21. Wren

21

WREN

T he minute I saw him collide into that player, I knew something was wrong. His wince. His reluctance to leave the ice. The constant rolling of his shoulder.

Mal was hurt.

He continued to play through his pain until finally the clock dwindled down to zero. Finally, I felt like I could relax again, but during the game, the need to go to him overwhelmed me, and I was stuck watching from afar till I was able to see him in the locker room.

While the guys were getting showered and changed for the flight back home, I found Trevor just outside the locker room with some supplies in his hand and his head down.

"Hey, Trevor, can I talk to you for a second?" I rushed over to where he stood and when his eyes found mine, an enthused smile spread across his face.

"Yeah, of course. What's up?"

I wasn't sure whether I wanted to bring up Mal or not after the night he stormed in on our dinner. It felt weird, but I knew I wouldn't get any answers from Mal.

"Is Mal okay?" I asked quietly, afraid that any second he could walk out of those doors and catch Trevor and I talking.

That was the last thing I needed.

"I saw him get hit tonight and he looked like he was hurt but it was hard to tell from where I was standing."

The mention of Mal had the smile disappearing from his face.

"Yeah, I mean, I think he's doing okay. He wouldn't let me check him over, though. It could just be his shoulder that's bugging him again."

"His shoulder?"

He nodded.

"Yeah, about a month ago he injured his shoulder in a game," he explained. "He was out for a while on rehabilitation, so it might just be acting up after that hit. I would look at it for him, but… I don't think he cares for me very much."

That much was obvious.

Mal didn't care for anyone.

"Huh, well I guess I'll see what I can do. Maybe I can convince him to get it checked out," I offered. I didn't know why I did, but it felt wrong that he didn't have anyone looking out for him.

"If anyone can convince him, I think it's you." He chuckled on a somber smile, but his words did nothing but form a giant hole in my gut. I felt nothing but fear in that moment because I began to think that what he said could be true. It was what everyone had been saying all along now. Kate, James, Greg, Shelia, and now Trevor.

They all believed I was the one who could help Mal.

Save him, even.

Trevor then went to walk off, but I quickly stopped him before he could go.

"I'm sorry about the other night. I had no idea he was going to show up and do that. He's just…"

"Protective of you," Trevor finished.

"Well, I was going to say an asshole, but in a way, yes. He's protective of me."

Because I'll always be his best friend's girl.

He feels obligated to protect me.

"It's okay, it's not your fault. I know how he can be and I don't want to step on any toes. He clearly feels something toward you and I'd be a fool to come in between that."

The only thing Mal felt toward me was annoyance.

There were no other feelings to be discovered there.

"Thanks." I smiled, a slight awkwardness in the air now as I slowly stuck my hand out for him. "Friends?"

He stared at my hand for a moment before grinning and entwining his hand with mine.

"Friends."

Not too long after my conversation with Trevor, we were finally boarding the plane back to Seattle. I hadn't seen Mal yet and a part of me wished I had gone looking for him. At least to make sure he really was okay.

Everyone was tired and cranky after the loss, so I stuck with my gut and went toward the back of the plane where it appeared less crowded. But as I walked farther down the aisle, I caught sight of a large body huddled up by the window seat with his head resting against the headrest. I stopped in my tracks, realizing I had found Mal, and for once I didn't feel the need to leave him. He hadn't noticed me yet, his eyes were closed while a pair of headphones covered his ears. He looked beat, tired, lost.

It was hard to look at him like that.

"Wren, you can sit by me if you need to," James called out from a few seats behind Mal. I hesitated to go, my legs were ready, but my heart refused to leave him. I shot a smile over my shoulder at James.

"It's okay. I'll just sit up here."

He nodded in return and that was when I slowly made my way to the seat beside Mal. As quietly and as slowly as I could, I lowered my bag onto the ground in front of me.

With his head leaned back against the seat, I figured he was sleeping. Not wanting to disturb him, I carefully lowered myself down into the seat beside him.

Once I was finally situated, a quietness had fallen over the plane. There was no talking amongst each other, no laughter, no anything.

Just pure silence.

Though it made it easy for my eyes to drift closed, it still had unsettled my stomach. The plane had eventually taken off and we were officially up in the air. Mal still had yet to acknowledge me while I was stuck in a state between sleep and awareness.

So with my eyes still tightly shut, I shifted my head to the side

"You're still wearing it," Mal's low, staggered voice announced, causing my eyes to immediately open.

Startled by the intensity of his stare, I nearly lost all my ability to speak. His headphones were now hanging around his neck while his eyes were glued onto the jersey I was still wearing.

His jersey.

"Uh, yeah." I sat up straighter. "Thank you, for giving it to me. Even if you did break into my car."

His mouth curled and the sight had my heart hammering.

"Didn't break in, Doe." He rolled his eyes playfully. "It looks good on you," he whispered, causing my eyes to widen at his confession.

Did he just tell me it looked good on me? His jersey? His number?

My face went red hot.

"Thank you." I pushed some pink, flyaway strands behind my ear and tore my eyes away from his.

It was hard to look at him now. I didn't want him to see that his words had affected me, but I was sure it was rather obvious I was being bashful.

There was a long pause of silence between us. There was obvious tension there, but no longer had I felt the wrath of him. Instead, I felt something entirely different.

Something that had my stomach filling with flutters.

Once the plane had taken off, we both fell into a comfortable stillness where no words needed to be said. Although he lost, although I knew he was in physical pain, he never once took it out on me.

And that's when I felt his hand. The soft brushing of his pinkie finger against mine as both our hands that were resting on the armrests between us had finally made contact.

I thought he'd pull away from me, and I thought I would have too, but we didn't.

Instead, for the remainder of the flight, our pinkies stayed connected.

It was a barely-there feeling, but there nonetheless.

And that was when I thought that maybe I had a chance, after all, at getting him back home.

At least, I hoped I did.