34. Lyssa
Lyssa
The lights are swirling, flashes of red and blue taking turns passing over my vision.
I stopped registering them ages ago, thanks to the mysterious cocktail of medication administered by the paramedics who arrived first on the scene.
We’re waiting for the police, and everyone is mulling around, assessing the scene and working to keep bystanders back.
Everyone except me. I couldn’t walk around, even if I wanted to.
Someone breaks through the crowd, rushing towards me, and when I glance up, it’s Patty’s face that appears over me. “Alyssa...”
She glances around, taking in the scene, and freezes as she notices the broken stair railing. The gap is large enough for two people, and the weather has turned dark and nasty, sending the splintered edges waving in the wind. Slowly, she turns back to face me. “What happened?”
After years of her being the closest thing I had to a sibling, I thought I knew all of my best friend’s expressions. I’d seen her joy, anger, stress, and disappointment. But this is a new one.
The expression I see on her face now is sheer terror.
I simply close my eyes.
Awareness comes to me slowly. I take a minute to gather my senses while my eyes remain closed.
The distant sound of sirens is gone, replaced by the soft ticking of an overhead fan.
The sticky summer air has been replaced by the crisp, winter air, threatening to cut through my apartment’s heat.
There’s a band of warmth encircling me, and in my disoriented state, it takes me a moment to place it.
“Lyssa?”
Benji’s voice snaps everything into focus.
That’s right – he’s here. I remember now that he spent the night. His arm is wrapped around me, just like it was when we originally fell asleep.
I crack my eyes open, tilting my head to meet him. It’s still dark out, but in the moonlight, I can see that his face is drawn tight in concern.
“What’s wrong?” I shift off of his arm, blinking rapidly to clear the sleep away. Is his arm asleep? Does he need to move it?
“You were crying.”
“Crying?”
Benji gives a slow nod, studying me closely. “Were you asleep?”
“I…yeah.”
“Was it a nightmare?”
I bite my lip, and he takes this as his answer. “Do you have those a lot?” he asks.
I pause, then figure there’s no way to sugarcoat it. I’ve woken up to a wet pillowcase enough to know this isn’t the first time this has happened. Sleep is the one place I can’t truly hide from my feelings.“Yeah. Probably once a week or so.”
He goes silent at that. I can’t make out much of his face, but I’m sure he’s putting the pieces together in his mind. My pulse begins to race alongside my mind as I consider what he could be thinking about. Did I say something in my sleep?
I turn over the glimpses of the nightmare in my head, panic constricting my throat. I wait for him to say something.
“Do you…want to talk about it?” he ventures.
I almost laugh at the question, even as my answer comes instantly. “No, I really don’t.”
“Okay.” There’s a pause. “But…maybe you should, with someone, eventually. If you’re comfortable with it, of course,” he adds hurriedly.
I sigh, trying to brush away the defensiveness that jumps up on instinct.
I know he’s right, and he and Andi have both skirted around the subject of therapy with me before.
Andi went to therapy following her breakup, and Benji has mentioned his whole family going to someone after his brother’s passing.
So far, I’ve taken it upon myself to do my own research.
I’ve gotten deep into podcasts and ventured into forums. It’s helped to an extent – mostly with knowing that I’m not alone – but I know that someday I’ll need more tools to get me back on my feet.
These nightmares are just another clear sign that my brain is still processing everything.
“I will,” I promise. “I just wanted to feel more…established first, I suppose. I need the newness of this life to settle a bit more before I try getting vulnerable with someone I don’t know.”
Benji brushes the hair back from my face. “If you need some space…”
“No,” I cut in, realizing how my words sounded.
“No?”
“I need the opposite of that,” I say, snuggling closer to him. He wastes no time winding his arms back around me, and I bury my head in his chest, breathing in the fresh, crisp smell of soap on his skin.
“In that case, do you want me to get Winny off the ground to join the slumber party, or…?”
I give his shoulder a light smack and feel the vibration in his chest as he chuckles in response.
After the first night Benji slept over, he bought a high-end dog bed for Winston, complete with its own blankets for him.
Winston spent ten minutes nosing the blankets into the perfect position, circled exactly five times, and then passed out in doggie bliss.
I can’t blame him. I mean, the material inside his bed is definitely more expensive than what my own bed is made of.
But I still bring him up on the bed on the nights when Benji isn't here.
One of Benji’s hands rests against my head, and his thumb strokes slowly against my temple.
My eyelids are already growing heavy again, and I feel drunk on the feeling of him surrounding me.
My own personal safety net. Part of me registers how fascinating it is, to feel so safe with another person that I want nothing more than to fall asleep in his arms. I nuzzle closer and press a soft kiss to the nape of his neck.
“Thank you,” I whisper.
He shifts and hums, dropping a kiss against the top of my head. “Any time, little fighter.”
I spend a few minutes enjoying the rise and fall of his chest and the way it feels against my own body. My own breathing slows in tandem with his, and I close my eyes, ready to give in to the weightless sensation of sleep.
Just before I drift off, I think he murmurs something against my hair, but I’ve floated too far from awareness to decipher it, instead enjoying the simple bliss of being with him.
It’s only been two days since Christmas, but Benji’s new schedule has been even crazier than his old one with the Leopards.
Instead of the break he thought he’d get with his old team, he’s been practicing with the Chill every day since he received the call, Christmas aside.
Even today, he’s already been busy with a morning skate and pre-game meeting with the team.
His first game with the Chill is tonight – a home game against Calgary – but I haven’t had much of a chance to ask him about it.
I slide my gaze over to him as he drives, taking in his handsome suit and combed-over hair.
Even though he needs to be at the rink three hours early, I wanted to come with and see him off; to wish him good luck.
Andi, Grant and I all have tickets to the game, and they’re planning to meet me for a pre-game meal and drinks at the restaurant attached to the rink.
I don’t want to risk missing even a minute of his first game here, and I think they feel the same.
What I see on Benji’s face makes me frown.
I expected him to be amped up, talking excitedly about tonight like he had when he first got the call.
Instead of someone buzzing in their seat, I’m met with someone who looks borderline…
sullen. His mouth is drawn into a thin line, his brows pinched, and he grips the steering wheel tightly.
He hasn’t said much, but I figured he was focusing on the drive.
Maybe there’s something more going on here.
“You get to play with Jordie again tonight.” I attempt to start a conversation, eyeing him carefully.
He nods. “I do.”
The words are light, but I detect a note of strain underneath them.
I can sense that he’s in his head, so I remain quiet for the next few minutes as we make our way to the rink, simply choosing some music to break up the silence.
At a stoplight, his hand comes down off the wheel, and I take the opportunity to grab it and squeeze it, trying to convey my support for him.
He flashes me a grateful smile, but I can see the flicker of nerves and something else underneath.
When we pull up to the rink, I’m surprised to see a small crowd outside.
Benji curses under his breath and turns to me.
“I think those are reporters. God, they’re probably here for me.
” He eyes them, and then me, rubbing the back of his neck.
“They haven’t noticed us yet. You can take my car and leave. ”
I take in his expression and shake my head.
“No. I’m not leaving.” I can tell he’s nervous, and I don’t want his send-off to be his girlfriend ditching him.
The idea of attention makes me anxious, but it pales in comparison to him and what he needs right now.
Especially with reporters, who are basically a paid version of stalkers.
The thought clicks everything into place, and I eye him. He turns off the ignition, but I stop him with a hand on his leg. He pauses, tilting his head at me.
“How are you doing today?” I ask quietly. “I bet this is…kind of a mixed bag of emotions for you.”
Benji glances down, fiddling with his keys in his lap. I wait patiently. He’s given me the space to talk with him, countless times. I want to be able to return the favor.
“Yeah, it is,” he says quietly. “When this day came, I thought…I thought I’d be playing with him.”
His Adam's apple works in his throat as he swallows, glancing out the window. There’s some chatter, people shifting and taking interest, but at this moment, I couldn’t care less.
I thought I’d be playing with him. He doesn't mean Jordie. He means his brother.
My chest aches as I notice the sheen to his eyes. The pain he’s been in today is suddenly so clear, and I hate that I didn’t notice it sooner.
“You are, though,” I whisper. “Any time you play, you’re playing with him.
You’re playing the game the two of you grew up learning together.
You’re playing the game that made you both so unbelievably happy.
” I put my hand on his cheek and gently pull his face in line with mine.
“You’ll be playing with him, and just as importantly, you’ll be playing for him.
Because this is exactly what he wanted for you. ”
Benji squeezes his eyes shut at my words, and a single tear escapes, trailing down his chin. I brush it away and pull him as close as I can across the car, kissing the path it took.
Benji’s breath comes out as a shaky gasp, bordering on a sob, and then his lips are on mine, desperately seeking a comfort I’m more than happy to give. By the time we pull apart, we’re both breathless.
We gaze at each other, and then he glances back out the window. The group has grown curious, venturing closer. Benji sighs and shoots me another look. “Thank you.” His words are low but sincere, and I give him a small, reassuring smile.
As we get out and walk toward the rink, the small crowd grows excited. It’s clear now that they are, in fact, here to report on Benji’s first game tonight. They begin shouting out questions, camera lenses fluttering.
“Benjamin Estes! Back up to captain of the Leopards, and now making your debut with the Chill. You’re certainly making a name for yourself.”
“How does it feel, being the Golden Boy again?”
“Minnesota missed you, Benji! Glad to see you’re coming back!”
“Benji! Benjamin Estes, who’s this young lady on your arm?
” Someone calls, and through the chaos, this makes the breath catch in my throat.
Even though I know he wouldn’t breathe my real name aloud, not even to his closest teammates, I feel as though I’ve been caught.
I shrink into his side, trying to stay out of sight of the small but tenacious group of reporters.
Benji doesn't answer any of them. Instead, he pulls me protectively against him as he makes his way inside.
The door closes on them decisively, and the silence that follows is jarring. I choose the first random thing that flits through my head to break it. “Does this mean I can get a new jersey with your name on it?”
He scoffs and shakes his head. “That’s a bit presumptuous. I’m basically being leased on a game-by-game basis. It’s not like I belong here.”
“They certainly seem to think so. And so do I. Benji.” I frown and pause, forcing him to look at me. I give him a final, firm kiss and make sure he knows I mean it when I say the next words. “You absolutely belong out there.”