13. Off My Game

CHAPTER 13

OFF MY GAME

STEFAN

That was a disaster.

I waited for her call as long as I could before Coach made me get out to the ice for warmups. The whole time I was on the ice, roughly twenty minutes when all was said and done, I was thinking about Francine. She never called before puck drop and even though Malina and Rachel kept me updated, I just wanted to hear her voice for myself before I had to take to the ice.

By the third period, Coach dropped me from the second line to the third, and replaced me on my usual penalty kill team. Alex, my line mate when I play like I know what I'm doing, sat beside me during our second intermission as a show of support, but even that couldn't stop me from thinking I let my team down tonight.

"Morrow," Coach pulled me aside and spared me the embarrassment of announcing to the whole team, "get your head on straight and I'll put you back out there, got it?"

As if it were that easy.

"Sure, Coach." I was too tired to argue. Too unsure of myself in the moment to make a case to stay on my line. And even if I could have made a case for myself, I know I wouldn't have deserved it. We earn our spots on the line, and tonight I played like I belonged on the bench. Coach was being gracious by only dropping me down a line.

And why did it have to be in Toronto? A city that loves their hockey, and I've just played the worst hockey of my life. My brothers were in the stands tonight, and will never let me live that performance down. I missed shots that should have been easy. I gave the puck away more times than I can count, and racked up more minuses tonight than pluses. Francine would tell me that stat isn't a reflection on my performance, but tonight it feels like it.

Sitting in my stall, I field questions from the press. Our local team is great, but the Canadian media hounds me about the giveaways tonight. I take it in stride but walk away feeling more beat up than the night I lost two teeth on the ice.

"Morrow," Coach's voice calls across the dressing room, and I pull myself up, still in my skates and pads, my jersey discarded in my locker, and make my way across the room to him. Avoiding the eyes of my teammates. "You're going home."

"Coach, I know I had a rough night, but you can't send me home for that."

"One day." Coach says, lowering his voice. "We pulled some strings. If you don't leave now, you're going to be late. You have tomorrow, and then you're due back with the team. Make it count."

"Coach…"

"Did the boards rattle your brains tonight, Morrow?" Alex calls from across the room. "You get to see your girl. Get dressed and get out of here."

I don't bother with my usual suit for post game, instead stripping off what's left of my gear and leaving the arena in my compression gear, shorts, and team branded hoodie. I don't care who sees me. All I care about right now is getting home to Francine. Alex passes me my backpack, promising to make sure he packs up the rest of my stuff left at the hotel, and someone sends me out to a waiting car. The drive and flight are a blur, and then I find myself needing a way to get home. I'm not using a rideshare and Francine isn't yet cleared to drive.

A rental it is.

Traffic out of Detroit this late at night is non-existent, and I make good time on my way west first for a quick pit stop before heading home to St. Clair Shores.

"Stefan!" Ursula shouts my name as I rush into Donut Worry, a man on a mission. "Shouldn't you be on your way to Ottawa right about now?"

"Emergency at home," I answer cautiously, "which is why I'm here for two maple bars and two buttermilk glazed if you've got ‘em."

"I've got ‘em," she smiles, packing a small box with my order. "Give Francine my love."

"I will. Thank you Ursula."

Once in my car, I fire off a quick text to Francine: I was in the mood for a post game donut. I'm having some delivered to you. So when the doorbell rings in about twenty-five minutes, don't be alarmed.

Aw, she responds quickly, adding in a crying emoji. You're so sweet.

Clicking off my phone, I drop it into the car's cup holder and make the drive home as quickly as possible. There's an unfamiliar car in my driveway when I pull in, the ownership of said car is confirmed when I ring my own doorbell and Rachel Winters stands on the other side of the door, raising a curious eyebrow.

"Post game donuts," I answer as if it's obvious. "She's expecting them."

"Hey Franny?" Rachel calls through the house. "You may want to come get your donuts."

"Be right there," Francine grumbles, "though I don't know why they won't just give them to you…"

"How long are you home?" Rachel pitches her voice low.

"I leave the day after tomorrow."

"Then I will make myself scarce." Rachel reaches for her jacket and car keys where they hang on a hook beside the front door. "You're a good egg, Morrow. Just do me a favor and don't tell Franny I said that."

"You're not so bad yourself, Winters. Thanks for being here for her."

Rachel takes her leave and soon Francine appears in the front hallway, leaning on a set of crutches, Stevie on her heels.

My mouth goes dry at the sight of Francine standing in front of me wearing Union red over black leggings that hug her quads and lower body. My number adorns her sleeves and all coherent thought disappears from my mind.

"You're wearing my jersey."

"Sort of," she offers a shy smile. "I bought it."

"I would have given you one." I cross the floor toward her, closing the distance between us. "I have plenty."

"Yeah…but no amount of doing laundry gets the smell out. Sorry."

"Fair enough."

I drop the box of donuts on the front table and take my girl in my arms. She sags against me, wrapping her arms around my waist as her crutches clatter to the floor, startling an already excited Stevie who runs off and makes a quick circuit of the house.

"What are you doing here?" Francine asks, burying her face in my neck.

"Coach, and I suspect Alex had a hand as well, pulled some strings with management and got me sent home. We have tonight, and all day tomorrow before I'm due in Ottawa for the next game."

"What kind of donuts did you bring me?"

"Wow. I see how I rank."

"Blame it on the anesthesia. My brain is still scrambled. I don't know what I'm talking about."

"Then I better get you back to the couch."

Gently lifting her from the floor, I carry Francine back to the living room, carefully depositing her on the couch where it seems she's made herself a nest of blankets and pillows for propping up her leg. After getting her situated on the couch, and leaving room for Stevie to join her, I retrieve the donuts, deciding not to waste time with plates and just take the whole box right to the living room.

"What are we watching?" I ask, sitting down next to Francine. She's stretched out on the L-shaped end of my sectional, and I shift our bodies so that she's leaning against me.

"I was watching you self-destruct on the fourth line tonight."

"Too soon, Franny." I laugh, covering us both with the blanket. I nestle the donut box between us and watch as Francine's fingers hover over the open box, dancing between the maple bar and the buttermilk glaze. "Want to share half of each?"

"Not really, no," she answers with a laugh. "I just can't decide what I'm in the mood for."

"Want me to pick for you?"

"I do not." This woman.

"Okay. How about I make us both some tea, and you can use that time to decide on a donut."

"Also no."

"Francine."

"I have you for hours Stefan. Just sit here and let me be indecisive. If you want to be helpful, pick a movie we can watch."

"Which one?"

"You're impossible. Just pick a movie."

While Francine discusses the pros and cons of each donut with Stevie, I pull up a streaming service and search for one of my favorite movies. A romantic comedy with Billy Crystal and Meg Ryan. Two friends who find every reason to say they don't belong together, until finally, finally…

"Maple bar. I'll have the other one for breakfast."

"Are you sure you don't want something to drink?" I ask, holding her as close as I can. "The offer still stands for tea."

"I have water. But thank you." She turns her upper body around and kisses my cheek. As the opening montage of the movie starts, the donut box is abandoned as I meet her lips with mine, deepening the kiss. Stevie huffs and hops off of Francine's lap, making it much easier for our bodies to press together, and our arms to wrap around each other. So much for the movie.