get through the wedding reception and go back home tomorrow morning and avoid Nate until he left for Colorado next month. It was totally doable. It was a great plan. It was-

“And now, please join us on the dance floor for the bride and groom’s first dance!”

Fuck.

Rachel moved on autopilot, standing to the side of the semi-circle of guests as Angela and Brad walked into the middle of the floor. Just as the music started, she felt a familiar body moving to stand next to her, and she wasn’t able to hold back the shaky breath escaping her mouth, the softest whimper only audible to him.

“What’s wrong?”

You're the light, you're the night, You're the colour of my blood, You're the cure, you're the pain, You're the only thing I wanna touch, Never knew that it could mean so much, so much.

“Hey, Rachel, are you okay?”

You're the fear, I don't care, 'Cause I've never been so high, Follow me to the dark, Let me take you past our satellites, You can see the world you brought to life, to life.

“Rach. Rachel. Seriously, you’re worrying me.”

So love me like you do, la-la-love me like you do Love me like you do, la-la-love me like you do Touch me like you do, ta-ta-touch me like you do What are you waiting for?

She was worrying him? Rachel glanced up at Nate as Ellie Goulding’s voice continued to fill the barn, and the soft look in his eyes just about broke her. It was all she could do to inhale sharply and shake her head.

“No, I’m not okay. I need to get some air. I need to get out of here.”

Nate’s soft expression immediately turned serious, eyes more intense than she’d ever seen, sending a bolt of electricity through her blood. “Can you make it through the dance? It’s fine if you can’t, I can get you out.”

What?

“I…I can wait,” she managed to choke out.

Nate looked at her for a couple of seconds before nodding, arm moving to gently rest behind her as if some kind of fail safe, and it was all Rachel could do to focus on keeping her breathing steady, eyes stinging with tears as she locked her gaze on her friends as they twirled around the floor. But in reality she was barely taking anything in, other than the heat of his body protecting her. Because that’s what it was – he was protecting her. She knew she was a hair away from having a full-on breakdown, and the last thing she wanted to do was draw attention away from the happy couple. The last thing. It was only that thought that kept her together until the music ended, and the moment everyone burst into applause, Nate was whisking her outside, somehow neither of them being stopped by other guests for polite chitchat.

Small mercies.

When they were in a secluded grassy nook, Nate turned around to face her.

“Hey, what’s going on? Are you okay? What’s wrong?”

How could he even ask that?

“Am I okay? Of course I’m not okay!”

He held his hands up in soft surrender. “What’s wrong?” Nathe frowned.

“You! You’re what’s wrong!”

His eyebrows shot up in disbelief. “Okay I know for a fact that I haven’t done anything to earn that.”

Rachel just groaned, clenching her fists as she closed her eyes briefly. He hadn’t done anything to earn it? He’d done everything to earn it!

In the 20 years they’d known each other, all she’d ever ‘known’ of him is the way he always poked at her, always the first to draw attention to her doing something stupid, untying the bows in her hair, jostling her in the school hallways. As they’d grown up he hadn’t really changed, even when he spent more time away for hockey. He still made fun of her choices in boyfriends, in clothes, in music, even being as dumb as to take the last beer at summer parties or the burger she’d been waiting for or laughing at her not being able to walk in a straight line when she was drunk.

But never anything cruel. Just stupid attention grabbing things that absolutely got her focusing only on him and no-one else, just like Angela said. Stupid irritating Nathan MacKinnon, and all of his stupid ideas, and stupid inability to actually talk like a human being.

It wasn’t until Nate started laughing that she realised she’d been ranting out loud, blurting out all of her angry thoughts to him, and it was all she could do to let out a frustrated bitten-off scream of frustration as he smirked that annoying smirk.

“You’re right, I don’t want your attention on anyone else. I never have, Rach, and I never will. If I’d known you hadn’t actually realised that, maybe I would’ve used my words. But where’s the fun in that?”

Oh that absolute ass.

Rachel let out another quiet shriek of frustration, grabbing the lapels of his jacket, Nate still laughing even as she pulled him down and pressed her lips to his in a passionate kiss.

Invisible string theory suggests that everyone has someone in their lives who is attached to them by an invisible string that transcends time, distance, and geography. It’s fate. And for Rachel Summers and Nathan MacKinnon, they were destined.

#my writing #nathan mackinnon fic #bre's birthday fic bingo #nathan mackinnon imagine #nathan mackinnon fanfic #nathan mackinnon x oc #nhl fic #nhl imagine #hockey fic #hockey imagine

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harlowhockeystick · 3 months

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mean!nate with “did you really forget, or are you just saying that?”

february prompts | mean!nate x reader | this one is short :/

"it's been fifteen minutes, where are you?" you ask, sitting in the restaurant, looking like a fool. it was a sad sight, waiting for him at the dinner table that was set for two. this was the third night in a row that you've been left hanging by him.

"what do you mean?" you scoffed, flagging your waiter down from across the aisle of tables. you tap your fingers against the table and you keep reminding yourself it's pathetic to cry over a man who can't even remember a simple dinner date.

"nate this is the third date-"

"shit- i forgot," he admitted through gritted teeth.

"did you really forget or are you just saying that? nate this is the third time, do you know how silly i look sitting here alone?" you open your wallet and hand the waitress a twenty dollar bill before walking out, wrapping your coat around you.

"well if you wouldn't fuckin schedule these in between road games then maybe i'd be able to go," he spat on the other side of the phone. you can just picture nate now, sitting on his couch watching hockey film while you were sitting dolled up at the second best restaurant in that side of denver.

"so you're turning this on me, nathan? no, no way. nate until you fix this i'm not going out with you again." you hung up the phone before he could say something snarky back at you. picking up an uber to go to your place, you saw nate's car sitting in your driveway.

you knew he was going to try his best to make it up to you and because you're not as strong as you'd like to think you are, you will eventually give in. only to have nate forget another date.

#j's writing #nate mackinnon #nate mackinnon imagine #nathan mackinnon #nathan mackinnon imagine #nhl imagine #nhl blurb #mean!nate

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offside-the-lines · 4 months

Text

Am I Ready (To Be Loved) | Nathan MacKinnon

Summary: Nate is not known to be impulsive, especially when it comes to love. So what happens when he gets a crazy idea while hungover the day after the Avalanche Stanley Cup parade. a/n: Happy Holidays folks! My first fic back (on this new blog) is a reworking of a fic I wrote for my Winter Prompt request last year (for @fallinallincurls). Thought I needed to start somewhere. This is obviously set in 2022 because I can't stand the idea of the avs squad being different. It also features some of our fave tropes. Pairing: Nathan McKinnon x Female!OC Words: 8K Warnings: alcohol Requests: Open | Masterlist

Charlotte hated these fancy functions. The schmoozing and the small talk were things that made her feel like she was going to crawl out of her skin. No matter how much she would normally enjoy conversation, this just felt fake. And she knew how ridiculous it was. She worked in media. She was always in front of cameras. She took this job knowing this was a requirement. It doesn’t change the truth that, at her core, she would rather be on the couch watching some TV show on Netflix.

Although this wasn’t the first formal event she’d ever been to, this was the first Colorado Avalanche donors’ function. It didn’t help that she had only been working as a correspondent for Altitude TV for a few months; so many knew her name and her face, but no one really knew her personally. So, it was just smile, small talk, comment on the Avs, rinse and repeat.

After an hour or so of this, she was feeling done. Heading to the bar for a drink and found a cocktail table in the corner of the room, tucked near the obscenely large Christmas Tree, where she could just stand and watch. Charlotte looked around the room and wondered how long she had to stay before it was not inappropriate to leave.

“Hate these parties too, eh?” a familiar voice rang beside her.

Despite her shattered solitude, the voice brought out a smile on her face. “What do you mean? I don’t hate this?” she replied, not putting in much effort to hide the sarcasm in her voice. She turned to face the voice and the sight almost startled her a little as she felt her face warm. There stood Nathan Mackinnon in his perfectly tailored navy suit, eyes shining in the dim lighting. She takes a drink quickly to distract herself, reminding herself to be a professional.

“Sure,” he chuckled, “hiding in a dark corner isn’t avoiding the party, Charlotte.”

She shrugs as she turns her eyes back to the party.

“Don’t worry,” he whispers in her ear, making her neck tingle a little, “I really don’t like these parties either. I would rather be at home on the couch with my dog watching TV.”

As he leaned back to sip his drink, she turned to him in surprise. “Oh yeah? Like what? More hockey tape?”

After a bit of light banter, they find that they have the same favorite show, much to Charlotte’s surprise. In the dim corner of a fancy event, they are quoting their favorite lines to each other, trying their hardest not to burst out laughing, hiding themselves behind their drinks so as to not draw too much attention at such a fancy event. Charlotte’s laughing so hard she snorts a little, causing Nate to look at her in surprise before continuing to laugh even harder, drawing some looks from the donors and teammates closest to them. After a while, when they both finally calm down, she feels herself relax a little.

They stood in a comfortable silence for a few more moments before Nate spoke up again. “You know, Charlotte. You ask me questions all the time, but I don’t think I really know anything about you other than your name and your job title.”

“I mean, I only really ever ask you questions about the game or the team,” she responds.

“Yeah, but I’m sure you already know everything there is to know about me,” he said pointedly, but softly. He had a point; it was her job to know as much about the players as possible.

“Okay, I know about NHL Hockey Player, Avs’ Center, Forward Extraordinaire Nathan “Nate the Dogg” Mackinnon,” she says, flashing her hands in front as if to signal an imaginary banner, “I don’t know Nate “a dude who sits on his couch with his dog watching dumb shows” Mackinnon.”

“Alright, that’s fair,” he responds deep in thought. “Fine, how about we play 20 questions? You ask me a question; I ask you a question.”

“How very high school, Nathan,” she pauses to think about it. She wasn’t really sure how to feel about this new friendship. On the one hand, it is her job to get to know the players. Although, she was pretty sure that the fraternizing was only supposed to be in professional contexts. On the other hand, her heart was beating so hard that she could hear the blood rushing in her ears. And at the end of the day, it was Nathan Mackinnon, and he wanted to get to know her. Besides, she knew that he didn’t really date anyway, so she felt safe that there was one of them keeping their feelings in check. Eventually, she responds with a nod, “Sure.”

“Okay!” He said excitedly, his blue eyes lighting up, “Where are you from? Where did you grow up and go to college and stuff?”

“Nathan, that’s two questions. Should I deduct points from you?”

“There are points now?”

“I’m just kidding.”

And so, they went back and forth getting to know each other, talking animatedly, and laughing heartily, until they got through the 20 questions each. At one point, they had migrated to a table to continue sitting down because Nate noticed she was shifting on her feet from the heels. Charlotte was pretty certain that Nate now knew her better than anyone else in Denver.

Eventually, EJ came over and tapped Nate on the shoulder at which point she looked up and realized that most of his teammates and donors had left and they were a few of the last people remaining in the event space.

“Hey,” EJ smiled at you in his signature toothless way, “good to see you’re having fun, Charlotte.”

“Thanks, EJ,” she smiled back.

“Mac Daddy, you’re kind of my ride home, so… are you ready to leave?” EJ said laughing and looked at Charlotte, “I don’t think I’ve ever had to pull Nathan here away from a party before. He is usually begging me to leave.”

Nate bumped his elbow into EJ, not drawing much of a response, as he quickly looked away from her. She could have sworn his cheeks were turning a little pink, but that could also be the lighting.

“Yeah, yeah, it’s late and I want to be up for morning skate tomorrow, unlike you lazy idiots,” Nathan grumbled standing up.

She stood up too, only now realizing how tired you were. “Yeah, damn, it’s late. Well, I had a great time talking to you Nathan,” sending him a warm smile and a nod, “EJ. See you two later.”

As she started walking away, she heard some whispers behind her before Nate called out, “Hey, Charlotte, you good to get home? I mean, do you need a ride?”

“Oh, um… Actually… Sure. That would be nice. Thanks!”

She saw EJ whisper something in Nate’s ear before he was quickly shoved away. Suddenly feeling awkward, she trailed behind them quietly to Nate’s car. As soon as it was in sight, EJ called shotgun and started making a run for it, slipping a little on the ice, making Charlotte and Nate snort with laughter.

Nate offered a hand to guide her across the slippery ground and opened the car door for her, keeping his hand on her as she climbed in. She directed Nate to her apartment, thanking him and EJ quickly as she left. Once she got into her apartment, Charlotte leaned against the door and just smiled for a bit.

* * *

Meanwhile, in the car, EJ was basically yelling at Nate.

“Dude, you dog, what was that?”

“EJ, stop.”

“No, I’m serious. I’ve never seen you talk to someone for that long. Not even Barrie or Sid.”

“She was easy to talk to. And it was a good way to get through the event.”

“Nate, don’t give me that bullshit.” EJ’s voice is rarely serious, but it is now.

“I don’t know what to tell you, dude.” Nate shrugged.

The rest of the ride to EJ’s house is quiet and as Nate pulled into the driveway, EJ finally spoke up again, “Tell me you at least got her number.”

“Shit,” Nate let out under his breath before he could stop himself.

“Oh my god, you idiot. You didn’t get her number.”

Nate let out a groan and tapped his forehead firmly on his steering wheel in frustration. As EJ shook his head, and said his goodbyes, Nate’s head was whirring with thoughts. There was no smooth way to ask for her number now. It’s like he missed an exit on the freeway and there was no way off now. The alcohol and the adrenaline meant he didn’t sleep much that night and, for the first time in a very long time, he didn’t make it to the optional morning skate, much to the surprise of everyone.

The rest of the season flew by as the team soared through the playoffs. Nate kept thinking about ways to ask Charlotte for her number but just couldn’t stop overthinking it and psyching himself out; eventually deciding to table the topic until after the season was over to focus on the Cup. But he reveled in every intermission or postgame interview where they got to talk, or the little conversations they would get to have in the arena or on the plane. Occasionally, he’d even slip in a hug, taking in her perfume, under the guise of celebration.

The gossip had now spread through the group — not surprising since EJ has never once kept a secret — and had been an ongoing chirp for Nate. It didn’t help that at the two galas since, Nate was the first one there excitedly scanning the room, but Charlotte wasn’t at either. He’d learn she was covering the Nuggets or the Rapids those nights and would then leave as early as possible.

It got even harder to not think about her as he neared the end of the season, where every phone call with his mom would eventually turn to his cousin’s wedding in the summer and whether he was going to bring a date. Family weddings were the one time he felt he couldn’t leave early, forcing himself to endure the suffering that was being single in your late twenties and watching people be in love. Not to mention all the comments and questions: wanting gossip, wanting a date, feeling sorry for him.

* * *

Charlotte was happy with the casual platonic friendship that she had found with Nate. She always looked forward to talking with him at games because he was always more relaxed with her than the other boys, even occasionally giving her a sweaty hug after a good, exciting win. Her co-workers had made some comments about how unusual it was, but she just chalked it up to them knowing each other better now.

The job kept her busy, busier than anticipated. And it felt like the year had flown by before she found herself at the celebration gala for the newly crowned Stanley Cup Champions. The atmosphere was different from the last event she had been to. That one was for schmoozing. This was only for celebrating. The energy in the room was intoxicating and she had a big smile plastered to her face as soon as she walked in.

Charlotte made her way through the crowd and congratulated everyone she saw and recognized. Eventually, she stumbled into Gabe.

“Congratulations, Gabe!” you yelled.

“Lotteee! Thank you!” he yelled back, pulling her in for a tight hug before spinning her around. He was so drunk, but he did look unbelievably happy. When he finally put her down, he grabbed her by the arm and very dramatically whispered in her ear while pointing, “Nate’s that way.”

She looked at him confused and surprised, but he didn’t let her say anything before not so gently pushing her towards Nate. And she didn’t protest, because when she finally saw him, she felt her heart speed up again. He looked jubilant, swaying slightly with EJ, face pink and hair messy. She had learned over the last month or so that she really liked the way he looked with the playoff beard.

Charlotte wasn’t sure whether to disturb whatever EJ and Nate were doing, but once EJ saw her, he let out a screech so loud she had no choice but to turn toward them. “Charlotte! Lotte! Lott Ness Monster! Come here!” But once you got here, he immediately left, vanishing to leave her standing in front of the very flushed Nathan Mackinnon.

“Hi Nathan, congratulations! Well deserved. It’s been an absolute privilege watching you this season,” she said, unsure what to do as her heart kept racing faster at the way drunk Nate was looking at her.

“Oh, stop with that professional speech and give me a hug,” he slurred, pulling her in tightly.

She chuckled and let herself enjoy the warmth and the firm contours of his body against her before forcing herself to pull away. He only let her get so far, leaving one arm still wrapped around her shoulders.

“It’s nice to see you enjoying yourself at an event like this,” she said softly.

“Well, I had to! You weren’t at the last two of these, so I had to find a way to entertain myself with EJ,” he said, pouting. She had certainly never seen him pout, but she was even more surprised that he noticed and cared.

“Oh! Yeah, I had work. Sorry.”

“I know. Who even cares about the Nuggets.” he mumbled under his breath before throwing his head back and yelling a quick “GO AVS!” that was followed by a loud round of cheers. After a few seconds, he piped up excited again, “Are you enjoying yourself today?”

“Um… I think so! It’s nice to see everyone so happy and energetic.” Her eyes scanned the crowd, smiling until she caught Gabe and EJ staring and pointing at them. Before she had the chance to ask Nate what that was about, he was pulling her towards Mikko on the other side of the room.

The rest of the night passed in a blur of drinks, laughs, and the warm firm feeling of Nate’s arm around her shoulders. With each passing drink, she found herself leaning into it more. She was sure her face was so red that it rivaled JT’s hair. But if the boys noticed, which they were too drunk to notice, they didn’t mention it. And even if they did, she doesn’t remember.

* * *

The next morning Nate woke up with the worst hangover of his life. He had collapsed on top of all his sheets fully naked, and so he also woke up with a slight feeling of shame and dread at what he might have done the night before. When he finally reached over to check his phone, it was blowing up with messages.

gabe the babe (INCOMING): dude did nate finally hook up with the lott ness monster

JT (INCOMING): omg nate, you have to tell us if you did

mooseman (INCOMING): he definitely did, did you not see how he literally didn’t stop touching her the whole night

Nate buried his head in his sheets and groaned, trying to rack his brain for memories of himself being an idiot around Charlotte last night. But he was drawing a blank. After minutes, he finally lifted his head again and opened a private text to EJ.

Nate Dogg (OUTGOING): ej, please tell me you remember if I did something stupid last night

EJ (INCOMING): yeah. you did.

Nate Dogg (OUTGOING): FUCK what did I do

EJ (INCOMING): you didn’t take lotte home with you you fucking idiot

Nate Dogg (OUTGOING): what

EJ (INCOMING): you just fucking disappeared in an uber without even saying goodbye. and EYE had to make sure she got home okay

Nate Dogg (OUTGOING): oh, well it could’ve been worse

EJ (INCOMING): HOW

EJ (INCOMING): HOW COULD IT HAVE BEEN WORSE

Nate Dogg (OUTGOING): idk if I did something stupid or said something bad

EJ (INCOMING): dude, you have got to ask her out, you two clearly like each other

Nate Dogg (OUTGOING): i have no idea what you’re talking about. we're just friends. we just work together. like you and me

EJ (INCOMING): YEAH RIGHT DOGG if you were touching me all night like that, we would be having a very different conversation ;)

EJ (INCOMING): please tell me you at least have her number now

Nate paused and thought back to the night before, but it was such a blur he didn’t know. But when he looked in his contacts, her number wasn’t there.

Nate Dogg (OUTGOING): nope

EJ (INCOMING): you are so fucking hopeless. i hope you find a pair at home this summer so you will finally do something about this crush

EJ (INCOMING): or maybe when we come back in the fall, she won’t be so single anymore and it won’t matter

Nate felt his stomach turn and he groaned. The hangover finally hit him but he was typing a sarcastic response when another message interrupted his thought.

Sarah (INCOMING): congrats again bro! are you bringing someone to the wedding?

Nate (OUTGOING): wow, really cutting to the chase this morning.

Nate (OUTGOING): and no.

Sarah (INCOMING): what you’re telling me a stanley cup winner can’t find a date

Nate groaned again and muffled a scream in his pillow. He knew that his sister and mom would not drop this subject from the moment he got home. He knew that they would probably try to set him on dates, or worse introduce him to every single woman at the wedding. He lay there, head on his pillow, for a long time, until finally, he had an absolutely insane idea. An idea that can only come to someone after the happiest day of their life followed by the biggest hangover of their life.

Nate (OUTGOING): fine, I’ll bring someone

Sarah (INCOMING): OH MY GOD WHAT WHO

Sarah (INCOMING): NATHAN RAYMOND MACKINNON IF YOU’VE BEEN DATING SOMEONE THIS WHOLE TIME AND HIDING IT FROM ME, I’LL KILL YOU. I DON’T CARE WHAT YOU’VE WON.

Nate (OUTGOING): nope, not telling

Sarah (INCOMING): you are a child and i hate you

Nate (OUTGOING): I love you. See you soon.

Sarah (INCOMING): URGH

Sarah (INCOMING): Love you too. I’m calling mom.

* * *

Charlotte woke up with a splitting headache and the room spinning at 6 am. And despite how horribly she felt, she couldn’t get back to sleep. She could still feel Nate’s arm on her shoulder, and his lips against her ear as he whispered something unintelligible, and the scent of his cologne lingering on her hair would waft into her memory every few seconds making her heart skip. She was absolutely certain that he was more drunk than she was, and that he was a touchy drunk. She felt even a little guilty for taking advantage of his touchiness, getting as much as she could last night.

After a few hours of being unable to get back to sleep, she peeled herself up and drew herself a bath with a cup of tea. She still wasn’t able to stomach food yet, but she felt her body relaxing in the warm water, finally letting Nate slip from her mind. Eventually, she got up and padded around the house thinking about the long summer ahead. It was her first summer with not a lot of work to do, and since it was her first year in Denver, she also didn’t really know many people or have any concrete plans.

She had just sat down at her computer to research ideas when she heard a buzz on her apartment intercom. She looked down at her phone confused, but there were no texts there from the few friends she had made so far.

“Hello?” she stutters cautiously into the intercom.

“Oh my god, thank fuck,” a familiar voice rang back, “it’s you. I’ve been buzzing every apartment and I swear your neighbors think I’m a crazy person.”

“What?”

“Um. Oh. Sorry, Charlotte. It’s Nate.”

She was stunned silent. Stunned and confused.

“Um… Nathan Mackinnon…” He filled the silence nervously, “You know… From the Avalanche.”

That snapped her out of her trance as a laugh bubbled out of her. “Oh my god Nathan, I know who you are. Sorry. I was just confused. How do you know where I live?”

“Um, well when we first met, I dropped you off here. So, I made the gamble that you still lived here and just buzzed every apartment to see.”

“Oh. Wow,” she says, stunned, confused and flattered, “Um, is everything okay?”

“Ah, yeah.” He paused. “You know, I just realized how dumb this was. I’m really sorry to disturb you—”

“No!” she says louder than she intended, “No, Nathan, wait. Let me buzz you up.”

“Oh, okay, yeah! Thanks!”

She paced around her entryway, thoughts racing. The door knocks still startled her, and as she walked over, she looked down at her sweatpants and realized there definitely was no time to change and prayed she looked okay.

“Hi, Nathan,” she smiled, opening the door, “Um, do you want to come in?”

“Oh, sure,” he hesitates and makes a gesture to hug her before chickening out, pulling away and stepping past her.

“So, what brings you to my humble abode today?”

“Your apartment is cute.”

“Thanks. It’s not NHL superstar level, but it’s pretty good to me.”

He chuckles and leans a hip on the kitchen island, stuffing his hands into his pockets. His eyes were firmly trained on the ground. She wasn’t really sure what to say, so she moved behind him to start making them both some tea. He studies her as she moves around and wonders how it’s possible she looks so good in your sweatpants and messy bun when he feels like his entire guts might just drop out of his body.

Eventually, he spoke up, “Um, so I realized I didn’t have your number.”

This made her laugh, a proper belly laugh. “What,” she manages to get out, “you came all the way here because you don’t have my number.”

“Well…” he hesitates, “Yeah. I mean, I never asked for it I guess.”

“Okay, do you want it now?” she was still laughing.

“Um, yes?” He was shifting on his feet, rubbing his neck with his hand, leaning awkwardly on the countertop.

“Okay,” she reached a hand out.

He looks at her confused and gives it a slap.

“That was for your phone, silly. Not for a five,” she was laughing even harder now. And his cheeks turned bright red as he handed her his phone, not meeting her eyes. She passes the phone back to him along with a cup of tea, “There you go. So… What was the huge rush? You could’ve emailed me or something for it.”

He paused and laughed, “Honestly, I didn’t even think of that. I guess my brain doesn’t work very well when I’m hungover.”

Charlotte took a seat next to him on the kitchen island as they sipped their teas.

After a few minutes, he clears his throat. “Actually, that’s not why I came over. I mean it, but it isn’t the main reason.”

“Okay?” she encouraged.

“I had a really stupid idea and it was stupid at the time, but now I’m here it’s even dumber. So, I’ll just settle for the number.”

“Okay, Nathan, you can’t just say something that cryptic and not tell me.”

His face went bright red again and he shuffled in place. “No, it’s okay.”

“Okay, no. You don’t get to interrupt my hangover recovery and not tell me why.”

He sighed and looked away. After a while, he mumbled under his breath very quickly, “Fine. Icameheretoaskyouifyou’dcometomycousin’swedding.”

“What?” she said, not sure if she misinterpreted the mumbles or if she was dreaming.

“Um… Well, my cousin, back in Nova Scotia, is getting married in a few weeks. And my mom and sister keep bothering me to bring someone. And I just had this stupid idea. Because you’re the only person I’ve had fun with at those big events. So, this morning, in my post-Stanley Cup alcohol delirium I thought Hey, I should ask Charlotte if she wants to help me survive a social event and get my parents off my ass about not having a date? So here I am. But obviously, that was insane. So don’t worry about it.”

Charlotte looked at him, mouth open, in shock for longer than acceptable, and felt her own cheeks redden. A little lightheaded, before she could really stop to think, she responded, “Sure! I mean why not? What’s the harm in me going? I don’t have any plans.”

His head snapped up to meet her eyes for the first time in a few minutes and Charlotte is captivated by the way his sharp blues light up in response. It was when she saw the smile take over his face and her heart sped up that she knew this was probably a huge mistake. But a mistake she didn’t want to take back.

* * *

“So, how long have you two cuties been dating?” the fifth person in a row asked. Charlotte wasn’t sure if this was an aunt or a family friend, but she forced the smile back on her face as she responded.

“Oh, we’re not dating. We work together, kind of.”

The lady looked between the two of them, and Charlotte could feel the hairs on the back of her neck prickle again as she was acutely aware of Nate’s hand resting on her lower back.

“She’s here as my date, yes, but we aren’t dating. We’re just good friends,” he replies gently but firmly, the same way he had been doing all weekend, before changing the subject.

But she was lost in thought. She had been here for a few days, and she had to admit that Nova Scotia was beautiful, and Nate’s family and friends were wonderful. Despite not knowing Nate super well, she had never felt out of place. He had always made sure she was included in conversations, explaining anything that felt like an inside joke. She thought back to all the times she had met a boyfriend’s family — there hadn’t been that many, but enough to know that this was far better than any of them did.

Nate had been awkward and hesitant at first, jumping away every time he touched her by accident on the plane ride over and flinching when their knuckles brushed when he went to help her grab her luggage. But he slowly allowed himself to loosen up a little, reading her lack of discomfort as a good sign. He always prided himself on acting like a gentleman; even though women complained that he was stiff and unromantic, he tried. He found himself putting in an extra effort to hold open the door for her, to pull out a chair for her, to offer an elbow as she walked on the uneven pavement.

If Nate was in his head about every move he made, Charlotte was ten times more in her head. They had only really spent time together at work and work functions. And she wasn’t sure if that’s why something felt different here, more intimate, or if she was just imagining it. She was starting to feel like he was going out of his way to touch her; laying a hand on her knee when they were sitting next to each other, tapping her elbow to show her something, keeping a hand on her back when they were standing.

She had tried her hardest not to lean into his touch every time, but she couldn’t deny the comfort his large hand on her back felt—god, was his hand always this large. It was never too low as to be intrusive; just resting chastely on her mid back to remind her that he was there and was ready to take a break from the socializing at any point.

Whether she was imagining it or not, it was starting to drive her insane. Her skin constantly felt buzzing and hot, tingling in the places he touched, electrified in the places closest to him that craved his touch.

Nate’s low voice in her ear startled her out of her thoughts.

“Hmm?” she responded as she felt her neck and ear flush with the brush of his lips on her ear.

“Oh, I was just asking if you want to go for a walk,” he murmured, “you’re looking a little overwhelmed.”

“Yeah, sure,” she breathed, her voice coming out a little shaky with how close his tall frame was to her.

And so, she reached out and took his extended elbow as they slipped out of the rehearsal dinner and wandered down to the waterfront in silence.

“I can totally see why you love it here,” she finally said.

“Hmm?” he hummed.

“It’s beautiful. The water. With the lights reflecting. And all the beautiful trees. And the fresh air. I can understand why you love coming here in the summer.”

“Yeah, it’s truly something,” he looked over at her with an unreadable expression on his face, but his eyes were warm and soft. It looked like he wanted to say something for a second before he shook his head and looked away. “I’m glad you came with me. You make these big events bearable.”

“Just bearable, Nathan?” she laughed, trying to break the tension in the air she couldn’t really explain. And his chuckles were quick to join hers in the warm summer air.

And just like that, they fell into a comfortable rhythm again, laughing and chatting. Eventually, he walked her back to the hotel and their adjoining rooms.

“Well, here you go, m’lady,” he joked, letting his arm fall from her for the first time in a while. He began to turn towards his room but hesitated for a second before turning back and pulling her into a tight hug. She let herself melt into the hug, embracing the warm buzzing feeling in her chest as she felt his larger frame engulf her. He didn’t let go when she thought he was going to, instead whispering in her ear, “Thank you.”

“Thank me for what, Nathan?”

“For coming with me. For being so good with my family, even though they keep asking intrusive questions. For just being you,” he said, pulling back. They were standing so close together that she could see every shade of blue in his eyes as they looked at her intently. She swore she saw his eyes flicker to her lips briefly before the smallest sharp intake of breath he tried to hide as he untangled from her. She could feel her body ache a little as her cheeks burned.

She didn’t know if it was the glasses of wine or the dizzying tension, but before she could stop herself, she leaned up and kissed him on the cheek. “Of course, Nathan,” she murmured, “good night.” She smiled as she turned away and opened her hotel room door as quickly as possible.

She didn’t dare to take a peek back at him, but if she had, she would have seen his eyes wide, and cheeks flushed in shock. Instead, she quickly ducked into the room, shutting the door behind her, leaning back against the cold wood, and closing her eyes. What the fuck am I doing, she said to herself, Nate is a sweet guy, who I work with. I’m just doing him a favor. And he clearly thinks I’m just a good friend, as he keeps saying to everyone. Get it together.

She walked away and started getting ready for bed. It took her a long time to fall asleep that night, tossing and turning as her mind raced through the moments of the day, all the little touches and glances and the sparkle in Nate’s blue eyes.

* * *

The following day was the wedding, and the morning passed comfortably despite neither of them acknowledging the moment they both wanted to talk about so badly. Soon, she found herself sitting beside him in the church, watching the beautiful bride stand next to her adoring groom.

While the ceremony went on, Nate was having a hard time staying out of his thoughts as the celebrant talked about love and marriage and as the happy couple exchanged adoring words with each other. It was not that he hated weddings, not at all; in fact, he loved them. He loved the celebration and the emotion. But as the years went on, it became a stunning reminder of what he did not have. With every wedding and every failed relationship in between, he felt more alone, like maybe something was wrong with him.

Charlotte noticed that Nate seemed emotional, lost in his thoughts. She had no idea what was going through his mind, but she could sense that he was troubled. At some point during the ceremony, when Nate found himself particularly emotional, he had reached his hand over and grasped hers. She had to try hard to hold back the small gasp that threatened to escape her lips. But seeing his troubled expression, she squeezed his hand. And, inexplicably to her, his hand never left hers, not during the rest of the ceremony, or the walk over to the cocktail hour space. He only reluctantly let go to help her to her seat once they got to the reception.

Although they both enjoyed the reception food, they had both been so deep in their own thoughts that their conversation with the table was stilted and almost awkward. Eventually, as the night wore on, and the gentle fuzz of liquor started to take over, they both started to relax. Nate, after starting and stopping for almost 15 minutes, finally asked her to dance; his heart rate racing as she excitedly nodded yes.

Which is how they found themselves on the dancefloor for over an hour. At first, it was awkward. They were standing a foot apart, dancing independently; she, laughing at Nate’s horrible dance moves, and Nate, feeling electrified by the way her body moved. Eventually, they got closer and closer together until they were swaying in each other’s arms to some horrible Mariah Carey song, making snide remarks in each other’s ears and not caring how obnoxiously loud they were laughing at the jokes.

A few drinks later, their inhibitions were lowered enough that she found herself with her back against him. His arms wrapped firmly around her waist as she leaned into his warm, towering figure. Both of them were no longer sure if they were intoxicated by each other or the drinks, but they did not really care. After they were grinding to a Doja Cat song, she swore she felt something press against her back, but she was not sure as Nate swiftly excused himself to use the bathroom.

And that’s how she found herself at the bar by herself.

“Nate really likes you, you know?” she heard a voice say beside her. When she looked over, she saw his mom giving her a knowing glance.

“Oh, Mrs. Mackinnon, we’re just friends,” Charlotte managed to choke out, despite feeling her throat tighten.

“I know, sweetie, but that doesn’t mean there can’t be more there,” she smiled, laying a soft hand on her forearm. She had never felt herself sober up faster.

“I appreciate that, but we do work together,” she strained.

“Please, call me Kathy,” she continued, not acknowledging Charlotte’s weak protest. And when she did not respond, Kathy added, “You know, I’ve met a number of his girlfriends, and he had never looked at them the way he looks at you. Or even treated them the same way. He’s barely left your side since you got here.”

“Kathy, I’m sure that’s not true. You have raised an amazing son. I’m sure he is just as kind to anyone.” She could feel her cheeks feel heat as she started scanning the room, desperate for Nate’s return.

“Sweetheart,” Kathy spoke softly, “I have been married for many years. There is only one reason a person looks at someone the way he looks at you, and that’s love. If you feel the same way, you should tell him. Don’t stand in the way of your own happiness, dear. Life is too short.”

She smiled as her husband came to stand next to her; and before Charlotte could protest again, she gave her a gentle hug before walking away, leaving her standing there with her head spinning at her words.

Charlotte gripped the edge of the bar and downed her drink in one go once the bartender handed it to her, earning an eyebrow raise. She jumped and let out a little squeak when she felt a warm hand press into her back.

“Woah, it’s just me,” Nate joked before he met her eyes and his brows furrowed, “are you okay?”

“Um, yeah,” she croaked out stiffly.

“Are you sure?” he stepped in closer which only made her stiffen more, “You seem… I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable?”

“What?” she tried to say calmly, although it came out an octave too high, “What makes you say that? Nope. I’m fine.”

He furrowed his brow more and leaned back, confused, before removing his hand from her back and stuffing them in his pockets. There was a twinge of sadness in his eye as he looked around, unsure what to do. “Okay, then. Do you want to go back on the dance floor? Or I guess not. We could sit back at our table?”

“Yeah,” she said awkwardly, finding a normal tone again, “Table sounds good.”

They sat in silence for a bit, just watching the other guests dancing, both deep in thought. She was stuck thinking about what Nate’s mom had said. If she thought about it, she could totally understand why an outside observer would see their relationship as something more than friends. But if Nate had feelings for her, why did he so insistently refer to her as his “good friend”? And even if he did like her, she wasn’t sure about the implications for her job. Was she going to get fired? Probably not, if she was upfront with HR. But she was new to the city and relatively new to the field. What if people started to see her as the girl who ‘goes for the stars’ or the girl who’s ‘just here to get in some rich athlete’s pants’. She had worked too hard not to be taken seriously now. And maybe if things worked out, it would eventually blow over. But if it didn’t work out… If it didn’t work out, she wasn’t sure what would happen, but she felt it would be bad.

Meanwhile, Nate was panicking; combing through every moment of the evening, trying to find where things went wrong. He was finally feeling like he had an idea of how she felt. Like maybe if he told her his feelings, she would reciprocate. Did he go too far with the dancing? Was Drunk Nate too caught up in the moment and did something inappropriate and unwanted? Nate was never much of a verbal processor — he preferred to stew on things first, — and maybe it was the remnants of the alcohol lingering in his system but he felt the words trying to bubble up in his chest. He didn’t even know what the words would be; maybe words to explain how he felt about her, to make sure he didn’t do something wrong, to make sure she was okay.

When she finally felt the grip on her chest loosen and the thoughts begin to slow a little, she snuck a quick glance at Nate. His jaw was set firm, and brows furrowed. He was staring into the crowd on the dancefloor, but he was clearly not watching them. He looked tense, and she could see the panic she felt reflected on his face. She found herself reaching out and taking his hand in hers, giving it a squeeze; a move that clearly surprised him as he jumped a little before smiling and relaxing into it.

“Nate, I’m actually getting kind of tired. I’m thinking of heading back to the room. Did you want to stay longer?” she said gently.

He squeezed her hand back and gave her a small smile, although the worry hadn’t left the contours of his face yet, “No, I’m actually ready to head back too. Come on.” He pulled her onto her feet.

They took the ten-minute walk back to the hotel in relative silence, tethered together by their interlocked hands. Nate spent the whole walk back planning his speech; he was going to tell her how he felt because he couldn’t hold it in anymore. Holding hands with her just felt so right. But for her, despite how nice it felt, it caused an overwhelming sense of panic to rush back through her. It was nice. It was too nice. It was going to ruin everything.

Stepping out of the elevator, the words escaped her lips before she had the chance to hold them back. “Nate, I think this was a mistake,” her voice was barely above a whisper. He froze beside her and managed to choke out a “What?”

“Nate,” she said, pulling her hand away from him and backing towards her door, “This is giving me a taste of what I can’t have. And this friendship… I don’t think I can do this.”

“What are you talking about?” he replied, still stuck in the spot where she left him, his voice louder than he had intended.

“The touching, the holding hands, the being sweet… It’s too much,” she said, unlocking the door, not meeting his eyes.

“What—” he repeated, his voice cracking at the end. Her mind didn’t process that the pain she felt was echoed in his voice.

She sighed, stepping into the doorway, “I can’t do this, Nate. Because if we keep doing this, I’m going to fall in love with you. And I can’t do that while being your ‘good friend from work’. So, I’m going to bed. Good night.” She finally met his eye as she stepped back to shut the door, barely registering the way his face flickered from hurt to confusion to shock to hope.

Charlotte rested her forehead against the door and let out a shaky breath. She could feel the tears form and slide down her face. She tried to convince herself that it was the right move, but the only thing she could hear in her head was the sound of Nate’s mother’s voice saying ‘Don’t stand in the way of your own happiness, dear. Life is too short.’ What if Kathy was right? What if protecting herself from pain was causing more pain itself? What if it would work out? As she stood there, she listened for movement on the other side of the door, but she heard none. Was that hope she saw in his face there? If it was, what did it mean?

Before she could finish the thought, she heard shuffles and a rapid knock on the door that startled her. She didn’t know why, but she opened it without hesitation.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry if I did something earlier that made you uncomfortable. I'm sorry if I'm crossing a boundary now but I would never forgive myself if I didn't say this," he said, looking at her with concern. When she nodded, he continued speaking.

He confessed to her that he had never been this person before, love-struck and irrational. He had always been calm, detached, and calculated, but with her, he couldn't help it. He couldn't help being rash, like inviting her to the wedding or reaching out to touch her and be close to her.

She had told him that she couldn't do this because she was scared of falling in love with him, but he revealed that he might already be in love with her. He had been saying that she was just a friend and a colleague because he was scared, but he had never felt this way before and was afraid he would mess it up.

During the wedding ceremony, he looked around at everyone and realized that he had won the Stanley Cup this year, but he still felt off. He kept thinking about her - how her laughter made him want to make her laugh again, how her smile warmed his chest, and how he could still feel the tingle where their skin had touched even after she left.

He admitted that he had never been sure if he had truly been in love before, and maybe this was it. He thought they owed it to themselves to find out because he believed she might feel the same way. He knew it might not be the most rational decision, but it was everything he had to say.

Feeling a shaky breath escape her lips, she heard the voice in her mind, "Don't stand in the way of your own happiness, dear. Life is too short." For the first time on this trip, she felt her mind still and smiled as she closed the distance between them. With her chest pressed to him, she looked up at him, admiring his soft and nervous blue eyes. She reached up to cup his neck and met him in a kiss.

The kiss was gentle and soft at first, as she chastely felt their bodies slot together; his hands finding her waist, and hers fisting his suit jacket to bring him closer. After not long, she felt Nate run his tongue along her lip and she allowed herself to deepen the kiss, conveying the emotion that was hard to put into words. The feeling of his firm hands against her waist and his muscular body against hers again made her feel as though she were on fire. And she had to admit, she liked this quite a lot. Eventually, they disconnected and rested their foreheads together as they took in the moment.

“So, are you going to say something?” Nate whispered.

“Yeah, uh, ditto,” she whispered back, giggling slightly.

“That’s it?!” he leaned back in mock horror, “After I poured my heart out, that’s all you have to say?” She could see a smile tugging at his lips.

“Well, I think for the first time in your life, you have spoken enough words for both of us, Nathan,” she laughed as she gave his chin a little pinch, drawing a laugh from him as well. She leaned back in to place another firm kiss on his lips before saying, “I like you a lot too. Like a lot a lot. It scares me. But, as the kids say, you only live once, and I need to stop being scared and just see where this goes because I think I might be in love with you, Nathan, and I need to find out if I am.”

He smiled broadly; it’s the smile she loves, the one where his nose scrunches a little and she can see the genuine happiness on his face. And as their lips rejoined, she slowly started to pull him back into her hotel room.

“Hey, can I ask you a question?” he says, disconnecting their lips briefly.

“Uh, right now? Sure, I guess,” she raised her eyebrow.

“Why do you always call me Nathan? Everyone always calls me Nate.” The question catches her off-guard and she laughed as she continued dragging him into your room.

“I was trying to remind myself to stay professional and not fall for you,” she laughed as she felt the back of her legs hit the edge of the bed.

“Right…That worked so well, I’ll have to remember that one for the future, Miss Charlotte,” he laughed back before kissing her again so deeply and passionately that she forgot whatever retort was on the tip of her tongue.

#Nathan mackinnon #colorado avalanche #Nathan mackinnon imagine #Colorado Avalanche imagine #nhl imagine #hockey imagine #avs #Nathan mackinnon fic #Colorado Avalanche fic #avs imagine #avs fic #hockey imagines #rox writes

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shutupptara · 11 months

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‘tis the damn season - nathan mackinnon

summary: set during the 2020-shortened season- you’re home for christmas when you run into one nathan mackinnon on a grocery run. it’s been years since you’ve last talked, let alone seen each other, but it’s quickly like no time has passed. and the road not taken looks real good now..

i’ve been writing this since 2020. much like all of my writing i’ve posted, you have @kat-hearts to thank for this. she lovingly bullied me into finishing a piece i hadn’t touched in years. set at christmas, but not a christmas story. also set during the pandemic, so reality is very hand wavy (aka the nhl pushing the season happens, but lockdown isn’t reallllly a big deal) so if that bothers you, maybe skip this one.

is this any good? i honestly don’t know, but i know i loved writing nate so pls enjoy

word count: 13,151

warnings: alcohol use, strong language, explicit sexual content MINORS DNI, a general disdain for life and choices made, a tiny bit of angst, hating on Florida (it’s okay i live there) a LOT of self indulgence

title from ‘tis the damn season by Taylor Swift

It wasn’t that she didn’t like returning home for holidays, it was just a huge ordeal every time it happened. Not only was it a 3,000 mile trip, there was always ice and snow to contend with. Coupled with her well-meaning, albeit overbearing, neighbors, the holidays get to be a bit much for her to handle. Still, there’s something wonderful about the tranquility of home. Refreshing, really. With a year as stressful as 2020 had been, it was a blessing to be able to return home for the holidays.

Her first true day of Christmas break, her mother begs her to go to the store for her: there’s so much baking to prepare for, and while she is happy to do the shopping for her, she knows it’s so she won’t see her wrapping presents. Even at 26, her mom insists upon marking her gifts ‘from Santa’, and the nostalgia of it always makes her smile. So, against her better judgment, she ventures out to the closest Sobeys. She has her jacket and scarf pulled tightly around her, unwilling to admit to herself she really can’t take the cold anymore, but mostly wanting to hide to be in and out as quickly as possible.

She grabs a cart on her way in the store, unlocking her phone and holding it open in front of her, eyes sweeping across the list her mother had sent her with. It isn’t terribly long, thankfully. She makes quick work of grabbing what she needs, moving down the aisles long ago committed to memory with ease. Various other things get tossed into the cart as she moves: chocolate covered pretzels, a case of Diet Coke, her favorite cheese crackers.

When she reaches the wine aisle, she shrugs to herself, deciding it’ll be best to have some on hand, in case of an emergency. She grabs a bottle of Roscato for her mom, and two bottles of cab for herself. Once they’re safely in the cart, she makes her way to the checkout line. There’s quite a few people crowded there, and she tries to maneuver around to a shorter line, her brow furrowing when she spots a rather large looking man a few feet in front of her.

As she gets closer, realization washes over her. “Nathan MacKinnon,” she stops in her tracks, heart swooping in her chest. “As I live and breathe.” It comes out before she really even processes what’s happening.

He turns, almost as if in slow motion, his eyes widening when they land on her. “My god, it’s been ages. What are you doing here?”

She smiles slightly, suddenly hyper aware of how messy her hair is, and the fact that she hadn’t tried very hard when getting dressed this morning. “Could ask you the same thing. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you home for Christmas.” She knows for a fact she hasn’t. It was the one reprieve of being back in Cole Harbour - Nate was never here.

“Yeah, I’m usually not,” he shrugs. “I uh, you know with the year as crazy as it’s been, and the season being pushed, I’ve actually been home most of the year. Hanging out with Andy, Sid, Jack, Pete...” There’s a longing look on his face, mirroring the ache she knows is lingering in his chest. There’s an identical one inside of her, and she knows she’s to blame for the pain Nate’s dealing with. This wasn’t a particularly easy run in for either of them, but it’s almost refreshing in a way? She doesn’t care about the buddies he’s spending his time with, she would’ve asked if she did, but it’s obviously important to Nate she know, and she doesn’t want to read too much into that. Maybe he wants her to know he’s not spending time with another girl, and she hates that part of her is hopeful because of that but it’s not fair to be. She can’t expect him to stay single forever, simply because being here and seeing him has every feeling she’s ever felt for him rushing back.

“Sounds like you’ve been busy,” she laughs. “I’m really glad I ran into you.” There’s a surprising amount of truth to that. God, it’s been almost eight years since she’s seen Nate, even in passing, but that doesn’t mean she hasn’t followed his career. She’s from Canada for Christ’s sake, of course she follows hockey.

“I am too,” Nate grins. “Hey, you should come by later. There’s a few people coming over, no one you hate,” he raised his eyebrows and she can’t help but laugh. “No expectations, just drinking and fun. It would be nice to catch up.”

Without hesitation, she’s blurting out, “I would love that.”

“Great!” Nate exclaims. She can practically see him center himself in that moment, try to keep it together.

“I’m staying at my parents’ house,” she offers. Though I would much rather be with you, her mind continues, and she shakes her head to try to clear it. “Are you still two doors down?”

Nate reaches a hand up, rubbing the back of his hand awkwardly. “Nah, I bought a house when I signed with the Avs. It’s a bigger one, out on Albany Terrace. I think you’ll like it.”

She smiles brightly. “I’m excited to see it.”

“Yeah?” Nate mutters.

“Of course. I wouldn’t miss it.”

“I’ll text you the address,” he offers. “Guess that means you have to give me your number.”

___

She makes a substantial effort to not show up right at 8 pm. It’s difficult, as she’s been a compulsively early person her whole life, but this time it feels necessary to be “fashionably late”. It helps that she fusses with what to wear for over thirty minutes- this shouldn’t be a big deal, and she doesn’t want it to be, but that doesn’t change the anxiety that’s swelling in her chest. She tells herself this isn’t anything to stress, it’s just catching up with an old friend and if things are awkward, she can always leave. Still, as she pulls up to Nate’s house, she realizes there’s a part of her that’s a tiny bit excited.

She takes in a slow breath as she kills the engine, nodding to herself as she climbs out of the car and heads up the walkway. She’s clutching a bottle of Jack Daniels in her left hand, never showing up empty handed instilled in her at a young age. She rings the doorbell, glancing around curiously as she waits. Her heart is pounding, and she’s ready to turn and bolt back to her car when the door swings open.

Nate’s standing in front of her, a soft smile on his face. She lets her eyes sweep over him, admiring the beige cable knit sweater straining over his shoulders. He looks so relaxed, so incredibly casual. “Hey! So glad you made it. Come in.” He steps aside, closing the door behind her. “That a bottle of Jack?” She can’t do anything but nod, holding it out to him wordlessly. “You haven’t changed a bit,” he laughs. “Everyone’s in the living room. There’s food in the kitchen if you’re hungry.”

Nate leads the way through the house, stopping briefly in the living room on his way to the kitchen. “Hey guys!”

She peers around him, relieved to see there really wasn’t anyone she hated in attendance. Pete, who she's known her whole life and his girlfriend Hannah are first to greet her, ushering her to sit beside them.

“Hey squirt, it’s been ages,” Pete teases.

“You forget I’m older than you,” She laughs. “But yeah, it’s been a long time.”

“Where are you living now?” Hannah asks.

“Florida. Been there for almost five years.” She falls quiet then, eyes glancing at where Nate is still standing.

He fidgets, and clears his throat. “I’m gonna grab a drink.” With that, he disappears around the corner, and she’s left to slump into the couch.

For a while, she mostly listens to Pete talk about his job, or the crappy apartment Hannah’s parents are begging them to move out of. It’s only a matter of time until they end up engaged, she knows, and she’s happy they’ve found happiness. It does little to help her feel like less of a leper, though. As soon as she’s able to find a break in their one-sided conversation, she jumps on it, taking the opportunity to disappear into the kitchen. Nate’s on one of the other couches, talking to Andy about getting a Call of Duty game going, and that’ll be enough to keep him occupied for hours. No chance he’ll notice her absence until she can figure out what the hell she was thinking showing up here tonight.

She heads straight for the freezer when she enters the kitchen, pulling out the bottle of Jack, and grabbing a solo cup laid out on the counter. She drops a handful of ice into the cup, followed shortly after by a hefty pour of the dark liquid. She brings the cup to her lips after taking a long drink.

“Jack on the rocks, eh?” A voice behind her asks.

“‘Tis the damn season,” she mutters, turning to spot Sidney Crosby leaning against the doorframe. She raises her cup to him, taking another long drink.

He lets out a honking laugh, eyes sparkling. “It’s nice to see you again.”

She quirks an eyebrow, “didn’t really think you’d remember me, to be honest.” She had only encountered Sidney a handful of times, and she never thought she’d left much of an impression. Truth be told, she was always a little star struck around him- it was hard not to be.

He furrows his brow, frowning. “Come on, I met you a bunch of times when you lived in Pennsylvania. And Nate talked about you nonstop when you were-“ he trails off, shrugging.

“Pen pals?” She offers. She can tell Sidney doesn’t see it as bitter. There’s a sadness in her voice she probably won’t ever be able to shake when she’s talking about Nate.

He shakes his head, but doesn’t push her, thank god. Instead, he steps into the kitchen, pours himself a cup of Jack on rocks, and clinks his cup against hers. “Here’s to escaping hometowns,” he toasts.

She grins. She takes another long drink, frowning at her cup when she realizes it’s nearing empty. “I think I may get drunk tonight, Sidney.”

He offers her the bottle, “I’m with you. Let’s do it.”

Surprisingly enough, Sidney Crosby is the one to save her from the awkwardness of the evening. True to his word, he does stay in the kitchen and drink with her. They talk about everything from Sid’s most recent cup wins to why on earth she decided Florida was a good place for her to settle down. They tread very carefully on any conversation that can take a turn to Nate, and she’s thankful Sidney read the room. He’s quite fun to be around once you chip away the exterior and he lets his guard down. They relocate to the table in the corner, and keep the bottle of Jack between the two of them, both casually refilling their cups as the night wears on.

When the bottle is almost empty and she can feel her head swimming, she jumps at the sound of another person entering the kitchen. “Ah, this is where you’ve been hiding.” Nate takes the seat beside her at the table, his leg bumping against hers as he maneuvers his chair. “Should’ve known you’d ditch me for Crosby.”

Opposite them, Sidney snorts. “Nah, just needed a drinking buddy, is all.”

“Sid is surprisingly good at drinking Jack,” she offers.

“Yeah?” Nate grins. “Seems like you’re pretty good too. Have you eaten anything?”

She taps her finger against her lips, considering, before shaking her head dramatically. “Nope.”

“Maybe we should fix that...”

Again, she shakes her head. “No room for food. Just alcohol.”

Nate smiles at her, and even in the haze of the alcohol, she feels her heart warm. It’s that same fond smile she’d loved so much when they were together, and she knows she can’t let her mind run away from her, but at the moment, she can’t rationalize why that’s the case. “In that case, let me break out the good stuff.” He stands up, heading to the cabinet above his stove. There, he grabs a fancier looking bottle, a dark brown liquid sloshing around as he carries it over to the table. “Crown Royal XR, so you never forget where you came from.” He takes the liberty of pouring her and Sid a glass before fixing one for himself, and reclaiming his seat.

She sniffs the liquid in the cup, eyes widening. “Ooof.”

“Don’t quit on me now,” Sid goads. He nudges her with his elbow, giggling.

She shakes her head adamantly. “Momma didn’t raise a quitter,” she announces. She raises her glass, waiting as Nate and Sid follow suit. “Here’s to Cole Harbour’s golden boys.” She sees Nate roll his eyes, but he’s smiling when he brings his glass to his lips.

She takes a long drink, her tongue flicking out to lick her lips. “Oh, that is really smooth.”

“Everything’s better when it’s Canadian,” Sid pipes up.

She giggles at this, which makes Nate quirk an eyebrow. “There’s no arguing that point, Florida.”

“Come on, Florida isn’t that bad,” she insists.

Nate looks to Sid, then back to her, shrugging. “The fact that you have to say it that way doesn’t help your case.”

“It doesn’t snow there!”

“Boo,” Sid says.

“How do you even survive without hockey down there?” Nate adds.

“Shut up, there’s hockey! My friend Nick would argue Tampa is a huge hockey town. Wait- oh my god!” She cuts herself off, looking around excitedly. She pats the pockets of her pants, pulling a face when she can’t find her phone.

“What are you doing?” There’s a distinct amusement in Nate’s voice.

“Where’s my phone? I wanna FaceTime Nick. He always gives me shit about knowing y’all. He pretends he doesn’t believe me because he’s never met you, so somehow that means I haven’t? I don’t even know...”

“Nick your boyfriend?” Nate grumbles, voice low.

She just snorts out a laugh, and takes her phone when Sidney slides it over to her. She clicks around on it for a second, then the distinct sound of a FaceTime call fills the room. She drums her fingers against the table impatiently, eyes lighting up when the line clicks on.

“Hey!” An excited voice fills the room.

“Hey Nick! What’re you up to?” She keeps the phone close to her, keeping Nate and Sid out of the frame.

“Well, it’s almost one in the morning on winter break so obviously I’m drunk with Garrett.”

“Tell him I said hi,” she insists.

“Sure. What’re you doing?”

Her eyes light up again, and she grabs her glass excitedly. “I’m also drunk, but I wanted to show you who I happen to be drunk with.” She downs the rest of the liquid in her glass and slides her phone back farther on the table, angling the camera to capture all three of them in the frame. “I give you Nate MacKinnon and Sidney Crosby.”

“Holy shit. That’s- fucking hell, that’s actually Sidney Crosby!”

She chuckles, turning the phone to face Sid and he waves awkwardly. “I told you, you don’t grow up in Cole Harbour without knowing the pride and joy of the city.”

“But you said you’d only met him a few times! And Nate MacKinnon too, what the fuck...”

“In the flesh. Oh, and Nate wanted to know if you were my boyfriend before I called.” She peers over at him, watching his cheeks flush pink. He opens his mouth to protest, but Nick quickly cuts him off.

He laughs, shaking his head. “Just one of my best friends, dude. You have my blessing. I know she would love to date a hockey player.”

“Yeah? Good to know.” Nate smirks.

“On that note, we’re going back to drinking now. Just wanted to humble brag real quick.” She flashes a toothy grin. “I’ll make them get dinner next time they’re in Tampa. Maybe you and the whole crew can come along.”

“Yes, totally! Have fun! Merry Christmas!” She wishes him a Merry Christmas back, and she’s ending the call, she hears Nick muttering to Garrett: ‘yes that was Sidney fucking Crosby’. She drops her phone down onto the table then, glancing over at Nate expectantly.

“So that’s Nick, my not boyfriend. He’s a big Lightning fan, and he hates the Penguins.”

“Charming,” Sid laughs. “Seems nice though.”

“Nick’s the best,” she agrees. “He and Danielle get me through living in Florida.”

“Ah, so you do admit Florida sucks?” Nate presses. He offers her another drink, and she nods eagerly. When her glass is full, he raises his to her. “Fuck Florida.” She taps hers against his, smiling widely.

“Fuck Florida, indeed.”

___

Another hour slips by as the three of them sit in the kitchen. The rest of Nate’s house is quiet, save for the inevitable hockey talk they’ve slipped into. Nate’s sobered during their time sitting there, his attention focused mostly on her and her half hearted responses. Poor girl is exhausted.

“Time for me to head out,” Sidney mutters. He pushes his chair back from the table, clapping a hand on Nate’s shoulder. “Uber’s outside. Thanks for having me, Nate. Nice catching up with you.”

“Bye Sid!” she brightens up, waving her fingers as he giggles and heads out the door. “Then there were two.”

“Sure I can’t interest you in some food?” Nate offers.

She shakes her head adamantly, eyes glossy, head swimming. “No, I told you... no room for food.” She rests her arms on the table, dropping her head down on top of them and peering up at Nate curiously.

He chuckles, resting a hand on her elbow. “Okay, time to get you home.”

She pulls a face, nose scrunching up in disgust. “Naaaate,” she draws out, “no.”

“Come on,” he laughs. “I’ll even tuck you in.”

She narrows her eyes at him, still frowning, “you promise?”

“Cross my heart.” He offers her his hand as he stands, helping her to her feet as soon as she agrees. He hooks her arm through his when she sways, trying to keep her steady on her feet. “I’ve got you.”

It takes some maneuvering, and a lot of patience on Nate’s part, but eventually, he’s able to get her into the front seat of his truck. He buckles her seatbelt for her when he slides behind the wheel, starting the car as she starts complaining about how uncomfortable his seats are.

“Good thing your parents live less than three minutes from here, huh?” He teases. He glances at her out of the corner of his eye, seeing her head slumped back against the headrest.

She’s quiet for a long time, and he has to tear his eyes from the road to make sure she hasn’t fallen asleep. When he does, he catches her gaze. “Nathan?”

“Hmm?”

“I’m sorry.” She mumbles.

“You don-“

She shakes her head, eyes squeezed shut. “No, Nathan, I’m sorry. I’m sorry I walked out I just- fuck, I didn’t want to be a WAG. I didn’t want hockey above all else, always. It wasn’t fair for me to do that.”

He’s quiet, hand gripping the wheel a little tighter. “Well, it wasn’t fair of me to make you feel like that would be your reality.” He hesitates, taking a slow, deep breath. After a moment, he nods to himself. “We can call it even.”

He offers her a shy smile, and she can’t stop herself from returning it. She unhooks her seatbelt and slides closer to him on the bench, resting her head against his shoulder. “Deal. Thank you, Mack.”

___

When they arrive at her parents’ house, Nate kills the engine and lets out a sigh. “Come on. Let’s get you inside.” She groans, but sits up straight.

“Fine,” she grumbles. She pushes the door open hastily, climbing out and crosses her arms over her chest. Nate simply shakes his head, taking her arm again and leading her up the pathway carefully. He knows it’s icy, and the last thing they need is the both of them to eat shit.

As soon as they reach the front door, Nate shushes her, trying to remain as quiet as possible while he pulls out the spare key from beneath the mat. He’s done this countless times before, and truly, it never gets any easier.

“Mack, remember when you tried to sneak me in drunk right before you left for juniors?” She laughs. She just giggles even louder when he presses a finger to his lips, eyes pleading. “You always take care of me.”

“I know, shhhh. I always will. We’ve gotta get inside.” Moments later, Nate gets the door open, tugging her across the threshold. He pulls the door shut as quietly as possible before glancing up, spotting her parents in the living room, sitting on couches reading. “Hi guys,” he sighs.

“Nate,” her mom smiles. “It’s good to see you.”

“You too. Sorry about this.. She was drinking with Sid and I didn’t want her driving-“

“Don’t talk about me like I’m not here,” she whines. “I’m perfectly fine, Nathan.”

Her dad gives him a knowing look, chuckling. “Thanks, son.”

“Lucky to have you around, Nate,” her mom adds. “You know the way.”

He nods, tugging on her arm to lead her up the stairs to her childhood bedroom. She grumbles the entire way, complaining about being “too tired to see” or “everything’s spinning, I’m going to die”. Nate can’t contain his laughter, which only seems to frustrate her more. She glares at him when she finally gets the door to her room open, kicking her shoes off by the door and flopping down onto her bed in a huff. “Who let me drink me so much,” she groans.

“That would be Sid,” Nate leans against the doorframe, crossing his arms over his chest.

“He’s an enabler.” She lifts her head up, peering at him thoughtfully. “I was afraid to talk to you tonight,” she admits. “And he supported my stupidity to try to make me feel better. At least his heart is in the right place.”

Nate’s brown furrows. “Why would you be afraid to talk to me?”

She pushes herself up into a seated position, crossing her legs underneath her. “A tiny screen’s the only place I see you now.” Her voice is low, eyes cast downward. “I don’t know what we have in common anymore, or if you’d even want to talk to me.”

“Hey,” Nate says, pushing himself off the doorframe and stepping into the room. Two strides bring him over to the bed, and he sits beside her, craning his neck down to catch her eye. “I asked you to come over because I did want to talk to you. Do.” He hesitates, rubbing the back of his neck. “I don’t know why but I never expected to run into you, and when I did, all I could think about was reconnecting and... I don’t know, being friendly again? There’s a pretty big you shaped hole in my life.”

She looks at him, eyes sweeping over every last detail of his face. She wants to blame the alcohol for how attractive she finds him in that moment, but she knows she can’t. Nate has always been gorgeous, and their time growing, apart, has only increased that. “I’ve got a big Nate Mack hole too,” she admits.

Without wavering, he reaches out and rests his hand on hers, rubbing his thumb across the smooth skin there. “Tomorrow, then. I’m coming by with breakfast and we’re gonna play pond puck.”

She can’t help the groan that falls from her lips. “I’m going to be far too hungover to be on skates tomorrow.”

“Should’ve thought of that before you drank half a bottle of Jack,” he grins. “Night.”

___

True to his word, Nate does come by first thing in the morning. She crawls out of bed at the sound of laughter down the stairs, wincing when the light hits her eyes. She manages to pull herself together to look somewhat presentable, though her headache is enough to have her debating hiding under the covers for the day.

“Oh, look who’s up!” Her dad teases. He’s sitting opposite Nate at the kitchen table, reading the paper like this is the most normal thing in the world.

“Morning sleeping beauty,” Nate laughs. “I brought Timmies.”

“Black?” She mutters, reaching for the cup gratefully. He nods. “Not iced, but I guess I’ll live. Thanks.”

Nate rolls his eyes, bringing his own cup to his lips and taking a long drink. “We gotta get you out of America. Not iced, pft,” he scoffs.

“Nate’s got a point, kid. You’re barely a Canadian anymore.”

She gives him a pointed look. “I didn’t hear you and mom complaining in Florida in January last year.”

Her dad grins. “I didn’t say it was a bad thing.”

“Yeah, sure,” she smiles.

“You hungry at all?” Nate asks.

“Just coffee for me,” she raises her cup to him.

“Alright. Should we get going then?”

“A heroic return to my pond puck career,” she jokes. “Should be great with this hangover.”

Her dad laughs loudly, shaking his head. “Don’t let her fall through the ice, Nate.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” He flashes a winning smile as he gestures for her to head out the door in front of him. “Your dad was thrilled to help me find your old skates in the garage this morning,” he tells her as they climb into his truck.

She rests her head against the cold window, eyes shut. “Of course he was.”

“It was nice to see them again,” he says quietly. “I always really liked your parents.”

“Good thing, they love you.” And it’s completely true. To this day, her mother still asks her about Nate. What’s he up to, if he’s seeing anyone... it would be sweet if it wasn’t so painful for her to have to relive every time she brings it up. Her dad is thankfully more subtle- they really only talk about Nate when hockey comes up. Of course they both keep tabs on the Avs, and it’s a common ground that is far more exhaustive than her job that her dad doesn’t really understand anyway. All in all, yes, her parents do love Nate, which made their break up that much harder.

Nate doesn’t respond; her words linger in the air like a bad perfume. There’s a kind of expectation to them, a dare to explore what that means and how it makes either of them feel. Thankfully, Nate pulls his truck off the road before they have to broach the subject. Just ahead of them, there’s a frozen pond, a couple of trash cans tipped over on either side to use as makeshift goals. It’s the same pond they’d played on as kids, hours spent skating and laughing together. It brings back a melancholic feeling, one that seems to sit in her chest when she follows Nate’s lead and climbs out of the car. He hands her her skates and a stick when they start walking, eyes focused on the snow beneath their feet.

She laces up her skates silently, glancing over at Nate every so often. He looks like he wants to say something, but just isn’t sure where to begin. She tries no to dwell on it, and instead let herself have a good time today. It’s been a long time since she’s had the chance to skate.

She uses the stick Nate handed her to help stand and steps out onto the ice, skates wobbling as she tries to get her bearings.

“Looking a little rusty there, Gretz,” Nate teases.

“Oh shut up,” she groans. It takes her a minute, but before long, she finds her comfort on skates again. It’s second nature, something she knows she will never forget how to do. “It’s just been a while.”

“Nowhere to skate in the sunshine state, eh?” He skates around her in a circle, turning around and skating backwards so he can face her. “What could possibly make you want to stay there?”

She gives a half shrug. “My life is there.”

Nate nods. “Right. Your job, your not boyfriend...” The smile on his face suggests he’s kidding, but she can see something behind his eyes.

“Nate...” there’s a warning in her voice.

He holds a hand up in defense. “Sorry, I didn’t mean anything by it, I just... what do you?”

“I’m a counselor,” she tells him. She chuckles when he purses his lips, clearly having no idea what that entails. “It’s supposed to be a mental health professional in the schools - someone to help students short term, refer out for bigger issues, teach social emotional skills. I’m just a glorified secretary at this point.”

He narrows his eyes, considering her. “I don’t believe that. You’re too good.”

She lets out a long sigh. “No, it’s true. Nothing I do actually helps anyone, and the one girl I did have a good relationship with, I was too busy to help this year. So she’ll never come back to talk to me now. I’m always a month behind and I don’t know-“ she lets her voice trail off, feeling her eyes sting as they fill with tears. It never hits her like this until she says it out loud, but it’s so alarming to lose your passion. She’s content, but she’s not happy, and it’s hard to feel like she didn’t make a huge mistake with her choices in life.

Nate stops suddenly, causing her to slam right into him. He reaches out and grabs her shoulders, keeping her upright. “Hey,” he coos, “I’m sure she’ll come back to talk to you. This year is unlike anything anyone has ever seen. I’m sure a lot of this is stress.”

This seems to open the flood gates, and against her better judgment, she feels hot tears start streaming down her cheeks. It only makes her cheeks more cold, and she curses under her breath. “I think I messed up, Nate. Florida, counseling, what if it was all a mistake?” She shakes her head, dropping it down to stare at their feet.

Nate reaches out, tilting her chin up with one finger. “Then you make a change. Find out how to be happy again, and go after it.” His hand slides up to cup her cheek, warm fingers wiping away her tears. “You’re incredible. If you made a mistake, that’s fine. Regroup, move past it.”

Her breath hitches, eyes locking with his. She can feel a smile tugging at her lips, her heart warming at his words. It’s an incredible feeling to be validated like this, to know her concerns aren’t ridiculous and she’s not an utter failure for rethinking every decision that’s brought her to this point. It’s tenfold now, standing so close to Nate, her heart beating wildly in her chest. “Nate, I-“

“I believe in second chances,” he tells her. His voice is barely above a whisper now, the rasp sending a tingle up her spine. She can hear the unspoken words behind it, I believe in you, and I believe in us. Maybe it’s wishful thinking, but with the way he’s looking at her right now, it’s hard to take it any other way. Maybe she could let herself do this - love again, put her faith in him.

There’s nothing she wants more than to be able to give in, melt into his arms and tell him it was all wrong, but they can fix it now. With his bright blue eyes shining the way they are, she even lets part of herself believe that.

It’s the other, realistic part of her that holds her back. The what ifs and rational thinking of distance and time zones and years past rearing their ugly head. The fear of getting hurt again, or hurting him. There’s just too much to consider, too many sacrifices to ask of any one person.

“I want to believe in them too,” she admits. “But-”

Her eyes tell him everything she’s too afraid to. He inhales sharply, nodding once. “I understand. I won’t push you.” His fingertips brush across her cheeks gently before he drops his hand to his side. A sad sigh falls past his lips, and before he can move to skate away, she’s grabbing his forearm and gripping it tightly.

“We’ll play for it,” she blurts, mostly in an attempt to keep him from walking away.

Nate’s eyes snap up. “What are you talking about?”

“We’ll play each other. Pond puck. And I’ll be yours for the weekend.”

“If who wins?”

“Either of us.” Her hesitance is clear as day on her face, the anxiety swirling in her stomach. Maybe she’s being ridiculous, childlike even, but this is the only way she can give her heart what it wants without giving up her entire life. Albeit how appealing that road looks at the moment.

Gaze narrowing, he purses his lips in consideration. “You’re saying no strings?”

She nods, “I’m saying I won’t ask you to wait for me, if you don’t ask me to stay.”

“So a one night stand?”

Her head shakes slowly, teeth worrying at her lower lip. “No. I want the weekend with you in our own little bubble. I want to ignore reality and just… be.”

“I think we need terms for this,” Nate says. “What’s off limits, what isn’t.”

“Of course,” she agrees. “What you’re comfortable with.”

“If you win, big if, I’m yours for the weekend. You can call the shots; anything you want to do. Fair?” When she agrees, he cracks a small smile. “Great. When I win, you’re mine for the weekend. I’ll call the shots.”

“Sounds reasonable-”

“One more thing,” he cuts in. “You can’t break my heart.”

His words hang heavy between them, shifting the atmosphere. This feels like a contingency meant for more than just the weekend. It makes her chest ache to think about it, but Nate’s speaking again before she can get a word in edgewise. “Alright,” he pulls a puck out of his back pocket, holding it out between them. “First to three, yeah?”

He’s courteous enough to wait for her to get her bearings, both hands on her stick, knees bent, before he drops the puck between them. He taps it a few times with his stick, moving in slow circles. He pauses when they’re face to face again, leaning forward. “I’ll let you have first go.”

“Don’t go easy on me, Dogg,” she teases. “I’m tough. I can take it.” She mirrors his stance, leaning over the puck with her hands spread wide on the stick.

“Game on, babe.” She sweeps her stick over his, cursing under breath when he swipes the puck away from her. He carries it on his stick across the ice, avoiding her attempted checks and steals as he goes. Eventually, she abandons that tactic, instead racing ahead of him and turning to defend the “goal”. She keeps her stick down, watching his eyes to try to read his play. He fakes left, moves right, stopping on a dime as he throws ice across her shins. She blinks and the puck is slamming around in the can, Nate throwing his arms in celebration.

“One down,” he gloats.

She rolls her eyes, flicking the puck out at him. It skids to a stop in front of his skates, and she heads back to center ice, knowing he won’t be far behind. By some miracle, she’s able to gain possession of the puck in the faceoff, doing her best to get a jump on him and head down the ice. In an instant, he’s right behind her, stick held out in front of her, attempting to poke check it away. When she shifts, Nate checks into her from the side, nearly sending her tumbling on the ice. “Okay Mr. Lady Byng,” she laughs.

Nate simply grins at her, taking off after the puck and keeping it a distance away from her ahead of him. Effortlessly, he sends the puck sailing into the trash can, turning around to face her with an even cockier grin. “Not looking too good for you.”

“You’re a cheater,” she mumbles, retrieving the puck and gliding over to center ice. She keeps it in her hand as Nate eyes her, his gaze dragging slowly from her skates to the top of her head. “What?”

He shakes his head, jutting his chin out. “I don’t cheat.” He hunches over his stick, waiting for her to crouch into the same position and drop the puck. The intensity that emanates from him is palpable, his bated breath, clenched teeth only adding to the stakes. When the puck falls from her hand, it’s like time slows down. There’s a frigid breeze across her cheeks, blowing her hair back over her shoulders - the puck clattering against the ice once, twice, before it’s flat and they’re both springing into action. Their sticks collide as they sweep them, neither making contact with the puck at first.

It’s Nate who comes up victorious from the faceoff, stickhandling it until he’s able to turn his back to her. She knows he’s far too advanced for her to out play - his skills are unmatched, so she opts for playing a little dirty, using her own skills to her advantage. When Nate fakes and moves left, she positions herself there, right in front of him. All the air whooshes out of her as they collide, his shoulder pressed against her chest. The startled expression on his face makes her crack a grin, and he’s distracted enough by the move to let her gain possession. Once it’s on her stick, she takes off down the ice in the other direction, keeping the puck out in front of her. She can feel Nate hot on her tail, attempting to swat the puck free, knock her off balance. Her eyes stay fixed to the trash can, and she doesn’t hesitate - just slaps the puck as hard as she can. The bang that rings out echoes through the quiet, and she glances over her shoulder, flashing Nate a triumphant smile.

“Two-one now,” she points out. It’s a ridiculous thing to try to boast about, but it very clearly pushes Nate’s buttons. She’s never known a single person to be more competitive, and it’s admittedly fun to draw that side out of him every now and again.

She can tell she’s struck the nerve when Nate gets huffy, his nostrils flaring as he rolls his eyes. “Yeah, yeah,” he grumbles. “Just get ready for the faceoff.” He reaches down to scoop the puck out of the can, quickly following her back to center ice and watching her get situated. Seconds pass in silence until they’re both ready, and Nate drops the puck.

It’s a hard-fought battle from the moment the puck hits the ice. Nate jumps into action, immediately getting his blade down, trying to gain control. But she doesn’t concede to him as easily this time. She bends her knees a little further, using her body to shove against his side, trying to throw him off. When he chances a look at her, she swats at the puck, nearly situating it on her own stick. Nate chuckles, shifts his weight to his other foot, and steals the puck back. The movement throws her a little off balance, and she reaches out for him on instinct, hand gripping the fabric covering his shoulder tightly. She tugs at it to keep herself upright, ignoring his half hearted scoff when it knocks him away from the puck slightly. Within seconds he rights himself, tearing down the ice toward the goal. He’s impossibly fast, and she knows there’s no catching up to him, so the resounding “clang” of the puck hitting the metal comes as no surprise.

When she lifts her gaze, she immediately spots a grinning Nate skating over to her. The corners of his eyes crinkle in delight. “That’s game,” he breathes as he skids to a stop, throwing snow across her shins. Breath hitching as she draws her eyes up to his face, she notices Nate is so close. Closer than he’s been to her in years, and heart is pounding in her chest. With a clatter, he drops his stick to the ice, tossing his gloves down beside it. Now bare-handed, he reaches up, brushing her hair back off her shoulder. The cold air bites against the skin of her cheek for just a moment before his hand is there, big and warm and so soft. “I call the shots, right?” His voice is barely above a whisper, but her eyes are zeroed in on his lips. His tongue flicks out to wet them after a brief nod of her head, and something in her brain short circuits. Drawing in a shaky breath, she holds it as Nate leans in, lips brushing against hers gently, tentative. On their own accord, her hands are flying up to grip his shoulders, her legs suddenly weak.

The kiss is over almost as soon as it’s started, and it leaves her breathless, eyes blinking open slowly. All she can focus on is the small smile that appears on Nate’s lips, and the deep blue of his eyes.

“Do you have plans later?” Nate mutters.

“No.”

There’s that blinding grin again. “Good.” He leans in, pressing a soft little kiss to the side of her mouth, barely inches from her parted lips. “I’m picking you up at seven.”

___

“Where are we going Nate?” She asks, eyes narrowed. They’re sitting side by side in his truck, driving mostly in silence to their unknown destination. His earlier text was cryptic, merely telling her to dress warmly with a smiley emoji. It’s out of character for him, but mostly she’s surprised he seems to want to be spending time outside. In December. In Canada. Sure it’s been warmer than in past years, but when the sun drops, they’re lucky to be breaking twenty degrees Fahrenheit.

“It’s a surprise,” he says. A small smirk dances across his lips, eyes seeming to sparkle with mischief. He knows how much she hates not knowing, but she understands he’s trying to do something fun too. So she sucks in a deep breath and lets it out slowly, shifting her focus to the road in front of them. “You’ll like it,” he promises. There’s the tiniest hint of uncertainty there, a hesitation that tells her he’s just as nervous and confused about everything as she is. Do they know what the other likes anymore? How much has changed?

“I’m sure I will,” she insists.

They drive in comfortable silence, the low hum of Nate’s truck the only sound filling the air. When she chances a glance at him, she’s met with his calm expression, the familiar curve of his nose, his pursed lips. His concentration is clear as day, and she can’t quite place why it’s so endearing.

Thankfully, she doesn’t have much time to dwell on it. He drives about twenty feet more before he’s pulling off the main road. Immediately, they’re both bouncing on their seats, the uneven terrain jerking them back and forth. Just as she opens her mouth to ask him what’s happening, Nate puts the car in park and kills the engine. Wordlessly, he opens his door, stepping around the truck quickly to pull hers open for her. He holds a hand out to her to help her step down, and keeps a firm hold on it when she’s safely on the ground.

“Nate?” She says finally, head cocked in confusion. They’re parked in the middle of an open field, nothing but trees and the setting sun around them. It’ll be dark soon, and she’s not exactly sure what she should be expecting. “What-“

“Trust me,” he cuts in. He smiles at her when she nods, then leads her toward the back of his truck. He lowers the tailgate with his free hand, then reaches for a handle on the cover. His grip finally drops as he clicks the handle into place and walks the cover back toward the cab. Inside it, pillows and blankets cover the bed of the truck, a Yeti cooler stashed into the corner. When she catches his eye again, he’s sheepish, a bashful smile on his face. “I thought it’d be nice to just sit under the stars for a while.”

“Nathan…” it comes out in a sigh, and she’s thankful for the darkening sky that’s hiding her growing smile. She knows it’ll instantly give away how smitten she is, and that’s a conversation she’s not quite ready to have yet.

“Is it okay?” The hesitation in his voice has her jumping to reassure him.

“Yes, yes it’s perfect,” she rushes.

He dips his chin in a nod. “Let’s get you up then.” He doesn’t wait for her to respond, or really even process his comment before he steps over to her, lifting her easily around the waist and hoisting her up. As soon as her feet are planted in his truck, he gives her a little nudge forward, and climbs in after her. “Sit, make yourself comfortable,” he insists. He busies himself pulling out a flashlight, flicking it on and sitting it in the middle of the truck bed. Next, he’s grabbing food out of his cooler, placing them gingerly beside the flashlight. She merely watches in awe as item after item is taken out: plates, forks, glasses, crackers, cheese, wine, fruits. He’d thought of everything.

“It’s not a meal,” he reasons, “but I figured it’s better than nothing.” He produces a corkscrew from his pocket, then sets in on getting the wine bottle open.

“Nate, it’s wonderful,” she insists. She takes the stemless wine glass as he hands it to her, smiling softly. “Though I’m a little surprised to see you willingly eating carbs and drinking alcohol.” She cracks a grin when he rolls his eyes, making a show of bringing his glass up and taking a large gulp.

“Et tu?” Nate groans, dragging his free hand through his hair.

“I’m just messing with you.”

“You’ve read all the articles, then? Keeping tabs on me?” He lifts his eyebrows suggestively.

“Something like that.”

“Sorry to disappoint.”

“Nathan.” Her expression is hard, a no nonsense frown on her face. “You do not disappoint anyone.”

He sighs, and passes her a plate of various snacks, keeping his eyes on his hands. “I don’t know how true that is.”

“I do. You’re being hard on yourself.”

He considers for a moment, shrugging. “Maybe. But I need to be. It keeps me disciplined.”

She scoffs, rolling her eyes before popping a cut piece of fruit into her mouth. “I don’t think you need help in that department.”

“I started seeing a sports psychologist,” he mumbles. It catches her off guard, his admission, but it fills her with pride all the same. The Nate she knew before never would’ve taken that step, and he certainly wouldn’t have told anyone about it. That’s growth.

“How’s that been?”

“I like it. Kinda helps me take a step back from things and visualize what I want and how to get there.” He hesitates, opening his mouth before closing it quickly.

“Sounds like there’s a but there?”

“But I don’t know that it's enough.”

“In what way? Like you need more help with your mental health?”

He scrunches his nose. “No, I guess with hockey and stuff. It just-“ he cuts himself off with a sigh. “It feels like I’ve put in the work, and have gotten no results.”

“Because you haven’t won shit?” She offers. She cracks a grin when Nate looks up at her, expression blank. This only serves to make her giggle, and as much as she wants to blame it on the wine, she knows it’s the way Nate shakes his head and cracks a grin right alongside her.

“I haven’t won shit,” he agrees.

“You will.”

“You sound so sure.”

“Because I am.”

“Why?”

She brings her glass up, polishing off the rest of her drink and then sets the glass down. Hesitantly, she scoots forward a bit more, until her knees bump against his. His eyes draw up to hers slowly, the icy blue stealing the breath from her lungs. “Because I know you, Nathan. And you were born to do this.”

“It’s really not feeling like it these days.” There’s so much defeat in his voice it makes her chest tighten. On a whim, she reaches over and takes his hand, rubbing her thumb over his wrist slowly. “Feels more like I can’t do anything right.”

She wants desperately to reassure him, tell him his mind is wrong and playing tricks on him but she knows that isn’t what he needs. He has to navigate this himself. She can offer him support, but this is something he has to figure out on his own.

“I went first overall, I should be doing more for the team. It’s just been first or second round exits year after year. I can’t get us out of this hole.”

“It isn’t only up to you,” she reminds him. “If you feel you’re not playing up to your standards that’s one thing, but you can’t play every position. It’s not fair to entirely blame yourself.”

“Maybe not,” he shrugs. “Maybe I made a mistake with all of this.”

She frowns, eyes narrowing. “With hockey?”

He nods. “Hockey, life. I don’t know. What if I chose wrong?”

“Well, you’re preaching to the choir on that bud,” she says. She hesitates a moment, gathering herself. “For what it’s worth, I know you didn’t choose wrong. Things have been a bit bleak, sure, but you are far too talented to not share that gift with the world.”

Nate’s gaze catches hers, and she feels a shiver travel up her spine. When concern floods his features, she knows he’s felt it too. “You cold? C’mere.” He gives her no time to respond, just leans himself back against the pillows and reaches for a blanket. Once it’s situated over him, he pulls her in close against his side until her cheek is against his chest and his arm is around her back. The blanket gets tugged up to cover her too, and they lay together, cocooned in the blankets under the stars.

“Better?” Nate rasps, and truly, yes. This has made things better. Being so close to him, warm and safe - this is the first time she’s been able to take a deep breath in a long time. But she can’t admit that to him. So she gives a soft murmur in agreement and shuts her eyes to commit this moment to memory.

“I’m proud of you Nate,” she says eventually. “I know that doesn’t really help with all this, but I’m not the only one, ya know? We’re all rooting for you.” She tilts her head up, staring straight into his eyes. It makes her lose her breath, especially when he gives her a small smile.

“I appreciate how much you believe in me,” he whispers. “It does help.” He draws his fingers up slowly, tickling them against the exposed skin where her sweatshirt has ridden up. It forms goosebumps immediately, and she cuddles in even closer, out of instinct. “Being here has been like coming up for air.” He sighs, eyes softening even further. “And seeing you-“

“Nate-“

“Don’t,” he rushes. “We have an agreement, right? You’re mine for the weekend?” The hopeful expression on his face guts her, but she nods. She is. For the weekend.

“Yes,” she agrees. She tilts her chin up far enough for her nose to bump against his jaw, nuzzling it. “I don’t wanna think about after.”

“Then don’t.” He cranes his neck further, until their breath mixes. “Just be here with me.” Gently, so gently, he kisses her. It’s just a tentative brush at first, but it sets her body on fire. Within seconds, she’s hauling herself even closer to him, dropping her body over his as she deepens the kiss. She feels Nate’s big hands come up to grip her hips, keeping her close.

It’s not desperate and frenzied, but it still has her heart racing. The sweep of his tongue across the seam of her lips has her sighing, melting into him. It’s comfortable, warm and familiar, like coming home. She knows she can’t dwell on that thought, so she pours everything she can into Nate instead. Kisses him breathless, then comes back for more.

When Nate breaks away, he lets his head fall back to the pillows, a tiny grin on his face. “I’ve missed this, babe. Missed you.”

“I’ve missed you too, Nate.” She admits, to herself just as much as she does him. It feels monumental to do so, but she lets herself have this moment; snuggles closer into Nate’s arms and kisses his neck. They have the weekend, and she’s not going to ruin that.

Reality starts to feel a bit distorted after laying with Nate in his truck. In a way, it feels like they’re existing inside a bubble - one that gives them a taste of the road not taken. It’s addicting, with the potential to be heart wrenchingly painful if she’s not careful. But part of her knew she’d end up here. Her and Nate had been so strong before fear crept into her mind. The problem now is figuring out how, if at all, this influences her real life that she’ll be getting back to sooner rather than later.

And Nate, bless his heart, seemed to be doing everything in his power to make this as hard as possible for her. He’d taken the “I call the shots” agreement to heart, planning the entire next day for them to spend together. He arrives at her house thankfully much later in the morning than the day prior, with iced Timmy’s in tow. He leaves a dozen doughnuts and two extra coffees on the counter for her parents, flashing that heart melting smile when she insists he didn’t have to go to the trouble.

“It’s no trouble,” he insists as they’re climbing into his truck. He immediately reaches to crank the heat for her, tugging his seatbelt across his body.

“Well thank you,” she says. “What’s on the docket today?”

He eases the truck out onto the road, his tongue poking out between his lips in concentration. Only when they’re settled into the lane does Nate glance over at her. “Thought we’d drive down to Peggy’s Cove. Walk around a little bit. See the lighthouse?”

Her face lights up at the mere mention. Peggy’s Cove is about an hour from Cole Harbour, and it’s always been one of her favorite day trips. There’s something so wonderfully calming about the shoreline, at any time of year. “Sounds good to me,” she says.

She’s pleased to find how at ease she feels beside Nate on the drive down. They happily flick through radio stations, singing along completely off key. Her cheeks start to hurt from the wide smile she can’t seem to wipe off her face, all thanks to Nate. And god, what a thought that is. She’d certainly never entertained the idea of meeting up with Nate at home, nor did she think she’d find herself riding around in his truck. It feels like an alternate reality and surprisingly, the thought doesn’t put a damper on her mood. It just makes her enjoy it all the more.

Before long, Nate is pulling into a deserted parking lot along the shore. He kills the engine then looks over at her, smiling softly. “Shall we?” When she nods, Nate climbs out of the truck and races around to grab her door for her.

It’s a stunningly beautiful day, but it's freezing, even bundled up against the cold. Despite her tightly wound scarf the wind nips her cheeks harshly as soon as she closes his door. In front of them, waves are crashing against the covered rocks, a soothing symphony filling the air. There's chunks of ice floating in the water, and she shakes her head at just how picture-esque it all is. A rare blue sky day in late December, the sun breaking through the small clouds, its rays reflecting off the snow on the rocks.

Nate turns to her, offering his hand and she takes it without hesitation. His gloved fingers wrap firmly around hers, and they start to slowly walk toward, squinting to see.

“It’s been a long time since I’ve been down here,” she admits. “I don’t know how I forgot how beautiful it is.”

“I’ve always loved it here,” Nate says. She glances at him, sees his pink cheeks, his hair blowing in every direction. It makes something in her chest tighten, and she squeezes his hand a little tighter. They make their way closer to the lighthouse silently, simply taking it all in.

As they approach the darker rocks, Nate stops suddenly, tugging her into him. His arms go around her shoulders, keeping her close. “This okay?” He whispers.

“Yes,” she breathes. More than okay, she wants to say. It’s touching really, that he’d drive all this way just to stand there with her and stare at a lighthouse. It’s reminiscent of the early days in their relationship, before the drama and the uncertainty, when all they needed was to be together. “Thanks for bringing me Nate.”

He hums, his cheek pressing against the side of her head. “Thanks for wanting to be here.”

She can feel that his words have a much deeper meaning behind them, though she chooses to take them at face value. It's clear they’re going to continue to dance around the obvious, even if it’s rehashing something they’d already settled on. It’s just for the weekend; there’s no realistic way it could be more and they can’t put that kind of pressure on each other. But even though all of this is true, it doesn’t change the way being with him makes her feel. It doesn’t take the warmth out of his smile, or the fondness from his eyes. So maybe she is breaking her own heart here, but what other choice does she have?

***

She and Nate spend much of their day wandering through the small fishing village. They stroll down the boardwalk, through small boutiques and touristy souvenir shops. Nate happily walks through every single open door, stopping to sign an autograph or take a photo every now and then when they happen upon another person. He has no qualms about waiting for her to browse in the bookshop, instead spending his time posted up on a comfortable chair, petting the store cat with a smile on his face.

After a late lunch at the only restaurant in town, they get back on the road, headed for Cole Harbour. Conversation in the car is light and casual, both just catching the other up on life’s nuances they haven’t been privy to in years. It’s more than just work: it’s the song that made Nate cry because it reminded him of leaving for the US when he was just a child, it’s the countless seafood meals she’s turned down in her adult life because nothing can compare to the luxuries of home. The conversation never lulls, though it does veer significantly off course when they spot the ‘welcome to Cole Harbour’ sign approaching in the distance.

“Nate, pull over!” She insists. She’s digging through her bag, ignoring his request for an explanation. After a few seconds, she emerges victorious, holding up a black marker and a piece of paper. She smoothes it out as best she can on his dashboard, then unhooks her seatbelt. “Do you have any tape?”

“What do you need tape for?” Nate asks. He earns himself a pointed look, one that says ‘don’t ask questions’. He sighs, then flips open the center console. “I think I have some stick tape lying around…”

While he tracks that down, she gets to work writing, keeping her arm strategically placed so he can’t glance over her shoulder to sneak a peek. Just a few seconds later, he’s setting the tape down next to her hand and looking at her expectantly. “What are you doing?”

“You’ll see,” she grins. She picks up her sign and the tape, opens the door to his truck and hops down onto the road. It's not very busy, thankfully, but Nate is immediately concerned all the same.

He calls out her name, quickly following after her as she walks. “You can’t just get out of the car on a main road and walk away,” he insists, but she’s not listening to him. She’s still making her way forward, toward the welcome sign and the townline. Once she’s standing in front of it, he watches as she pulls up the tape, ripping it with her teeth. The piece of paper is held against the welcome sign, then secured with tape, and she steps back with a satisfied smile on her face. The writing doesn’t become clear until Nate is standing beside her, and once it does, he bursts into laughter.

Attached to the bottom of the sign, where it reads ‘Home of Sidney Crosby’, she’d taped up her own: “and Nathan MacKinnnon”.

“I’ll have to get a proper one commissioned, but I thought this would do for now,” she grins. As she locks eyes with Nate, she feels her heart start racing. He seems happy, but she doesn’t want to assume he’s not just saving face and she’s made him uncomfortable.

Wordlessly, he closes the space between them, gathering her into his arms. “You’re just- you’re so wonderful.” He doesn’t give her the time to respond, just leans in and kisses her, hard and long. It sets her world on end, she gasps for air when he pulls away.

“Nate-“

“You wanna come to my place?” He asks against her lips, eyes hooded. A brief nod is all that’s needed to get him moving, guiding her back to his truck and opening the door for her.

___

Her hands are trembling when they pull up to Nate’s house. Nate grins at her, taking her hand over the shifter once he parks. He brings it to his lips and kisses it softly. There’s an unspoken understanding in the air, tension hanging between them. “Hey,” he whispers, trying to catch her eye. “You alright?”

Her voice is so soft when she speaks that Nate almost misses it. “I’m nervous,” she admits. “It’s been such a long time and I really want this to be good for you-“

Nate cuts in, brow furrowed. “Look at me.” He waits until she draws her eyes up to continue. “It’s okay to be nervous. I’m a little nervous, but please, don’t feel like you have to do this.”

“I don’t. I mean, I do want to,” she interjects. “I just- what if it’s not… good?”

He actually snorts when he hears this. He’s under no impression they’ve lost that spark over the years. It’s always been good, and he knows it will continue to be. But the hesitance on her face is suggesting she’s not thinking the same way he is. “It’s going to be incredible,” he insists. “Just like it always was.”

“We were kids, Nate. I’m worried it won’t be.” She takes in a deep breath, shaking her head. “I’m worried I won’t be any good.”

He drops her hand, turning in his seat until he’s able to cup both of her cheeks. Then he draws her head up until she’s looking at him again. “You are the most beautiful woman I know, and you’ve been driving me crazy since the day I saw you in the grocery store. I know you’re going to blow my mind.” She hesitates for a moment, but then she’s nodding as best she can with the way he’s holding her. “If you’re not ready, we can wait.”

“No,” she says adamantly. “I’m done waiting.”

This is all the confirmation that Nate needs. He keeps his hands firmly planted on her cheeks and leans in, kissing her hungrily. He slides his tongue into her mouth, groaning when he feels her fingers crawl up to grip his hair tightly. She leans even closer to him, pressing her chest against his, letting him feel every inch of her torso. His eyes are half lidded when he breaks away, tongue flicking out to wet his lips.

Her eyes blink open, and Nate’s smiling softly at her. His eyes are soft, filled with longing, and her stomach is doing flips. It’s tenfold when he climbs out of the driver’s seat, coming around to take her hand and help her step down. He laces their fingers, leading her up the short pathway and in the front door. They shed their shoes and their cold weather gear there, tossing it unceremoniously toward the built in to the right. They’ll deal with the mess later.

“Do you need anything?” His voice is low, raspy, and she’s shaking her head immediately. She’s of a one track mind now, and it seems that Nate picks up on that. He takes the initiative to walk her up the stairs, straight to his bedroom.

“Can I touch you?” He whispers. He rests his hands on her waist, lingering at the hem of her soft t-shirt. When he sees her nod, it’s up and over her head in a hurry, exposing her smooth skin. Nate’s eyes greedily take in every inch of her chest, and she’s surprised she doesn’t feel the urge to cover herself.

She feels a surge of confidence shoot through her; the way Nate is looking at her fueling her ego. It makes her bold, and she pushes back on his shoulders until he’s stepping backwards, and eventually, falling onto the bed. Then, she climbs into his lap, her hair falling around them like a curtain when she leans down over him. “Are you just going to look?” She asks, and the challenge in her voice ignites something inside Nate.

Before she can blink, she finds herself on her back with Nate crawling over her. He reaches up and tugs off his shirt, smirking at her sharp intake of breath. He doesn’t take much time to gloat, choosing instead to draw her in for another kiss. His hands make quick work of her bra, tossing it across the room carelessly. His lips trail down her chest, mouthing at the supple flesh, and swirling his tongue around her nipples. He revels in the breathy sounds falling from her lips when he bares his teeth.

“Nathan, please touch me,” she whines. She wriggles underneath him, trying to draw him up, get his mouth back on hers.

“Patience, my girl,” he mumbles. He kisses the tip of her nose before he sits back, eyes taking in her form. Her hair is splayed out across the bed, cheeks flushed, and pupils blown wide. He slides his fingertips over the red marks he’d left on her breasts, dragging the rough pads down until they’re toying with the waistband of her pants. He glances up at her again, eyebrows lifted to check in, make sure this is still what she wants. He earns himself a frustrated groan and a “come on, Nate”, which he takes as the green light. He slides everything down in one move, leaving her completely bare to him. “God, look at you,” he breathes. He pushes her legs open wider to accommodate the bulk of his shoulders before he drops down onto his stomach. His eyes never leave hers as he leans in close, kissing up her thighs until he’s inches away from her throbbing center.

She tosses her head back, squeezing her eyes shut to try to regain control of herself. Her body is thrumming with anticipation, desperate for Nate to do anything. After a few seconds, she’s rewarded for her patience. Nate licks a long strip up from her entrance to her clit, chuckling against her when she gasps. Immediately, her hands fly to his hair, fingers gripping tightly. Nate flicks his tongue expertly against her before drawing her clit between his lips and sucking. She feels him ghosting his fingers over her lips, the soft tickle making her toes curl. She lets out a moan, and that’s all it takes to get Nate to dive in. He slips two fingers into her dripping entrance, scissoring against the tight suck of her walls.

“Nathan,” she pants, back arching. He’s nibbling on her clit as he seeks that spot inside of her, pumping his fingers in and out quickly. She cries out when he finds it, and Nate presses down hard, keeping his fingers firmly against it while she thrashes against the bed.

She’s sure her grip on his hair has to be painful at this point, but she’s too far gone to care. All she can focus on is the blinding pleasure Nate is giving her. She can feel that coil tightening inside of her, her body wound so tightly she’ll snap back at any given second. When he sucks on her again, she snaps, trapping his face between her legs as she comes, thighs tightening around his head.

Nate keeps his fingers working inside of her as she starts to come down, her breath slowing, though not entirely coming back to her. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand as he climbs up to his knees, grinning wickedly. “Such a good girl for me,” he coos.

She’s having a hard time replying to him. She can’t get a sentence out, moans tumbling past her lips whenever she opens her mouth. Nate is prolonging her orgasm, keeping her suspended up on cloud nine as he watches her, eyes hungry. “I’ve imagined this so many times,” he admits. “Over the years, when I’m on the road late at night. I love to picture you wrapped around me instead of my hand, squeezing me so tight. You feel so good around my fingers; I can’t even imagine how you’ll feel around my cock. Will you let me have you? Sink deep inside of you and fuck you open, my girl?”

She cries out again, nodding quickly. She grips his forearm tightly, eyes rolling back. “Please Nate,” she chokes out. “God, please, I need you.”

“You’ve got me,” he swears. He leans down and kisses her again, stealing the air from her lungs. He tugs his sweatpants down as best he can with one hand, sighing against her lips when his cock springs free.

Slowly, she draws her eyes up from his cock, enjoying the sight of his clenched stomach muscles, and the strain of his bent forearm. Everything about Nate is absolutely gorgeous. He’s just so big; so wide and cut, and god, he’s going to be the death of her. She grips his shoulders tightly, mouth going dry at the muscles her fingers trace over. She’s trying to commit every moment to memory, the soft pants falling from Nate lips, the way his eyes are nearly black with desire. It’s so different than it had been before, but somehow the same. They’ve both matured so much- confidence emanating off of them now, but that giddiness is still there. That schoolyard crush that makes your heart beat faster and your hands shake. Her head is swimming, with desire, and the disbelief that this is truly happening. That they’d found a way to have this happen again.

She whines when he draws his fingers out of her, the loss leaving her feeling empty, and she clenches around the air. “I’ve got you,” Nate promises her. He reaches over her head to the bedside table and comes back with a condom, tearing it open with his teeth before sliding it down his throbbing cock. Her fingers are still gripping his shoulders tightly, and there’s no way her nails aren’t biting into his skin but Nate doesn’t say a word. He just runs a soothing hand down her torso and grips her hips, holding her still as he lines himself up with her entrance. His eyes are locked with hers as he presses forward, the blunt head of his cock drawing a gasp when he slips inside. He’s so wide; her walls are already straining to accommodate him, the burn of the stretch making her heart pound. Nate takes his time pressing into her, letting her accommodate for his size. As he pushes in, he’s whispering soft reassurances to her, telling her how beautiful she is, and how good she feels.

He grips her waist tightly when he’s fully sheathed, his big hands wrapping around her. “Okay?” He whispers. She can see the strain of holding back on his face, the need to make sure she’s alright before he can let himself go and enjoy this.

“Perfect,” she assures. “Please, Nate.”

He sucks in a deep breath and nods. Slowly, he draws his hips back before snapping himself forward, burying himself even deeper. She’s impossibly tight and wet around him, drawing him in and clinging to him. It doesn’t take long for him to build up a steady rhythm and when he does, he feels like a man possessed. He’s holding her down against the bed, watching as her breasts bounce and her mouth falls open in pleasure. He feels her drag her nails down his back and he groans, driving into her even harder. The force of his hips is pushing her up the bed, leaving her breathless and begging for him.

“I’m so close,” she pants. “Please Nate, touch me.” Her eyes are shining when she looks up at him. He obliges, sliding his right hand down to press his fingers to her clit. Within seconds, she’s coming around him, clamping down on him as she cries out his name. Nate fucks her straight through it, his hips slapping against her ass as he chases his own release.

He kisses her desperately when he feels his body tightening. When her tongue sweeps against his, he’s gone. He drives in and holds himself there as he comes, a grunt falling from his lips. When he’s able to come back into himself, he reaches down, holding onto the condom as he slowly pulls out. He kisses her cheek in apology when she winces, tying the condom off and tossing it into the trash just after. He runs a hand down his face, trying to steady his breathing before he stands. He grabs the first hand towel he can find in the on suite bathroom, running it under the tap and bringing it back into her bedroom wordlessly.

She’s still spread out on the bed where he’d left her, her arm thrown up over her eyes as her chest heaves. He drags the towel between her legs, cleaning her up carefully, before the towel too gets tossed to the floor. “You doing okay?” He whispers. He drops down onto the bed beside her, manhandling her body until she’s lying on her side, facing him.

“Wonderful,” she says, and that’s the understatement of the century. “Was, was I okay?”

Nate’s eyes go wide, and he’s nodding immediately. “That was unbelievable. God, the way you feel-” He cuts himself off, dropping his head onto a pillow dramatically. “It’s amazing how good we still are together.” She peers up at him, sees his eyes closed and the small, happy smile on his face. It makes her heart twist in her chest, her throat tightening. Realization hits her like a bucket of ice water thrown over her head. None of this is real. He’s not her Nate anymore, and damn it, how is she going to walk away from this?

“I can hear the gears whizzing around in there,” he teases. “Tell me what you’re thinking?”

She hesitates, debates deflecting- telling him it’s nothing and avoiding the discussion she knows they should have. They’re adults now, this is the kind of thing they need to discuss, but she’s scared. “Nate,” she sighs, feels tears brimming in her eyes. “I don’t know. I just-“

“You told me you wouldn’t break my heart.” His voice is low. It isn’t accusatory, it’s just sad, like a punch straight to the stomach. She opens her mouth to reply, but nothing comes out. Hot tears leak out of the corners of her eyes, pooling on the pillow case.

“It’s feeling pretty broken right now.”

This has her swallowing hard, gathering her courage. “I don’t want to.” It’s barely a whisper. “But I don’t think there’s another choice.”

“Of course there is,” he assures her. “There’s always another choice.”

“Not when it leads right back where we broke in the first place.”

“Don’t think about that. Tell me what you want.”

“It doesn’t matter-“

“It does matter,” Nate insists. “What the hell are we doing in this life if we’re not trying to find happiness?” His eyes search her face, drinking in every feature. “What would make you happy?”

She doesn’t hesitate. “You. But-“

He shakes his head slowly. “Nope. No buts. I would make you happy?”

“Yes.”

“Thank god,” he breathes. “Because I’m not letting you go again.”

“It’s not that easy,” she says. “There’s too many variables, and it will lead us right back where we started.”

“It’ll be different this time.”

She sighs. “How can you know that?”

Nate reaches a tentative hand out, wiping the tears from her cheeks with the pad of his thumb. “Because we know better. We can make better choices together. I know you don’t want to be a WAG, and I’m not going to put that on you. If you want to stay in Florida, okay. If you want to move to Denver, okay. If you want to move back to Canada, that’s okay too. We’ll make whatever you decide work. I just want you.”

“You… you want that?”

“If it involves you, I want it.” He’s so adamant, speaking with such conviction she can’t entertain any other thought. She scoots closer to him on the bed, molding herself against his chest and resting her head on his shoulder.

“I really want this to work, Nate,” she says. “I really, really want that.”

He drops a kiss to her forehead. “Sweetheart, I told you, I’m not letting you go again. I mean it.”

#nathan mackinnon #nathan mackinnon imagine #hockey imagine #hockey rpf #nhl imagine #my writing #shutupptara writes #Nathan mackinnon X reader #tis the damn season #shut up tara

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mourirderire · 1 year

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NHL Fic Rec list

Hiii!!! I just wanted to share a few fics that really made me feel strong emotions...

Oh and make sure to check the warnings before reading :)

Avalanche:

Four times You Run Into Cale Makar and the One Time He Runs Into You - @kailyn-writes

i miss you like the very first night (Cale Makar) - @mattyanonwrites

Mistletoe Magic (Cale Makar) - @the-penalty-box-imagines

Nothin' Like You (Cale Makar) - @ghstandpucks

Teach Me To Please (Cale Makar) - @pucksalotguys

Annoying Little Brother (Erik Johnson) - @ghstandpucks

Apartment 352 pt 1 (Erik Johnson) - @imaginingsoftly

Have My Cake and Eat It Too (Erik Johnson) - @mikkorantanev

Like Father Like Son (Erik Johnson) - @ghstandpucks

look what you started (Erik Johnson) - @mattyanonwrites

Only All the Time (Erik Johnson) - @antoineroussel-archive

Overwhelming Light (Erik Johnson) - @burkymakar

the nanny (Erik Johnson) - @holy-pucks

Two Slow Dancers (Erik Johnson) - @hockeywocs

The Turn In Our Relationship (Gabriel Landeskog) - @yourfavewriteress

The Second Time (Nathan Mackinnon) - @wyattjohnston

Till Forever Falls Apart (Nathan Mackinnon & Sidney Crosby) - @pucksalotguys literally heres their whole masterlist i encourage you to read them all

Blues:

Right Under Our Noses (Colton Parayko) - @yourfavewriteress

Bruins:

5 Times the Team Told David He Was in Love + 1 Time he Realized it (David Pastrnak) - @mainlypastrnaksbae

Canucks:

Coach Hughes (Quinn Hughes) - @matsmarts

Midnight Rain (Quinn Hughes) - @babydollmarauders

Milkshakes AU (Quinn Hughes) - @hugheshugs

Devils:

Lies (Jack Hughes) - @nolanmoylee

Kraken:

Four Times His Teammates Said "I love you," and One Time He Did (Vince Dunn) - @blueskrugs

Panthers:

Baby, It's Cold Outside (Matthew Tkachuk) - @raysofcrosby

Wish We Were Older (Matthew Tkachuk) - @sorryjustafangirl

Penguins:

By The Water, Euphoria (Sidney Crosby) - @flashyfucker

Illicit Affairs (Sidney Crosby) - @blueskrugs

Two Little Lines (Sidney Crosby) - @pucksalotguys

Maple Leafs:

What Once Was (Mitch Marner) - @idontgiveaflyinggrayson69

Sabres:

All's well that ends well to end up with you (Tyson Jost) - @mattyanonwrites

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wyattjohnston · 1 year

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you always did feel just like home - nathan mackinnon

summary: valorie hadn't meant to be away from nova scotia for so long, and she hadn't meant to immediately insert herself back into nate's life. mysterious how the universe works.

word count: 11,365

warning: not exactly healthy alcohol consumption

note: it is finally time for me to put my money where my mouth is and post my exchange fic instead of just bothering everybody else! this is written for the winter fic exchange 2k23 and i wrote it for cait (hey @blueskrugs that's you)! i hope you like it! thanks to @matthewtkachuk, @comphy-and-cozy @farbutnevergone & @laurenairay who have all provided feedback as this grew to be a lot longer than anticipated.

Valorie hadn’t intended to be late and it meant that she was immediately the centre of attention when she walked into the café. She spotted the table of her friends that was discretely to the side and out of the way, though that discretion flew out the window when Amber and Valorie squealed as they saw each other.

They rushed to close the distance, throwing their arms around one another in a hug that only remained upright because Mike was standing close enough by to keep them that way. Valorie, after pulling away from Amber, greeted Mike with a more subdued but no less friendly hug.

Neither Mike nor Amber were who she’d noticed first, though, because the third person at the table was Nathan MacKinnon and he was a man who was impossible to miss.

Despite how much she wanted to step forward and greet him in the exact same way, Valorie wasn’t sure where the boundaries were, so she opted for saying, “I would have thought you’d be far too good to hang out with us lowly commoners.”

Nate smirked, looking as if he’d been expecting it, but it wasn’t him who spoke next.

“We haven’t seen you half as much as him in the last seven years,” Mike said, thumping his hand across Nate’s broad chest. Valorie was momentarily distracted by just how broad it was; those years had been very good to him.

Mike continued, “Dogg knows where he came from.”

“Yes, yes, I’m the worst,” Valorie said with an eyeroll as she pushed everyone back to their seats. Nate paused for long enough that Valorie greeted him with a hug and a lingering kiss on his cheek.

Valorie sat opposite Nate, tucking her legs underneath her own chair to avoid accidentally entangling them with his—the length of his was a memory firmly engrained in her mind.

Immediately it became clear that the conversation was not going to trend towards the Cup like she’d been hoping. It was far and away the most exciting thing she could think of for any of them to talk about, but she supposed that everyone had had the same thought since Nate arrived back in Nova Scotia.

Instead, Amber lifted Valorie’s wrist to get a closer inspection of the bracelet she was wearing and the boys leant in, too.

“Got to keep the jewellery, I see,” Amber said, her voice slightly awed. Valorie couldn’t blame her.

“Everything but the car,” Valorie said. “It would have been useless up here anyway. Definitely not meant for winter tyres.”

“You should have kept it and flipped it,” Mike said, tapping against the table in thought. “An Audi, wasn’t it?”

“Porsche.”

Mike whistled low and impressed, Nate’s eyebrow twitched—Valorie almost missed it—and he leaned back in his seat. Valorie could only imagine what cars Nate was driving around Colorado or Nova Scotia. As nice as her Porsche was, she was sure it paled in comparison.

Valorie pulled back her hand, hiding it away under the table to stop Amber playing with it any longer.

“You still wear what he bought you?” Nate asked, his voice curiously tight as his eyes flicked between her face and where the bracelet was hidden under the table.

Valorie thought for a moment, cataloguing everything she had put on that morning. “I think everything I’m wearing was a gift from him. It wasn’t a bad break up; no bad memories associated with any of it.”

Until that moment, Valorie had been perfectly comfortable with the idea of it—her entire wardrobe had been bought by her ex so she didn’t have much choice anyway, but under Nate’s careful gaze every inch of fabric felt suffocatingly heavy.

“Why did you break up?” Amber asked. “It sounds perfect.”

“I wanted to come home,” Valorie answered simply, one shoulder rising in a shrug as she tried to casually avoid eye contact with her friends.

“He had enough money; you could have come home whenever you wanted.”

“What? You think I’ve been back, like, twice in seven years because that’s what I wanted?” Valorie asked, somewhat viciously, directing her words and the accompanying glare at Mike. “There was always someone to meet, something to do, somewhere to be and I couldn’t ever get away. I missed home.”

Mike, rightfully chastened, lowered himself down in his chair just enough to let Valorie know he regretted what he’d said. Nate and Amber were sitting in an awkward silence and Valorie had to speak just to move them along.

She continued, “And I was bored as hell. I was asked if I’d be interested in the Real Housewives of Miami reboot and if I stayed much longer I would have said yes just to have something to do.”

Amber’s laugh was raucous, eliciting the same from Valorie, and she said, “You’re too young to be on that show.”

“That’s most of the reason I said no!” Valorie shrieked, still laughing. “That and I was actually a housewife? The other women on that show have, like, careers and are important and aren’t just sitting at home complaining about doing yoga.”

“I’d watch a show that was you doing yoga.”

Three heads turned to Nate, all barking out surprised laughs at his deadpan voice accompanied by the casual expression that remained on his face—almost as if he hadn’t said anything at all.

Mike thumped Nate across the chest, as he’d done earlier, and said, “We all know you would, Nate.”

“That’s really it, though?” Nate pressed on, not even looking at Mike as he thumped him back, “You couldn’t come up with a schedule where you got to come home more?”

“It wasn’t going to work,” Valorie said firmly. Nate tilted his head but was kind enough to not press her any further.

Despite all the talk of Valorie living a lavish lifestyle, when it came to ordering food she was conservative with her money. She didn’t have a choice when that money was coming out of her own, not very large bank account. It didn’t matter in the end, because Nate quickly took over and promised that he’d pay after ordering a ludicrous amount of food all the while flicking his gaze to Valorie every few seconds.

After they’d finished eating—having spent so long that it was clear they were only being allowed to stay because they were with Nate—Mike and Amber hurried off before they were late to see Amber’s parents, leaving Nate and Valorie on the sidewalk out the front.

“Where are you living?” Nate asked, his keys twirling in his hands. “Do you want a ride?”

Valorie nodded, surprised but please, “Oh, yeah, thank you. I’m staying with my parents. They haven’t moved.”

He didn’t say anything as he started moving towards the parking lot behind the café. It hadn’t changed much since they were 16, slowly walking back to Nate’s second-hand truck after a date neither of them really wanted to end.

“You’re back with your parents?”

“I haven’t had a job in seven years, nobody will hire me, and nobody will let me lease a house without pay cheques so…”

“That’s rough.”

“It’s fine,” she insisted. Nate’s face screwed up, so she added, “I still get on with my parents so it’s really fine.”

The Porsche Cayenne he led her to wasn’t so much a surprise, given the dealership that would have jumped at the chance to have one of their vehicles driven by Stanley Cup Champion Nathan MacKinnon—it was, however, a reminder of the 911 she’d left behind in Miami.

Of everything she’d left behind in Miami.

They were sitting in the Cayenne out the front of Valorie’s parents’ house, her hand on the door handle, when Nate said, “I’ve got room at my place if you want it.”

“That’s really sweet of you, Nate,” she smiled back at him, appreciative, “but I don’t have any money to pay rent.”

Valorie opened the door and looked back into the car when she was standing upright, to thank Nate for dropping her off.

“I don’t need rent from you.”

“Nate.”

“Just say the word, Val.”

Moving into one of Nate’s spare bedrooms was easier than Valorie had anticipated; Nate picked her up a few days after he dropped her at her parents’ home in Crichton Park, loaded some bags into the trunk and unloaded them into a bedroom with a lake front view in Grand Lake.

He’d declared that everything in the house was hers if she wanted it and raised a challenging eyebrow when she walked into the wine room and declared that she’d start with the most expensive bottle and work her way down—she knew exactly which one it was, too, even with a cursory glance at the bottles lining the walls.

“It’s probably not as nice where you lived in Miami,” Nate said as he finished the tour.

Valorie laughed, “The lovely Mediterranean Revival home that he gutted and turned into a Hypermodern nightmare so the inside and the outside clashed? The one that didn’t even have a view of the beach? I’ll miss a lot of things about Miami but that house is not one of them.”

“I didn’t know you cared about that stuff.”

“Architecture?” she clarified, waiting for Nate’s slow nod before she shrugged. “I had a lot of time to kill.”

Valorie spent most of that first day on the deck overlooking Grand Lake, it wasn’t quite warm enough for her to venture into the pool, but it was perfect to just sit and watch the water and the occasional jet-skier zip past.

Nate left her to her own devices for what might have been a few hours before he joined her and started asking questions about what she’d like for dinner so that he could head to the store.

“You gonna cook for me, Dogg?” Valorie asked, tilting her head over the back of the chair so that she could see Nate properly. “What if I want risotto?”

There was a brief moment where it looked like Nate’s brain short-circuited before he collected himself and said, “I can offer you steak or chicken breast. Salad or vegetables.”

“So many options,” Valorie said, a small laugh in her voice, as she pushed herself off the chair. “If you cook the steak, I’ll make the salad.”

“Sorry, there aren’t more options.”

“Two more than I’d be able to offer.”

The admission didn’t seem to surprise Nate, who just accepted what Valorie had said without question—Mike and Amber had surely passed on a few things about Valorie’s time in Miami and the chef she had was one of their favourite thing to bring up.

Valorie used Nate going to the store as an opportunity to wander through the house. It wasn’t as large as she was expecting, so it didn’t take very long at all—especially not when she avoided Nate’s bedroom out of respect for his privacy. She opened every cupboard in the kitchen, just to make sure she knew where everything was kept, and then unloaded the dishwasher when it beeped at her incessantly. In the fridge was an open bottle of sparkling red wine, so Valorie helped herself to a glass on the balcony while she waited for Nate to return.

The calmness of Nova Scotia was something Valorie had forgotten she’d missed until she was back; even in the height of summer, with the excitement of the Cup coming back, she was more relaxed than she’d ever been in Miami.

When Nate returned Valorie greeted him with a big smile as she raised the wine she’d poured herself—her second of the afternoon—and he returned it without hesitation.

She continued to drink as they made dinner, her easy and boring salad taking no time at all, and Nate cracked a beer while he grilled and then opened a new bottle of wine for them as they ate on the balcony overlooking the lake as the sun slowly began to set.

Despite the view she had—she’d been staring at it all day, after all—Valorie couldn’t help but watch Nate as he ate, mostly scrutinising the lines of his face that were so much different to what she once knew.

“You keep looking at me like you don’t believe I exist,” Nate said. Valorie didn’t even flinch; another two glasses of wine making her particularly carefree.

“I don’t know if I do,” she admitted, sighing as she realised that even his voice had changed. “I’ve seen you on the TV and in photos and everything but for the past seven years the image of you in my head has always been you the last summer I saw you. You were a kid and now you’re a man and I really don’t know how to deal with that.”

“Yeah,” Nate agreed, his voice a lot softer and more serious than it had been. “I know. I get it.”

Amber and Mike came over to spend time on the lake not too long into Valorie’s time with Nate. It was a perfect day, which Valorie had come to expect, and being out on the Sea Doos was the perfect way to spend it.

It was nice to have company.

Nate had taken to visiting his parents’ house if he was going to see them. He always offered for Valorie to join him, but that felt like it was encroaching on boundaries she wasn’t even sure they’d set. She’d tried, though, to get him to invite them over only to be met with a shake of the head—maybe he was worried about different boundaries being breached. Valorie didn’t know.

Amber and Mike were good company, at least. Valorie was always happy that Amber had stuck by her even when she wasn’t around. Mike… Mike she could take or leave depending on the day.

“Why’d you really leave what’s-his-face?” Mike asked, apropos of nothing and a few beers deep.

Amber glared at him, though it went unnoticed. Nate sat up a little straighter and Valorie couldn’t work out if it was Mike-related or Nick-related.

“I already told you,” Valorie said, forcing a polite twinge into her voice even if she was dreading whatever might come next.

“Yeah, but there’s gotta be more to it,” Mike argued.

“Why?”

“I love this place, but if Amber wanted to move to, I don’t know, LA and never come back I’d do it in a heartbeat. And with the money you had? Easiest decision I’ll ever make.”

“He doesn’t want kids,” she relented, though it was not without steeliness as she tried to put a definitive end to the topic. “No amount of money was worth not being a mom.”

“That’s some serious self-control,” Mike said, shaking his head almost as if he was in awe. “I can think of a lot of things I’d give up for the life you were living.”

“It’s all Valorie ever wanted,” Nate said, his voice deep and low. “She was born to be a mom.”

Valorie’s gaze moved slowly to Nate as she replayed the words in her mind. He hadn’t moved from how he’d been sitting at the start of the conversation, hadn’t even looked away from Mike. She wanted him to look at her, to make eye contact to be able to get a read on him; to see if the skip it caused in her heartbeat was for an actual reason.

“It took you seven years with this guy to work out you were on a different page?” Mike asked incredulously, earning a half-hearted shrug from Valorie who looked back to him with hesitation.

“He said he was undecided. I loved him, you know? I was willing to wait it out in the hopes that kids would be on the table.”

Mike then agreed, “I’d wait seven years if I spent the entire time being a trophy wife.”

“It wasn’t about all the material possessions,” she snapped. “I know that’s what it looked like, but I’m upset you all think I’m a gold digger.”

“If the Louboutins fit,” Mike said with an eyebrow waggle.

“We know you aren’t a gold digger,” Amber said, finally, and firmly, contributing to the conversation, “or you wouldn’t have come back.”

Mike leaned back in his chair, pointed up at Nate’s house watching over them and said, rather loudly, “Right into Nate’s sweet digs.”

His loudness was met with silence, thick and tense, and the three people that stared at him didn’t seem to bother him at all.

“Do you even like me, Mike?” Valorie asked, tired.

“Come on, Val. I’m just joking around.” He added, after a hearty hunk across the back of the head courtesy of Nate, “I’ll cool it.”

The weather had turned quite quickly and quite dramatically—what had been the perfect weather the week prior had turned so miserable that Valorie was looking out the floor to ceiling windows as if her death stare could part the black clouds.

Nate was somewhere on the island doing something hockey related that he’d told Valorie about the night before while she was half asleep on the couch, so she was, once again, left in the house to her own devices.

A second car had appeared in the garage a couple of days after her arrival and Nate had assured her that she could drive it whenever she needed; Valorie was going to avoid driving it as long as she could.

The wine room was taking more of a hit than Valorie had expected when she’d joked with Nate about drinking it all; she had very few places to go, and her mother was more than happy to drive to Grand Lake to pick her up if there were family plans so she rarely had to drive, so the day drinking was getting more out of hand than she wanted to admit. It was a similar problem to Miami, she was realising, but Nate’s house wasn’t filled with quite so many time-wasting objects and there was only so much baking she could do when Nate rarely had any visitors.

Her response to the door opening had become Pavlovian, especially since being confined inside by the rain. Valorie was on her feet, pretending to walk to the kitchen to refill her glass of red, so that she’d be able to start a conversation with Nate when he walked in.

Only, it wasn’t Nate.

“Uh… Sidney. Hi. Nate’s not here. I’m Valorie—Val,” she said, all in a rush, putting her glass on the counter and desperately hoping she didn’t have red teeth.

“Nice to see you again, Val,” Sidney said, polite and friendly. “Nate told me to let myself in; he’ll be back soon.”

The shock and awe Valorie felt being around Sidney—Sid—had disappeared after exactly one summer of learning that he was nowhere near as cool as she had built him up to be. That being said, she had not expected him to remember her for a second.

“Do you want some cookies?” she asked, quickly, noticing that Sid was hovering uncertainly. “I made way too many.”

Sid smiled, nodded, and sat down at one of the bar stools on the other side of the counter while Valorie plated up an assortment of ginger snaps, Florentines, sugar cookies and Afghan biscuits all while trying not to let the wine she’d been drinking rattle her.

“Killing the boredom of being stuck inside all day?” Sid asked, drawing the plate towards him and inspecting his choices as if she was going to stop him at one.

“It’s what I do and what I’ve done for years now.” Valorie shrugged. “I drink and I bake.”

“I hope you don’t mind if I say that sounds… underwhelming.”

“Oh, no!” Valorie gasped instantly. “I mean, I got really into yoga and reading, too. I wasn’t just some boozy housewife. I love to bake, though. I could do it all day. Wine?”

Sid agreed to a glass, and Valorie pretended that she didn’t know he was doing it so she wouldn’t be drinking alone.

“Are you happy to be back here? Back home?” Sid asked around a not-yet-finished mouthful of ginger snap. “You’ve been gone a long time.”

It was, to say the least, unnerving to have Sidney Crosby—anybody, really—sitting across from her and calling her out for being gone. They weren’t friends, like Amber and Mike, or whatever else, like Nate, and she couldn’t wrap her head around why he would care to bring it up.

She took a healthy sip of her wine, savouring the taste for longer than was strictly necessary and said, “I was always trying to get back. It just never… It was hard to get away. I’m glad to be back.”

“I’m sure the island is happy to have you back,” he said, removing the unease in Valorie’s stomach flawlessly as he looked out over the deck to the lake. “Sorry the weather didn’t hold up for you.”

“It was nice for a while,” she conceded, following Sid’s eyes, “and at least it’s the same all day. I was really not impressed by Miami deciding there was a torrential downpour every afternoon after the perfect morning. Seven years there and I never got used to it.”

Valorie moved their conversation to the couch, carrying the wine with her while Sid carried the cookies he was slowly making his way through. She let Sid talk about his off-season plans, to what he’d already done since returning to Nova Scotia, noting that he was absolutely downplaying the vacation he and Kathy had taken and skipping over the extraordinarily nice or expensive parts. She loved Antigua, knew it inside and out, but was happy to let Sid tell her what he thought was appropriate—he may have been happy to ask her why she’d been gone so long but it was clear not much more information than that had made it his way.

By the time Nate was home—his definition of ‘soon’ stretching Valorie’s just a little—she was desperate to just be anywhere that wasn’t near anyone, not just Sid and the way he knew too much yet absolutely nothing. She excused herself within moments to use the bathroom, heading downstairs to her ensuite.

On her way down the staircase, she heard, the beginning of their conversation:

“Val was just filling me in on her time in Miami.”

“She really enjoyed it, right? It sounds great.”

“That’s… one way to put it.”

Walking through Halifax with Nate by her side was an experience. He’d mentioned it in passing, that people were more interested in him than normal, but Valorie hadn’t taken it to mean it was quite so relentless.

Kids wanted their jerseys autographed, everyone wanted a photo and every other person wanted to stand there on the street with Nate and listen to him recount his entire career from Bantam to what training he’d been doing since he got back to Nova Scotia.

Their trip into Halifax had been for no reason other than the sudden realisation by Nate that Valorie hadn’t left the house in an alarming amount of time outside of her new part-time job at one of the local hobby stores, so it wasn’t like the constant stopping was preventing them from doing anything in particular.

It was, however, resulting in Valorie entering a lot of stores that she otherwise had no intention of going into just so that people could gush over Nate. And at least one purchase of a dress she didn’t need.

One person who stopped them was a classmate from high school who stopped them to question Valorie about her disappearance just as much as she stopped to gush over Nate. Valorie didn’t even remember her name and the woman hadn’t taken the time to introduce herself.

“It’s so cute that you’re back for Nate, though,” she said. “I always knew you guys would end up in the same place.”

“Well, that place is home for us, so.”

“Oh, I know, but I heard all about you in Miami and obviously Nate’s making magic in Denver so it’s just nice to see you two in the same place again.”

“Yeah, it’s great,” Nate said, nodding even as he was subtly moving out of her way and directing Valorie in the same direction. “We’ve gotta head off, though. It was great to see you again.”

“Of course, sorry! You must be so busy! We should definitely catch up!”

There was more nodding and agreeing as they walked past her, Valorie checking back over her shoulder quickly in one last attempt to help her remember?”

“What was her name?” she asked Nate when they were well out of earshot.

Nate admitted easily, his face lighting up with a guilty smile, “No fucking idea.”

Valorie walked into him as she laughed, unable to control herself as it erupted from her mouth. Nate laughed, too, the guilt shifting from his face and they were holding each other up on the sidewalk as they struggled to breath.

The laughter continued, albeit subdued, as they made their way to the one thing they’d agreed upon getting: ice cream. It was an otherwise peaceful work, seemingly already having run into everyone who wanted a few minutes of Nate’s time.

Being out in public with Nate was different to being alone with him at home, Valorie noticed, and it was different to how they’d been as teenagers. He always carried himself with a confidence that was beyond him in years, almost a quiet arrogance as he always knew where he was going to end up—Valorie would have given anything to know when the arrogance disappeared. Was it because of the Cup win? His accomplishment proof enough that he was everything he ever said he was going to be. Was it seasons earlier when it didn’t look as clear?

At the ice cream shop, Nate ordered Butterscotch ripple and then laughed under his breath as Valorie ordered Maple Walnut.

“Why is that funny?”

“You’re so Canadian.”

Noting the children around, Valorie glared at him, mouthing ‘fuck you’ before she continued out loud, “I’m going to enjoy all the maple flavoured things. You can’t stop me.”

“I wouldn’t dare. I will laugh at you, though.”

They sat on a table out the front, Nate saying hello to a few starstruck kids as they did so.

“What are you staring at?” Valorie asked, her cheeks warming up under Nate’s watchful eye.

“Just wanted to see if you were still a psycho who bites their ice cream.”

Valorie made direct eye contact with him and bit into the top of her ice cream, causing Nate to shudder dramatically.

Halifax was bustling in a way that Valorie had never seen. The decision to not have the parade in Cole Harbor was purposeful, a clear differentiation from Sid’s parades and a nice thank you to Halifax for his time with the Mooseheads.

She made her way through the crowd unimpeded, even as she headed towards the rooftop she’d been told to head to near the end of the parade route, overlooking City Hall.

Nate had let Valorie know that it was where Sid would be, hidden out of sight—a decision he’d made himself. He hadn’t even relented when Nate, drunkenly, begged him to be beside him; Valorie was grateful that Sid had the awareness to decline.

Sid was already at the rooftop with Kathy, set up with a table, chairs and some food and drink to get them through the parade and the speech Nate was going to give after.

“I hope it’s okay that I’m here,” Valorie said sheepishly, unsure if Nate had told them she’d be there. “This is where they sent me.”

“More than okay.” Sid pulled up a chair from the group of them nearby. “You didn’t want to be down there with him?”

Valorie stepped to the edge of the roof, taking in the swathes of people lined along the streets. Sid and Kathy were both watching her curiously as she turned back to them and took a seat, putting Sid in the middle.

“It wouldn’t feel right. Nate and I aren’t anything, you know.”

“That’s not true, though, is it?” Sid asked. “Or you’d be in the crowd, not up here.”

Valorie froze in her seat, only her eyes moving to follow Sid’s hand as it disappeared beside him and came back with a cooler bag that he pulled wine from.

“Do you moonlight as a shrink?”

“For Nate, yeah, I feel like I do.” He carried on, no beats missed, “I don’t have red, will white do?”

It played in her mind as she drank her wine and ate from the platter that had been set up. Nate hadn’t offered for her to be by his side—she would have turned it down immediately even if he had—and when he’d suggested she sit with Sid it felt, to her, that was the next best thing.

She wasn’t overly talkative during the wait, choosing to just stare out over the edge of the roof at the other side of the street and the people who were in nearly chaotically good spirits. She was hearing vague parts of the conversations Sid and Kathy were having, and answering questions when asked, but for the most part she was lost in the magic of the Stanley Cup being back in Nova Scotia.

Valorie had been in Cole Harbour for Sid’s 2009 Cup Parade as a small and spindly 13-year-old, watching the Cup from a distance.

That morning she’d been able to run her fingers across the engraved names.

“Is it the happiest you’ve ever been?” Valorie asked, not even bothering to quieten her voice so that Kathy wouldn’t hear. “He doesn’t talk about it as much as I thought he would.”

Sid shifted his entire body to face her and Valorie immediately felt like she was about to get a talking to; she forced herself not to shrink.

“If you want him to talk about it you have to let him know he can. I promise you he won’t shut up about it.”

“Oh. Does he think I don’t care? That’s not true,” she said, worried. “I don’t want him to think I don’t care.”

The timing was on point for the parade to enter their vision, no longer just the distant sound of the band. Even as Valorie continued to think about the possibility that Nate didn’t know how much she cared about what he’d achieved, she couldn’t help but be delighted by the sight of Gabe and Cogs very, very drunk in the first carriage that came through.

When Nate came clearly into view, the Cup held high above his head, Valorie felt her heart swell and tears prick the corners of her eyes.

“It is,” Sid said, barely audible over the band and the crowd. “The happiest I’ve ever been.”

Nate had a million things planned for the rest of his day; had a lot of people to introduce the Cup to. Long after he had disappeared from the parade and after the streets of Halifax started to clear, Valorie remained on the roof with Sid and Kathy, swapping stories until their skin was turning pink.

The fact that Sid remembered her, let alone willing to talk with her like an old friend, was still very much blowing Valorie’s mind but it wasn’t something she was going to draw attention to lest it ruin the chill vibe they’d settled into.

They walked to the bar where the party would really kick off, Sid easily blending into the small crowds still milling around Halifax—the occasional person shouting at him, at everyone near them, at the wind. The excitement felt like it was never going to leave.

Waiting for Nate felt like an age, somehow felt even longer than all seven years Valorie had been away. Maybe it was sitting beside an already very drunk Mike, or maybe it was the intense anticipation coursing through her because she knew that Nate could walk through the doors with the Stanley Cup at any moment.

Maybe it was that she was pulled into a conversation with Gabe Landeskog who looked only marginally more sober than he had in the carriage; the beers he was double fisting were sure to fix that.

“Long time no see, Valorie,” he said, his tone giving no indication whether that was good or bad. “All the way back at Nate’s first game, right?”

Valorie was hesitant to respond, and opted for an honest, “That was the only one I got to, yes.”

“He missed you a lot that year.” Gabe paused to drink from one of his beers and Valorie waited for the rest of the thought. “The year after, too, but different.”

“I missed him, too,” Valorie admitted readily; that wasn’t something she’d ever been shy about.

Gabe nodded at her, then raised his chin to say hello to someone who had just walked into the room—it wasn’t Nate, Val checked—and then put his beers down on the table between them so that he could collapse into the empty seat.

“It’s good you’re back together. He’s really happy about it.”

“We’re not—he’s happy because he’s done the one thing you guys aim to do. He’s beaten the final boss. The Elite Four were no match for you guys.”

“No, no, sure he’s happy about that.” Gabe insisted, “It’s a different happy now. A more complete happy.”

“I don’t think you’re making any sense. You should go drink some water.”

Gabe protested, downing one of the beers in a matter of seconds as if that would prove he didn’t need water. Her lip quirked up at the action, both from amusement and bemusement.

Nate finally walked in, well after everyone else was a few drinks in and getting rowdy. His arrival increased the already loud bar enough to make Valorie cover one of her ears while raising the other into the air as she joined the hollering.

Nate finally walked in, well after everyone else was a few drinks in and getting rowdy. His arrival made it worse in that the noise levels were high enough to make Valorie cover one of her ears while raising the other into the air as she joined the hollering.

He and the Cup were moved around the room like he was in a pinball machine, from person to person, from shot glass to shot glass, until at last he was in front of her. The Cup had been deposited somewhere else in the room and Valorie didn’t care enough to locate it; after all, she wasn’t there to see the Stanley Cup.

With a lack of hesitation that couldn’t even be passed off on any drinking she’d been doing, Valorie threw herself at Nate, overcome by the need to make sure he knew she cared about what he’d achieved.

Nate wasn’t immediately ready for it, Valorie’s arms around his neck as she pulled him closer, but he soon realised what was happening and moved his arms around her waist to pull her off the ground.

“I’m so proud of you,” she said, breathless and rushed into his ear. “You’re so good at—at hockey and at knowing me and at taking care of me. But hockey, Nate. I want to hear all about it, okay? Probably tomorrow so I can appreciate it, but I do. I watched it. All six games. I cried I was so proud of you. I am so proud of you. You’re so good.”

“You watched?” he asked back, his warm breath brushing over her own ear and causing her to pull back with her head tilted and her face contorted.

“Yes, Nate. Of course. I thought you knew. I didn’t think I had to tell you.”

Nate pulled her back in, his face buried in her neck. The room may as well have been empty with the way all of Valorie’s senses honed in on Nate—he’d showered before coming, put on cologne that made her head spin, and his warm breath fanned across her neck which made the spinning worse.

If a loud, roaring round of applause hadn’t broken out, Valorie could have stayed pressed against him all night. As it were, though, she pulled back in a dramatic fashion and put a reasonable distance between them before contributing to the clapping—putting gross enthusiasm into it.

Nate laughed, then made a few embarrassed gestures of acknowledgement, before accepting a beer that was being handed to him.

Valorie disappeared, leaving Nate to be bounced around the room again, and hid away with Amber and Mike. They were good and spoke to their other high school friends, all of whom were surprised to see Valorie in the flesh. Luckily for her, the Cup was more than enough of a distraction from any of them asking her what she’d been up to while she was gone.

As the night grew later, it became very clear that Nate’s long day was catching up with him. He was trying, valiantly, to be the last person kicking at the bar, though his demeanour was getting progressively testier as time passed.

“I’m gonna head out. Do you want to come or stay?” she asked, brushing her hand gently over Nate’s shoulders.

“You’re leaving?” he asked, sullen, his arm snaking around her waist and pulling her towards his chair. “You should stay.”

“Amber’s driving me home—if I leave you here can you get home?”

“You should stay,” he repeated, eliciting a laugh from the group he was sitting with.

Valorie laughed with them and ran her hand over his head, insisting that she was leaving whether or not he was coming with her. He hummed, resigned, but let her go so that she could follow Amber outside.

Valorie waited against the wall outside, her head resting back against the cool brick, while Amber went to get her car—Mike went with Amber, mostly because Valorie refused to be the one responsible for him keeping to the sidewalk and off the road.

The door opened and Valorie turned her head, expecting to just wave to somebody as they left, and was surprised to see Nate stepping out.

“Everything alright? You coming home?” she asked, reaching out to him without a second thought. Nate went to her easily.

“I’m going to stay for a bit longer,” he said, standing in front of her. He wasn’t boxing her into the bricks but he was definitely close enough that it wouldn’t take much at all to get there—Valorie thought it would be nice if he did.

“Why are you out here, then?” she asked, her fingers resting in his belt loops.

“I need to…”

Nate didn’t finish his sentence, just lowered his head little by little. Valorie tilted her chin up, pushing back against the wall to get a bit more height.

He wasn’t the same Nate she’d kissed at eighteen—he was broader, bigger in every sense and it was intoxicating to be pressed against the wall by the Nate she’d come to learn. In her mind she was expecting desperation, a need to make up for lost time. It didn’t come, though, and yet Valorie still felt lightheaded when he broke their kiss.

“Will you be in my bed when I get home?”

Valorie scoffed, a little disappointed, “Nate.”

“Not for like—I just want you there. I always want you there.”

She breathed out an “okay”, and kissed him again before sending him back inside to be with his lingering friends.

When he was gone and her head was clearer, Valorie opened her eyes and jumped off the wall at the sight of Amber’s car in front of her and Mike hanging out the passenger’s window.

She pushed Mike back into the car on her way to the backseat, asking before she even sat down, “How long were you there for?”

“Saw it all, babe,” Amber said, beaming into the rear-view mirror. “Never been happier to roll up on two people hooking up outside a bar.”

Valorie knew the second she woke up that things were different. The most immediately apparent difference was the snoring coming from beside her, accompanied by the warmth of an arm over her waist and a chest pressed against her back. Even the mattress underneath her felt different.

Then there was the fact that Nate had kissed her the night before, the catalyst for the other changes she supposed.

It wasn’t a bad different was her first major takeaway, and she relaxed back into the mattress. She couldn’t just lay there forever but she could for a little longer and enjoy the all-encompassing presence of Nate.

She had a fair idea of what time he usually woke up but couldn’t translate that into what might happen when he was hungover—which he was sure to be, and she couldn’t begrudge him that—so after lying in long enough that an ache started to settle in her sides, Valorie pulled herself out of Nate’s embrace and decided to start making breakfast.

Nothing fancy, of course, but she could whip up bacon and eggs and put some pods in a Nespresso machine without too much hassle. She hoped that the smell of food would wake him up, whether he was up to eating it or not and her hope was fulfilled when he wandered out while she was eating her own plate.

“You told me you couldn’t cook,” Nate said, dropping an easy kiss onto Valorie’s head as he passed her to the kitchen.

“I can use a fry pan.”

“I’ll be the judge of that.”

Eating across from Nate, with him smiling at her in a way he hadn’t since her return, was exactly what Valorie had been after and hadn’t known. Listening to him tell her all about the things she’d missed when he was off doing Stanley Cup things and filling him in in return. Everything he said was perfect and when he moved into telling her about the Cup win itself—“You have to do it again so I can be there.”

“I’ll give it my best go.”

Valorie grinned, picturing it all in her head. She held the image in her mind as she cleared the table and it all came crashing back down when she looked at Nate over the kitchen counter as she realised that their future relied on them talking about the new state of their relationship.

“We probably need to have a conversation or two,” Valorie said hesitantly, eyeing Nate over her coffee to check for any reaction at all. When he didn’t so much as blink, she added, “It’s just been like… six weeks and I don’t actually know what we are to each other.”

He wasn’t pleased, mumbling, “Do we have to have that conversation?”

“If we’re going where I want us to, then yeah, Nate.”

That caught his attention enough to have him properly look at her, no longer buried in his coffee. His question came slow and unsure, yet simultaneously hopeful, “Where do you want us to go?”

“I want us to be together again.”

His previously wary face transformed into a smile, small and barely noticeable. Valorie smiled back at him as she continued to drink her coffee. She didn’t know how to start whatever conversation it was that they needed to have—conversations were one of their strong suits as teenagers, Valorie was able to frame things in the perfect way or ask just the right questions to get Nate talking.

Just as she was trying to come up with a way to get him talking, Nate was the one who spoke first.

“Why’d you move to Miami with him?”

Valorie froze. It made sense, in hindsight, that Nate would be the one leading the conversation when she was the one who’d left, and yet it was still like being doused in cold water to have the question asked of her so directly.

She swallowed the sudden lump in her throat, and provided the simplest explanation she had, “I thought I was going to marry him.”

“I thought you were going to marry me.”

“Obviously that didn’t happen, Nate.”

“Yeah,” he said, because it was entirely obvious that it hadn’t happened and the look on his face showed that he didn’t like to be reminded of it. “And I’m still trying to work out why.”

“Nate, it was seven years ago.” She added, stressed, “We were kids.”

“I still don’t know why you broke up with me, Valorie.”

“Valorie?” she all but screeched, her full name coming from his lips sending a horrible quake down her spine and through her body.

Nate powered on, “You broke up with me and you left and to this day I don’t know why that was.”

“I wasn’t happy, Nate.”

The abrupt silence was worse than the conversation. Valorie sat there, wishing she could take back those four little words—she would if she’d known just how instantly Nate would close up.

His entire face, which had at least been showing his unhappiness and discomfort, was no longer telling her a single thing about how he was feeling. Except with that, she knew exactly how he was feeling.

She opened her mouth, ready to try and do damage control, to try to take it back so that he wouldn’t look like that, except not a single word came out.

Nate beat her to it, though, the sadness gone from his face but still very present in his voice. “Why didn’t you talk to me? I know that the long distance wasn’t great—why didn’t you talk to me?”

“None of it was your fault, Nate,” Valorie stressed, reaching across the table towards him even though he was out of reach. “You were the best thing I had going at the time. I couldn’t keep a job and I couldn’t continue with college because I kept failing the classes and I needed to leave so that I could work on all of that and not drag you down with me.”

“Did it work?”

“Yeah, over the next twelve months I learnt a lot, I grew a lot. I actually was going to ask if you wanted to try again when we were both back here the next summer, but you brought a girlfriend.”

“Rachel.”

“She was lovely,” Valorie said, truthfully.

“Why didn’t you talk to me?”

“And fuck up the thin hold you had on your mental health by dragging you down with my problems?”

“Breaking up with me and then ghosting me did a pretty good job of that.”

Valorie finally pulled her hands back to her lap, knowing that that one sentence was a sure sign that Nate wasn’t going to hold them. Him leaning back in his chair with his arms crossed over his chest made it even clearer.

She didn’t know what to say, no amount of explaining was going to be enough and she didn’t want him to think she was making excuses. At the time it had felt like the right thing to do, breaking up with him without any real reason, in the years that had past she’d come to her own realisations that maybe it wasn’t.

Nate’s voice was gruff when he asked, “When did you meet Nick?”

“The first year I was gone…” Valorie said with a sigh. “Sometime in early 2015. Before I came back that summer. We weren’t together at that point because I thought… I thought we—” she gestured between herself and Nate “—could try again. But you know…”

“Rachel,” Nate filled in, uncrossing his arms.

“Rachel. So I went back to Miami, I found Nick because he’d been good to me while I was there but we’re here now anyway. You and me.”

He nodded, still expressionless. Valorie’s leg twitched under the table, up and down repetitively, as she tried to will herself to let Nate be the next person to speak.

“You and me?” he asked, after a long silence.

“If you still want me.”

Nate sighed, pushing his chair back and standing. Valorie watched him, worried that he was going to walk away from the table—from their conversation. He walked around the table towards her, though, and Valorie didn’t have to be told to stand and meet him halfway.

Nate didn’t have anything special planned for his birthday, much to Valorie’s horror. He was going to see his family for lunch—with an invite extended to Valorie which she was more than happy to accept. She couldn’t help but laugh when she arrived and saw Sid and Kathy sitting at the table on the back porch.

“You’re almost like a second father,” Valorie joked, in lieu of a proper greeting. “You’re just everywhere. All Nate’s big moments.”

“I’m really not that old,” Sid argued.

“I was thirteen when I watched you bring the Cup to Cole Harbour. That makes you pretty old.”

He scoffed, “I turned 22 that year.”

Valorie hummed and nodded knowingly, “Old.”

She watched him roll his eyes, noting the affection on his face, and moved on to greet Kathy properly.

It was, otherwise, an uneventful lunch. Valorie was appreciative of the invite, more than pleased to finally be with Nate’s family—back with Nate’s family, and being treated as if she’d never left in the first place. Her smile was ever present, only growing as she watched Nate shift uncomfortably while Happy Birthday was sung at him. Especially when she knew she was going to sing it at him again that evening.

They stayed there until late in the afternoon and Valorie tried not to let her impatience show because she liked spending time with his family, with Sid and Kathy, but she had plans for dinner that she didn’t want to mess up. Nate knew, though, at least vaguely, so they left early enough that Valorie could relax.

When they got home, she banished him to his bedroom so that she could start to cook and set the table with the fancy table setting she’d bought the day before. She was meticulous about their dinner, returning to the recipe far more than was probably necessary to ensure that it was exactly how it needed to be, and felt a true sense of pride as it all came together.

“Can I come back out?” Nate asked, still hidden behind the wall.

Valorie looked around her, taking in the pan she was using and the cleanliness of the kitchen before she told him that he could.

He bypassed the set table, walked straight towards her, and peered over her shoulder to see what she was cooking. His laugh was gentle and sincere.

“Are you making me risotto?”

“I’ve been practising,” she admitted. “When I went to Amber’s the other day we did a test run and it was actually pretty good!”

She giggled as Nate pulled her back from the stove and turned her around, kissing her so sweetly that she nearly melted into a puddle at his feet.

The whole shop stood still, except for the large bouquet of roses that was being walked to the counter; a deep red expertly pruned and assembled. Valorie knew exactly who they were from before they had even reached her.

Everyone huddled around the vase, customers included, as it was set down on the counter in front of Valorie. She knew who they were from without even looking at the note they came with, but there was a sudden hush when her co-worker read out the note on the card: Happy Birthday, mi amor. Love always, Nick.

“You sure that says Nick?” one of their customers asked—Valorie vaguely recognised her from school, though she was positive they hadn’t been in the same year. “Not Nate?”

“I mean—”

Valorie snatched the note more aggressively than she’d intended, saying, “Nick is a friend.”

The side eyes she got from both the customer and her co-worker were far from subtle but Valorie just buried the note in her pocket and carried the vase into the back room.

They—like everything Nick bought her—were gorgeous. He had somehow managed to send her the most perfect roses from Florida and she didn’t want to think about how much money had gone into them. Every day with Nick was filled with unnecessary luxuries and that only increased tenfold on her birthday.

Until the roses came along, Valorie’s day had been uneventful. She woke up early enough for her half-day shift at the hobby store—granted to her by her boss who was horrified that she hadn’t already asked for the whole day—and discovered that Nate was already awake and making her breakfast, and he planned on driving her into Halifax.

It was the most thoughtful gift she’d received in years.

He picked her up after her shift—and after her co-worker tried not so slyly to ask more questions about the roses—and Valorie was met with a bouquet of flowers as she opened the passenger’s side door. She rushed to sit in the car, pushing the vase of roses between her feet on the floor and reaching for the pink hydrangeas Nate held.

“Oh, they’re beautiful,” she gushed, hugging them to her chest as she inhaled. “Did you have to ask someone about my favourite flower or did you just remember?”

Nate mumbled, “Remembered.”

“I can’t believe it, that’s incredible.” She leaned across the centre console to kiss him and got his cheek when he turned his head but she was too distracted by the flowers to notice. “Should I look into the meaning behind these or are they just beautiful?”

Nate started the engine, keeping his eyes firmly on the road in front of him, and Valorie tried not to read into his tense jaw. Or the way he moved his hand to the steering wheel when she tried to hold it over the gearshift.

“Who did the roses come from?” he asked as they pulled into his garage after a painfully silent car ride.

She answered, cautiously, “Nick.”

“How does he know where you work?”

“I don’t know? Insta? I don’t care about the roses, you bought me hydrangeas.”

Nate only said, “okay” before he got out of the car and left Valorie sitting in it by herself. She watched him walk into the house with slumped shoulders and an aching chest before she tried to manoeuvre herself out of the car with the vase of roses and the very large bouquet of hydrangeas.

She put the roses on the kitchen counter and then scoured Nate’s cupboards for a vase so she could put the hydrangeas at the centre of the dining table. She passed Nate on the couch as she walked to the stairs, leaning down to kiss the top of his head and thank him as she did so.

Valorie tried to put it to the back of her mind as she got ready for her birthday plans—Amber had planned a whole afternoon and evening for her and Valorie had been planning her outfit for a week. It wasn’t going to be as extravagant as anything she’d done in Miami, which she’d assured Amber was more than fine, but it was her first birthday in Nova Scotia in years and her first birthday back with her best friend so she was going to make the most of it.

Putting it to the back of her mind worked well until she ascended the stairs and saw that Nate hadn’t moved from his position on the couch.

“Amber and Mike will be here soon—are you ready?”

Nate sunk further into the couch, his arms crossed tightly over his chest and his chin nearly buried into them which led to a mumbled, “I’m not really feeling it; you have fun.”

“You’re not feeling it?” she asked, hating the way her voice cracked in time with the crack in her heart. “It’s my birthday?”

“You go have fun,” he said, still into his arms. “Don’t worry about me.”

Valorie had never felt more pathetic, standing behind Nate when he wouldn’t even look at her, dressed up in one of the nicest she’d brought with her from Miami and had taken so much care with her make-up—not dressed up entirely for Nate but she definitely wanted him to at least look at her. Maybe even appreciate the effort she had gone to.

“Nate, I—I want you there,” Valorie said weakly, moving closer to him to see if she could get him to turn around. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. I just don’t want to go out again today.”

Valorie gave up with one last desperate look at Nate and she walked immediately through the front door to wait on the doorstep for Amber and Mike. She wasn’t going to cry about it, even if the furious blinking was barely stopping her—before Amber and Mike pulled up she pulled on her sunglasses and took some deep, centring breaths.

When Amber and Mike did pull up, this time with Amber hanging out the passenger’s side window and jumping out to pull Valorie into a tight hug as she screamed Happy Birthday in her ear, Valorie’s smile was genuine.

At least, it was until she climbed into the passenger’s seat at Amber’s insistence and they sat in the car for a few moments in silence.

“We can go,” she said, hoping that the crack in her voice wasn’t noticeable to anyone but herself.

“What about Nate?”

“I don’t want to talk about Nate.”

“I’ll fight him if you want me to,” Mike offered, completely sincerely, reaching down to unbuckle his seatbelt. “Can’t promise I’ll win but I’ll give it a go.”

“I don’t know what’s gotten into him and I don’t want to think about it for the rest of the day.”

Not thinking about it for the rest of the day was much easier said than done. It put a clear damper on the mood despite the smile Valorie was forcing into her face. For a few blissful moments she did forget, was able to just enjoy the company she was with and the drinks in front of her—and then it all came crashing back down on her with a heartbreaking thud.

Amber tried to talk about, to get an explanation as to why Valorie was upset and Nate wasn’t around and each time she was shut down by Valorie repeating that she didn’t want to talk about it and that she just wanted to enjoy her birthday.

There wasn’t much enjoyment happening, though, with Valorie staring morosely into every rum and coke she was drinking. They’d had Happy Hour cocktails, eaten some of the best steaks Valorie had ever come across and moved on to another bar to continue their night—it was everything Valorie hadn’t realised she missed and it was still being ruined by Nate.

Amber tried again, waiting until Valorie’s glass was empty, and Valorie reacted by standing up and saying that she needed some fresh air. When Amber tried to follow her, Valorie insisted that she was going alone.

Although Valorie had decided to go outside just to get away from any more questions, the fresh air did help. She hadn’t quite realised just how much the alcohol had gone to her head until she was confronted by the breeze coming off the river.

She rested her forehead against the cool bricks of the external walls, her arms crossed above her head, and counted her breaths in and out.

“Val?”

Valorie whipped around, her forehead and forearms scraping against the bricks, and was met with Nate’s concerned face.

“Thought you didn’t want to come out again today,” she said tersely, inspecting her forearms quickly and cringing at the grazes.

“I’m sorry,” he said, readily, without prompting. “That’s pretty up there with the most asshole things I’ve ever done.”

“You made me feel like shit.”

“I know. I didn’t—I’m sorry. I don’t have any excuse that’s good or justified.”

Valorie shuffled her feet, getting to the point where she was regretting her heels, and lifted one shoulder in a half-hearted shrug.

“I’d like to make the rest of your birthday better,” Nate said, visibly shrinking in and making himself smaller and less intimidating. “If you’ll let me.”

“I really don’t feel like I should forgive you, you know?” she huffed, throwing her hands in the air.

“Okay, that’s fair. I can go home.”

She sighed, “No, I don’t want you to go home. I—I’m really happy you’re here even if you weren’t before.”

The corner of Nate’s mouth lifted tentatively, “Yeah?”

Valorie nodded, and broke the rest of the tension between them by stepping into his space and wrapping her arms around his shoulders. She relaxed into him, at the feel of his arms around her and the smell of his cologne filling her head. It was going to warrant a conversation, she knew that, but if she could enjoy the rest of her night she would do just that.

She led him back into the bar by the hand, having already been subjected to a brief twirl as Nate told her how good she looked, much happier and lighter than she had been when she’d walked outside.

Valorie, never one to be held down by a hangover, woke bright and early the next morning. Nate was still dead to the world beside her, a pillow pulled over his head to block out whatever noises he’d heard that she hadn’t.

It was bright outside when she left his room with her clothes bundled in her arms, unable to lie there and wait for him to stir, though the clock near the staircase told her it wasn’t even seven.

She had a quick shower—the hot water tap barely turned—and changed before she went in search of her bag, keys and phone and left a note on the kitchen counter for Nate that she was heading out but wouldn’t be long.

The roses had never left her mind, not with the weirdness they’d caused, and seeing them standing tall and proud on the kitchen counter made her know that she was making the right decision.

She wrote another note, tucking it into the flowers and made her way to her parents’ house to leave the roses and the note on their doorstep.

Mom, I think you can take better care of these than I can. Love you xxx

The round trip didn’t take overly long, so Nate wasn’t moving about the house when Valorie returned. She made herself a coffee and sat on the balcony, the caffeine working in combination with the slight breeze to keep any hangover symptoms at bay.

“Where are the roses?” Nate asked, startling Valorie when she hadn’t even heard the door slide open.

She waited until Nate was sitting sidewards on the recliner beside her before she said slowly, “With my mom. She loves roses.”

“You didn’t have to get rid of them.”

“I’m not attached to them… They were clearly making you uncomfortable, so it’s fine.”

Nate hummed, then said softly, “Thank you.”

Valorie smiled at him, grateful for the admission no matter how vague. She stood up, only to sit back down on Nate’s recliner after moving him so she could sit between his legs and relax back into him. She reached for his hands and wrapped his arms around her body.

She didn’t expect him to say anything else, happy to push the conversation they had to have to later in the day and just enjoy a quiet morning. Nate didn’t have the same desire, though.

“A guy doesn’t just send you roses on your birthday if he’s not trying to get you back.” He was speaking into her hair and if he hadn’t been so close Valorie wouldn’t have heard him at all.

She squeezed his arms and said, “If I was going back to him, I would have any of the half dozen times he’s already asked.”

She hadn’t mentioned it to Nate—to anyone—that Nick was sending things to her parents house, not many, but enough that she’d had to call him to put her foot down. The earrings he’d sent that matched the bracelet she’d been wearing the first time she’d seen Nate back in Nova Scotia were the final straw there. She’d never worn them and hadn’t put the bracelet back on, even though it was her favourite piece of jewellery.

Nate’s hesitation was evidence enough of his worry and was only amplified by the way he was holding her close and still speaking into her hair. “He’s not wearing you down?”

“Not in a good way. He seems to think that if he throws more money at me and reminds me of the life we had together and the future we could have; that I’ll just forget that I want kids.”

“Promise?”

“Remember that conversation we had? After the Cup Day? It’s you and me. I’m not going back to him.”

Nate’s forehead came to rest against the back of her head; Valorie could feel his relieved sigh.

The summer was dangerously close to ending. Valorie was counting down the days until she and Nate got on a plane to Denver, excitement and trepidation filling every ounce of her body and only getting more and more intense whenever she saw him.

There was something on her mind, though, the cause of the trepidation. A question she’d been holding onto for far longer than she intended and a question she knew she needed to ask before they left for their new life together—it couldn’t be another conversation that happened after the fallout.

Nate had just finished up his last training session with Andy, and Valorie smiled at him and only briefly cringed when he leant down to kiss her despite the sweat rolling off his body.

Andy followed Nate in, greeting her happily, none the wiser to her inner turmoil—though how could Andy be if Nate didn’t have a clue? He said goodbye to Valorie, that he’d see her when Nate was back in Canada, and she waved at him as he left.

She sat on the couch, staring blankly at the television, and listened to the shower in Nate’s ensuite turn on. With a quick inhale and in an unexpected moment of courage, she decided to join him.

“What a surprise,” Nate smirked, watching Valorie drop her clothes as she entered the bathroom.

The water was nearly unbearably hot though she didn’t falter, immediately wrapping her arms around Nate. He followed suit without missing a beat and Valorie relished in being able to rest her head against his chest and hear his steady heartbeat over the water.

“What’s brought this on?”

“You did an interview a few years ago and I can’t forget it,” Valorie said, taking a deep breath. She was thankful that the shower was hiding the wetness in her voice. “That you don’t like kids? And I—I need to know if that’s still true before… I don’t know.”

“I was never sure about having kids, I’ll be honest,” Nate said, slow, measured, and most definitely confused. “But I always knew that if I was going to have kids it was only going to be with you.”

“Okay. That’s—okay.”

Her relief was immeasurable—she had known it was causing her a lot of inner stress but to have it roll off her shoulders was nicer than she ever could have imagined.

“I love you.”

Valorie pulled away from Nate’s chest, blinking through the fall of water over her face, another sigh leaving her body. She pressed up on her toes to kiss him, unable to express herself in any other way.

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#nathan mackinnon fic #nathan mackinnon imagine #hockey fic #hockey imagine #nhl fic #nhl imagine #homemade fic #the winter fic exchange 2k23 #fic: Avs #one shot

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matthewtkachuk · 2 years

Text

monday morning - nathan mackinnon

the boys win the Stanley Cup and you end up in bed with one of them

pairing: nathan mackinnon x reader

warnings: mention of alcohol, mention of sex (not quite explicit but more than implied - yk my brand by now), sex that takes place after both parties have been drinking (if this is a trigger feel free to skip! take care of yourselves my loves)

word count: 1.2k

a/n: hey besties long time no see, hope yall are doing well. one week ago, the colorado avalanche won the stanley cup and you know a bitch couldn't resist a post-win fic <3 s/o to @antoineroussel for being the only one awake and telling me when i'm being pretentious

Monday morning you wake with the feeling of cotton balls stuffed down your throat and a heavy body weighing you down into the mattress. For a moment you can’t quite figure out where you are or how you got here—it’s quite difficult to make sense of anything as you burrow your head back deeper into the pillows and keep your eyes squeezed shut.

Wiggling your toes, you assess the damage, but it’s almost impossible to move under the weight on top of you. Said weight starts to shift a little in its slumber you assume, and that’s when you come to realize whoever is on top of you is one, naked, and two, very very heavy. One of his wandering hands slides from its place by your side up to rest on the underside of your boob and that’s when you realize a third thing—you’re naked too.

The night before comes back to you in bits and pieces—the longest five minutes of your life at the end of the third period, someone screeching in your ear at the final buzzer, placing your hands on the ever elusive lord stanley and then drinking shitty beer out of it with the half naked team who’d won it half an hour before. Linking arms with some of the better halves and stumbling out of a hostile arena into an even more hostile city, and yet finding a club/bar more than willing to take your—well, not yours specifically—”dirty” money.

Shots and then more shots and then more shots. If you think hard enough, you vaguely remember doing a body shot off André. Somebody pressing a water into your hands and you pretending to take a large slip before leaving it on the closest bar top when they turned around. Sliding in real close into… someone’s embrace shortly after and then staying there for the rest of the night. You can picture their muscled shoulders and feel the heat of their calloused hands and yet their face remains beneath a dark cloud in your mind.

“You wanna go back to mine?” whispered in your ear and wandering hands and giggles turned whines turned moans turned toes curling and nails dragging down backs. Chapped lips and a bearded face and praise shared like an oath.

But who?

You’re afraid to open your eyes, afraid to face whoever is in your bed or maybe whose bed you’re in, afraid you won’t like who you find or afraid you will and they won’t want you too in the fresh morning light. You know it’s a hotel room—or at least you’re pretty sure it’s a hotel room based on the feel of the sheets beneath you and the too fluffy pillow that’s got your neck at an uncomfortable angle.

If you had it your way you’d never find out whose hotel room it is, but ultimately you don’t have much of a choice. Not when the mysterious not-quite-stranger presses a chaste kiss to the skin of your neck before rolling off of you with a groan.

“It wasn’t a dream,” he says, punctuated by a small exhale of breath that can only be indicative of disbelief.

The feeling of your chest constricting is timed perfectly with the way the rest of the night flashes by—EJ leaving a sloppy kiss on your cheek, Mel crying into your shoulder, one too many Jägerbombs.

And then Nate.

Nate lifting you into his arms on the ice and shouting about how they finally fuckin’ did it, Nate’s everlasting eye contact as he tips the Stanley Cup so that the alcohol falls into your awaiting mouth, Nate’s front pressed to your back on the dance floor, Nate’s arms feeling like home when you didn’t know which direction was left and which direction was right. Nate leading you to his hotel room, fingers brushing the 1787 numberplate before turning their attention on you.

Stumbling into Nate and kissing him and running your fingers through his hair and along the beard on his jawline—”this is so sexy”—getting your hands on him and pressing and pulling and prodding until his naked body covered yours on the neatly made bed. You’d teased him for it, asked him if it was a superstition or just his good manners that had him making the bed on the most important morning of his hockey career yet. He’d only kissed you quiet.

And then a moment of clarity in the drunken, lust-fuelled haze where he’d pushed back the hair from your face and asked if you were sure. When you’d told him you’d never wanted anything more, he’d told you without shame that it was a tie between you and the cup, and he’d ‘already won the cup tonight.’

It sends tingles down your spine to remember the way he looked at you last night. A look you’d previously seen hours earlier, looking around at the boys after the final buzzer, and then pushing his captain towards it only to hold it minutes later. Like you were the Stanley Cup, like you were the culmination of two and a half decades of hard work and perseverance and overcoming adversity, like you were the thing he’d spent his entire life waiting for.

“The cup and the girl...fuck am I ever lucky,” he speaks again before pulling you so that you lay half on top of him this time. You finally open your eyes to see that very same look still on his face. “Good morning.”

“Hi,” you say, suddenly very shy and wanting to disappear into the covers. You push down the urge to run for the nearest hill, tentatively placing your hand on his chest above his heart. When he covers it with his own you find the courage to speak again. “How did you sleep?”

“I think I’m still drunk,” he admits with a laugh, “but I’ve never slept better.”

“Better than Landy?” you ask. “Bet he slept naked in EJ’s hotel room with the cup between them.”

Nate laughs out loud at that and you preen under the sound. “We’ll get our turn to sleep naked with the cup.”

“We?” you ask hopefully, tentatively. Despite the look in his eye and the fact that he has yet to let you go, you’re not the kind of girl who makes assumptions or gets her hopes up. In fact, you’re the very opposite—more likely to assume the worst in any situation, and you in fact do so now.

“I think I made myself pretty clear last night,” he smirks and you remember the gentle way he regarded you during sex. “I’m not a man of many words, we both know that. But you have to know how I feel about you.”

His hand cups your face and his thumb gently skims your cheekbone before your lips are pressed together.

“Yeah, I think I do.”

#nhl fic #nhl fanfic #nhl fanfiction #nhl imagine #nhl imagines #nathan mackinnon x reader #nathan mackinnon fic #nathan mackinnon fanfic #nathan mackinnon fanfiction #nathan mackinnon imagine #nathan mackinnon imagines #shelb writes

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ohmyeyesmyeyes · 5 months

Text

on tonight's episode of 'crushes with beefcake'... - nate mack

dad!nate x f!reader

summary: josh has some questions and nate jumps at the opportunity to tell a little story of his own

warnings: swearing, mentions the death of a grandparent, fluff (psa this is just a little palette cleanser fic thing, i had inspiration and i ran with it)

word count: 5.9k

It wasn’t very often that your son called a family meeting. In fact, in the entire history of people that had called a family meeting (excluding little Leyla), he’d never called a family meeting. He frowned upon them. Groaned at the words and sulked the entire way through them – as most ten year olds probably did.

Which was why, after putting him to bed and after you and Nate had both wandered back downstairs to watch a film, it was a shock to hear a pair of determined footsteps echo down the stairs with a clear purpose. The only thing more shocking was when he stood in front of you both, brows knitted together and a nervous frown on his face, and the words “I want to declare a family meeting right now” tumbled out of his mouth.

You’d blinked and Nate had sat up, removing his legs from where he’d draped them across yours. And when Josh turned around and strolled into the dining room, dragging a chair back out behind him, you shared a curious look with Nate – who looked as though he couldn’t decide if he should laugh or be worried.

And then you had to swallow a laugh and put on a serious face when Josh placed the chair in the middle of the living room, facing the both of you and lacing his hands together.

“It feels like we’re about to get therapized by our kid.” Nate muttered under his breath, and you swore you could feel your mom-face slip for a moment.

“Or it’s an intervention. Did we do something wrong?” You whispered back.

You felt Nate pause and then tense.

Josh was oblivious, trying to adjust his seating position on the chair to find a comfier one, and probably also trying to stall because of the suddenly tense atmosphere that had enveloped the room.

Nate shuffled closer to you, his bicep and thigh touching yours, partly to reassure himself and partly to get closer so he could whisper into your ear without the risk of being heard, “What if he heard us?”

You inhaled, your stomach dropping unpleasantly. It had been one of your fears as a parent – the idea of scarring your kid in that way was absolutely mortifying. You had friends that had unfortunately experienced it, and there were a few choice words thrown around, so even the mere thought that Josh could have…it was enough to make you squirm uncomfortably.

“Nate.” You whispered, your tone causing him to whip his head towards you, a crease now prominent on his forehead, “If that ever happens, I give you permission to divorce me for trauma to the kids, okay?”

Upon hearing your words and realising they weren’t as serious as you’d initially made them sound, Nate’s face broke into a soft grin, thumb coming up to lightly brush under your eye, “For future reference, I’d much rather pay for their therapy than ever even think about divorcing you.” And he pressed a cheeky kiss against your lips as a way of sealing the promise.

“Ahem.” Josh coughed pointedly, and both you and Nate spun to look at him, feeling an awful lot like you’d been caught in a forbidden act of affection – which was pretty ridiculous considering the fact that it was at the hands of a gobby ten-year old.

Nate’s hand fell naturally on your leg, draped across your knee and curling around the top of your shin as you both turned your full attention to your son. Josh was pretty tall for his age, every bit of Nate’s build as he possibly could be. It was that, paired with Nate’s eyes and mouth that sometimes had you doing a double-take when you looked at him. It was like looking at a younger version of Nate again, back when you were both in school – not that Nate had stuck around for too long.

And you were reminded of that when Josh took charge of the entire room, and how similar it was to that funny expression Nate used to wear at his age, and even to this day – before games, dad-duties, serious conversations. It was their concentration face.

“He’s kinda scary–”

“Are you two done flirting now?” Josh interrupted, throwing Nate an unimpressed glance as his eyes darted between the two of you with about as much disdain for parental affection as he could possibly muster.

You swallowed, trying not to laugh and partially succeeding, and slowly pushed Nate’s hand off your knee. Josh’s eyes closely followed your movements, looking rather pleased with your reaction, and you could feel Nate’s disappointed glare burn the side of your face. It seemed to diminish in intensity somewhat when he caught the stifled twitch of your mouth as you wrestled with a smile.

“We weren’t flirting–” Nate denied, shaking his head and bumping your knees together – compensation for not being able to actually have a hand on you at this particular moment in time.

“I ordered a family meeting, excluding Leyla.” Josh groaned, hands on his cheeks in a show of hopelessness and frustration, “That means I’m the Head Judge, I get to make the rules, and Rule One is now no flirting–wait, Mom, where’s the Wooden Hammer Thing?”

You pushed yourself off the sofa, wandering into the dining room and picking out the gavel from one of the shelves and walking back into the living room to see Nate scratching his head with red cheeks and Josh sitting scarily chipper on the chair, hand out awaiting his Wooden Hammer Thing.

“It’s a gavel.” Was all you said, a little hesitant to say much else out of fear of…Josh’s unexpected wrath, “What happened?” You pointed the gavel between them both, slightly concerned for Nate when he shook his head, clearly embarrassed at something.

“Dad was watching you walk away and I set a new rule because it was annoying me.” Josh shrugged, taking the gavel from you.

“What rule is that?” You asked, intrigue skyrocketing when Nate pushed himself towards the far end of the sofa, as far away as humanly possible as he could get away from you in such a small space.

Josh sighed, “I’ll paraphrase because I need to talk about something important. Basically, no horny behav–”

“No what now?”

“Where did you even learn that word?”

You and Nate spoke at the same time, you with confusion, and Nate with a hint of outrage as his eyes remained fixed on Josh, who, for the first time since he’d come back downstairs, was looking sheepish. His cheeks were a little red and he was grinning rather shyly, shoulders curling in on themselves.

“It was on TV the other day, someone said it.” Josh shrugged, before noting the still evident look of mild horror on both you and Nate’s face, “And I Googled it because I didn’t know what it meant.”

“No, don’t Google it!” Your hand covered your mouth, images and words that he could have seen flashing in your mind – images and words that no ten year old should ever be subjected to, ever.

And to think Nate was worried about being heard? Why did kids have to be so good with technology and Google nowadays? When you were Josh’s age, YouTube was a dating site, so to think..

“It’s okay, I didn’t click on pictures.” Josh pulled a face, “The words were enough.”

There was a sputtering sound from the other end of the sofa, and you turned to find Nate also with his hand over his mouth, failing to hide a snort of laughter despite his earlier complaints. It seemed to die out, though, when he saw the identical way you and Josh were looking at him: with a hint of amusement and a tad of impatience.

He coughed, clearing his throat and straightening, “Sorry. Got something stuck in my throat.”

You rolled your eyes fondly, patting him on the leg (because even if he tried to move to the other end of the sofa, with the way he’d spread his legs, you barely even had to lean over to reach him).

“Whatever you say, Beefcake.” Josh muttered under his breath, and your hand stilled on Nate’s thigh, face freezing.

You didn’t have to look at Nathan to feel the piercing way he tilted his head to glare at you out of the corner of your eye, frustration clearly written across the panes of his face, “You created that.” He muttered, breath hot against the shell of your ear as he moved back over to you, his arm resting against the back of the sofa.

You said nothing, just resisted a smile and leaned against Nate’s arm, relishing in the way he draped it against your shoulders, drawing you against his chest.

There was a brief flicker of hesitation when you leaned fully into him, wondering if this was the so-called ‘horny behaviour’ that Josh had ruled out of the meeting, but when he looked back up from where he’d been picking a strand of hair off his Penguin’s pyjama top, he didn’t say anything. Just sighed a little, and shook his head, like it was pointless trying to get you to adhere to his rules in the first place (which it was – Josh was the one treading in uncharted waters: it was nine pm on a school night – a time strictly reserved for unwinding with Nate on the sofa).

“Okay,” Josh began, back straightening, “I gather you here today–”

You could feel Nate’s stomach tense and a shaky breath be exhaled in an effort to not break.

“To talk to you about something.” Josh took a deep breath, “It’s something I hold very close to my heart, but it means I have to ask you for help and questions because…” he shrugged, snapping out of the role somewhat, “in all my life, I’ve never not known how to talk to a girl.”

Oh.

Nate stopped laughing, and you felt your eyes widen in surprise.

“Mom, Beefcake. I got a crush.” Josh slowly slipped off the chair, landing on his knees and holding his hands up to the sky, a pained expression on his face.

“I don’t know where he gets that from.” Nate muttered, gesturing to the dramatised scene occurring realtime in front of you.

“I think that’s just him.” You nodded along, suppressing a smile.

Josh returned back to his seat, smiling innocently and like he hadn’t just cried to the heavens, and you wanted to take him off the chair and sandwich him between you and Nate.

Gosh, he’d grown up too fast. You could have sworn only last week you were bringing him home from the hospital, and now he was getting penalties for roughing in his games and asking how to talk to girls.

You scooted over, patting the space between you and Nate, “Come on.”

Josh rolled his eyes and fashioned a groan but followed you anyway, throwing himself down and eliciting a huff of pain from Nate as he half-sat on him.

“Okay,” you started, hands going to stroke through his hair, “tell us about why you need help with this crush.”

Josh practically reddened under your gaze, crossing his arms and swinging his feet – like he instantly regretted even bringing it up – but you applauded his bravery. Your mom had to pester crushes out of you because you were so scared if you told someone that the crush in mention would somehow hear you whisper their name.

“Her name’s Aimee, she sits behind me in class. I’ve tried talking to her, but she’s kinda quiet and I think I intimidate her a bit because…I’m not quiet.” He mumbled, fingers absentmindedly picking at his sleeve, “And I don’t want to scare her off.”

Your heart squeezed a little, and you were at a loss of what to actually say. You’d never been in that position before, usually the roles were reversed: you were the quiet one crushing on the louder person. Naturally, your eyes fell to Nate, who, it seemed, had got something in mind and had already been looking at you.

He was smiling like he knew something you didn’t, and you furrowed your brows, questioning his motives when he looked back down towards Josh.

“I’m gonna tell you something that I think’ll help.” Josh peered up at Nate, something akin to hope and excitement lingering on his face as he watched Nate talk, “When I was your age, maybe a bit younger, I had a massive crush on this girl. She was in a couple of my classes in middle school, and she was quiet. She didn’t put her hand up to answer any questions, even though she should’ve because she knew all the answers anyway – and I thought she was the prettiest girl in school by far–”

“What was her name?” Josh interrupted, frowning slightly.

“That’s not important.” Nate shook his head, “Anyway, in one of my classes in particular, we were assigned seating plans, and she sat on my table, with two other people. And I’d never spoken to this girl in my life, so all I knew was that she was pretty, pretty smart, and pretty shy. And it took me a couple of weeks to even ask her for the time–”

“No way.” Josh muttered sarcastically, and Nate frowned at him, bottom lip sticking out.

“I’m tryna help you.”

Josh blinked, “Get to that part, then. You’re just spewing words.”

Nate pressed his lips together, meeting your eyes across Josh’s head with a straight-faced look. You didn’t pay it much attention – in all honesty, you were trying to figure out this mystery crush he’d had. Nate had been a pretty known person when you guys were in school, what with his hockey and everything, but even despite that he’d always been pretty tight-lipped about his middle school crush, and it had always felt a little silly to keep pestering him about it, so you just…left it.

“Fine.” Nate continued on, one hand reaching out to grasp yours, even as he turned his attention and focus back on Josh. His grip was tight, cool wedding band a nice contrast to your warm hands, and you tuned back into what he was saying, “And once this girl got used to the people she was sitting with, she started talking, and it turned out she was pretty funny. She used to say these things under her breath that only the table could hear, and we’d either all get a telling off for laughing, or we’d all know the answers to the questions.” Nate sighed, “Then the entire table got split up because we were distracting everyone.”

Something in the back of your mind seemed to click at that moment.

The same moment Josh spoke up, “Then what?”

“Then we left school and moved away.” Nate shrugged.

Josh pushed himself up off the sofa, arms crossed, “How’s that supposed to help me?”

In any other situation, you would’ve turned to Josh, tried to calm him down or say something reassuring, but you couldn’t quite pull yourself away from the crinkles in the corner of Nate’s eyes, or the way that he was still smiling like he knew something no one else did. Your mouth parted unconsciously at his words, and your brain went blank. His hand was still tangled with yours, squeezing every so often.

“Because eventually she opened up, and I didn’t have to change anything about me for that to happen. It just takes time, and she has to learn to trust you and be comfortable around you.” Nate continued, either ignorant or choosing to ignore the way you were intent on just staring rather awe-strickenly at him, “I’d also say it was a minor character misjudgement from me, because it turned out she was just quiet around people she didn’t know very well. She liked to sit and observe before chipping in.”

Josh was quiet for a second, deep in thought, and you took the opportunity to use your free hand to poke Nate in the cheek. Once, twice. He caught your hand, bringing it to his lap, and almost as though he was purposefully trying to drive you crazy, he reached for your leg, hauling you across the space Josh had just left. All without paying you a single scrap of attention.

“So I just have to be patient?” Josh asked, a rather dumbfounded look on his face.

You turned your attention back to your son, curling into Nate’s side again and feeling rather smug.

“Yeah. Maybe dial the noise down, though, let her know you’re paying attention to her instead of shouting to your friends, or interrupting.” Nate pressed a kiss to your head, a hand going to cover your mouth as you opened it to say something.

Josh caught the action, raising a brow in your direction, “Sounds doable. Did you break Mom, or something?”

You nodded, and you could feel Nate shake his head.

Josh looked unconvinced, so you licked Nate’s palm, attempting to pry it away from your mouth so you could defend yourself, but he’d clearly expected that kind of retaliation because he breathed a laugh, momentarily tightening his grip to prove he wasn’t fazed.

Josh took a few steps forward, reaching for Nate’s arm, “Can you unhand Mom, please? She wants to say something.”

Nate let go, still keeping an arm around you but resting his opposite arm on the side of the sofa, head in his hand and looking at you with a knowing smile.

You inhaled, “He’s not telling you the whole story.” You pointed an accusing finger at Nate, and Josh gasped.

“Beefcake! How dare you deny your son the truth?”

Nate laughed, but didn’t elaborate.

“Ask him what happened after.” You encouraged Josh, nudging your head back towards Nate.

Josh peered at you, mouth curved downwards in befuddlement, “He said nothing else happened.”

“Ask him again.”

“Dad.” Josh started, eyeing you cautiously out of the corner of his eye, “What happened after?”

Nate glanced at you, eyes darting to the sparkling bands on your left hand, before settling on Josh, who still hadn’t quite moved from where he’d folded his arms.

“I moved to Minnesota for a bit, then back home when I was sixteen. Then Colorado when I was seventeen or eighteen,” he pulled a face, not too bothered on the specifics, “And then about six years later, I came back home one summer and saw her standing in the ready meals aisle of a superstore, looking just as beautiful as the day I left – and still the prettiest person I ever laid eyes on.”

Josh glanced at you out of the corner of his eyes, uncertainty clear – he couldn’t tell whether to run to your defence and interrupt Nate’s spiel, or let him carry on. And you gathered that from your clear lack of upset, that he chose the latter.

“You have to know that it took some guts and I gave myself a bit of a pep talk, but I went up to her, introduced myself and she remembered me–”

“Dad, you were literally an NHL player.” (And Josh returned with the reality check.)

“She remembered me, and I asked if she wanted a drink and she said yes.” Nate finished, leg kicking out to poke his foot against Josh’s leg for interrupting him – but the younger MacKinnon was still looking rather lost on the entire subject.

“What then?” He pressed, yet again throwing you another worried glance, to which you simply grabbed his hand and pulled him to sit on your knee — he didn’t fight it like you expected, just put his arm around your neck, his hand resting comfortably against Nate’s forearm, and placed his head on your shoulder, yawning softly.

“Three years later I asked her to marry me and she said yes. And now,” Nate smirked, “we’ve been happily married for nine years, and have two beautiful children called Josh and Leyla.”

You felt Josh sigh against your collarbone, “I don’t want to play the long game, Dad. Not like that.”

You fought a grin at Nate’s drop in expression. You could tell he’d been expecting some blown out reaction of ‘wow’ or ‘wait, that was you and Mom?’, and the lack of thrill from Josh had clearly knocked his confidence a little, because he shifted, pulling a face.

“If I hadn't played the long game, you wouldn’t be here.” He reasoned, eyes flicking to you.

Instead, Josh lifted his head up, looking you dead in the face with your husband’s eyes, “Did you have a crush on Dad in school?”

You hesitated.

Nate mock-gasped, both hands flying over his mouth, even though you knew he already knew that little smidge of information.

“You didn’t?” Josh asked, recoiling slightly, “Then why did you tell me this story? I thought you were supposed to be inspiring me, not tearing me down and stripping me of my confidence?” He questioned, clearly appalled.

You laughed, “Okay, you gotta bear in mind that the first time I met your dad was on that class table. And it was only about four weeks until we were moved around again, and then he left to go to Minnesota, so he didn’t have time on his side at all.” You took a breath, “Or a pair of balls, apparently—”

Josh cackled at Nate’s expense.

“I can’t believe—” Josh giggled, “that you were literally in love with Mom, a-a—” he practically dissolved into a boneless heap in the middle of you and Nate, hand clutching his stomach, “and she didn’t even know you existed.”

“That’s not true.” You objected, “I knew Na—your dad existed, I just…Look.”

Josh dove into another fit of giggles at your struggle.

“If your dad hadn't talked to me in that one class as much as he did, he wouldn’t have left a good enough impression or given either of us a reason to catch up with each other all those years later. And when I saw him again, y’know, we’d both grown up. He was…This is probably gonna gross you out, but your dad was fucking hot when he came home—”

“Mom, language!” Josh scolded, a grin on his face.

“And he was polite, kind, funny, and impossible not to fall in love with. So, no, I didn’t really have a crush on him in school. I liked him, for sure, it had crossed my mind that he was cute, but it just wasn’t our time then.” You cringed internally (who’s time really was it at ten years old?), “But I definitely had a crush on him as a twenty-four year old adult.”

“Did that mean Dad was pretty much just, like, full-on in love with you at that point?” Josh queried, glancing between you both.

You looked at Nate, taking in his excitement at telling the story. You’d talked about it before, in hypotheticals just before you got married, about what your kids would think of the story of how you guys met. It wasn’t particularly exciting, there were no big confessions of love in the rain, or jealous exes, or miscommunications. It was simple, quiet and calm. Like turning on a light in the dark.

And it didn’t take an expert to be able to find the way that happiness seemed to pour out of Nate. He practically glowed with it. His eyes were wide and he hadn’t stopped smiling, and it was clear he’d been planning this conversation for a while: the keeping you in the dark thing was a welcome surprise, entirely shocking on your end, but you could tell he was just being honest.

“I wasn’t full-on in love with Mom at that point,” Nate squeezed your hand, “I was maybe a little bit in love, and part of that was because she was wearing a Halifax Mooseheads t-shirt when I saw her again.”

“What was the other part?” Josh quizzed, eyes a little heavier.

“That after one conversation I liked her even more than I did when we were in school, which I didn’t even think was possible.”

You rolled your eyes fondly, “Don’t listen to him–”

“What? It’s true.” Nate interjected.

Josh watched the two of you bicker for a few seconds, a slow smile on his face. It wasn’t very often that you and Nate could really show him this was what you were like, between Leyla’s nappies, Josh’s hockey, Nate’s hockey, your job, household chores – the MacKinnon household was busy. The only time all four of you seemed to be in the same room at the same time was the occasional dinner and weekend, and even then it was a rare occasion.

“You guys are just really big kids with really big crushes on each other.” Josh muttered quietly, shrugging at his realisation.

You stopped, words dying on your tongue as you took in what Josh had said. Then you looked at Nate – who seemed to be nodding without even realising it, “Yeah. Yeah, it kind of is.”

Then Josh shook his head, “So why can’t I believe what Dad says?”

“Because even after all of that, I made the first move. And said ‘I love you’ first–”

Nate guffawed from behind you, flicking your ear, “That's only because you made me nervous and I didn’t want to scare you.”

You tilted your head curiously at him, and judging from the way Nate’s eyes seemed to zip cautiously between you and Josh, you could only assume Josh was shooting him the same glance, “That’s pretty ironic considering I’m supposed to be the ‘quiet’ one.”

“You’re not that quiet, though, are you?” Nate teased affectionately–

“Is that a horny thing?” Josh scrunched up his nose, fidgeting uncomfortably and pulling a face like he wasn’t sure he wanted to hear the answer, and you tried not to smile, shaking your head.

He was getting tired, you could tell. His attention was starting to dwindle, he was blinking sleepily, and you’d caught him trying to swallow a few yawns when Nate had been storytelling.

“No.” Nate frowned, “I just meant your mom isn’t quiet when you get to know her.”

You nodded, pushing yourself up off the sofa just as Leyla’s cries started to filter through the baby monitor next to Nate. Three pairs of eyes snapped to the small screen, and Nate picked the device up, turning to you and Josh with raised brows, “I’ll go check on her.” He ruffled Josh’s hair as he walked past, and you both watched him walk up the stairs.

Then Josh turned to you, eyes clearly struggling to remain awake for much longer.

“You know we’d never do any of that…um.” You hesitated, “Horny behaviour, in front of you.”

He nodded, yawning, “I know. I don’t mind the flirting, though.”

You swallowed, a little shocked by his revelation considering how much he seemed to protest against seeing it, “You don’t?”

“No, it’s nice to know you guys still like each other.” Then he huffed a laugh, “I had no idea you and Dad went to school together.”

You shrugged, placing a hand on the back of his head and nudging him towards the stairs. He went without complaining, turning back to look at you after your silence, “Well, I had no idea your Dad had a crush on me in school, so we both learnt something new tonight.”

“Wait, you didn’t?” Josh smiled, meeting you at the top of the stairs and peeking through Leyla’s door before following you towards his room.

“Nope.” You opened the door to his bedroom, facing an old trio of hockey posters that Nate had taken from his childhood room, “He might have played the long game, but I don’t think either of us would have changed it for the world. I mean, who knows, maybe if we’d have talked more in school, we wouldn’t be here right now.”

Josh seemed to think about it as he climbed under his duvet, you choosing to lay at the foot of his bed as he made himself comfortable.

“When did you know Dad was the one?”

Your heart stuttered a little, and your words seemed to get tangled in your throat – momentarily caught off-guard by the question.

Truthfully, you weren’t aware there was a specific moment in time that made you stop and just know that Nate was the person you wanted to spend the rest of your life with. It had built up slowly as your relationship progressed; talks of the future were brought up pretty early on considering what he did for a living, and eventually it got to the point where you just knew that there wasn’t going to be a breakup or a break. That realisation had just planted itself into your head, that it was gonna end in marriage, and you couldn’t have honestly dreamt of anything or anyone more suited to you.

There was no one, and then there was Nate.

“If I had to choose, though,” you wondered aloud, eyes briefly glancing at the family photo Josh had chosen to have on his bedside table, “I’d probably say that I knew, or at least suspected that your Dad might be it, about four months into us dating. Neither of us had said ‘I love you’ at that point, because actually getting to know each other with your Dad’s schedule was pretty hectic and the timezones made it difficult, but my grandma passed away and I had to fly home from Montreal–”

“Because you were working there, right?”

You nodded, a bittersweet smile on your face, “Yeah. And I remember I left your Dad a message before one of his games, and when I landed back in Nova Scotia, there were missed calls, texts and one voicemail; I waited until I got back home to listen to it, and it said something along the lines of ‘I’m so sorry, I know how much she meant to you, blah, blah, blah, is there anything you need or something I can get your family?’ And I remember thinking, ‘What? Why would he be asking me all of that?’ And then I looked at my texts and there was information for a flight and it turned out he’d booked the earliest one he could after finishing his game.” You took a breath, slowing everything down, “I cried for most of the two days he stayed and looked after us all. By that point, we’d known each other for about a year, but we’d only been dating four months, and it was the first time he met my family and he was an absolute angel.” You swallowed, a lump forming in your throat at the memory of that period in your life.

“Did Grandma and Grandad like him?” Josh snuggled further under his duvet, stifling a yawn with his hand.

You opened your mouth, about to answer, when the bedroom door creaked open and Nate padded in through the door, flicking the overhead light off and turning the bedside lamp on as he took a seat next to you. His hand came to rest on your thigh, a welcome and reassuring squeeze, but his attention was on Josh, “I think that signals bedtime.”

You nodded in agreement, but Josh seemed to blink manically and sat up in bed, his covers falling around his torso, “But I have way more questions—”

“And you can ask them tomorrow.” You promised, running a hand through his soft hair and pressing a kiss to his forehead, “Are you okay with Aimee, though?”

He nodded, cheeks reddening as he seemed to shrink into himself again, and you smiled at his cuteness, “Love you, sleep tight.” You whispered, pulling away and letting Nate have his turn as Josh whispered them back.

You slipped out of the room, heading into Leyla’s room at the other end of the hall, tiptoeing in to peer over her crib bars. Nate had settled her again, and she was laid on her back, blonde hair a wavy mess, fists curled shut near her head. Her eyes were closed and she looked peaceful zipped up in her Bambi onesie.

It was barely ten seconds later when you heard Nate’s steps creak the floorboards, his arms caging you in against the side of the cot as his front pressed against your back. His head came to rest on your shoulder, nose nudging the side of your cheek when you turned to face him.

“I can’t believe you had a crush on me in school, and you kept it from me for more than a decade.” You smirked, raising a smug brow in his direction as he bit the inside of his cheek.

“You mad?” He checked, no real concern in his tone as he fought to conceal the amusement in his eyes.

“No. Just shocked you managed to keep your mouth shut for so long.”

He rolled his eyes, “Well, it was worth it.”

“You’re a sap sometimes, y’know.” You nudged him playfully, “But I wouldn’t change it.”

“No?” He hummed, and you shook your head in response.

You knew he heard the entire conversation with Josh – it would have been hard not to, considering Josh couldn’t whisper for shit, and Leyla’s room was directly opposite, but there wasn’t a need to talk about it immediately. It was partly because you’d talked about it before – it was something you’d both discussed in a whisper after he’d proposed – and also partly because you’d gotten to the point in your life where Nate had perfected the ability of reading you at any given point, and vice versa.

And right now, you were both pretty content.

“Leyla’s gonna come home from school one day and start talking about crushes.” You whispered, watching him closely as he scowled, glaring at you out of the corner of his eye.

It made you smile, not wanting to laugh in fear of disrupting her sleep.

“I don’t even want to think about that.”

“It’s scary, right?”

“Terrifying. She’s my baby girl, I don’t want her to grow up.” He reasoned, pressing a quick kiss on your cheek.

You were both silent for a while, watching her eyelashes flutter mid-dream, and her little fists gently clench and unclench.

“I wonder what she’ll be like.” You whispered.

You felt Nate breathe a laugh against your neck, “Hopefully not like Josh, in the nicest way possible, I don’t think my patience could take it.” He teased, eliciting you a gentle laugh.

“Josh is one of a kind.” You shook your head fondly. He could be cute most of the time, but when he loses his patience or gets too cocky (or just refuses to do the things you ask of him), he can be a little menace — something Nate struggled to get a handle on at first.

They clashed a bit.

“It’s because he’s got your smarts—”

“But your fucking audacity.” You finished.

Nate gasped, a look of sheer disbelief written on his face, “That’s not true.” He denied, shaking his head.

“Your parents were the ones that said that.”

He quietened, lips pulling down in a frown as his eyes focused on something you couldn’t see, “Really?”

You nodded, “I mean, I’m paraphrasing, they actually described Josh as a ‘smart boy but with Nate’s bold cheek.” You snickered as he pulled another face, letting go of the railings and stepping backwards for the door, “Need some time to think about it alone?” You teased.

Nate nodded, eyes wide, “I’m just gonna go get changed.”

“M’kay, love you, Beefcake.”

“That one’s not come from me!” He hissed, smiling all the while, before disappearing from sight.

#nathan mackinnon x reader #nathan mackinnon oneshot #nathan mackinnon imagine #nhl fic #nhl imagine #hockey fic #hockey imagine

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eyesthatroll · 2 months

Text

wip catalogue ! ft. qh43, lh43, jh86, nm29, tz11, jc37, dm91

author's note; hey everyone, mari here, just wanted to say thank you for 1k followers!!!!!!!!1 that's crazy, and you guys are so so amazing and cool and swag. i thought about doing a celly, (fun fact, i've never done one of those!) but i've decided to save that for next time and attempt to do a draft clean out.

i have 117 drafts, really just pages upon pages of unfinished work that i'd like to get out at some point. so, if you enjoy my writing, under the cut will be excerpts from fics/oneshots/series' that i haven't finished. if any of them of them peak your interest, please let me know by either leaving a comment, or something in my inbox. i'll try and work on the ones that have the most interest first, and then finish the others. if this doesn't make sense, or you have any questions, you can let me know in the same fashion.

dad!jt compher x fem!reader

Eamon huffs out of frustration. “She’ll already marry Sammy B. by then.”

Laughter escapes JT’s lips, “and who is Sammy B.?”

He huffs again. “He has black hair, and he sits by her in reading. Why can’t I have hair like mommy?”

“I got my hair color from my dad, your papa, just like you got yours from daddy.” You explain.

“Well, I don’t want daddy’s stupid h-hair.” Eamon’s voice waivers, and the tears that he was holding in begin to free fall. He turns into your side, clutching your shirt.

This idea randomly came to me. Eamon would probably be in either first or second grade, and has a little crush like all kids have. Said crush doesn't like his hair color, and tells him that flat out because kids are menaces and very blunt. OR. Was floating around the idea of the same concept, but perhaps a teenage girl? tween girl, maybe middle school age, and the boy she likes only likes blondes, so she asks to dye her hair blonde? But obviously that conversation would be waaaay more mature. I don't know. If you have any thoughts, feel free to let me know.

———

jack hughes x fem!reader (best friends brother/kinda enemies to lovers)

"You can put your drink on my tab." A voice says, coming up from behind you, a hand on the small of your back as he takes a seat at the barstool to your right. You smile to yourself, shaking your head before turning to him.

You quirk a brow at him, "I did that already."

He rolls his eyes at your answer, taking a sip of his own drink, some beer you'd never heard of until earlier tonight. You'd taken a sip of Luke's earlier, and about gagged at the taste. "Of course you did."

You shrug your shoulders, no shame in your game. You were at a bar with about a dozen NHL players, you'd be damned if you had to buy your own drinks. "I already told Lukey I'm not paying for anything this weekend."

The request: Hiii can I request something where reader and luke know each other from college and they’re at a party or bar and jack is visiting luke so they see each other and jack is interested in reader but she’s playing hard to get 🤭

I changed the request a bit, so it's set in this season when Luke is already with the Devils, and reader visits during that 5 game homestead. This would probably be a long one shot, and I like the idea of combining these tropes:

forbidden

best friends brother

enemies to lovers (but not insanely enemies)

(more below, but a different part than above)

He scoffs, his hand pushing into your shoulder, playfully of course. "I love this relationship that we have."

You quirk a brow, bringing your glass to your lips, finishing off the rest of your white russian. "And what relationship is that?"

"The one where you pretend you're not in love with your best friends older brother."

"I always did like Quinn." You respond, an innocent smile on your lips.

"No-"

You cut him off. "Plus, he has that whole Captain thing going on. Very sexy."

"He has a girlfriend!" He exclaims.

You shrug your shoulders, leaning in closer to face him. "That's too bad."

You're obviously joking, but Jack doesn't seem to catch on. "And, you're too young for him."

You shoot him a questioning look. "But not for you, huh?"

He slides his barstool closer to yours, the fabric of his jeans making contact with the bare skin of your knee. "Are you still dating that college fuck, what was his name.. Alan?"

Your tongue rolls over your bottom lip. "Aiden."

He nods, feigning a look of realization, while you both know that he knew his name. "Right, Aiden." He confirms. "The guy who leaves you on the side of the road at 3am."

You scoff, shaking your head. "That was one time."

Your eyes shoot to his palm, that has found a place on your thigh, his warm hand against your cold skin sending a chill throughout your body.

"I could never leave a pretty girl like you on the side of the road." He continues.

Probably going to have a lot of bickering throughout the fic, reader will be hardheaded and uncompromising on fucking up her friendship with Luke. I haven't fleshed out the personalities I want them to have yet so this is in a very rough stage. If you have any thoughts, feel free to let me know.

———

nathan mackinnon x fem!reader (5 year age gap)

“Today’s my 23rd birthday.” You say, before taking a sip of your drink, your attention to the right, where a man as struck up a conversation with you at the bar.

He takes a swig of his beer, his eyes roaming your body before they finally meet your gaze again. He looks conflicted, his brows tensed as if battling an internal war.

You weren’t stupid. You graduated college top of your class—with honors, and even if you hadn’t, it didn’t take a rocket scientist to realize that you were speaking to an older man.

The only man, to even catch a sliver of your entire, in the entire bar. You’d caught eyes with him from across the room, back when you were pushed in a booth with your friends. He looked away immediately, but you could feel his eyes on you every now and again, before you finally excused yourself from the table and went up to the bar. You wore a black slip dress, your hair cascading down your back with silver glitter hair tinsel placed throughout. You didn't bother turning to see if he would follow you, you don't chase, you attract. If he sat in the chair next to you, then he was buying you a drink. And if he didn't, then you'd move on to the next.

“Happy Birthday.” He finally said.

"What happened to your nose?" You were over the birthday formalities-having received them all night. You had questions for the man sitting next to you, starting with his bruised nose, a prominent and formidable feature dominating his face that you couldn't take your eyes off of. With him looking straight at you, you could see that it curved slightly to your right. Nothing stopped the thoughts of feeling it against your skin.

"My nose?" He questions. There's surprise in his tone of voice, like he forgot about the bruise on his nose, or surprised that you'd asked about it.

"Quite the shiner you got there." You comment again, bringing your glass to your lips again, this time finishing off the rest.

"Uh-" he pauses. There it is again with those tensed eyebrows, you wished you could gauge what he was thinking about. "Work incident."

"Damn, where do you work?" You let out a chuckle. You hadn't meant to be blunt, but you couldn't imagine what line of work would create a bruise like that.

He finishes his beer, setting it back on the counter with a light thud. "I work in..sports."

"What are you like a gym teacher?"

He laughs, for the first time since he's sat down next to you. You could tell that he had a nice smile. "Something like that."

Another fic starting in a bar. Don't know how this started, but very self indulgent as I am 22 and suffer from nate mac brainrot daily ! I have no idea for plot at all, literally nothing. I'd probably want to include smut of some sort, that seems very much where the vibe is heading, but I am absolutely terrible at writing it, so I'll have to do some research and practice writing that (if you have any tips-please let me know!!)

———

quinn hughes x fem!reader (debating on making this an oc)

Quinn and Reader (debating on making reader an OC!) are getting married in a week, and reader is still struggling to write her vows. Will probably be a long fic and include the wedding. A bit angsty, but a lot of fluff to make up for it. I'd probably give reader/oc emotionally distant parents?? Or maybe her parents are divorced? Not sure. It'll mid offseason, so we'll probably see a lot of familiar faces (j. norris, b. tkachuk, etc.)

Your frustration mounted as you released an exasperated sigh, the eraser of your pencil frantically working overtime to correct yet another line that failed to capture the right essence. You flicked away the eraser remnants with a swift motion of your palm, straightening out your legs and allowing the spiral notebook to settle in your lap. Leaning back against the arm of the couch, you closed your eyes, simultaneously opening and closing your hand in an attempt to alleviate the cramping in your fingers. A burgeoning headache threatened to take hold, and you could feel a slight discomfort in your eyes after hours of writing without the aid of your glasses.

A week, you were getting married in a week, and you still hadn't finished writing your vows. Admittedly, you had procrastinated until the last minute, but you hadn't anticipated the challenge to be this daunting. Your love for Quinn surpassed anything you had ever experienced, so why was expressing it in words proving to be such a formidable task? Frustration morphed into annoyance, and you carelessly tossed the notebook onto the modest coffee table before rising from the couch and heading towards the bathroom.

You were grateful that no one was home at the moment. Everyone had gone out for lunch, and you chose to remain behind, citing a lack of sleep the previous night as the reason for your decision to take a nap. While that wasn't entirely false – your night had indeed been restless – your true intention wasn't to catch up on sleep while the others were away. Quinn, being the caring soul he was, insisted on staying with you, but you resisted his efforts and practically ushered him out the door. That was about an hour ago, and you were keenly aware that their return was imminent.

Delving into the medicine cabinet, your fingers located the bottle of aspirin. You poured two into your palm, easily popping them into your mouth and washing them down with water from the sink. Gazing into the mirror, you couldn't help but cringe at your reflection. The extent of your fatigue hit you with full force – the bags under your eyes were darker than you had ever seen them.

Let me know your thoughts if you have any.

———

quinn hughes x fem!reader

This would probably just be a fluffy, short, domestic blurb, don't really have any other plot ideas for this.

Arriving home from work, all you wanted to do was take a shower and collapse into your bed. Tonight was an exception, with your shift extending later than usual, around 10:30, instead of your customary 9. Combine that with your regular hour-long commute, and it's almost midnight by the time you finally get home. Silently navigating through the dark and quiet house, it appears that your boyfriend is already asleep. However, as you step into your shared bedroom, you find him slumped against the headboard, eyes fixed on his iPad, headphones in.

The soft glow from the screen casts a muted ambiance in the room, the only sound being the distant hum of the city outside. Your initial fatigue gives way to a subtle pang of guilt, realizing he stayed up to wait for you, something he quite often did when he was home, even though you insisted he not.

He doesn't notice you, until you've crossed over to your dresser to grab your nightclothes before your shower, slightly jumping before dropping his iPad and taking out his headphones. "Hey, you're finally home." He comments, climbing out of his previous spot on the bed to sit at the edge of the bed, his legs hanging off the edge.

You yawn, turning around to face him. "Don't you have to be up early tomorrow?" You question. He pats his thighs, gesturing for you step over to him.

Leaving your clothes to rest on the dresser, you walk over to him. Quinn widens his legs so you can step in between them. Wordlessly, his fingers trail up your waist, to your chest, beginning to undo the buttons of your white lab coat. He slides the fabric off your shoulders, leaving only the black satin blouse you'd been wearing underneath.

He pulls gently at your collar, drawing your lips to his softly. His hands drop to your waist, gripping at your sides to guide you on top of him until you're straddling him.

"Are you okay, Quinn?" you ask, breaking apart from the kiss, just enough for your foreheads to remain pressed against each other.

"Just missed you." he mumbles, pulling you into a hug, his head finding a comfortable spot in the crook of your neck.

Let me know your thoughts if you have any.

———

jack hughes x fem!reader

Toxicity, angst, angry sex, maybe second chance love, idk.

"Where have you been?" Jack's inquiry slices through the air, surprising you as you step quietly through the front door. Your boyfriend, still awake and perched on the couch, rises to his feet the moment the door closes, arms crossed at his chest, a sour expression gracing his features. Your brows furrow in confusion as you lift one foot behind you, placing your hand on the wall for balance while attempting to undo your heel.

"What?" His question catches you off guard, especially because you had left him multiple messages earlier, clearly communicating your plans for the night—messages that went unanswered, leaving you on read once again. He sighs, a mix of frustration and concern, and crosses over to you, bending down. Without a word, he grabs your knee, gently pulling your heel-clad foot to rest on your knee, his hands deftly moving to undo the straps. He repeats the same with the other foot, before releasing you of his hold.

"I don't like you being out this late," he says, the firmness in his voice evident as he pushes himself up from his feet. Suddenly, he's towering over you, and you angle your neck to look up at him, annoyance etching your face.

"Sorry, Dad, didn't realize I had a curfew," you slur with a wry smile, a hint of laughter punctuating the absurdity of his concern. With a last dismissive glance, you shake your head and push past him, your shoulder bumping into his side as you ascend the stairs to the bedroom.

Let me know your thoughts if you have any.

———

quinn hughes x fem!reader

Quinn shows the reader that she can enjoy her birthday when the two of them spend it together for the first time. Would be super fluffy, reader will be written to have two dads, though I might make it an OC instead.

Quinn's persistent nuzzling against your shoulder blade disrupts your peaceful slumber. With a groan, you bury your head deeper into the pillow, yearning to cling to a few more precious moments of sleep before the demands of the day pull you from its embrace. Gradually, he initiates a series of tender kisses, commencing at your collarbone and concluding at that delightful spot just beneath your neck. "Happy Birthday, Angel," Quinn murmurs, his warm breath brushing against your skin.

Gently parting your eyelids, you shift on your other side to meet his gaze. His eyes are already fixed on you, brimming with adoration, as his teeth graze at his bottom lip. The morning sunlight filters through the blinds, casting a warm glow that accentuates just how gorgeous he truly is. Even in the early hours, with disheveled hair and faint remnants of drool, he remains undeniably handsome in every retrospect.

"Thank you," you express your gratitude softly, a subtle shyness tinting your voice.

Birthdays, even as a child, never held much appeal for you. The discomfort of being the focal point, the recipient of attention, has remained a constant, and birthdays, with their inevitable spotlight, are something you've always actively avoided. Yet, here you are, facing a birthday that feels different, primarily because Quinn is here to share it with you. This marks the first birthday you're spending with him in the span of your three year relationship, and it's a welcomed departure from the usual routine. It's a rarity, considering his demanding schedule that seldom grants him time off, but you know it's because he'll be leaving for a four game road-trip on Monday.

Reaching over, his hand envelops yours, fingers applying deliberate pressure that prompts a satisfying crack from your knuckles. It's a peculiar habit he picked up from you, a subtle exchange of quirks that began when you surprised him with it initially. "I have a special day planned for you," he announces, punctuating his words with a tender kiss pressed into the center of your palm.

"You know I don't want a fuss, Quinn," you mumble, weariness etched across your features.

He senses your reluctance and responds swiftly, his touch gentle as he brushes a strand of hair away from your eyes. "Not too much," he reassures, his words soothing against your worries. "Just want to celebrate you, Angel, on your day." Drawing nearer, he shifts, propping himself up on his right arm as he hovers over you. "Will you let me?" He wets his bottom lip, anticipation palpable as he awaits your response.

A small, close-lipped smile graces your lips as you reach up, your fingers delicately tracing over the overgrown scruff that lines his face. "Of course I will." A wide grin spreads across his face in response to your words, and he leans in, morning breath be damned, as your lips meet in a soft, synchronized dance.

He breaks apart, planting a kiss on your nose, before carefully stepping over you to get out of bed. "You get ready, I'll make breakfast."

Let me know your thoughts if you have any.

———

luke hughes x fem!reader (but not really)

This is part two to Nobody's Love. I finished it, but I absolutely hate it, and will basically be starting over from square one. Below is where we would've left off, but when I finish this properly, it won't start with this dialogue, it will probably open within a flashback, and this part will be later in the story (if that makes sense).

"What's going on here?" Your blood runs cold at the sound of his voice, and you immediately break away from Jack, moving with an urgency as if you'd been caught doing something forbidden. Frantically, your hands move to wipe away the lingering traces of tears that you'd shed just moments ago. But your efforts to disguise your emotions prove futile as Luke's keen eyes detect the remnants of your sorrow, and his face contorts into a mix of confusion and well-intended concern.

"Why is she crying? What did you do to her?" Luke's voice brims with accusation, his words directed at his brother.. He takes a step forward, his intent to comfort you clear in his movement. You instinctively shuffle backwards, creating a protective distance, your arms loosely crossing over your chest.

Jack scoffs, disbelief etched across his features. "I didn't do anything," he retorts, his tone dripping with emphasis on the word 'I,' subtly implying that Luke is the source of your distress.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Luke's words slice through the air, laced with an unmistakable edge. His face tinges with a reddish hue as his gaze drills into Jack.

Again, would love to give you a bigger excerpt, but I hate everything else of what I've written LMAO. Let me know your thoughts if you have any.

———

quinn hughes x darcy sorokin (black fem!oc)

Basically a quinn x single mom au. May rewrite this entire thing. Also, started this months ago and loved the name Sunny for the kid (Sunny Sorokin) (no relation to the hockey player) but now I kind of hate it :)

Quinn became utterly enamored with her the moment his gaze met hers in the diner. She was a delightful surprise, replacing his usual waiter, Johnny, to collect his order. Her dark skin seemed to radiate a subtle glow under the dim diner lights, and her curly hair was artfully gathered in a loose bun resting at the back of her neck, adorned with a floral bandana draped over it. When she smiled, her dimples and the slight gap between her front teeth only added to her charm, leaving Quinn captivated and unable to shake thoughts of her for days.

Quinn stumbled upon Alma’s, the quaint diner, during his rookie year in Vancouver. Its unassuming atmosphere, a hidden gem tucked away, immediately resonated with him, providing a sense of ease. Combine that with the staff’s familial treatment, and he easily became a regular patron. Now, however, his visits weren’t just about unwinding and savoring a meal; he hoped to encounter the beautiful waitress he had learned was named Darcy (not through inquiry, but thanks to her name tag — he was too anxious to ask). Quinn relished any excuse to come to the diner, whether to be served by Darcy or simply steal glances at her when she wasn’t looking.

Quinn’s attempts to discreetly observe Darcy didn’t go unnoticed. She could sense the weight of his gaze, subtly tracking her movements around the diner. Intrigued and slightly puzzled by his behavior, Darcy decided to approach her co-worker, Johnny, to inquire about this regular customer. Johnny, with his wealth of experience at the diner, shared that Quinn was a nice guy who had been a faithful patron for years. He detailed Quinn’s routine of ordering the same breakfast every morning—soft scrambled eggs on wheat—followed by prolonged disappearances, especially during the summer months. Armed with this newfound knowledge, Darcy’s curiosity about the handsome and somewhat mysterious customer deepened.

Darcy couldn’t deny the undeniable attractiveness of the man. His chestnut brown hair, steadily growing out since their first encounter, months ago, often required his attention as he habitually moved it out of his line of sight. His eyes, a deep brown that occasionally hinted at hazel in the early morning light. The way his teeth grazed over his bottom lip during conversation, though she was unsure if it was born out of nervousness or mere habit. Following the tumultuous chapter with her ex-boyfriend, after nearly five years, another man had finally found a place in her thoughts.

She harbored these thoughts secretly, keeping them locked away from anyone but herself. With her son, Sunny, now five years old, she couldn’t afford to be hasty. Sunny, more aware of his surroundings, comprehended things with greater clarity. She had already delicately explained the departure of his father, her ex-boyfriend, wanting to shield him from the unnecessary pain of the wondering, not knowing. And despite yearnings for companionship, she held the burden of guilt for Sunny’s lack of a father figure, and understood the importance of not rushing into a relationship that wasn’t genuine. Both she and Sunny deserved better, and she was determined to prioritize their well-being.

Let me know if you have any thoughts.

———

quinn hughes x fem!reader

Quinn and Reader go to their favorite diner late after a game. Probably lots of fluff, reminiscing. Possibly out of character Quinn, not too sure if he'd be into pda in front of the wags LOL.

Hovering in the distant corner, your fingers nervously toyed with the security pass draped around your neck, its edge resting just above the waistline of your jeans. A cluster of other wives and girlfriends lingered in the same vicinity, engaged in casual banter among themselves. You offered polite smiles, but there was no effort on their part to include you, nor did you make any overtures to join their conversation.

At last, you caught sight of a familiar mop of brown hair making its way down the hallway. The impulse to sprint towards him, leap into his arms, and plant an immediate kiss on his lips surged within you. However, with watchful eyes fixed on you, you opted for a more restrained approach, contenting yourself with a gentle caress of your hand against his right bicep. "Great game, Quinn."

A puzzled expression settles on his face, seemingly oblivious to the attention directed your way, or perhaps indifferent to it. His calloused hands find their place on your waist, guiding you closer as he dips his head low to meet your lips. Your fingers intertwine around his neck, and as his towering figure elevates you slightly off the ground, he murmurs, "Thank you, baby."

An orchestra of 'awws' surrounds you, a symphony of approval that bathes your cheeks in warmth. Quinn, charmed by your bashful response, lets out a chuckle, drawing you back into the protective embrace of his side. As he ushers both of you towards the back door, he bids the women farewell with a casual, "Goodnight, ladies," leaving the echo of their admiration suspended in the air.

"Goodbye, Quinn!" Their voices lingered with a touch of wistful admiration. You couldn't help but notice the collective enchantment Quinn seemed to cast on them. It wasn't entirely surprising—your boyfriend possessed a magnetic blend of boyish charm and dorky allure that had a way of rendering anyone weak in the knees. Since being crowned captain and amassing a string of victories, his newfound confidence only added to his undeniable sex appeal.

The night air nips at the exposed skin, coaxing you to cling closer to Quinn's comforting frame. As you approach the car, the two of you reluctantly break apart. "Do you want me to drive?" Quinn shakes his head with an easy smile, planting a tender kiss on your forehead before courteously opening the passenger side door for you.

You smoothly slide into the car, and Quinn secures the door behind you. With a jog to the driver's side, he swiftly settles into the seat, key in the ignition. Your hand instinctively reaches for the heat controls, but Quinn, ever attentive, beats you to it. After ensuring your seatbelt is on, he rests his hand on your thigh, the warmth of his touch contrasting the cool night air as he skillfully navigates out of the once bustling parking garage.

"Eddie's?" His voice dances just above the soft melody of the radio in the background. Tilting your head to the left, you catch his gaze for a fleeting moment before his focus returns to the road.

"Okay" You nod absentmindedly, a yawn escaping your lips as you lean your head against the window of the car.

He peers at you once more, skepticism lingering in his gaze. "Are you sure? We can just call it a night and head home if you're tired."

Your hand descends onto his, offering a reassuring squeeze. Fatigue clings to you, but the knowledge that he's hungry and wouldn't eat if you went home propels you forward. "I want to go out with you, Quinn."

A grin overtakes his lips, and he brings your hand up to his mouth, peppering a kiss against your palm.

Let me know your thoughts if you have any.

———

dawson mercer x juniper hughes (fem!oc) (luke's twin)

Remember last halloween when I floated around the idea of dawson x hughes sister. I started it, barely a sliver into the universe. I also know very little about dawson other than I think he's an absolute cutie pie, so I'll have to do some research for this series for sure. Will deal with heavy topics such as alcoholism, addiction, etc, so if that is triggering for you, this may not be the series for you, please take care of yourself, love you.

Juniper Hughes was no stranger to the judgmental eyes. They seemed to trail her everywhere she went, the invisible weight of societal expectations bearing down on her, reminding her both of who her family was and who she wasn't. While her brothers excelled as perfect, professional athletes, following in her parents' footsteps, she had been on a different journey—one of recovery from alcoholism after her expulsion from school due to underage drinking.

Twelve long years of arduous study, relentless commitment to extracurricular activities, unending string of tests, and the suffocating pressure of expectations—Juniper endured it all. Only one fateful night was enough to strip away everything she'd worked for. In the blink of an eye, her scholarship to Brown University was lost, her only friend torn from her, and her dignity shattered into pieces. The ruthless media, once her cheerleaders, rapidly transformed into her tormentors, subjecting her to a public shaming campaign for her mistakes, constantly drawing odious comparisons with her accomplished brothers. The intrusive question hung heavily in the air, echoing endlessly: where had her parents gone wrong with her?

Why was she so deeply flawed while her brothers seemed to glide through life unburdened? Why couldn't she manage a regular relationship-whether it was with alcohol, food, or people, but they could? Juniper's life had always been marked by relentless effort, a result of sheer necessity. Unlike her brothers, nothing seemed to come naturally to her—school, sports, it all required double the hard work just to lag two steps behind them. Alcohol served as her escape, a means to shed the heavy cloak of perfectionism that enveloped her. It provided release, a fleeting respite from her self-imposed pressures. Juniper enjoyed the person she became when she drank, but the mornings after, the ensuing guilt and repercussions, they ruined her.

"Cleaned out the guest bedroom for you, Twinny," Luke's voice is gentle as he opens the bedroom door, ushering you inside. Juniper offers him a nod, accompanied by a faint smile, and steps into the room. It's devoid of any distinctive character, featuring only four white walls, a simple bed, and a closet. As she walks around, she can't help but grimace, the stark emptiness of the room triggering memories of your time in the rehab center.

Juniper gracefully lowers herself onto the edge of the bed, her fingers delicately tracing the intricate designs on the black and white duvet. Luke and Jack linger in the doorway, observing her with wordless, almost reverent gazes, as if any sound might shatter the fragile stillness of the room. She clears her throat, then turns her gaze toward her brothers. "Thanks."

While this fic will deal with heavy topics, I don't want this entire series to be super depressing, so I'll try and add equal amounts fluff!!

———

jack hughes x fem!reader

Part of the Bless the Broken Road series. Jack gets the kids up and takes them to school for the first time without readers help. Super fluffy. Might completely rewrite it, though.

"Hey, wake up." Y/N shakes Jack awake, her hand pressing into his shoulder as she takes a seat on the edge of the bed next to him.

Jack groans, stirring in his sleep, his eyes squinting open to meet her chocolate brown gaze.

"Remember, school starts at 8, kids need to be up by 7, and you need to be out the door no later than 7:45."

Y/N leaned down to plant a tender kiss on his forehead before straightening up. With grace, she retrieved her phone from the dresser and picked up her coat hanging from the back of the door. "Yeah, I know, I got it, baby," he dismissed, though when Y/N glanced back at him, his eyelids had drooped shut once more.

She flicks his cheek. "Don't fall back asleep!"

She was well aware of Jack's exhaustion, considering he had a late game last night that went into overtime. However, she had a scheduled meeting with a contractor at the bakery early in the morning, which meant Jack had to shoulder the responsibility of taking the twins to school.

Smacking her finger away, he forced his eyes open once more and sat up, leaning against the headboard. "I'm up." He rasps, "now go before you're late."

She gives him a knowing look, shaking her head. "Call me if you need anything."

"We'll be fine." He assures.

Things were definitely not fine. Jack couldn't pinpoint when or how it happened, but at some indeterminate moment, he'd drifted back into sleep, only to be roused by a gentle poking on his forehead and a soft voice by his side. He blinked his eyes open, finding his youngest son, Adler, right in front of him, his lips curved into a pout.

"Where's mommy?" Adler asks.

Jack's eyes shoot wide open, and he promptly sits up, his gaze fixed on the alarm clock perched atop the dresser, which displayed the time as 7:36. With a swift hand running through his tousled brown hair, he mutters a curse under his breath. Adler instinctively takes a step back as Jack moves abruptly, his tiny hands fidgeting nervously, forming knots of unease in front of him.

Exhaling a deep breath, Jack pushed off the covers, swinging his feet to the right side of the bed. He gently grasps Adler's shoulders, using one hand to push stray curls out of his eye line, his voice soft and reassuring. "Mommy had to go to work early today,"

Adler nods. "So no school today?"

Jack shakes his head. "I'm gonna take you. Will you wake up your brother for me, please?"

He nods, and Jack breaks into a grin, pulling Adler into a tight hug. With a gentle lift, Jack stands up, eliciting gleeful giggles from Adler as he spins them around in a circle. The sound of the child's laughter fills the quiet stillness of the house, prompting laughter of Jack's own. Setting Adler back down, the boy immediately dashes off, sprinting back to his bedroom.

———

Let me know your thoughts if you have any.

jack hughes x fem!reader (ex-situationship to lovers??)

Months ago, when Jack had insisted that you attend your first hockey game when the season started, he had presented you with one of his jerseys. It had ended up tucked away in the back of your closet, gathering dust and fading into oblivion. In fact, you'd nearly forgotten about it altogether. However, the morning after your conversation with Luke, a sudden thought about what to wear to the game had crossed your mind. You were certain of one thing: you had no intention of donning Jack's jersey. You did briefly consider asking Luke for one, but that would have been counterproductive since he shared the same last name as him. Instead, you were determined to indulge in a little pettiness.

On that particular day, you impulsively ordered a Red Wings jersey from eBay. It happened to be Moritz Seider's jersey, though you didn't really know much about him, or whether he was still actively playing or not. Frankly, you didn't care. You had no intention of cheering for the Red Wings, you simply saw the purchase as a final "fuck you" to Jack Hughes.

Reader and Jack "breakup" and so she wears a different jersey to a game to spite him. Jack gets jealous, yada yada you can probably guess the vibes.

———

trevor zegras x fem!reader (bookstore owner)

Trevor comes into readers bookshop a couple times a week, begging to take her out on a date. Might turn into a 3 times he asked and the 1 time she said yes type thing. Not sure!

"Go on a date with me." Your gaze transitions from the non-fiction books that you were presently shelving to the tall blonde on your right. He regards you with eager anticipation, awaiting your response, although it seems to be no different from all the previous rejections you've given him.

"Don't you have anything more productive to do than pester me while I'm trying to work?" Your voice carries a tinge of irritation as you descend from the small stepladder.

He offers a nonchalant shrug, feigning innocence with an expression of mock sincerity. "Just one date."

You push your way past him, making contact with his side as you stride back toward the front desk. He tails you, mirroring your movements like a lost puppy, eventually leaning his elbows casually on the tall counter, opposite to where you take a seat behind it.

"Why must you deny this obvious chemistry?" He's teasing, his face leaning on his hand as he looks intently at you. You let out a huff of laughter, settling into the spinny chair.

"Does rejection get you off or something?"

Let me know your thoughts if you have any.

———

luke hughes x fem!reader

Reader broke up with Luke months ago, and doesn't expect to see him again, but she does, and he wants answers. Angsty, but will probably have a happy ending.

You tried your best to move on from him, putting in every ounce of effort you could to try and forget him. You threw yourself into your work, deliberately steered clear of the songs that held his memory, and even canceled your ESPN Plus subscription to shield yourself from the overpowering sadness that welled up whenever you saw him on the ice.

You weren't angry with him; anger had no place in your heart. After all, you were the one who had made the difficult decision to end things with him. You had asked him to leave your apartment as he struggled through sobs, his voice filled with desperation, seeking answers about what had led to the dissolution of your relationship. And despite the tears brimming in your own eyes, you didn't break down, standing your ground as he tried to challenge your conclusion.

Your sadness clung to you like a relentless shadow, casting a long and persistent gloom over your life for months. The vibrant and extroverted girl you once were seemed like a distant memory as you found solace in the confines of your home. Days passed in mechanical, robotic-like motions, each one blending into the next in a monotonous blur. Even the cheerful banter and laughter of your co-workers, which once provided a semblance of happiness, now felt like distant echoes in the cavernous emptiness of your heart. And nights were spent curled up on the couch, lost in the embrace of comforting films from your childhood, each frame a desperate attempt to escape the crushing loneliness that had become your all-encompassing reality.

You were aware it wasn't healthy, and though that knowledge weighed on you like a heavy anchor, you made no effort to climb up to the surface for air. The relentless ache in your chest, filled with sorrow and regret over losing the boy you had loved so deeply, was like a suffocating fog, clouding your vision at every turn. You couldn't go anywhere without being haunted by phantom images of him, his presence lingering like a stubborn ghost in the back of your mind.

It only got worse in the weeks leading up to the Devils vs. Red Wings game. You were aware that he would be in town, and that knowledge sent you spiraling into self-pity and uncertainty. You had deliberately steered clear of any rumors about his dating life, but your mind couldn't help but obsessively wonder whether he still missed you. Whether he mourned the loss of your relationship, or had moved on to someone better – a fear that had haunted you ever since he moved to Jersey even before the breakup.

It's a rainy Tuesday night, and you impassively make your way to Walmart with one single purpose in mind: to purchase alcohol and junk food. Your plan was simple – to watch the game and numb your sorrows with alcohol. You were fully aware of how pathetic it might seem, but at that moment, you simply don't care.

You stretch up onto your tiptoes, straining to reach a tall bottle of merlot perched on the top shelf, your shopping basket hanging from the crook of your elbow. In your haste to secure your wine, a sudden, sharp pain pierces your sternum. Your grip falters, and the basket slips from your grasp, clattering to the floor with an ear-splitting thud. One hand flies to your chest, your fingers resting on your heartbeat that pounded wildly against the thin fabric of your shirt. Disoriented, you stumble backward, the voice of a concerned stranger echoing in the distance as your vision blurs and darkness encroaches.

Let me know if you have any thoughts.

———

jack hughes x fem!reader

Jack spends the night at Readers apartment for the first time, and asks her to move in with him. Probably would be a short blurb, maybe 1k-1.5k words and under.

"You live in this building?" Jack inquires, his gaze sweeping over the aging building, a typical five-story apartment complex in dire need of renovation. You nod at him, shutting the passenger-side door as you step out.

"Is this area safe?" He inquires, his eyes lingering hesitantly on the parking lot.

You were roughly forty minutes from Jack's neighborhood, and while this area was a bit rundown and perhaps less safe, you thankfully had never encountered any issues.

"Uh, yeah," you respond, taking Jack's hand and leading him toward the entrance. After a moment of rummaging in your bag, you locate the key to the building, insert it into the lock, and swing the door open. Jack grabs the door, gesturing for you to enter first.

Your building lacked an elevator, so you faced a long climb to the fifth floor, where apartment 48B awaited.

As you unlocked the door, you visually cringed at the chaotic scene that greeted you. Clothes strewn haphazardly across the floor, dishes forming a precarious tower in the sink. You hadn't had a chance to tidy up before Jack insisted on spending the weekend in your modest abode. And although you hesitated, knowing your apartment was far from perfect, you couldn't resist any longer. You two had been dating for about a month, and he had yet to see where you lived. He'd casually mentioned it a few times, so you knew it was time to swallow your pride and invite him over.

"Sorry bout' the mess." You apologize, nearly tripping over yourself to grab a pile of clothes off the floor.

Jack runs his hand across the wall to his right, his fingers tracing the scattered nail gun holes. "What the hell happened to the wall?" he asks, furrowing his brows in concern.

You pause in your cleaning, turning to face him. "Oh, the neighbors like to get drunk and play with their nail gun. Don't stand too close." you warn, shaking your head.

———

quinn hughes x pharmacist!femreader

Nothing started for this, but my time working in a retail pharmacy has me obsessed with writing this pairing. Might make her an OC, though. I love the idea of a badass working woman who doesn't put her life on hold just because she's married to a hockey player.

———

If you're wondering about the status of Never Have I Ever, I'm gonna be honest, I may discontinue that 🫣. Sorry! I just have no motivation to write out that storyline now, but maybe sometime in the future I will.

author's note part two: Obviously this isn't all of my wips, only some, and most haven't been edited at all and a very rough drafts, but I wanted to give you a glimpse of what I have sitting in my drafts. I also have a lot of things in my inbox that I want to get written, but I have been slacking (clearly). I also wanna do some song fics because I've never done one and think that could be cool. Again, if you have any thoughts, don't hesitate to let me know.

#quinn hughes imagine #jack hughes imagine #luke hughes imagine #dawson mercer imagine #jt compher imagine #nathan mackinnon imagine #trevor zegras imagine

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hockeylvr59 · 1 year

Text

I Got You || Nathan Mackinnon

Authors Note: This is my entry for @antoineroussel‘s winter fic exchange 2k23. I wrote for @raysofcrosby who requested an OC fic and left most things open to my creative process after we agreed that it would be Nate. This was a concept that I dug out of my ‘someday I’ll write’ pile and I’m so glad I did. Song inspiration is I got you by Leona Lewis but the overall concept comes from season 8 of SYTYCD with Marko and Melanie’s lyrical hip hop (linked under the tag 047 on my page). This one got a little away from me and even changed a bit as I was writing it but I really hope you enjoy it.

Warnings: angst, minor cursing // Word Count: 4,747 + song lyrics

~~~~~~~

A place to crash

I got you

No need to ask

I got you

Just get on the phone

I got you

Come and pick you up if I have to

Emily Bowers learned one thing a long time ago. She would do anything for Nathan MacKinnon. And she was fairly confident that he knew it. Their meeting had felt inconsequential at the time and yet somehow they’d managed to become friends.

But friends were all they’d ever be because when they’d met he’d already had a serious girlfriend. Alexandra was fine, Emily had met her and had absolutely nothing against her, she was easy to like. She seemingly adored Nate and put up with him even when he was being difficult, often providing Emily the chance to be the one to call him out and tell him when he was seriously being a moron. And Nate adored Alexandra. Emily could only hope one day to find someone who looked at her like that.

Of course the couple had their fights like all couples do, but lately those fights seemed to be occurring more frequently and didn’t blow over as easily.

So when Nate called her around 2am one night Emily already knew what had happened before she picked up the phone.

“Hey Em…” He mumbled, “Sorry for calling so late…”

Before he could even finish she was replying with a sigh.

“Where are you? The airport?”

Nate’s soft ‘yeah’ filled her ears and though Emily was worried, she didn’t hesitate, staying on the phone with him as he grumbled softly about how cold it was while she threw on sweats, a hoodie, and boots and grabbed her wallet and keys to head to her car.

Following Nate’s directions to the private charter side of the airport, it wasn’t long before she pulled onto the empty lot where Nate was standing talking quietly to someone who appeared to be part of security. Unlocking her doors, Nate approached her vehicle and opened the backdoor, tossing his bag inside before opening the passenger door and folding himself into the seat.

“Hey.” He whispered gruffly and tiredly. “You’re the best.”

“And don’t you forget it.” She couldn’t help but tease softly, feeling proud when that drew the slightest smile onto Nate’s face. “I take it you want my couch?”

Nate’s nod as he turned to lean against the window answered her question and so Emily drove home with her unexpected overnight guest. She didn’t need to know what had happened to know that this had been a rough fight but like always she was sure that after a night of space (though she could never understand how they needed more space after Nate had just been on the road) things would settle.

Arriving home, Emily pulled out extra pillows and blankets from a closet and as she sat them beside where he was sitting on the couch he reached for her hand, his palm warm against her own.

“Thanks Em.”

“I got you. You know that.”

What's weird about it

Is we're right at the end

And mad about it

Just figured it out in my head

I'm proud to say

I got you

Go ahead and say goodbye

I'll be alright

Go ahead and make me cry

I'll be alright

Emily knew that Nate was planning on marrying Alexandra. After all, he’d been sending her pictures of rings for the past two months soliciting her opinion on what she thought Alex would like since she was a girl and all. Still, knowing it was coming didn’t make it sting any less when her phone dinged with a photo of Nate kissing Alex as she showed off that brand new extravagant engagement ring Emily knew Nate had spent a small fortune on.

I’m so happy for you. Enjoy the moment.

Though she sent the words, Emily knew the meaning behind them was hollow if not a lie and she couldn’t help but wonder if Nate did too somewhere deep down.

It wasn’t that she didn’t want to be happy for him, because she did, he deserved to be happy. It was just that in a way, that picture signaled a further shift in their friendship, one that she wasn’t sure was sustainable looking forward.

After all, do friends ever last long when one has their heart broken by the other?

Grateful that she was at least at home alone and not out in public, Emily pulled her knees to her chest and sobbed softly letting the past three years of emotions finally wash over her after being bottled and shoved deep down for so long.

It wasn’t fair for her to feel like this. She knew that. She knew that Nate had done nothing but stay within the boundaries that had been set back when they first met. This wasn’t his fault.

It had been her fault that she’d fallen a little bit in love with him knowing that those feelings would never be returned. It was her fault that she continued to let him use her as an emotional backstop when things had gotten hard in his relationship. It was her fault for hoping that someday maybe things would be different. It was her fault for wanting more than he could ever offer.

But knowing it was her fault and not his didn’t make it hurt any less.

So today, today she’d let herself cry and mourn what was never to be. And tomorrow, tomorrow she would get up, rebury all of those feelings, and support Nate through the craziness of wedding planning with his bride to be.

And it might not happen quickly but someday, someday she’d be alright.

And when you need a place to run to

For better for worse

I got you

Ain't falling apart, or bitter

Let's be bigger than that and remember

The cooling outdoor when you're all alone

We'll go on surviving

No drama, no need for a show

The sun was shining, it was warm but not overly hot, it was a perfect day for a wedding. Entering the church that Alexandra had picked, Emily felt a swirl of emotions. Today was the day that Nate would officially be married. Dipping off towards the groom’s room, Emily knocked on the door before smiling as Gabe opened it, waving her into the room.

“He’s a little anxious. Maybe seeing you will settle him down.” Gabe whispered, motioning to where Nate was standing looking out a window, the tension visible in his body. Nodding, Emily moved across the room toward her best friend. When Nate noticed her he opened his arms and Emily stepped into them wrapping her arms around him in a hug.

“Big day.” She whispered. “And it’s beautiful out, which is perfect.”

“Yeah.” Nate agreed, squeezing her tight. “You look pretty.”

“Thanks.” Though she knew it was just an offhanded polite comment, Emily banked it in her mind nonetheless. “You look dapper, and you’re still sober, which I suppose are both good signs.” She could feel him roll his eyes at her even without looking up at him and after a moment he pulled away ruffling his hair until she had to reach up and fix it.

“I should go get to my seat but I just wanted to check in first.” She added. “Next time I see you, you’ll be a married man.” There was a twinkle of excitement in Nate’s eyes but also an undercurrent of nerves which she assumed were only to be expected at this point.

***

It wasn’t long after she settled into her seat that Nate and his groomsmen appeared at the front of the church for the ceremony to begin. As he stood there, Emily could see how uncomfortable he was at the venue and she bit her lip remembering how contentious that decision had been. She hoped Alex was happy to have gotten her way.

Emily had figured that it would only be a few minutes after Nate took his place before the bridesmaids would start filtering down the aisle followed by Alex. But she couldn’t help but peek at her phone in her purse noting that the wedding was supposed to have started already. Seeing Nate fidget, Emily quickly slipped out of her seat and out the back of the church going in search of the missing bride. Instead, she found the bridal room completely empty. There was scattered trash signaling that people had been here but there were no people and no bags of personal belongings. Stepping further into the room Emily saw a ring box sitting on a table with a note tucked under it and keys beside it.

Peeking at the ring box revealed Emily’s worst fear as it contained the ring that had been on Alex’s hand for the last year. She had left. Just up and left him standing at the end of the aisle. Grabbing the items, Emily raced back to the side entrance of the church the groomsmen had come through. Once there she cracked the door open trying not to draw the attention of the entire guest list.

“Gabe.” She whispered quietly drawing the groomsman’s attention. “You gotta get him out of there.”

Seeing the panic on her face, Gabe nodded and announced that there must be a dress mishap or something and that they’d be right back.

Leading the group out of the church Gabe mouthed to her asking what was going on and Emily glanced around before mouthing back ‘she left’. With wide eyes, Gabe looked at Nate who was completely befuddled but still relatively calm as he followed the rest of the groomsmen back to the room.

“She left?!” Gabe whisper yelled, his face turning angry.

“Left her engagement ring, house keys, and a note.” Emily whispered, waving the items in her hand. “It’s not our place to read the note but considering there is literally no one and nothing else over there I think it’s safe to say she’s gone.”

“Fuck that.” Gabe murmured, snatching the note and unfolding the simple piece of paper. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me. This wasn’t what she expected, my ass.” He continued, rubbing at his face before handing the note back. “Fuck. What’s the plan?”

Swallowing hard, Emily rubbed her sweaty palms on her dress. This was not how today was supposed to go and while a part of her thought maybe she’d be relieved, she wasn’t. Nate didn’t deserve this.

“Get him out of here. I don’t care where you take him so long as it isn’t here or home. Get him drunk if need be.” Emily started. “And turn his phone off.”

“I’ll take care of that I guess.” She continued, tipping her head toward the still full church. “And then I’ll go pack up all of her things at the house, he’s not going to want to see that. And I’ll text you when that’s done.”

After ensuring that she had his cell number and he had hers, Gabe disappeared into the groom’s room upon her direction to just hurry and get Nate out of there.

Emily knew that Nate was going to be confused and hurt and she hated that but all she could think about right now was doing as much damage control as possible. With Gabe texting her that Nate was reluctantly out of the building, Emily took a deep breath and stepped back through the church’s doors.

“May I have everyone’s attention?” She said with as loud and strong of a voice as she could. “I know Nate and Alex appreciate everyone coming today. However I regretfully inform you that the bride has decided there will not be a wedding today.” Gasps went up throughout the church and she let her eyes meet those of Alex’s family who seemed just as surprised by that news as everyone else.

“I cannot speak any further on behalf of the bride, but Nate requests that everyone please give him the time and space to process these developments. He also requests that you please feel free to proceed to the reception venue as the food and drink has already been paid for. Again thank you all for coming.”

Stepping down from the front of the church, Emily took a few deep breaths trying to calm and focus herself. A moment later Nate’s parents and sister raced through the doors she had just exited and she approached them with a sad smile.

“He’s with Gabe and the groomsmen. I told them to take him anywhere that wasn’t here and feel free to get him drunk.” She murmured softly. “I’m going to head over to the house now and pack up all of her things.”

“What the hell happened?” His mom Kathy questioned, already close to breaking down herself.

“I didn’t read the note because it’s not my place but Gabe did and murmured something about ‘this not being what she expected.’ So I don’t know.”

After talking between themselves for a moment, Graham murmured that he was going to text Gabe about where they’d gone and Kathy asked if she could come to the house. Nodding because a second pair of hands would make things go faster, Emily asked Sarah if she could go pick up some boxes and packing tape and bring them to the house.

****

It was dark by the time everything that screamed Alex in Nate’s house had been packed up and loaded into Sarah’s rental car to take over to a storage unit for Alex to pick up whenever she was ready.

With Sarah and Kathy gone, Emily moved to change Nate’s sheets after texting Gabe that if Nate wanted to come home he could. With Gabe replying that they were on their way only a few minutes later, Emily sent a thumbs up and settled down at the island with a bottle of water, again breathing deeply to keep all the bubbling emotions under control.

Though Nate was drunk when he walked through the door, he wasn’t quite as drunk as Emily had been expecting. Still, Gabe urged him up to bed and as he did so, she got water and pain meds ready to be at his bedside when he awoke. Heading upstairs, Emily watched as Gabe settled Nate into bed and frowned as mumbles of ‘I don’t understand why she did this?’ filled the room.

“No one does.” Gabe murmured back softly. “But get some sleep man you’ve had a hell of a day.”

With Nate seemingly on his way to sleep, the two stepped out of the room and closed the door.

“I’m gonna stay with him if you want to head home.” Gabe declared with a yawn.

“Gabe, you have a wife and kids. Go home. I’ll stay with him.” Emily insisted. Eyeing her for a moment, Gabe nodded and murmured softly that she was a good friend and Nate was lucky to have her.

“I could say the same for you.” She replied. “Now go.”

With the house finally quiet, Emily sunk into Nate’s couch tugging a throw blanket she had gotten him over her legs as she tried to settle down to sleep for a few hours.

When she awoke she was a little surprised to hear Nate in the kitchen, the smell of eggs filling the air.

“Hey…” She whispered cautiously, not sure how he was going to be feeling this morning. Though he looked tired and a little worse for wear, he also seemed relatively stable considering.

“Eggs?” He asked, voice a little gruffer than usual.

“Sure.” Emily replied, honestly starving as she had been so focused on doing whatever she could for Nate last night she hadn’t eaten since lunch the previous day. Sitting up at the island counter, she just let Nate cook not wanting to interrupt him.

“Was thinking…” Nate started out of nowhere making Emily jump a little. “You don’t start your new job for a couple more weeks right?”

That was not a topic that Emily was expecting Nate to bring up but it was true that she was off for a few weeks between jobs.

“Want to come to Fiji with me?”

Nate had glanced over his shoulder with the question and Emily could only meet him with a blank look.

“I mean the honeymoon was already booked and paid for and I’m not going to not go…” Nate mumbled. “Thought maybe you’d want to come…drink, eat, tan, swim, just chill.”

Though it seemed a bit taboo to go on someone else’s honeymoon, Emily could tell that Nate really didn’t want to go alone and when else would she get a chance to go to a beautiful resort in Fiji.

“You know what…sure. I’m in.” She declared. The way Nate’s whole body relaxed told Emily it was the right decision and as he slid a plate of eggs across the island to her there was even the smallest trace of a smile on his face.

“Awesome. Eat up and go pack. Flight leaves at 3 so I’ll swing by at noon to get you.” Blinking a few times, Emily tampered her surprise because of course the flight was leaving today. She definitely needed to rush to get ready though because she certainly hadn’t planned on going anywhere.

But now, now she was just going to go with the flow.

****

Three things popped into Emily’s head when they arrived at their villa on Royal Davui Island in Fiji. First…the travel had been a complete bitch and she was exhausted. Second, she had never seen a view this beautiful in her entire life. And third, though she should have expected it, there was only one bed. At least the couch looked comfortable enough.

“Nate…this is stunning.” She declared immediately opening patio doors to step outside onto the balcony. It was truly paradise in every way. She could literally just spend the next week sitting here and staring at the view.

First though she needed a shower, a change of clothes, and possibly a nap.

Checking the first two off the list, Emily saw Nate sitting in a chair off on the living room patio and she moved over to him, surprised to see drinks and food waiting there already.

“Figured it had been awhile since we ate.” Nate declared motioning for her to sit. Everything looked absolutely delicious and Emily couldn’t wait to dig in. But Nate was holding up his drink in toast and she wasn’t going to leave him hanging. “To new chapters.” He murmured softly.

“To friendship.” Emily echoed clinking her glass against his before taking a sip. If the drinks were this good she was about to spend this whole trip more than a little buzzed.

Enjoying their lunch, Emily just gazed out at the view once again amazed at how stunning this place was. There was a certain peace that came from being here, to finally be still after all the chaos.

Deciding that that nap sounded like a great idea, Emily moved to lounge on the couch under the cool ceiling fans and though the room was bright, sleep came easy.

Her nap was followed by a trip down to the white sand beach with Nate and exploring the rest of the amenities on the island before they settled back at their villa for a private dinner.

When it came time for bed, Emily moved to settle on the couch once again and though Nate looked like he wanted to say something, he kept his mouth shut.

Overall the next few days were similar, Emily and Nate dined together but they didn’t always spend the whole day attached to each other’s sides. Nate used the fitness center on the island while Emily curled up on a lounger tanning and reading. Nate went hiking while Emily enjoyed the plunge pool at their villa.

They did go on a scuba excursion together and there were the couples’ massages Nate had arranged which had been slightly awkward but for the most part they just relaxed whether they were together or off on their own.

On the fourth morning, with Emily having awoken while Nate chose to sleep in, she sunk into the plunge pool just relaxing and looking out at the ocean as the sun rose. After about twenty minutes she heard footsteps before Nate’s voice softly asked if he could join her. Nodding, Emily shifted along the edge and Nate approached her, sinking down beside her.

Neither said anything, just watching the new day start. Shifting, Nate’s leg brushed against hers under the water and Emily startled a bit not expecting the skin to skin contact. It wasn’t unpleasant, just unexpected. And though he apologized, Nate’s energy felt like it had shifted. Over the course of the past few days he’d been pensive which made sense given the way his life had just been upended and Emily couldn’t help but wonder a bit what he’d been thinking.

“Are you sleeping okay on the couch?” He eventually asked. “Because it’s a king sized bed. It wouldn’t be that awkward to share it. You know if you wanted to…”

Emily had known Nate long enough to know that while he may have phrased it in a way that put the ball entirely in her court, he wouldn’t have said anything if it wasn’t something he wanted at least a little.

“I mean I guess I could be sleeping better.” She admitted leaving it at that and knowing that he’d draw the rest of the conclusions for himself.

Sharing Nate’s bed that night after spending the day paddle boarding and snorkeling once again had been surprisingly comfortable and it wasn’t a surprise to Emily when she ended up tucked under Nate’s arm with his chest pressed against her back. It likely wasn’t a surprise to Nate either and if it was he played it off easily getting up to go get a morning workout in.

While he did that, Emily soaked in the jacuzzi tub before settling down with another book. She was 100 or so pages in when Nate flopped down beside her on the other lounger.

“So Alex texted asking if I had gotten the ring, keys, and her note.” Nate stated.

“They’re uh on your dining room table.” Emily murmured, peeking over at him.

“I know.” Nate sighed softly. “I saw them.” He paused. “I told her I didn’t understand why she had walked away. Or why she had waited until we were literally getting married. She hasn’t responded yet. And I don’t know what to expect if she does or if she even will. Was it my fault Em? Was it something I did? Something I didn’t do?”

Closing her book, Emily sighed and twisted to sit up and look at Nate. It was clear that this had been bugging him for more than this morning but that he had finally worked his way through it enough to talk about it.

“I can’t answer that Nate. I’m not Alex so I don’t know what it was that she was expecting or why she waited so long if she wasn’t happy and didn’t say something first. But regardless of her reasons, the way she went about it was shitty. I know that and I know you know that. You deserved better than to be stood up at the altar with just a flimsy note of excuse and no warning.”

Nate mused over that for a second before murmuring that Alex had also inquired about getting her things.

“Your sister already sent her the info for the storage locker.” Emily replied. “So you can just ignore all of that, it's been taken care of.”

Looking lost in thought, Nate sat there for another fifteen minutes before murmuring that he was going to go take a nap. Knowing that he needed as much space as he wanted to sort through it all, Emily returned to her book just basking in the backdrop knowing that they were leaving in the morning and not wanting to waste a second of the view.

Just wanna say

I got you

After spending most of the day sitting and reading, Emily decided to go for a walk and when she returned another private dinner was set up.

“God I’m going to miss this food.” She declared calling out to where Nate was leaning against the balcony.

“Yeah.” He agreed though it was clear that he was as lost in his thoughts now as he had been earlier.

It was another quiet meal with her not pressing him to talk about whatever it was on his mind. While he took the dishes outside for the staff to retrieve, Emily leaned against the balcony as the sun started to creep lower in the sky.

And though she heard Nate’s steps return, she expected him to lean against the railing beside her. Instead, he stepped behind her, sliding his arm around her waist in a reverse hug.

“You’re gonna be okay Nate.” Emily whispered. “I know it’s hard now but you’re going to get through this.”

“Did you read it?” Nate asked, his voice low in her ear.

“Read what?”

“Alex’s note.”

“No Nate. That wasn’t my place.” Emily insisted. “That was a note meant for you.”

“Except it had your name on it.”

Before she could insist that no it hadn’t, Nate had placed a crinkled piece of paper into her hand. There plain as day in Alex’s handwriting was Emily, not Nate written on the front. How had she not noticed that? Unfolding the paper Emily started to read the message that had been intended for her eyes not Nate’s.

So that was where Gabe had gotten his mutterings and he’d stopped reading right there. Continuing on, Emily found herself biting her lip.

By the time she had finished, Emily had practically stopped breathing. That was…a lot. Her brain was spinning and her legs felt weak. Thankfully Nate’s arm secure around her waist held her up. He’d obviously read the letter a few times even if it was never met for him and Emily couldn’t help but feel guilty. Alex had left because of her. This was her fault.

With her legs collapsing completely, Nate’s grip tightened even more and he shifted them back to the couch, pulling her onto his lap.

“I got you.” His words were muffled by the press of his mouth against her bare shoulder but she heard them loud as day. How many times had she said those same three words to him in the past four years? And yet coming from his mouth they felt completely different.

They sat there with his nose just teasing against the skin of her shoulder until the sun had sunken fully in the sky and her breathing had regulated.

“Em…” He started softly, his voice vulnerable. “I know it might not be time just yet but when it is….I think I want to take that chance. Will you take it with me?” Her nod was instinctual, there was no other explanation for it, but it was enough for Nate’s shoulder’s to relax. “Yeah?” He questioned.

The kiss that followed could barely even be called a kiss but it held a promise. As Nate cupped both her cheeks, his lips grazed against hers faintly before his forehead pressed against her own communicating without words.

I got you.

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