32 #2
I sigh dramatically before carefully sliding under his arm, resting my head against his chest. “If you complain about being sore afterwards, I’m leaving.”
“Deal.”
My fingers drift absent-mindedly over Conor’s chest as we lay there in a comfortable silence. It’s quiet and peaceful, broken only by the steady rhythm of the heart monitor.
For the first time since everything happened, I can finally breathe.
We stay like this for what feels like hours and I never want it to end.
But it does end. Too soon. The door to Conor’s room swings open and I practically shoot out of the bed. The strong smell of a floral scented perfume comes into the room before the person wearing it does.
A stunning woman walks into the room, wearing a long, flowy summer dress.
Her blonde hair is styled perfectly, showing off the large diamond studs in her ears.
I would say she’s mid fifties and looks like she’s just walked off a beach runway shoot.
She is unmistakably Conor’s mother. They look so alike, same shape and shade of dark blue eyes, same nose, same lip shape.
If Conor was a woman, he'd look exactly like his mom.
A man with salt and pepper hair walks in behind her, dressed in a shirt and suit trousers. Conor doesn’t look as much like his father as he does his mother, but the resemblance is still there.
“Oh, my baby boy.” His mom rushes straight to him, cupping his face before kissing his forehead.
“Hey, mom.” It’s hard not to notice the brightness that returns to Conor’s eyes. It must be hard for him, not being close to his parents. I know I’m not close to mine, but I would see them every holiday. Conor’s parents always seem to be travelling so he doesn’t get to see them much.
“Son.” His dad nods in his direction, appearing as though he’s unaffected by his son laying in a hospital bed, but his eyes constantly flicking to the monitors tells me he’s more worried that he’s making it seem.
“And you must be Sasha!” Before I can react, I’m engulfed in the tightest hug of my life. “You are just beautiful.”
Fuck, I can’t breathe. “It’s good… to finally… meet you, Mrs Matthews.” I force out through my burning lungs. Air. I need air.
She laughs and finally releases me, allowing me to suck in what has to be a whole tree's worth of oxygen. “Oh please, call me Linda.”
“I didn’t think you’d be here for another hour.” I say as she moves back to the other side of the bed and settles onto one of the chairs left out for visitors.
Linda shoots Conor’s dad an exaggerated look. “Yes, well, my husband sometimes forgets that he’s not a Formula One driver.”
“If I remember correctly,” Mr Matthews starts, “you were the one telling me to drive faster.”
She gasps dramatically, placing one hand to her chest. “Oh, my dear. You must not have heard me right with that old man hearing of yours.” She winks in my direction and I laugh softly as Conor chuckles beside me.
“You can see where I get my sense of humor from.” Conor whispers to me.
There’s a twinkle in Linda’s eyes when she catches sight of Conor taking my hand in his again.
I can just tell she has giant signs lighting up behind her eyes, screaming ‘wedding’ and ‘grandbabies’ and that settles heavily on my stomach, churning what’s left of the popcorn I had at the stadium.
We chat for a little while about their road trip, what they’ve been up to, what they have planned over the next few weeks. Linda asks questions about us, but I let Conor answer those. I don’t trust myself not to trip over another lie.
Eventually, I stand. “I better get going.” Conor pouts. “I’ll come back first thing tomorrow.” I gather my bag from where I left it on the floor, moving towards Conor again, “I’ll get started on that list.” His chest rumbles with laughter as I lean down and kiss his cheek.
“What list?” His dad, Peter, asks.
“Sash wants to make a list of things I can do now since I’ll be off the ice for a while.”
“Just make sure singing stays off that list. His voice could raise the dead.”
“Mom.” Conor groans, feigning hurt. “My voice is amazing.”
“Whatever you say, my love.”
I get to the door and turn back to Conor one last time. He smiles at me. A real smile. It’s not forced. Not brave. Just… happy.
And for the first time since I watched him slam into those boards, I finally believe he’s going to be okay.
Josh is on his feet before I’ve even closed the door to their apartment. “How is he?”
“He’s good, all things considered.”
He lets out a long sigh as relief washes over him. “There were too many of us in the waiting room.” He tells me, “They wouldn’t let us stay.”
“His parents are there now so he’s not alone. Don’t worry, Josh.” He rubs both hands over his beard before collapsing onto the couch. “What’s wrong?”
“I can’t help but feel like it’s my fault, you know?”
“How could it have been your fault? You were nowhere near him.”
“Exactly!” His voice is rough, full of guilt. “I’m the captain, I should be there for my team. I should be protecting them on that ice.”
I sit next to him, giving his hand a gentle squeeze.
I’ve never seen Josh this worked up before, not even at that Halloween party where he dressed like a giant piece of space shit.
“Josh, what happened tonight is not your fault. I know you want to protect your team, but you have to play the game as well. You can’t follow every player around like a guard dog all night long. ”
“I know that, but-”
“No buts.” I interrupt him, trying to make him see reason.
“Look, that team was there tonight to cause shit. They were dirty playing bastards and someone was gonna get hurt eventually. It sucks ass that it was Conor, but there is nothing anyone could have done to stop it from happening.” He finally looks at me. “Get out of your head.”
“Thanks, Sash.” He gives me a tight hug before standing from the couch. “Ollie is waiting in the room for you.” My stomach sinks. “She wants to talk to you.”
Shit. That’s never good.
I find Olivia sitting cross-legged on the bed, scrolling through her phone. She throws it down onto the bed as soon as she notices me. “Is he okay?”
“Yeah. The meds are helping him with the pain, but he’s pretty bummed out about not being on the ice any time soon.”
“I get that.” I move to the bed, propping myself up against the pillows, avoiding Olivia’s gaze. “You need to tell him, Sash.”
“Tell him what?”
“That you love him.”
“Olivia, I am not having this conversation with you again.” I move to stand but Olivia’s hand wrapping around my wrist stops me.
“Yes you are.” I sigh heavily, reluctantly sitting back down. “I don’t know if you’re lying to me or lying to yourself, but get over it, Sasha. Cut the bullshit and tell me the truth.”
“What do you think is gonna happen if I tell him?” I snap, raising my voice.
It’s been a long ass day. I don’t need this shit right now.
“Tell him that I broke our rules, that I have feelings for him. And then what?” The words tumble out before I can stop them.
“He tells me none of it was real? That everything we went through, everything I felt, was just because of some stupid deal?” My eyes well with tears, my nose and throat burning. “I can’t do that.”
Olivia pulls me into her, wrapping her arms around my body and squeezing me tight as the tears fall. My body shakes with silent sobs.
I’ve always had feelings for Conor, even when I was still with Max, and that’s what makes all of this worse. I was just too scared to say it out loud until now.
“He loves you, Sasha. Everyone can see how much he loves you. I think deep down, you know it too.” Her words are soft, comforting, but I don’t believe her.
Why should I? I have been here before, people saying how much Max loved me, and look how that turned out.
“I’m gonna give you some tough love here, okay? And you can’t be mad at me for it.”
I nod my head, unable to get any words out through the tightness in my throat.
“You either tell Conor how you really feel, or you end it. No more sleeping together, no more ‘fake’ dates. Either it’s real or it’s done. No in between anymore.”
I fucking hate this. I hate everything she’s saying because I know it’s true. I can’t have Conor and pretend it’s not real.
“Why are you so scared?”
“Max really hurt me, Liv. But what I feel for Conor is so much more than I ever felt for Max.” I confess, shame weighing heavy on my chest. “If Conor hurt me, I don’t think I would survive it.”
“Conor isn’t Max though. He’d never do anything to intentionally hurt you. He’s a good egg.”
Each word lands like a punch, because deep down, I know Olivia is right. I don’t think Conor would ever hurt me like Max did, but right now, I’m not ready to find out.
I need time alone to process everything without using him as some sort of coping mechanism for me to get over my distrust of men.
And it wouldn’t be fair on Conor that he has to wait for me to figure it all out.
I still have too many broken pieces to put back together before I can hand my heart out to someone else. Even someone like Conor.
Especially someone like Conor.