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ohmyeyesmyeyes · 10 months ago

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MARTHA'S IS PRETTY ROMANTIC - CHAPTER THREE: THE HEART WANTS WHAT THE HEART WANTS

summary: “If you haven’t understood by now that I like you as more than a friend, then I don’t even think I can help you to understand what’s going on.”

warnings: 18+ themes (not full smut), confrontation/arguments, awkwardness, swearing, angst, fluff, vague injury description

word count: 12k

previous part | series masterlist

For some reason, it was the thudding of a door shutting downstairs that seemed to wake you; judging from the golden light peeking through the gap in the curtains, you guessed it was still pretty early. With a sigh and a yawn, you reckoned it was probably Tyson heading out for his morning run.

Except, when you tentatively reached a hand across the mattress, eyes shutting all too easily as you were grasped tightly in the clutches of fatigue, there was an unexpected warmth radiating from quite close to where you were laid. Your hand halted its movement, eyes flying open as you twisted around in bed, nearly coming face to face with a sleeping Tyson, whose head was resting on the very edge of his own pillow, one of his arms tucked under yours.

You froze, heart stuttering and mind immediately recalling the conversation you’d had the day prior when you’d told him you’d at least like to wake up and have him in the bed at some point, awake or not, instead of facing an empty room and a severe lack of his presence.

Though, his presence now must mean that it was Mat and Toni that had left for breakfast.

You reached back to your side of the bed, tapping the screen of your phone. It was half-nine, which could mean a variety of things relating to Tyson: that he finally managed to get used to the foreign bed, or that he’d previously been setting alarms to get up earlier and continue his routine from back home.

Either way, you weren’t complaining, not when he looked so criminally soft. You turned on your back, phone remaining clutched in your hand, not able to turn your eyes away from him quite yet. His curls were crazier than you’d ever seen them, a combination of sleeping and going to bed with his hair wet meaning they weren’t in the same even pattern you were so used to seeing on a daily basis. There was a gentle crease in the middle of his forehead, as though he was concentrating on something in a dream. And, like he said, he’d neglected to wear a shirt: toned arms and a shoulder greeted you from where the sheet had failed to cover most of his torso, skin a little browner than it had been when you’d first arrived.

But before your brain could even contemplate thinking he looked quite handsome like that, something in your mind seemed to flicker at the reminder of the tense atmosphere from last night, and with that, you quickly hauled yourself out of bed, carefully trying not to disturb the covers too much, and crept downstairs.

He probably didn’t want to see you anyway.

And it was how Tyson found you half an hour later: curled under a blanket on the sofa, midway through a glass of juice and watching whatever was on TV.

You’d turned the volume down when he entered, still blinking away the last remnants of tiredness and sleep, his eyes immediately catching onto you as he wandered into the kitchen, acknowledging you with a tight smile.

It wasn’t genuine, if anything it was a little bit forced, and you knew you only had yourself to blame. Leaving Jamie’s number in Tyson’s jacket pocket wasn’t something that had felt detrimental when you’d done it at the time (you hadn’t wanted to lose it, and you never intended to forget it was there altogether), but now it just seemed to have completely reversed any and all progress the two of you had made.

If anything, this tenseness took you back to before you were friends. Awkward conversations and tiptoeing around each other because you weren’t quite comfortable in each other’s presence yet.

Only now, it was the complete opposite.

The silence remained until he took a seat in the armchair, as far away from you as he possibly could have gotten without entering another room, when he took a sip of his own glass, “Have Mat and Toni left already?”

His voice was thick, a little croaky and you had to fight with yourself to prevent a blush on your cheeks.

(You’d never admit it, but his morning voice was shockingly erotic.)

“Yeah.” You replied, swallowing harshly when he pulled his eyes from you and turned his attention to the TV as soon as it was clear you’d done talking. There was no lingering look, and with a stab of hurt and a little desperation rooted through a fear that he’d slip away and you’d lose him over a misunderstanding you weren’t quite sure how to correct without implying something else, it felt like he couldn’t even look at you, “Do you want to get brunch?”

Your voice felt frail and it didn’t take a genius to note the biting anxiety in your tone, because Tyson snapped his head towards you, his eyes softening fractionally at the expression on your face. He seemed to consider the offer for a moment, and with every moment that he didn’t answer, you felt the crack in your chest ache and widen, hope dwindling massively.

“Sure.” He sighed eventually.

The same tension that prompted prolonged and uncharacteristic silences seemed to infect the entirety of bruch. Neither of you said anything, choosing instead to shovel forkfuls of food into your mouths in an attempt to give a reason not to talk to each other.

It wasn’t until Tyson had silently led the both of you to walk back to the house along the beach that you decided to say something. It wasn’t anything pertaining to the matter of the both of you, but rather the almost concerned way he was eyeing his phone screen as he walked, fingers furiously tapping away at the keyboard.

Your arms were crossed against your chest, and the breeze from the shore was whipping your hair everywhere, and you reached for the hair tie in your jacket pocket, your motions distracting Tyson for a moment.

“Is everything okay?” You asked, not really holding out much hope for him to answer what with how quiet he’d been all morning thus far, but once you’d gestured at the phone in his hand, he nodded, a little sheepish.

“Yeah, I just–” He waved his phone half-heartedly, stopping in his tracks as he looked to you, “My mom wants a photo of us, and I’m trying to tell her–”

“It’s fine with me.” You interrupted, sticking your hands in your jacket pockets, trying and failing to not seem like you weren’t jumping at the opportunity to at least engage in a semi-normal dynamic.

“Are you sure?” He asked after a brief pause, eyes sincere but still clearly hesitating – as though he wasn’t quite sure what he was supposed to do or not do. If you were more honest with yourself, you’d have no issue admitting that it broke your heart a little, but in that moment, you ignored those thoughts.

“I’m sure.” You nodded, turning back to the water, “Get the ocean in the background, quick, before someone walks through behind us.” You found your hand reaching out to grasp his forearm without even thinking too much about it, manoeuvring him to stand next to you whilst he cleared his throat.

You hadn’t even realised the magnitude of what you’d done until the tingling in your fingertips seemed to warm your entire hand, and your neck snapped in Tyson’s direction, who was staring at your flexing hand and not bothering to hide the sheer look of perplexity at your action.

You felt your cheeks redden, and you gestured to his phone, “Sorry.” Your apology was a little weak, and you knew Tyson could see right through your little white lie.

“It’s okay.” He shrugged, swallowing nervously, “Do I look good?”

You blinked, about to answer honestly (that’s what he wanted, right?), but he seemed to catch himself.

“Good enough for a selfie, that is.” He clarified, his own cheeks now splashing rouge.

And although things were tense and a little up in the air, you couldn’t help the smile that seemed to appear on your face at his stuttering. You nodded, reigning it in, “A little windswept and rosy-cheeked, but your mom’ll definitely find it more adorable than scruffy.” You paused, acknowledging the rather shy duck of his head, “What about me?”

His head zipped back up, eyes searching your face with meaningful intent (though Tyson did take the opportunity to just simply look at you without the danger of getting caught), “Yeah, you look good.” Your brows shot up in blatant shock, and almost as soon as he’d finished talking, you knew he’d immediately backpedal on himself, “For the photo.”

You nodded, teeth catching your bottom lip as you fought the irresistible urge to tease him or laugh or something…but one thing that had wrestled itself to the forefront of your mind was the desire to kiss him then. It was simple, if a little too simple: all you’d have had to do was lean a little bit closer.

But before you could even entertain that idea, reasons not to kiss him came flooding in, the main one being that right now, it would do way more harm than good.

It seemed Tyson wanted to get the photo taken as soon as humanly possible, because it was barely ten seconds later that he was shooting off the photo to his mom and the awkward, tense atmosphere had returned as you both walked side by side along the beach.

Your jaw was clenched the entire walk back, mind whirling and seemingly incapable of being quiet. His silent treatment was actually kind of pissing you off now. You’d sat and suffered through three hours of it, and although you knew he could be stubborn at the worst of times, he was pushing it.

You’d been watching him out of the corner of your eye all day, holding your breath when you thought he was about to say something or look your way, but each time he’d shown signs of maybe doing that – of actually bringing it all up – he’d furrowed his brows as though to give himself a pep-talk or something, and turned the other way completely.

You’d have been fine with his silence if he hadn't been verging on ignoring you the entire morning – that was where you drew the line. But it was becoming clear with every time he caught himself acknowledging you, that he had absolutely no intention of ever talking about it.

And somewhere between the photo on the beach and making it back to the house, the door shutting behind you, your patience had dwindled almost dangerously low – teetering on snapping altogether. You followed him through the house, not sure if he knew you were on his heels – or once more, he was just simply choosing to ignore your presence.

You halted at the kitchen island, palms flat against the marble, watching him as he threw open the back door before his eyes slipped over you, no apparent shock written on his features.

He still said nothing as he made for the fridge, and you sighed when the door opened, blocking you from each other. Whether it was the breeze from the open door or the fridge that seemed to settle a chill over you, you couldn’t possibly have guessed because your attention was – as you were finding it a lot lately – stolen by Tyson.

“So,” you started, but he didn’t even acknowledge your voice this time, prompting a roll of your eyes and a rather stern, “Are you okay?”

He shrugged nonchalantly, peeling an orange straight into the bin, “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Because you’ve been ignoring me all morning–”

“I haven’t been ignoring you.” He insisted, looking up from his orange with a mildly offended look on his face.

“Okay,” You breathed, not necessarily agreeing with him, but rather switching the angle you’d go from, “Then you’ve been quiet all morning, and that’s not like you at all. Something’s up.”

He shut the bin, placing his unpeeled orange on the counter and mirroring your body language, his palms flat against the marble and elbows locked, “How would you know?”

You stared unblinkingly for a brief moment, a pause not too long but long enough for Tyson to raise an accusing eyebrow. Only, you weren’t quite sure what he was accusing you of, “Because I know you probably better than most people.”

He huffed a bitter laugh at your words, eliciting a frown to form on your face, and the sore lack of humour seemed to strike a nerve within you. It was so unlike him you couldn’t help but wonder what you’d done to offend him to this extent.

As far as you were aware, you hadn’t even done anything wrong because Tyson had never actually said or done anything to even suggest he liked you in the way you liked him, and because of that your apparent ‘flirting’ debacle with Jamie was completely fine. In fact, when you thought about it, it was Tyson who’d put an end to the flirting thing; Tyson who’d reacted to most of your flirty comments by shutting them down or turning them into a friend-thing, and whether he was choosing to ignore your comments or just downright oblivious to your advances, you were stuck.

“Don’t kid yourself.” He said, shaking his head and looking at the countertop, avoiding your eyes completely.

You sighed, frustration beginning to press at your temples and send your heart rate skyrocketing, “Fine, I don’t know you well, then.” You couldn’t disguise the disappointment in your voice, no matter how hard you tried, “Why have you been quiet all morning?”

He swallowed, gaze sharper and a little less soft than he usually was when he met your eyes, “I’m just tired.”

Well. There was nothing you could say to that, not when he was so clearly not telling you the truth, not when he was being so fucking stubborn you couldn’t even get through to him. He was pissed and it was clearly simmering under his skin, a little too volatile for you to be around him, but before you could walk away and leave him be, you knew you had to at least have the upperhand.

“Why–” He started, sighing before stopping to clench his jaw, “Why is it bothering you?”

“A few reasons.” You straightened, hands leaving the countertop to fold across your chest, “I don’t appreciate being ignored or lied to. You’ve been off since the restaurant last night, and instead of telling someone what’s wrong – because it’s so clear something is, even if you deny it – you’re bottling it up and, quite frankly, I feel like if I don’t at least ask you, you’ll just push me away, and I refuse to let you do that.”

He squinted his eyes, pulling a face and huffing in disbelief, “I’m not pushing you away.”

“Good.” You shrugged, “Because I refuse to lose you over some misunderstanding.”

He was silent, but he wasn’t looking away from you. If anything, his silence seemed to be some kind of admission – that you were right about something, and some of the tension seemed to ebb away. Slightly.

You swallowed, feeling your features soften as something seemed to prickle at the back of your mind. You felt nervous goosebumps rise on the back of your neck, and you knew if you didn’t bite the bullet now, then you’d probably not bring it up at all.

“Why did you tell Mat our relationship was complicated?”

The silence was almost palpable, and with a simple question, the tension seemed to return immediately and tenfold what it just was. Tyson seemed to react instantaneously, and at first – judging from the sudden flush of his cheeks and the way he was shaking his head, you’d expected him to deny, deny, deny, just like he’d done at every question you’d posed in his direction within the past three minutes or so.

His curls seemed to bounce slightly with his motions, and his lips parted in clear shock, “Mat shouldn’t have told you that.” Was all he settled for, a little sadly.

You inhaled sharply, feeling less hesitant when he didn’t seem to want to argue about it – after all, what was the point?

“It wasn’t Mat that told me, it was Toni.”

“Either way,” Tyson shrugged, “That was private.”

You blinked, “Maybe.”

“Maybe?” He echoed, brows raised in silent incredulousness.

“Look, it doesn’t matter whether it was private or not right now. It wasn’t meant for me to hear about, fine, but I have, and I want to know why our relatio—why you think we’re complicated.”

Tyson pursed his lips, gesturing to you, “Why do you want to know? Why is it such a big deal that you care what I think about our relationship?”

You’d never known him to be so stubborn. It had never taken you this much effort to get him to answer a question truthfully – and it wasn’t even as if you were being unreasonable in your asking him.

“Because ever since I found out that’s what you think, things have been complicated, and things have gone so completely downhill that it’s scaring me–”

“Or maybe since you found out, you’re just overthinking everything.” He interrupted, arching a challenging brow in your direction.

“Am I though?” You asked, nerves, adrenalin and a rather dangerous combination of a ‘fuck it’ attitude coursing through every cell in your body, right from the tips of your toes to the ends of your hair, “Because it didn’t seem like there was much to overthink last night when you put Jamie’s number on my bedside table and then had a strop in the bathroom.”

Tyson didn’t waste a single second, “I didn’t strop.”

“What, then, did you stub your toe?” You quipped, now scowling in his direction, “And before you answer that, please bear in mind that I can tell exactly when you’re lying.”

He paused, staring unblinkingly straight at you, a hardness to his jaw and you could tell he was gearing himself up to be defensive, but it seemed your words had some sort of effect because he rolled his eyes and threw his head to the ceiling for a second, letting out a frustrated sigh. When he swung back to look in your direction, there was something a little raw written across the planes and creases in his face.

“Fine.” He announced, pulling a stool out at the island, orange segments long forgotten. He glanced pointedly at the stool opposite, but you shook your head. You had too much nervous energy to even consider sitting still. A lap around the entire island seemed like it should have done the trick, but to do that you’d be walking out on a rather important conversation.

He laced his hands together, forearms pressed tightly against the counter. You could almost imagine the cold seeping into the crevices of his skin, and knowing Tyson he’d probably find the cold soothing more than anything.

He took a rather shaky breath and a moment to compose himself before making direct eye contact with you. It was the way he looked at you that seemed to quieten the rushing in your head but did little to calm your pulse.

“I don’t like seeing you…” he hesitated, cheeks flushing, and although it looked like it took a great deal of effort to keep his eyes on you despite the difficulty of it, “flirt with other people.” He shook his head, as though he was a little ashamed by his words, “It hurts. And it really hurt when I found that guy's number folded up in my jacket pocket for me to find. I thought maybe you’d put it there on purpose…I don’t know.”

You inhaled, attempting to calm everything, “I know Jamie because we met in Vancouver at one of your games a while ago, and he did flirt…” Tyson’s shoulders slumped, “until he recognised me – not that I would have reciprocated it.”

“Then why do you have his number?”

“He told me about a job opportunity; he owns a firm, and we got talking about work and it turned out he had an opening for a job closer to where I lived and also paid more. So he gave me his number for when I needed details.”

“And you left it in my pocket because…”

This time it was your turn to be sheepish, “I didn’t want it to get crumpled in my bag when you gave me your jacket and then I forgot about it…because I was thinking about why you didn’t tell that lady we weren’t together.” You spoke hesitantly, voice trailing off.

“Oh, well,” he scratched the back of his neck awkwardly, “it was just easier than the truth.”

There was a pinprick of disappointment that started in your chest, but you refused to let it bleed into something more heartbreaking, “Which is?”

He suddenly appeared less unsure of himself at your question, “Fucking complicated, that’s what.”

You dropped your head into your hands, “But what about us was complicated when you told Mat that it was?”

“Are you pissed at me for saying that?” Was what left his mouth, a slight panicked expression on his face when you lifted your head out of your hands, shocked at where his mind had taken him.

“No, no. I’m not pissed at you, I’m just trying to understand.”

He nodded, swallowing, hands splayed against the marble, before he looked up at you, “If you haven’t understood by now that I like you as more than a friend, then I don’t even think I can help you to understand what’s going on.”

Time seemed to slow as your brain seemed to echo his words back at you, double speed: I like you as more than a friend.

That certainly hadn’t been what you’d expected to hear – not straight from his mouth and not so bluntly. Every time you’d ever approached a conversation about dating with Tyson, he seemed to clam up and give brief comments, perhaps a little embarrassed by the entire topic. Needless to say, what had just left his mouth, in full confidence, was a stark contrast to previous conversations.

And despite everything raging in your mind (Tyson’s admission definitely relating to around half of that), there was only one thing that seemed to jump to the forefront of your concern:

“You do?” The question left you before you could contain it, and you knew if Tyson hadn’t been so close already, barely an arms length away, he wouldn’t have heard it because you knew, without even catching onto the way he seemed to lean closer as though he almost missed it, that you were a little breathless.

Tyson caught his bottom lip with his teeth for a moment, and the brief pause almost had you wondering if he’d changed his mind already – if it weren’t for the way he was looking at you.

In theory, he wasn’t exactly looking at you any differently as to how he’d been looking at you for the past few months – you knew that now, but it only seemed to confuse you more: if he’d been looking at you this softly and with this kind of…adoration for so long, then you really must have been blind to it, exactly like he’d just said.

His eyes were wide, but almost with a kind of shy curiosity, like he was looking at something for the first time and trying to figure it out, and his head was tilted with amusement. There was a tentative smile on his face, as though he was truly unsure of how to proceed, and he just looked so homely in that moment, with the open back door providing an almost cinematic backdrop.

Somewhere, for you, the line had been blurred when it came to the complicated nature of your relationship, but it felt more like someone had drawn a charcoal line a long time ago and since blown off the dust without your knowledge, until you’d been presented with the issue, that to you, at the time, hadn’t been an issue.

Toni telling you what Tyson had said had changed everything – but you were sure you’d felt like this for a while, just unconsciously. A small part of you had been flattening any feelings you could have possibly had for the man in front of you purely just because you’d been terrified of what it could have meant.

Tyson was your cousin’s teammate, and probably your best friend, and for that to change, he then became something you could lose. And a world without Tyson…

Instead of actually answering your question, he raised a brow, “I thought you knew?”

You shook your head, “How could I have known?” You felt your voice raise a little, a hand going up to slap against the counter – it wasn’t aggressive by any means, nor was it particularly loud, but it didn’t stop Tyson frowning at the action, “I flirted and flirted and you gave me nothing. You stopped altogether, what did you expect me to do with that?”

“I–I thought you were joking, I…You meant all of that?” He spluttered, frowning in confusion, and if you hadn’t been frustrated by the obvious miscommunication issues, you’d have found it rather adorably endearing.

“Yeah.” You nodded.

“So you didn’t know how I felt? How I feel about you?” He asked, a little sadly.

“How could I have known if you never said or did anything outside of the realm of friendship?”

He stared, mouth parted, “I thought you knew.” His voice was strained, telling of his own frustrations.

“If I had known I would have done something about it.”

That seemed to get his attention, and colour rushed to his cheeks, the tips of his ears even tinging another colour, “You–”

The front door slammed open with a resounding thud, and you both froze, words dying on your tongues as your heads snapped in the direction of the front room, anticipating Toni and Mat to come walking through the door. You swallowed, your heart hammering in your chest, hands trembling a little, and you hurried to hide them behind your back, turning around to lean against the counter. You could feel Tyson’s eager gaze burning the side of your face.

Everything was about to change, now. But you’d take it one step at a time.

Maybe that’s why, when Mat and Toni walked into the room wearing identical expressions of ‘what’s gone on here?’ after so much as just glimpsing you and Tyson awkwardly making an active effort to avoid looking at each other, you made the excuse you’d left something behind in the brunch place you’d gone to, and instead left house and didn’t return until a few hours later (you’d texted the group chat and told everyone you’d gotten distracted so they didn’t send out a search party).

It also happened to be sheer luck that when you’d arrived back at the house, armed with some goodies and presents for your friends back home, you hadn’t so much as even seen Tyson in all the time it took you to run upstairs and shower before dinner.

You guessed it was karma for running away when it came to the promised movie night, Set It Up was queued up to be played, and Mat and Toni were sprawled out together on the one sofa with Tyson lounging in the remaining armchair.

He seemed to spot your appearance first, a bowl of leftovers on his lap as well as his own food in his hand, and even in the dimmed lights you could see the way he seemed to do a double-take when he saw you. He offered a shy, unsure smile in your direction, but before he could do anything else, it was Toni that was talking.

“Tyson, budge up.” She ordered, not even sparing you a glance, and you were kind of grateful she didn’t, because you knew that if she had looked at you she’d have been able to read something there and the last thing you wanted was to not be prioritising Tyson.

But…that armchair was incredibly small for two people, which meant that Toni had to have sensed something was a little off when she’d walked into the kitchen earlier.

She was still meddling.

“It’s fine, I can just grab a cushio–”

Words failed you when Tyson shook his head, picked up your bowl from his lap and slid to the floor in front of the chair without a word and mid-chew. He threw his head back, gesturing you to take the chair, but when he offered you your bowl, you hesitated.

He barely had time to show confusion before you’d tugged his wrist and patted the barely-there space next to you.

He blinked, the movie beginning to play in the background. You shot a careful look towards the sofa, but Mat and Toni both had their backs to you guys, and even if they didn’t, their eyes were fixed on the screen.

“Are you sure?” Tyson whispered, and even at the thought of ending up half-cuddled next to him to simply sit and watch a film and eat some food sent pleasant goosebumps erupting across your skin.

You were warm having just gotten out of the shower, but you felt your temperature rise a little in anticipation, “Yeah.”

He said nothing else, but heaved himself up off the floor, and you took the liberty of freeing the hand that had been holding your bowl before you stood up and gently pushed him to sit down before steeling yourself. You were nervous, it felt like there was a swarm of bees in your chest – but what else were you supposed to do? Let him sit on the floor and suffer? Have him sit on you? You didn’t fancy your chances getting squished by a hockey player.

You bit the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from smiling when he furrowed his brows, about to protest when he realised he was the one sitting and you were the one standing, until you sat down next to him – rather, half-sat on him, throwing the closest thigh to him over the top of one of his and settling back against his shoulder, still side-by-side.

You were both wearing joggers and a hoodie, but as soon as you settled against him, you seemed to feel about ten times more cosy than before: Tyson was warm, combatting the chills that had preceded your nerves, and despite the close nature, you were pleased to find out that he was a comfy pillow.

This was the most you’d ever touched each other.

That realisation seemed to dry your mouth and have a spoonful of food stopping mid-way to your mouth, even despite the rumbling protest from your stomach.

Tyson was watching you out of the corner of his eye, you could feel the intensity graze the side of your cheek, and you turned minutely to look at him, glad the dim lights provided the safe sanctuary for you to be able to blush in peace.

“Are you okay?” He looked concerned – probably a result of you immediately running away after your earlier conversation, but there was a lightness to his features that hadn’t been there in a while.

He looked more at ease, and that seemed to immediately eliminate any and all nerves you’d just been experiencing. You were in this thing together – whatever it was and whatever it will be, if anything ever comes of it – but at the base of it all, you were friends.

You nodded, “I’m fine. I just needed a breather.”

He didn’t say anything, but you could make out the dull shine of his eyes and subtle nod of acknowledgement.

“Are you okay?”

He tried a smile, pushing himself further back into the cushions of the sofa, making you slide further towards him, your shoulder blade firmly tucked against his shoulder, “Yeah.”

You paused for a moment, debating with yourself on whether or not to say the thing that had been bugging you since earlier, but you had Tyson’s attention, no one was watching you, and there was always a movie to turn to if something went askew, so you went for it, albeit a bit uncertainly, “I don’t like seeing you flirt with other people either, by the way.” You whispered faintly, before immediately turning back to the movie and shovelling in a mouthful of your dinner, a little too embarrassed to meet his eyes and gauge his reaction.

He’d frozen, though, that much you could make out from underneath you. And at first you thought he wasn’t going to say or do anything at all, but he leaned his head closer to your ear, “I told her I was taken,” there was a pregnant pause, and you held your breath, eyes still glued on the film playing, “by you.”

You pressed your lips together to hide a small smile, and turned to face him, noses bumping accidentally. You inhaled sharply, pulling away to put an unsuspicious amount of space between you both, “You seem to have a habit of pretending we’re together.”

He just smiled.

***

You hadn’t ever anticipated having to use the spare set of pyjamas you’d packed on this trip. Spare: not with the intention of using them to show anything off, per se, but spare in case you got toothpaste on anything. Your usual pyjamas weren’t exactly anything special; just a t-shirt/long pant combo because no matter where you were in the world, you always seemed to get cold in the night and long pants did the job better than shorts ever could.

Yet, you found yourself cleaning your teeth in a spare pair of buttoned up sleep shorts and an old lace-trimmed vest-top, both of which were too small in some places. They weren’t noticeably too small, but there was definitely more skin shown.

That being said, your intentions weren’t exactly to seduce Tyson right then (after all, he had seen you in a bikini), but to at least make him a little nervous.

And it seemed to do the trick, because he wandered into the room innocently after you’d finished brushing your teeth, again wearing nothing but a pair of boxers and displaying a torso that you could now appreciate in all its glory and not have to sneak glances at him, and promptly stopped after the door shut behind him, clearing his throat.

His eyes seemed to first stick to your face, to which you offered a friendly smile and continued to tidy clothes away and go about your nightly routine, but you could tell they didn’t remain on your face. They travelled down, first to your exposed shoulders, then to the ever-so-slightly strained floral pattern on your camisole top, down to the slither of skin exposed above your shorts, and then they travelled the length of your legs.

He was shameless about it too, and it reminded you so strongly of the day he’d picked you up to go to the team meal and eventually asked you about this very trip, that it had you wondering if that’s when things changed for him – because he was never the same after that. Until now.

Then, as if remembering himself, he blinked and backpedalled, a hand on the door handle, “I can sleep downstairs. I’d understand if you’re not comfortable sharing a bed after everything–”

You frowned, “You know I reciprocate your feelings, right?”

He grinned boyishly, nodding with some enthusiasm, “I do. But I don’t want to cross a line and make things more uncomfortable.”

You stared, lips parting.

You’d never had that before: someone that considerate.

“Don’t go.” Was all you could manage, before you turned back to where you’d been absentmindedly tidying the top of the chest of drawers.

He didn’t take much convincing, and instead stepped into the bathroom to clean his teeth.

When he walked back out, you were brushing your hair, and partly just to see his reaction (partly also to just say what you were thinking), you blurted, “You look nice.”

He stopped in the doorway, swallowing and noctable looking down at himself. When he met your eyes once more, he was pulling an odd face, though the red splotches on his chest were hard to miss (he blushed on his chest?), “I’ve looked like this the entire week.”

“I’m aware.”

He just launched himself onto the bed, groaning into his pillow.

***

Twenty-four hours later, nothing had changed, though that was mostly due to the fact that the boys had wandered off and you and Toni had decided to go shopping, but by the end of the day the only thing that had changed was that you had a new book courtesy of Tyson, and he had a Martha’s magnet to add to his souvenir collection, courtesy of you.

“Are you still awake?” The whisper was faint, barely more than a heavy breath, but you still heard it.

It was hard not to hear it when you were so attuned to him laying next to you, both of you on your backs and staring at the ceiling, pretending the silence wasn’t palpable. You’d been trying to get to sleep for the better part of an hour and a half, but there was something about knowing he was doing the same thing barely two feet from you that had your brain unable to shut up and actually focus on getting some much-needed sleep.

It wasn’t anything new that you hadn’t already felt with him, but it was new in the sense that you knew how he felt and he knew how you felt, but you hadn’t actually talked anymore about it since a couple of days ago, and it was eating you up inside.

You inhaled softly, trying to get some air into your lungs to calm the sudden spike of nerves that had sent your pulse skyrocketing at the mere sound of his voice. There was something so illicit about knowing you were free to do and say anything in the haven of the room, knowing neither Mat or Toni were at all aware of the new developments.

You hadn’t felt like that in years.

“Yeah.” You whispered back, resisting the urge to smile giddily when you felt him roll on his side to face you.

“Do, uh,” you could practically hear his own smile bleed through his words, and it spurred you on to copy him, packing your pillow down so you could see him a little clearer as you rolled onto your side. His mouth shut when you were face-to-face, but there was a stifled smirk through his pressed lips, before he continued, “Do you want to talk about it?”

The heaviness of your eyelids seemed to answer for you, “Not right now, I think I’m too tired.”

He hummed, and from the crack through the bathroom door, you could just make out the outline of a mass of curls and the vague shimmer of his eyes, “Can I just clear something up with you?”

“Sure.”

“Is it okay with you if I take you out on a date when we get home? I’d like to do this properly.”

“That’s fine with me,” you paused, “but what…are there rules to ‘doing this properly’?”

“Uh,” Tyson hesitated, and you could tell from the tone of his voice alone that he’d already thought about it – an unspoken admission that had your mouth drying and your pulse skyrocketing for a completely different reason, as adrenaline seemed to spike in your system, “That depends.”

You swallowed, noticing the thick blanket of tension that had dropped over the both of you. You knew Tyson could feel it too because he was fidgeting under the covers and his hands couldn’t seem to find one singular place to rest on top of the sheets. If you could see what he was doing, you’d guess he was clenching and unfurling his fist.

“On what?” You asked, feigning naivety.

He sucked in a shallow breath, “Whether that offer to help dress me still stands.”

There was a pregnant pause, and you didn’t dare to move a single muscle. Anticipation had rooted you to the spot, “Dress you?” You repeated, slowly.

You vaguely saw Tyson nod, “Or the other way around.”

“Preferably.” You muttered, “But…” You wanted to say you’d think about it, try to make yourself believe you could wait a little longer, but the restlessness settling in your bones – that had settled and accumulated over the last few weeks, months, maybe – seemed to speak for itself when what left your mouth were the words: “I think I need something to eat.”

And before Tyson could even say anything, you’d thrown the duvet back and started walking down the hallway, and down the stairs.

Usually when you couldn’t sleep and got hungry again you could ignore the feeling, but you had to get out of that bed with Tyson looking, quite literally, mouthwateringly pretty right in front of you before you did something you’d both regret, such as jumping his bones. Though, you could take some relief in the fact that he clearly was thinking along the same lines judging from his comments.

You’d barely been standing in front of the open fridge, the cold air soothing your scorching body, before you could hear another set of footsteps follow you in and an equally warm body come in to cage against your back – not touch, no, but one of his hands rested just above yours on the door handle, and his other brushed teasingly against the exposed skin on your side, not just sending a jolt of shock to the ends of your toes, but a promise of something more to come – before he reached past you and took an orange from the open bag.

“What do you feel like having?” He murmured into your ear, the gravel of his voice really doing nothing to ease the tension and mounting need that you’d tried to seek relief for.

At this moment in time, every effort seemed inexplicably futile, and Tyson was doing everything to ensure that.

There were a few things that floated through your mind, some more unsavoury than others, but the main thing you felt like having, other than food, was him. And judging from the cocky glint in his eye as he stuck his tongue against the wall of his cheek when you snuck a glance at him, you could tell he knew exactly what you were thinking.

You didn’t know whether starting this thing with him was going to be a blessing or a curse if he knew you so well already.

“Maybe a kiwi–”

“I’m allergic to kiwi.”

You rolled your eyes at his blatant, quick lie, “What a damn shame.” You tutted disappointingly, shaking your head.

You knew it was a test, to see what you were thinking, where he could possibly end up by the end of the night – if you ate it, he’d know you weren’t quite ready for anything, but if you chose to not eat it, well…Only: “I know you’re not allergic to kiwi, you’ve eaten it in front of me before. But nice try.”

You reached a hand inside the fridge, stepping into him a little – enough to feel the rigidity against your leg in his shorts, and hear the low groan he’d tried to hide – and pulling a kiwi from the fridge before ducking under his arm, relishing in the way his eyes were scrunched shut, a painful smile on his face.

He sauntered over to where the lightswitch was, flicking the lights on along the counter, and you blinked at the sudden brightness, cutting the kiwi in half and opening the drawer to take out a spoon. You looked straight at Tyson, marvelling the tanned, toned ridges of his torso. There were shadows in his collarbones, and his chest was splotched with red lesions that continued up to his cheeks. If you touched his cheeks, you’d know the skin would be burning, but your eyes found themselves travelling downwards to where his stomach was tensed, half-hard in his boxers.

He cleared his throat just as you’d spooned a mouthful of kiwi in, and your eyes flew up to meet his blown pupils and rather ravenous stare as he raised a brow in your direction, fingers working to unpeel his orange. You felt yourself blush, and if he noticed the way you adjusted how you were standing leant against the counter he didn’t say anything, but you couldn’t help noticing the way his tendons flexed or the way his fingers worked expertly to peel away the rind.

He met you at the island, standing directly opposite you, not in the last bit bothered by his rather straining issue or how, as you both stood silently, quite obviously not able to look at anything other than each other, you were getting more restless by the second as desire started to unfurl and lick at your insides.

“Are you okay?” You muttered, swallowing your last piece of kiwi and placing the bowl on the side.

He inhaled deeply, tongue swiping at his lower lip, chest puffing with air, “‘M frustrated.”

You licked the remaining kiwi juice off your fingers, delighting in the way he seemed to slow at your motions. His jaw clenched and, as though he couldn’t take looking at you again, he forced his attention back at the remaining segment of his orange, “Like…” you started, unable to help feeling a little amused at the current predicament, “Sexually, or?”

His eyes rolled to you, a look written on his face that was nothing short of screaming ‘are you fucking kidding me, right now?’, and chewed the remaining segment of orange, “No.”

You crossed your ankles, tailbone pressing into the countertop uncomfortably, but the pain seemed to distract you from your issue, “Pity, I could have helped you out.” You hid your hands behind you, almost trembling with the need to be touched by the man in front of you, but not quite wanting to give in yet.

Tyson huffed a bitter laugh, the sound going straight to your core, and before you could even blink he’d put himself next to you; this time he’d chosen to eliminate any space, the side of his body pressed tightly against yours from your shoulders to your shins. You couldn’t tell if the skin contact on the exposed areas was a relief or just downright torturous, because now you’d felt what it was like to be pressed against him, you didn’t know how long you’d be able to keep your hands to yourself.

Tyson was just downright addictive.

“I definitely underestimated how much of a tease you were gonna be.” He muttered, dipping his head a little lower so his nose was bumping against the side of your cheek.

Your breath hitched in your chest, and your eyes instantly zeroed in on his lips before looking back up at him, helpless to the effect he has on you, “That’s pretty bold coming from someone who hasn’t even kissed me ye—”

***

This is it.

There was a kind of ‘where do we go from here’ finality to the thought that had seemingly buried itself in your head last night – it was one of the last things you remembered before falling asleep, and it seemed it was the first that echoed through your mind the moment you woke.

That, and the delicious roughness of a warm palm sliding across the skin on your hip, fingers teasing gently and patiently at the elastic of your lace panties, like the owner was biding his time to wake you up gently.

What was one supposed to do after having the best sex of their life?

Even at the mere memory of it, goosebumps rose on your skin – Tyson clearly catching the change when he placed a delicate, warm kiss on your shoulder blade, the feel of his smile imprinted into your skin as he did so. The action seemed to cause some kind of visceral reaction within you, and despite waking up mere seconds earlier, you suddenly felt more awake than you had ever been in such a short space of time.

Even so, just to toy with him a little longer, you kept your eyes firmly shut, sighing through your nose and snuggling a little deeper into your pillow, trying your absolute hardest to ignore the sudden course of liquid desire that had flooded through your system and subsequently overridden any other habitual thought you tended to have in a morning.

Tyson’s hand froze on your hip, and you felt the mattress dip behind you, a shadow suddenly appearing over your shoulder as he manoeuvred himself around you in an insurmountable display of strength and control – the very display that left you no choice but to open your eyes and hide an almost shy smile in the fabric of your pillow.

His cheeks were a little flushed already, and his lips were redder than usual – another reminder of your early morning activities, and when he caught your eye he grinned mischievously, showing no sign of having only just woken up. His eyes were wide and not at all bleary, an observation that had you vaguely frowning as he slid himself from where he’d been nestled against your back, to laying in front of you.

“Did I wake you up?” He asked innocently, his hand almost instantly returning its place to rest against your hip, although this time with a little force behind his grip as he used the leverage to pull you closer, looping your leg over his hip. There wasn’t even a single hint of apology or remorse for him having woken you up, that much was clear from the twinkle of trouble that had taken up permanent residence in the depths of his eyes since he’d first kissed you.

What were you supposed to say, but the truth? He’d woken you up, that had been his intention, but you weren’t about to confess it was because of the way you now seemed to be in tune with every brief touch of his against your skin.

“Yes.” You mumbled, yawning.

You weren’t the slightest bit annoyed, either, a fact he seemed to pick up on.

“Sorry.” He shrugged, and you swallowed desperately when he seemed to unconsciously roll his hips up into yours, already half-hard. Almost instantly you seemed to arch into him a little, a hand automatically reaching out to steady yourself against his bulging bicep. His eyes seemed to hood at your reaction, “But the heart wants what the heart wants.”

You didn’t hold back on rolling your eyes, but there was something so enticing and equally as distracting with the way he was looking at you, and you knew, then and there, that you’d be an utter fool not to do anything but give into him when he looked that good this early in the morning . Especially not when you knew you could now freely shut him up in a way he made no complaints against.

Not when you knew you could have him completely at almost any moment now – almost, because Mat and Toni weren’t to know about the two of you, not yet, at least.

Morning breath be damned (you’d done infinitely worse things earlier), you proved your point twice in bed, a little hurried considering it was verging on the time Mat and Toni would start wandering around downstairs, and once more in the shower.

It was a miracle you’d remembered to remind him not to leave any marks that could be seen if you wore a bikini, because as soon as the both of you had rather bashfully left the room, not even a trace of awkwardness remaining but knowing you’d have to at least fake it for the other two, it became clear that Mat and Toni had decided today was a beach day.

More specifically, a soccer beach day.

And you’d never been more thankful that sunglasses could be a cheap invention, because you spent the entire walk over and setting up on the sand trying and failing not to A, blush every time you caught Tyson smirking at you, B, blush everytime Tyson got that insatiable hunger in his eyes (because that was a thing), and C, look directly at the points on Tyson that you knew were home to dark purple lesions, courtesy of aforementioned escapades (of which were hidden by his swimming trunks).

It was all rather thrilling, you thought. But knowing exactly what Tyson was capable of and the extent of the pleasure he could give you so easily, you were having a hard time not looking at him or wanting to drag him to the nearest private or secluded area to have your way with him.

The man was a fucking God – literally.

In fact, you thought you’d both managed to pull it all off thus far until Mat paused, standing up in front of one of the towels and looking rather confusedly between you and Tyson from where you sat opposite each other on parallel towels of your own.

“What?” You immediately asked, mind immediately shooting to him having guessed what had transpired, and Tyson seemed to think the same thing because he suddenly looked very grave, eyes darting between you and Mat with some caution.

“You guys look really tired.” Mat said, lifting his sunglasses onto his forehead and folding his arms across his chest.

You let out a relieved breath internally, tilting your head to look up at him and simultaneously relishing in the fact that Toni wasn’t actually close enough to cast an interrogating ear into this specific conversation. She’d inevitably prod and poke, and although you loved her, she’d most definitely wriggle out the truth somehow and that was the last thing you needed.

See, you and Tyson had an agreement: you could have sex with each other for the remainder of this vacation. When you’d get back home the ‘proper’ dating etiquette would immediately apply itself once more — that being you go on dates and so on.

Only, there was the only issue of the fact that you’d both agreed to that prior to having sex with each other.

And now? You weren’t entirely sure you wanted to stop having sex with Tyson for the sake of just delaying the inevitable. To put it simply, he’d completely ruined you, and judging from the obscene sounds he’d made and the way he’d acted after that first time, he felt the same.

“Yeah,” you started, “We weren’t tired so we watched a movie really late.” You lied.

Mat nodded, “Did you guys go into the kitchen too? There was some stuff on the counter.”

“Yeah, we got hungry.” Tyson excused, playing nonchalant incredibly well.

“Cool.” Mat mumbled, inhaling deeply, “So what movie did you guys watch?”

“The Hangover.”

“The Amazing Spider-Man.”

Fuck.

Mat raised a brow in your direction, and you could feel the panic begin to rise—

“The Hangover and The Amazing Spider-Man.” Tyson intervened coolly, leaving you to just nod rather dumbly.

Mat nodded, seemingly accepting of the answer before walking a little way over to where Toni was sorting herself out. You waited until he was out of earshot before sharing a rather amused, yet bewildered look with Tyson, who – unlike you – was blessed in having his back to the two of them, and who also could only raise a teasing brow in your direction before fishing through your shared beach bag and pulling out a bottle of sunscreen.

Your mind instantly flashed back to the last time you’d ‘helped’ each other put on sunscreen, only this time there was an obvious relationship change – and clearly devious ulterior motives. Nevertheless, you patted the space on your towel, ensuring Mat and Toni were occupied on the other side of the umbrella.

So far, you hadn’t noticed any signs of them trying to push the two of you together either, but you rather supposed that was due to the weird vibes you’d been giving off the past few days with all the tension and whatnot. But if either of them noticed a slight change, there wasn’t a doubt in your mind that they’d instantly resume their matchmaking.

It was why you breathed a little easier when they both stood up and made their way to the water, unintentionally giving the two of you some privacy.

“You’re gonna have to put it on your front yourself, though–”

His groan of protest interrupted your sentence, and you rolled your eyes fondly, standing up to greet him. Tyson is attractive, insanely so, that was something you weren’t immune to recognising even the first time you’d ever met him, but he just looked positively biteable, angelic and irresistible all in a way that had you lost for words when you ended up that close to him again.

“Hi.” he tilted his head adorably, smiling equally as endearingly.

He had a faded navy cap on his head, curls peeking out through the adjustable tag, and his hands were hung by his side, one clutching the bottle and the other tapping his fingers against the outside of his thigh. He was smiling with his whole body, crinkles by his eyes and chest puffed a little.

You could do nothing but reciprocate his infectious smile, your hand almost nervously going up to adjust his own cap on your head – a worn-in one that had rugged applique numbers on the front – before taking the blue bottle from him, doing nothing to avoid touching his hand at all. His palm was warm, and he had such a tight grip that you shot him an unimpressed glance and had to use both hands to pry his fingers away, but you knew he was revelling in the touch. In fact, somewhere between you successfully retrieving the sunscreen and popping the cap, he’d swivelled the hat on your head backwards, spinning around to let you spray his back and shoulders.

You did, taking your sweet, sweet time dragging your palms across his skin, relishing in the way he shivered when you ran a teasing hand beneath the band of his trunks, and the way he seemed to lean his head backwards when you massaged his shoulders.

“Can they see us?” He asked once he’d turned back around to face you, his eyes glued on where you presumed Toni and Mat were splashing in the shallows of the water.

You followed his eyes, turning to throw a casual glance over your shoulder. They could definitely see you guys, that was for certain, but their attention was solely on each other – so much so that even if they could see you , you knew they wouldn’t actually see you.

“They’re not watching us.” Was what you settled for, quirking a curious and rather suspicious brow in Tyson’s direction when a mischievous grin presented itself on his face, “I don’t like that look.”

He took the bottle of sunscreen out of your hand, maintaining slow and steady eye contact, the still cheeky look planted on his face, “It’s the only one I got.”

And before you could protest to what he was about to do – because that wasn’t too difficult when he aimed the bottle in your direction – he sprayed two shots of sunscreen across your chest, just above your bikini, and the sudden cold in the blazing sun immediately sent goosebumps prickling across your skin.

“They still not watching?”

You shook your head, “Don’t make it obvious, though.”

He grinned, throwing the bottle on the towel, before not-so-subtly smearing the product across your chest, simply using the application of sunscreen as an excuse to slip his hand inside the cup of your bikini–

“Fuck, Mat’s coming.” He rolled his eyes, ripping his hand out of your bikini with a disappointed huff before throwing himself on the towel on the floor in an attempt to make it seem like he wasn’t doing anything he shouldn’t have, and you stifled a laugh.

“You guys nearly done? You want a quick game of soccer?” Mat asked, unzipping his backpack to pull out a soccer ball that he must have bought earlier, and you and Tyson shared a look.

Fifteen minutes later, your shins were stinging from sand exfoliation as a result of Tyson having tackled you rather brutally to the floor, and your cheeks were aching from grinning. The teams were the same as they had been for the pool game: Mat and you against Tyson and Toni – mostly to balance out skill, and also because there wasn’t really anything more fun than to trash talk the living daylights out of Toni and Tyson.

Though, it seemed Mat was holding back on tackling Toni, and putting all his effort into completely decking Tyson: the man had sand embedded in his curls and you knew if you so much as poked his cheek it’d transfer to your finger.

Having said that, Mat’s efforts weren’t exactly wasted – you were currently beating the other two by four goals (the infrastructure consisted of sunscreen bottles), and everything was going smoothly. There weren’t too many people on your stretch of the beach, and anyone who did happen to pass kept a safe distance. The tackles were fair and safe – or at least, they were until Mat landed a particularly hard one on Tyson and the latter’s foot got caught in the sand as his body fell the other way.

There was a groan as he fell to the floor, and all three of you still standing froze where you were, the ball slowly rolling to a stop. Mat was the first to move when he realised Tyson wasn’t moving – they were taught to stay still if they thought something was really wrong, and although he never said anything, it was clear he was thinking he’d just put his best friend out for the next few months.

The guilt was written all over his face, and it seeped into his actions: his hands were trembling and the questions rolling off his tongue were that of broken speech.

“Wha…ankle or…scale of…” It was as though he couldn’t decide what to ask for his overwhelming concern, and Toni tried to pull him away a little to give you some space to kneel down next to Tyson.

His hand was clutching his ankle and his face was screwed up in pain, and his chest was hitching with each breath for his pain, and even looking at him like that sent something heavy dropping in your stomach. It felt an awful lot like dread.

“Where does it hurt?” You rested a (what you hoped to be) comforting touch to his shoulder, fighting to keep the concern out of your own voice, incredibly aware that Mat and Toni were standing looking over your shoulder.

He inhaled sharply, managing to push himself up into a sitting position, his hand still clamped rather tightly around his ankle. It didn’t look so bad when it happened in the moment, but with the way he was acting, something had clearly gone very wrong. Perhaps weeks off in physio-wrong.

“Argh.” He clenched his jaw, lips pulled tightly together, “It’s my ankle. It’s not that bad I don’t think, but I think I might have sprained it–”

“Fuck.” Mat sighed behind you, and you turned to look at his pale face.

Before you could even attempt to tell him it wasn’t too bad, that sprains weren’t exactly career-ending, Tyson beat you to it.

“It’s nothing. It wasn’t your fault, you tackled me and I turned to avoid you and my foot got caught.”

You shot a look back at Tyson. Feet don’t really get caught in sand, do they? You tuned out of the conversation happening over your shoulders, and gently removed Tyson’s hand from his own ankle, trying to get a look for any possible swelling or bruising, but when he peeled his fingers away, all that you could see was sand and more sand.

Still, you didn’t say anything, not even when you could feel him trying to sneak a look at you out of the corner of his eye, not even when he used said ‘sprained’ ankle to stand up before accepting both yours and Mat’s shoulders to limp back over to the towels and bags.

There weren’t any ice packs in the cool bags, only ice cubes, and they would have been no good against bare skin.

Naturally, the next step to that was someone going back up to the house to grab an ice pack, only when you volunteered yourself, nearly everyone had protests.

Toni: No you should stay with him. I should go.

Mat: I should go, I’ll be quick and…well, it’s my fault so–

Tyson: Don’t be ridiculous. We’ll both just go.

Tyson’s excuse certainly got a suspicious look, only he seemed to shrug it off when he stuck his bottom lip out a little further and staged a ‘this is really bothering me’ glance to his ankle and after that both Toni and Mat both seemed to buy it.

You on the other hand? You arched an eyebrow but still hid your expression of disbelief under your cap.

His arm was heavy across your shoulders as you helped him climb the steps to the top path, and he kept grunting in pain every time he had to plant his injured foot on the floor.

“Do we need to go to the ER and get you checked out?” You asked, the weight of his entire body leant on your shoulder becoming a little too much because you’d learnt pretty quickly that hockey players were as heavy if not heavier than they looked.

You reached an arm further around his torso, planting your palm against his ribs, and whether it was that firmer touch or something else, he seemed to take some of the weight off your shoulder and twist his head to look behind him–

“What are you doing?”

“Can they see us?” He asked once again, suddenly a little lighter on his feet.

You frowned, turning around, only to be blocked from Mat and Toni’s view by a neat row of shops and cafes, “I don’t think so, no.”

“Oh, thank fuck.” He breathed, immediately stepping normally, the previous weight on your shoulder alleviated almost instantly as he tugged you closer, pressing a quick kiss to your temple and not minding the sand or the cap.

Only, his miraculously quick healing time seemed to have the completely opposite effect on you because you pulled away from him, still clutching his wrist and stopped dead in your tracks, your eyes fixed on his ankle in his sliders.

“So, you’re not–”

“No.” He shook his head, suddenly a little self-conscious, and because your head was ducked down and the brim of your cap was hiding your face, he completely missed the fond roll of your eyes and the rather impressed smile on your face, “Is…That’s okay, right? I just thought it might be nice to have an empty house. I mean, we don’t have to do anything, I just wanted to spend time with you without the other two.”

“You know you didn’t have to fake an injury to do that, right?”

The tension seemed to dissolve off his face when he saw you were more than amused at his antics, and all at once he pulled you back to him, a cheeky grin on his face, “I know, but if it was any other excuse I don’t think it would have worked so well.”

“Maybe.” You hummed, “Your acting skills were pretty good, though.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Then, after a rather deep breath to fight through some of the nerves, “Y’know, I wouldn’t mind doing stuff when we get back in.”

“Yeah?” His tone was softer this time, as were his eyes.

“It’d be a shame if we didn’t capitalise on certain opportunities.”

***

Toni had figured something out almost as soon as she walked through the door. You didn’t know if you were trying too hard to be nonchalant or if it was something else, but the very second she walked through the door and set her eyes upon you from where you were tidying up the kitchen, she narrowed her eyes. And then you watched with bated breath as she scanned the entire room until she settled on Tyson, who, as previously planned, was laid on the couch with an ice pack on his ankle.

As far as you were aware, you were both fully presentable. The house didn’t smell of sex – the air fresheners took care of that perfectly well, but even so, you guys mostly stayed in your room; nothing wasn’t as it was before, which was why it was so unnerving to see her stalk right over to you.

“What’s up?” You asked slowly, your hands halting from where you were cleaning the counter.

She sidled right up to you, until her shoulder was pressed against yours, and she waited until Mat had gone upstairs before she did anything.

“So,” she started, loud enough for Tyson to turn where he was sitting to watch the two of you, “how come you two have never dated?”

The silence was loud.

You refused to look at Tyson. If you did, it would only give her leverage or something else that wouldn’t be good in any way whatsoever. Instead you looked straight at Toni, schooling your expression into one of confusion.

You’d talked about something similar with her before, but it hadn’t gone past ‘we’ve never hooked up’, and now? Well, that’s not true now, is it?

“Um…” You hesitated, well aware of Tyson’s eyes on the side of your face, “We’re just friends.”

She pulled a face, “Yeah. You guys like each other, though.”

“Of course we do, we’re friends.”

She paused, smiling, “You’re one of my best friends. I know when you’ve had sex.” At that she sent a rather pointed accusatory glare, laced completely with amusement, straight at the mop of curls and pair of eyes peering over the back of the couch, eagerly watching the entire interaction. At the sudden attention, his eyes widened and his brows disappeared under his hair.

“I…What?” Tyson asked, rather adorably.

“I’m sure it’s just the sun–”

“Well, you’ve always had a penchant for orbiting each other, I’ll give you that.”

And quite frankly, you couldn’t really remember much after that, other than the fact that Toni then left the room and somehow you’d migrated to the couch, ensuring to leave an appropriate gap between you and Tyson.

Though, if Toni had gone upstairs, then Mat probably knew, because even though Tyson was one of your closest friends, nothing really beat the extent to which you and Toni knew each other. Even though neither you or Tyson admitted anything, Toni knew.

And with that in mind, you shuffled the small gap across the cushions, head resting against the meat of Tyson’s shoulder from where he’d stretched his arm out. He seemed to freeze a little under your touch.

“Are you sure?”

You hummed, “Mat probably knows by now anyway.”

He moved his arm to curl around your shoulders, resting his head against yours. You tried to see if you could hear anything happening upstairs, maybe a loud exclamation from Mat, or the thumping of footsteps, but nothing happened. Or, if it did, you wouldn’t have been entirely surprised, because it was hard to hear anything apart from the rushing of blood in your ears and the faint echo of Toni’s earlier words.

She really phrased it quite nicely.

“It hasn’t even been twenty-four hours yet. We fucking suck at keeping secrets.”

#tyson jost oneshot #tyson jost imagine #tyson jost x reader #tyson jost fic #nhl oneshot #nhl imagine #nhl fic #hockey fic #martha's is pretty romantic

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senditcolton · 1 year ago

Text

maybe this Christmastime, you'll realize

song inspo: santa doesn't know you like i do word count: 3k warnings: none, just pure holiday fluff (christmas centric)

a/n: i'm back!! and what better way to celebrate the conclusion of my graduate degree by giving you all a barely edited, written last night, self-indulgent fic to feed my delusion of Tyson Jost being madly in love with me. glad to be back and can't wait to write for you all again!!

The heat that blasts from the oven is a welcome sensation, considering that your old apartment often struggled to keep in the warmth from your central heating. You lean in, your oven mitt clad hand reaching and grasping the cookie sheet.

You’d be the first to admit that you weren’t much of a baker. That was never your ‘job’ during holidays with your family. But you figured you would try this year since you wouldn’t have the opportunity to enjoy the homemade goodies your family crafted.

That was the reason you chose to bake cookies. The reason you chose to bake almond butter cookies was because of someone else. Someone who also wasn’t able to enjoy the comforts of home this year.

As if he could hear your thoughts, a knock echoes through your apartment. You quickly finish transferring the cookies from the still hot baking sheet onto the cooling rack before wiping off your hands and running towards the front door. You swing open the worn wood and you can’t help the smile that tugs at your lips when you see Tyson standing there.

“Hey. Happy Christmas Eve Eve.”

“Is that the official name?” he laughs, walking into your apartment like it was his own. Which considering how often he was over at your place, it might as well be.

“You haven’t seen that episode of Friends?”

“Guess not,” he shrugs, taking off his coat. “Smells nice in here.”

“Thanks. I tried my hand at baking.”

“And you didn’t burn the apartment down?” he smiles and you wish you could stop the way your knees weaken at the sight.

“Ha, ha, very funny,” you laugh, playfully shoving his shoulder. “You better be nice to me or else you won’t get any almond butter cookies.” This time, you didn’t want to stop the trill of your heart at the way his eyes brightened at your words.

“Almond butter?”

“Yeah,” you nod towards the kitchen, a silent invitation for him. He took your encouragement in stride, breezing into the other room and you were thankful that he was out of earshot when you said your next words.

“I made them just for you.”

You did. You also opened your home to him, welcoming him any day during this, the week of Christmas. But that was just because you didn’t want him to be lonely. That was all. That was the only reason.

It definitely wasn’t because of the crush you had been harboring for him since the first day you met.

No, absolutely not.

You take a deep breath before following Tyson into the kitchen, turning the corner only to find him already munching on a cookie, a grin on his face and some crumbs stuck on his facial hair.

“I know they’re probably not as good as Grandma Jost’s but –” Tyson cuts you off with a gentle call of your name.

“Stop. These are delicious. You did a really good job.”

“Thanks,” you say. It’s only then that you spy the backpack that he carried in with him, one that was now placed on your kitchen table. “What’s that?”

“Oh,” Tyson says, as if he just remembered it himself. You are even more curious when you see the blush spread on his cheeks, the rosy color having nothing to do with the lingering cold from outside. “I need your help.”

“Okay?”

“You mentioned that you were in charge of wrapping presents at your house for the holidays. And I’m really bad at it. I mean, usually I struggle through it or just put everyone’s gifts in bags…”

You gently interrupt his explanation with a laugh of your own, your brain goes over all the gifts Tyson has given you; mostly presented to you in gift bags.

“But since I can’t go home this year, I kind of want to – I don’t know – make more of an effort. Make it more exciting for whenever my family does get their presents. If that makes any sense.”

“That makes perfect sense, Tyson,” you reply. “Sit. Eat your cookies. I’ll get the wrapping paper.”

Only a few short moments pass before you find yourself sitting next to Tyson, wrapping the stockpile of presents he brought over and listening to him talk about anything and everything: details about the gift you were currently wrapping, his shopping adventures, the hockey season so far, friend and family updates, anything. You occasionally interrupt with questions about how he wants the presents decorated but he gives you a lot of creative freedom which you slightly admonish him for.

“Tyson, they should feel like they’re from you.”

“I’ll pick out the bows.”

That was how you continued, your focus on the folds and creases of the paper in front of you while Tyson talked.

You had gone through most of the gift he presented to you, your concentration entirely on the folding and taping that you perfected long ago. Tyson had gone quiet for a moment but you weren’t that concerned as you were still able to hear him rustling around in the bag that held all your bows, finding whatever color he chose for the current gift. You are just about to put the last piece of tape on when you feel Tyson’s fingers gently press against your head.

Your eyes snap back to him, only to see that adorable crooked grin on his face. You are pretty sure you knew what happened and your thoughts are only confirmed as you reach up and feel the paper of the bow pressed onto your hair.

“Is this the one you want for this gift?”

“It looks pretty cute on you,” he says and you once again have to force yourself to take a deep breath before your body acts of its own volition, revealing your feelings in probably the worst way.

“I’m sure it’ll look much better on the present,” you quip, taking it off your hair and replacing the tape before sticking it onto the silver paper. “Ta-da!” You push the present off to the side, adding to the slowly growing pile. “What’s next?”

You turn your attention to Tyson, but this time, he’s the one distracted. His fingers tap against his phone, typing out few quick messages, a small grin appearing on his face occasionally. You wait for a few minutes, just watching him until he feels your gaze and looks up towards you.

“Huh?”

“Which present is next?”

“Oh, last one,” he says, pulling the final gift out of his backpack and handing it to you. “This one is for Kacey.”

“Was that who you were texting?”

“No um, that was Mikayla. She’s this girl I matched with on a dating app a little while ago. We’re just getting last minute details ready before our date tonight.”

His words give you literal pause as your scissors stall on the wrapping paper, your smooth precise cut turning into a jagged edge.

“Tonight?” you ask, your question answered with an affirmative hum from him. You try to act nonchalant, a shrug lifting your shoulders as you attempt to focus back on the task at hand. “Seems a little odd – so close to Christmas.”

“Yeah, but it was the best day for her and I don’t have anywhere else to be, y’know?”

You try not to let his words sting, knowing he doesn’t mean them maliciously. He wasn’t with his family and you were just a friend. He didn’t have any commitments because he wasn’t committed to you. That was the simple truth.

“Yeah, I know,” you say, forcing your attention onto the cherry red wrapping paper in your hands; the one thing you could control. “I think a gold bow would look good on this one.”

“Whatever you say, boss,” Tyson replies, typing out one last quick message before diving back into the bag to find the color you requested.

A few short minutes later, the presents are wrapped and placed back into Tyson’s pack, safe and ready for their return to his apartment. You watched from your couch as his throws his coat over his broad frame before swinging the backpack onto his shoulder.

“If you want, you can always come over tomorrow. I need some help finishing off those cookies,” you playfully tease, trying not to let your heart get too attached to the idea of spending Christmas Eve with him next to you.

“I might take you up on that,” Tyson says, shooting you a gentle smile before opening your door and leaving, the chill sneaking in from the outside and finding a way to wrap around your heart.

You know you had no right to be upset. Tyson wasn’t yours. He didn’t know the way you felt about him and there was no certainty that he would even share your feelings. He might only ever see you as a friend and if that was the case… he should be free to find someone who does love him.

But there was this stubborn part of you that couldn’t imagine anyone else loving Tyson as much as you loved him. You’ve been there through the good and bad. You knew his favorite songs. You knew how to make him laugh. And you would always pick up when he called.

Who else could say that?

You sigh, gently telling yourself that there was nothing you could do about it tonight.

Perhaps Christmas Eve might bring forth some holiday magic. Or maybe you should just throw in the towel, pray for New Year’s to come quickly so you could leave this heartache behind along with the holiday season.

You weren’t sure which to wish for so you just crawled into bed, feeling bluer that ever before as you fell asleep, trying not to think of someone else’s lips pressed against Tyson’s.

~*~*~*~*~*~

The lights in the tree blurred as you try to hold back you tears. You always seemed to cry during the holidays; you never really knew why. It just always came about this time of year. ‘Tis the season, right?

But this year, you could pinpoint the exact person that caused your tears to fall. Tyson Jost. The worst part about it was that it wasn’t even his fault that you were crying. It was all yours.

You woke up after a listless night of sleeping. When you went to check your phone, you hoped to see a message from Tyson but to your disappointment but not surprise, there was no notification on your screen. You managed to roll yourself out from underneath your covers and go about your morning routine before sending a text to him, saying that you hoped his date went well and that the offer to come over tonight was still on the table.

That was over twelve hours ago and all you received was radio silence from him.

Perhaps that is why you found yourself curled up underneath your tree, staring up at the lights in the boughs, trying to push back tears. It was a stupid reason to cry just like it was stupid to fall for your best friend. Stupid to think that he could ever see you as anything more. Stupid to think that maybe this Christmas would be the one where it all changed.

Stupid to spend your money on a new watch, wrap it up for him with a note documenting your feelings in the hope that he would open it tonight, here, underneath your tree while you both ate the cookies you made specifically for him.

Your fingers trace over the silk ribbon, fidgeting with the bow as the minutes tick by, your hope dwindling with them.

The receipt for it was still in your closet in one of your purses. You could return it on Tuesday, pretend like you never had this grand scheme and go back to being friends with Tyson. Give yourself another year to get over him. Maybe next year you finally would.

A heavy sigh escapes you as you spare one last glance down at the parcel in your hands before placing it back underneath the tree with all the other presents that your friends and family had sent to you.

It was a silly idea, an almost childish Christmas dream and now, you had to wake up. Tyson was dating other people and sooner or later, he would find someone who could give him everything you could and possibly more. Perhaps he found her last night and woke up this morning to her curled up in his arms and that feeling of love just struck him and if so, there was nothing you could do and –

The knock on your door startles you out of your spiraling thoughts, your hand hitting a few ornaments hanging down from the branches. You quickly grab them, stabilizing the fragile decor before you lift yourself off the floor, your blanket pooling beneath you before you wander to the front door.

You had no idea who was knocking at this time of night but you must have been too exhausted, both physically and emotionally, to care because you opened the door without a second thought. It took you a minute to fully register the person standing on your doorstep but when you saw those chocolate curls and those big brown eyes, you feel a sense of calm sweep over you.

Tyson always pulled that feeling from you. Even when he showed up unannounced on Christmas Eve.

Although you were happy to see him, the expression on your face was one of confusion. Why was he here, now, without a word of warning, after ignoring you for almost a full 24 hours? You are about to ask those questions but before you could get a word out, Tyson speaks.

“I’m sorry.”

His words catch you off-guard, the meaning behind them not yet clear to you.

“For what?” you ask him. Your breath shallows as he turns his gaze to you and you are struck by the earnestness reflecting in his eyes.

“For not seeing you,” he replies, stepping over the threshold of your apartment and closer to you. “For not seeing how wonderful and amazing and beautiful you are.”

“Wha – what’s happening?” you question, his words sending shockwaves through your body.

“I think a part of me always knew; that you were the one. But I ignored it for whatever reason. Fear, indifference, whatever. But last night, when I was on a date with another girl, all I could think about was you. How you make me laugh, make me smile. Pick me up and encourage me when I’m down. Do silly inconsequential things for me without expecting anything in return.”

Tyson continues to speak, becoming more assured and confident with every word, punctuating each sentence with a step closer to you.

“How you went out of your way to make cookies that remind me of home so I would feel less alone this holiday season. No one else has done anything like that for me.”

You had to be hallucinating or dreaming or something. This felt straight out of goddamn Hallmark movie – it couldn’t be real life. It was a fantasy brought on by sugar and heartache. But when Tyson reaches out to you, gently grasping your hands in his, you can feel the warmth of his touch run through you, warm and as real as it ever was.

“And I realized last night, alone in my bed, that I didn’t need the cookies, the presents, the bows and ribbons to feel like I was home,” Tyson confesses, his voice becoming softer as he pulls you closer. “Whenever I’m with you… that’s when I’m home. You are home to me. And I’m sorry for not being able to tell you sooner. I’m sorry it took this long for me to realize it.”

Tyson silences, looking into your eyes and you know he’s waiting for your answer but you were still trying to fully understand this whole situation. Still trying to wrap your head around the fact that the man in front of you, the man that you had a crush for almost an entire year, just came to your house in the middle of the night and confessed his feelings to you.

Your body slightly jumps at the sound of your front door closing, the breeze pulling it shut but Tyson gently rubs his thumbs over the back of your hands, soothing you. A small jingle of a bell sounds from above you, brought on by the gust of air from the door. The noise pulls both you and Tyson’s attention away from each other towards the ceiling and you feel your cheeks warm at the sight of the green leaves with white berries, tied together with ribbon, hanging above you. The warmth intensifies as Tyson turns his gaze on you once again, that mischievous look in his eyes.

“Mistletoe? Really?”

“It’s tradition,” you mutter, your tongue finally being able to twist itself into words.

“Well, it is Christmas after all. I guess we shouldn’t break tradition,” he grins.

You force yourself to breathe as Tyson leans closer to you, your eyes fluttering shut when you feel his forehead press against yours. You can feel the warmth of his breath fanning over your cheeks but his movements stall and when you don’t feel the gentle press of his lips against yours, you slowly reopen your eyes.

Tyson is still standing there, his lips only mere centimeters away from yours. It’s only then that you realize you’ve never given him a response to his confession. Haven’t yet told him that it was everything that you had been hoping to hear from him. But how could you possibly respond when it didn’t feel like there were words in the English language to describe the depth of your feelings?

The answer was simple.

You respond by lifting yourself up those final inches and pressing your lips against his. You pour every emotion you felt into that kiss and you could feel a piece of you settle when Tyson kissed you back with as much passion.

And you knew that this – wrapped up in Tyson’s arms underneath the mistletoe, his lips against yours – was the best present you could have ever received this year.

#nicole writes #tyson jost fic #tyson jost imagine #tyson jost fluff #buffalo sabres fic #buffalo sabres imagine #nhl fic #nhl imagine #hockey fic #hockey imagine

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cowboybarzy · 1 year ago

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38 from the fluff list w josty…. i crave it…. congrats bby <3

yaay baby josty request!! thank youu -> 1k celly

38. “Sorry… your hair was in your face… thought I should move it so I could see you better.”

“Oh my god, so cute,” Tyson exclaimed, crouching down to the little brown puppy jumping up his leg. The owners apologized and tried to get their puppy to stop jumping, but both you and Tyson were quick to let them know you were totally fine with it.

“I love him,” you said, scratching behind his little ears. You looked over to Tyson, who had the biggest grin on his face, making your stomach flutter.

A few more pets and cute puppy pictures later, you were back on your way, strolling around the city. You had met Tyson a few weeks ago when he moved to Rochester to play hockey here and you had been hanging out ever since. It started out as just friends, but it was clear to the both of you that it was quickly developing into something more.

You just had just met up to have lunch after his practice and decided to afterwards take a walk through the city, that was still unfamiliar to him. But you grew up here and loved showing him around.

“Yes, I swear we used to be able to skate on here. It’s where I learned to. I’m actually pretty good,” you explained as you stood on the bridge overlooking the river. “But it hasn’t been cold enough in years.”

“Well, I’m going to have to take you skating soon to see those skills. How’s your puck handling?” You rolled your eyes, which elicited a goofy grin which you’d grown to love.

“I was talking about skating, not hockey. But I’d love to take you up on that offer.” He nodded, still sporting his smile. A big gust of wind suddenly blew, almost blowing your scarf off and messing up your hair. You quickly fixed it, looking back at him.

His hand reached over, stroking a strand of hair out of your face. The tips of his fingers, brushed across your forehead. “Sorry… your hair was in your face… thought I should move it so I could see you better.”

You blushed, looking away, but his fingers that still lingered close to your face gently forced you to look back at him. The wind blew, messing up his curly hair as well, but he looked so cute you couldn’t tear your gaze away again. Slowly, Tyson bent down to brush his cold lips against yours. Your heart skipped a beat, then another one when your lips touched with more force.

When you pulled away, you both shyly looked away with equally big smiles on your face and you could tell that this was only the start of something great.

#tyson jost #tyson jost fic #nhl blurb #nhl fic #lolo’s 1k celly #nhl imagine #nhl fanfiction #hockey fics #hockey blurb #hockey imagine #buffalo sabres

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nhl-stories · 2 years ago

Text

Apartment 402 – Tyson Jost

Summary: Sylvia is a running away from the only life she’s ever known, turning up on Tyson's doorstep may be the best decision she's made in years.

Author’s Note: Mentions of emotional abuse and postpartum depression, but also Josty being a sweetie. Honestly, I could probably write 4 billion more words

If you feel like you or a loved one might be in an abusive relationship, you can find resources here Please be safe out there and look out for one another

Word Count: 11.7k

Album Series Masterlist

Emptied my hеart, laid down my cards Played my best part, wanting a new start

It was too late to go back. Not that it was really an option, there was no turning around now.

She trudges through the snow that’s piling up on the walkway. This was the right choice, at least for now.

She rings the doorbell and waits for him to answer. It’s late and she didn’t call, she hopes he’s still a light enough sleeper to come get her out of the cold.

“Syl? What– why?” Tyson rubs the sleep from his eyes as he tries to decipher what’s going on.

Before she can answer there’s a cry that grabs their attention.

“You have the baby? Jesus, get in here before he gets cold.”

Sylvia gives a stiff smile and walks into his place with the carrier, she sets it down and pulls Jonah out and bounces him on her hip to get him to calm down. Tyson just watches, waiting for an explanation.

“I left him and I didn’t know where to go, so I just started driving and I ended up here,” Sylvia sniffs, trying her best to not cry. She cried enough in the car.

Tyson is too tired to say anything useful so he just pulls her and Jonah into a hug, he feels her relax in his embrace. When he pulls away, he smiles at the baby.

“Hi Jonah, it’s nice to finally meet you in person,” he holds out a finger and the baby grabs on and giggles when Tyson exaggeratedly shakes his hand.

Syl laughs along, happy Tyson isn’t prodding into the situation just yet. The wound hasn’t even scabbed over, it’s too early to even pick.

“I can put you in the guest room, but I don’t know where the little guy will sleep.”

“I have some of his stuff in the car, I just didn’t want to lug it to your door. You know in case…”

“In case I turned away a mother and baby in this weather?”

“More like you slept through me ringing the doorbell,” she smirks.

Tyson trudges back and forth for Sylvia to get all the stuff out of the car and then helps her set up in his guest room. She sets up the travel playpen and gets Jonah settled for bed, it’s not perfect but it works for now.

“If you need anything, just let me know.”

“Thanks,” Sylvia is the first to go for the hug this time, she’s finally able to squeeze hard without a baby in her arms.

Tyson is surprised he manages to sleep through the rest of the night. He expects the way his blood boils to keep him up, thinking about what that man did to Sylvia, what he took from her, instead he finds solace in sleep.

He also expects the baby to cry, but maybe little Jonah knows how exhausted his mom is emotionally and physically that he gives her a break.

He goes to practice the next morning well-rested and acts like nothing has happened, because as of right now that’s kind of true. Sure, there’s a woman and a baby at his house for God knows how long, but it could be considered just an old friend visiting.

Still, after practice he goes to the grocery store. He doesn’t know anything about babies. Kacey is only two years younger than him so he was barely out of diapers when she was born. He wanders down the baby aisle and throws things in his cart that he thinks will be helpful: food, diapers, wipes, a pacifier with an elephant at the end that he thinks looks cute.

When he arrives home, it’s almost noon and it’s quiet. He knows Syl is still here because her shoes sit by the door like the good Canadian she is.

Sylvia is lying on the bed; her eyes are open but she’s in a daze. Jonah is lying on the bed next to her, playing with his feet while his mother sort of pays attention.

When Jonah hears Tyson in the doorway, he makes an attempt to sit up and gets fussy when he can’t quite get up to look at the visitor. Sylvia doesn’t make any attempts to comfort or move towards him so Tyson scoops the baby up.

“Just get some more sleep,” he whispers and Sylvia just grunts in response.

Jonah starts crying as soon as Tyson gets into the living room.

“Don’t cry little man, we’ll find something fun to do,” he makes a silly face but Jonah’s eyes are closed as he gets ready to scream.

“Shh, shh, shhh,” he looks around the house for something to play with and grabs a loose puck from a side table, he’s pretty sure it’s for some milestone but it doesn’t matter right now.

“Hey look, here’s a puck,” he puts it in Jonah’s hand and the baby grabs it with interest before putting it in his mouth and gnawing on it.

If he was more knowledgeable, Tyson might think about the problem with letting the baby suck on a dirty puck but he’s just happy that Jonah’s calmed down.

He sits down on the floor with Jonah and the baby just happily gums the puck.

“You like hockey then, eh?”

Jonah gurgles in response before taking the puck and holding out for Tyson.

“Thank you,” he smiles though he’s grossed out by the now slobbery puck.

He sets it down but Jonah reaches out for it again. So, Tyson hands it back and Jonah laughs. A few seconds later Jonah passes it back. This continues for far too long to entertain anyone sufficiently and yet; it entertains both until Syl comes into the living room.

“Jonah did you make a new friend?” She brightens at the sight and joins them on the ground, Jonah drops the puck and reaches out for his mom.

“I bought some food and stuff if he’s hungry, sorry I didn’t even think to feed him.”

“He’s still on the tit, but thank you… for everything.”

He shrugs like it’s no big deal, “are you gonna tell me what happened?”

Syl lets out a heavy sigh and kisses her baby on the head.

“You don’t have to, I –“

“It’s fine, you deserve to know why I invaded your life.”

“I guess I finally opened my eyes and figured out what everyone else always knew? I think when I got pregnant, I really started to see what he had done. He has me push away my family and friends and kept me from my own source of income and when I finally came up for air I was poor and alone and trapped.”

She starts to cry, “But people started sending me money for the baby and I didn’t tell him so I had a little nest egg and then he got mad at me for overcooking a steak and not being able to calm down Jonah fast enough and I couldn’t take it anymore, I had to leave.”

“And you took his son in the middle of the night across the border?” Tyson tries to keep judgement out of his tone, but he wants to make sure he understands.

“I honestly didn’t think I’d get this far, I thought I’d chicken out.”

Tyson gives her a strained smile. He’s proud of her, he really is; but at the same time, it seems reckless to leave without a whole plan.

“What if he tries to come after you? After Jonah?”

“I don’t think he’d want any of this to become public knowledge. Let something as stupid as me mess up his reputation,” she says it like she believes she’s nothing.

“I’ll help you find a lawyer just in case, people like him don’t deserve to win.”

Before she can respond, Jonah pulls down the collar of her shirt.

“Sorry, did I ignore your lunchtime?” she smiles and gets a gummy sone in return.

Without second thought she pulls out her breast and starts feeding him.

“I’ll leave you two alone,” Tyson shoots up.

“I know you’ve seen tits at least once before, because I dared Brittni to flash you that one summer.”

“You’ll be shocked to hear I’ve seen a few more since then,” he mocks while averting his gaze.

“You know this is the only actual purpose of breasts, right?” She laughs, a real, genuine laugh.

“Yeah, doesn’t mean I need to watch,” he laughs back.

“Well get used to it buddy,” she drops her happy tone, “I mean if I’m allowed to stay here.”

“Why wouldn’t you be?”

“You’re a cool, young single guy who just moved to a new city, who doesn’t need a newly single mom and her baby cramping your style.”

“Lucky for you Sylvie, I like single moms.”

“I’m serious Tys, I haven’t exactly been a good friend for the past few years and then I throw this on you. It’s not really fair.”

“I appreciate it, but I got over being mad about the cold shoulder a long time ago. It was never really your fault. Stay as long as it takes to get back on your feet.”

“You say that now, but wait until Jonah really starts teething and screaming, then you’ll regret saying that.”

“You want to order pizza? I feel like celebrating that my best friend is here and left that asshole.”

“Pepperoni, green peppers, and extra cheese?”

“Always.”

It’s like no time has passed since they were last together. Syl can’t remember the last time she laughed so hard. If she were to guess it would have been 5 years ago, when her relationship still seemed good, when she still had friends she regularly talked to, and she hadn’t let herself wither away in the shadow of her husband’s expectations

If she thinks about everything she gave up, she’ll start to cry, and she has to be better for Jonah. For the new life she’s going to give them.

The next day she ventures out of the house with Jonah, the city looks much different with the sun out, like a new beginning. She finds herself driving around aimlessly at first, taking in this new freedom. Then reality sets in when she gets a call from her mother.

“He called me, to see if you came here, which is hilarious to think this is the first place you’d come,” she laughs like it’s actually a joke and not a comment on their strained relationship, which has been tenuous as long as Sylvia can remember.

“But are you okay? You don’t have to tell me where you guys are I just want to know you feel safe there,” despite their less than stellar relationship her mother had always loved her fiercely.

“I’m in Buffalo.”

“Of course, you went to Tyson,” there’s a sigh of relief, “I’m wiring you some money, don’t argue. Think of it as all the Christmas and birthday presents you missed. And get a new phone number. Don’t give him a chance to contact you outside of lawyers.”

Syl doesn’t mention the dozens of voicemails she hasn’t listened to yet. Though she can practically hear the threatening tone of half of them and the faux apologetic tone of the other half. The dichotomy of anger and caring that had kept her caged with fear and guilt for so many years.

Her mom goes into legalities that Sylvia knows she’s only familiar with because of her daughter’s life choices. The deep harbored hope that Syl would eventually come to her senses. Everyone obviously hoped it would happen before a child was involved, but life doesn’t always go the way we hope.

After the phone call, Sylvia finds herself crying in a Target parking lot while Jonah screams in tandem.

Tyson comes home and finds Sylvia’s car missing and her phone number disconnected. He’s starts having a weird vision of Taken and going to Toronto to find Syl and beat the life out of her husband, though he doesn’t really have a special set of skills for that kind of action.

Then the door opens with Jonah strapped to Sylvia’s chest and her carrying some bags.

“Jesus Christ where were you?” Tyson grabs the bags out of her hands and his tone causing Jonah to whimper and start to cry.

“It’s okay Jonah, Tyson didn’t mean to scare you,” she bounces a bit to soothe him, “if I’m staying here a while I kind of need the essentials, cribs, bibs, changing table.”

“Well, you should have texted or something,” he lowers his voice a bit, not wanting to frighten Jonah more.

“I thought I would be back before you got home, but then my mom called and–“

“You talked to your mom?”

That’s the last thing Tyson expected to hear. Sylvia was a bit of a latchkey kid growing up, her parents working all hours, so Tyson mostly remembers her mom as the woman who would pick Syl up from his house or an outdoor rink late at night without much fanfare or conversation.

“Yeah, he called her. So, she wanted to see if I was safe. And told me to get a new phone so he could only reach me through a lawyer.”

“Smart,” Tyson nods, “and that’s why your phone was disconnected?”

Sylvia makes an embarrassed grimace in response, before she pulls out her phone and texts him a matching emoji.

“Before you start having me make furniture I have a gift,” Tyson smiles and drags Sylvia to the kitchen.

“I already owe you so much, you don’t need to get me a–“

She stops and laughs at the gift Tyson is excitedly holding up: a Sabres onesie and a pair of noise canceling headphones.

“I thought you guys might want to come to the next home game.”

“I don’t know…” she wants to go but she also worries about imposing too much on his life.

“C’mon, I want to be the one this little guy sees playing for his first NHL game, plus you can meet some of the guys and their partners. Get to know some people other than me, people who have experience raising their own kids.”

Tyson has a big smile, mostly directed to Jonah and it makes Sylvia insides turn mushy.

“Fine, you’re right it sounds fun.”

The day of the game comes and the last thing Syl wants to do was go, instead she wants to lie in bed and do nothing. And by nothing she meant nothing; she hasn’t even gotten out of bed to change Jonah, who is crying in his crib. It’s the worst version of self-soothing a mother could do, but if that makes her a bad mom she doesn’t care.

She lets him cry for 30 minutes and it still isn’t enough to pull her out of her bed, if anything a new level of self-loathing is keeping her there.

Her phone buzzes and she has just enough energy to look that Tyson texted her that he’s bringing her home lunch.

And it’s the fear of Tyson seeing her lower than low, ignoring her child and wallowing in her own self-pity, that finally rouses her from bed.

She scoops up her son, who continues to cry, “Mommy is so sorry baby, I’ll try and pay for your therapy in the future.”

She laughs at her own dark joke as she changes her son, then decides to just give him a full bath since she let him fester in his own filth like the trash person she is.

“You’re gonna have a lot of fun tonight, Jo,” she says once she puts him in the bath, “hockey is a lot of fun, and Tyson, that’s the guy we’re living with, I guess he’s your godfather or something, he’s really good. And mommy met him playing hockey cause she used to have to play on a boys’ team.”

“And she got in trouble for punching a bunch of boys,” Tyson laughs from where he leans against the doorframe.

“Mommy was defending herself, which makes violence okay,” she smiles at Jonah.

Tyson joins her on the floor and hands her a smoothie, “They made this at the training facility, it apparently has all the good vitamins and stuff for breast feeding.”

“They make you guys’ booby smoothies?” Jonah laughs at the word booby, “Booby is like, the one word he recognizes.”

Tyson laughs, “Makes sense, I get excited hearing about meals too, and no it’s not a special smoothie I just read that you need all these vitamins and calcium so I grabbed one on the way out.”

“There’s another part of this lunch right? I’m not a smoothie-only kind of girl.”

“Yeah, I grabbed you a sandwich too.”

The gloom recedes into the background as the day goes on, Sylvia can feel it looming but tries her best to ignore it. If only to make sure she doesn’t seem ungrateful to Tyson.

She hasn’t seen Tyson play a hockey game since his first game against the Maple Leafs, and even then, as a happy newlywed, she was quickly ushered away before really getting to congratulate Tyson. After that she was always been conveniently “busy” when he played in Toronto.

So, walking into the arena is already a wholly different. It makes her heart swell with pride, that little old Tyson made it here. It also makes her feel guilty for not celebrating him enough before.

Jonah seems as enamored as his mom, he moves his head every which way, like he’s taking note of everything so he doesn’t forget.

An usher leads her to the family suite, which is instantly too fancy for her. She’s used to her hockey games being in cold warehouse rinks on hard bleachers where parents scream too loud and teens sneak in beer. She doesn’t know what to do with herself here.

“Sylvia?” A woman comes up to her, clearly sensing her unease.

“I’m Danielle Okposo, Tyson had some of the guys warn us you’d be coming,” her smile is warm and familiar, the kind of person you just want to hug.

“Warn? I hope he’s not telling everyone the bad stories,” she laughs but it ends hollow as she realizes there are bad things he could say.

She merely laughs and bends down to look into the stroller, “And who’s this guy?”

“This is Jonah,” Sylvia gets him out of the stroller and readjust his headphones.

“Welcome to the Sabres family you guys, come sit down,”

She ushers her towards the other women, who all look beautiful and well-dressed. Sylvia feels bad in her ratty flannel, it was the only clean, blue thing she owned. No one seems to take notice or care, but when you’re holding a baby as cute as Jonah, she realizes people pay very little attention to her.

Jonah plays with the ends of her hair while he stares at the players at warm up and his mom is gently interrogated.

“Tyson said you just moved to Buffalo?” A woman who hadn’t introduced herself asked.

“Uh- yeah, I’m staying with Tys until I get back on my feet,” she stutters, “I’m going through a bad separation,” she adds hoping it will kibosh any further question or at least any question about the father of her child.

“Buffalo’s a great place to raise kids if you end up staying,” Danielle adds before they’re all distracted by the start of the game.

The rest of the evening goes pretty smoothly. Jonah isn’t fussy and only sleeps for part of the second period. Too distracted by the ice, the other kids, and the women who insist on giving her a break and holding him.

She eventually gives into the pleas, letting go of her grounding anchor and getting to focus more on the game. Tyson makes an assist and Syl jumps out of her seat, the old rush of a hockey game taking over.

The Sabres win and the women convince her to come down and congratulate the third star of the night, even when she says she’ll just see him back at his place.

She’s already thrown Tyson’s life off its axis; she doesn’t want to completely knock it out of orbit because he’s too nice to tell her to backoff. Even if she deserves it.

She has an overwrought smile as she watches all the wives and girlfriends hug their partners. She wonders if she’ll ever feel happy like that with someone, if the picture-perfect hugs and grins will be real for her.

“Whoa bud, stayed up for the whole game?” Tyson takes Jonah from her arms and gives him a little toss in the air.

He’s all damp curls and misbuttoned buttons and smiles, for a second Sylvia thinks of kissing him.

She smiles through the strange thought, trying to remain unphased. “Yeah, eyes glued on the ice the whole time.”

Jonah grabs Tyson’s nose and laughs.

“I should get him a pair of skate next then, eh?” He grabs Jonah’s nose back.

“Yeah, for his hands and knees maybe, he can’t even crawl yet.”

“I’ll wait a few months then.”

He makes a mocking face and Sylvia sticks her tongue out at him, Jonah laughs at their faces.

“Want me to take a picture of you guys?” Another player asks walking by.

“No we’re-“

“C’mon Sylvie, I gotta get a good picture to send my mom,” he hands his phone over.

She rolls her eyes and stands by him, wrapping an arm around his waist before pointing Jonah in the direction of the camera. She tickles Jonah’s side so his gummy smile is on full display.

“Cute, I’m Jeff by the way,” he extends a hand.

“Sylvia and the Sabres newest number one fan is Jonah,” she waves his little hand towards Jeff.

“Nice to meet you, I’m sure we’ll be seeing more of you both,” he smiles, showing off the deepest dimples Sylvia’s ever seen.

“Yeah, probably,” she already feels like she’s getting in too deep.

“Well, it’s bedtime for me and my partner in crime,” she takes Jonah back and puts him in his stroller, “but go out and celebrate, I’ll see you later.”

She gives Tyson a big hug, it’s probably too long and too tight, but she has so many hugs and ‘I’m proud of yous’ to make up for, she doesn’t care.

Sylvia wakes up the next morning and Jonah isn’t in his crib. An unbearable dread fills her body. Had he found her, taken the only thing that mattered to her, just because he could? Just to remind her she couldn’t escape him, that she was nothing without him.

It’s not logical, but the emotions of being a mother are illogical.

She runs out to the living room, but before she can actually have her reaction out loud, she sees Tyson sitting on the couch with Jonah in his lap, facetiming his mom and sister.

Sylvia almost sobs with relief.

“Oh my god, I want one,” Kacey whines from the other end.

“Yeah, in ten years,” Tyson scoffs with older brother protectiveness.

“Either way I’m booking a flight to Buffalo just to squeeze him, Sylvie makes cute fucking babies.”

“Language,” their mom laughs.

Sylvia doesn’t want to interrupt the family moment, but she second guesses that when she realizes her own flesh and blood is involved and she pops in the background and waves. Jonah squeaks, seeing his mom in the screen but not knowing where she is.

“It’s good to see you sweetie,” Laura smiles, “I’m glad Tyson is being a helpful babysitter.”

There’s no pity in her voice or eyes, but pride, she probably knows what Sylvia’s going through, what she will go through better than most. The silent reassurance makes Syl feel braver.

“I can’t complain, his mom raised him right,” she smirks, aching for the company of a family she hasn’t had in years.

She comes around the couch and takes a spot next to Tyson.

“Did Tys tell you grandpa cried when he saw the picture of the three of you?” Kacey grins.

“Of course, he did,” Sylvia’s grinning so hard she knows it will hurt later.

Jonah then leans forward mouth open onto Sylvia’s shirt-covered boob.

“I’m just a giant milk machine to you, aren’t I?” She moves him off Tyson’s lap and closer to her and her now drool covered shirt.

“Wow you’re still breast feeding, good for you I never lasted that long,” Laura says.

“Gross mom,” Tyson groans.

“It’s a perfectly natural thing Tyson,” his mom scolds and Sylvia makes an ‘I told you so’ face.

“I can feel a tooth coming in, so I think it’s gonna be game over soon. I don’t know if my nipples can take that.”

Tyson and Kacey both make gagging noises in response.

“One of the many reasons you don’t want your own yet, Kace. But before I mortify Tyson more, I’ll feed my child elsewhere. I’m sure I’ll talk to you guys later.”

She gives Jonah’s hand a little wave and goes back to her room.

The conversation changes before she makes it all the way in the room, “How’s she holding up, actually?”

“I think pretty well, not really sure how. We’ve talked a little, but I don’t want to push her.”

“He was always an asshole; it was bound to happen eventually. And all you can do it be there for her, she’s really lucky to have you.”

“Thank mom.”

Sylvia tries, really tries to keep it together.

She gets into somewhat of a routine. She goes on walks with Rachel Thompson and her baby Brooks, who’s about the same age as Jonah. And that’s nice. Being around another new mom is refreshing, it’s a chance to vent with someone who’s going through it. Even if their circumstances are drastically different.

Sylvia tries to make life easier for Tyson where she can, she cooks meals, cleans, runs errands for him. It keeps her mind busy but it’s also a little too familiar. Playing the domestic housewife role so well. She has to remind herself Tyson isn’t him.

Tyson will cook with her when he can, he offers to do dishes when she cooked. He won’t go off on her if something isn’t to his precise specifications.

That still doesn’t put her at complete ease.

Then Tyson goes on a long road trip. She thinks it’s somewhere warmer, but she feels nosey asking while he packs. Like she’s crossing some weird line if she asks. She knows he’d probably be happy to share, Tyson isn’t him.

Her mom calls two days in, “He keeps calling, have you seen a lawyer yet?”

“I’m seeing one tomorrow,” morbid curiosity takes over, “what has he asked about?”

“Just where are you and when I get him extra frustrated, ‘does she know how bad this makes her look?’ Stuff about how he gave you a good life and you’re throwing that all away.”

There’s a glowing feeling in her knowing he’s frazzled now, barely hiding his true nature from everyone else. But then frost touches her heart.

“Has he asked about Jonah?”

The pause her mother takes is answer enough, “No, sorry Sylvie.”

She looks over at Jonah sleeping peacefully in his crib, blissfully unaware of the family he was brought into and the father who cares more about the appearance of his missing wife than the well-being of his son.

“At least it should make getting custody easier,” and that comforts Sylvia in the worst way.

Tyson is chilling by the pool in California with his teammates, it’s not very warm by SoCal standards but it’s boiling in comparison to Buffalo.

His phone buzzes with a text from Sylvia: Thx for the lawyer recommendation, we sent divorce papers today

And before he can think it through, he sends her a shirtless picture of himself with a thumbs up, not exactly the best response to the news.

“Who you sending shirtless pics to Josty,” Alex Tuch calls from in the pool.

“Probably the MILF he’s living with now,” Cozens laughs and the rest of the boys join in.

“She’s getting a divorce,” Tyson lamely retorts.

“That wasn’t a no,” Alex grins.

“And it means she’s single…”

“It’s not like that, we’re just friends,” he can feel heat rushing to his face.

He’d only ever thought of Sylvia that way once. It was just a fleeting pubescent crush. He had come back for the summer after his second year away for hockey in Kelowna and in the meantime, Syl had become a woman. He didn’t know how to react to his friend’s growth spurt or the new curves of her body.

She no longer felt like the girl who wore boy clothes and was too competitive in every game they played. Really, she was the same girl just in a new body.

So, when she rubbed up against Tyson while guarding him in street hockey, he felt all new sensations. It was too confusing for a 14-year-old to really grasp. But once he got his hormones under control and learned to accept the changes in Sylvia, she was the same old friend he had always known.

But every now and then the thought creeps out from the back of his mind that Sylvia is beautiful and can give him butterflies.

“Then you wouldn’t mind if I asked her out,” Jeff grins, his dimples on full display.

“You’d maybe be the only guy I’d let date her, but seriously just leave her alone okay, she’s going through it right now,” he stops himself before he says too much, shares something that’s not his to share.

His phone buzzes with a reply: Very rude of you to send a pic of you in warm weather like that, so here’s my payback.

He reads the text a few times over, trying to decipher it before he receives a picture of Sylvia flipping him off while she is breast feeding.

A shirtless pic for a shirtless pic 😜

He grimaces and exits the text before his teammates get a glimpse.

A swell of darkness comes in with such force Sylvia can’t help but succumb. It had been lurking in the distance for days, but the storm had finally arrived with gusto.

She felt overwhelmed for most of Jonah’s life. She didn’t know how to take care of a small person who didn’t understand the world, she barely took care of herself well enough to be considered well-adjusted or healthy.

“Ow, fuck Jonah,” Sylvia pulls the baby away from her breast.

Jonah wails in response, his mouth gaping wide and the new tooth barely poking through looks almost throbbing with pain.

“Sorry bud, I should have pumped after the last time you tried to gnaw my nipple off,” she tries to reason over the screams.

She lets Jonah gnaw on one of her fingers while she tries to set up the breast pump one handed. By the time she gets it set up both her and Jonah are crying in unison.

In this moment of being milked like a cow while her son greedily chomps on her fingers, she just lets herself free fall into the abyss. The darkness covers her like blanket and she feels warm thinking about falling asleep and never waking up again.

She’s going through the motions of motherhood and she doesn’t know how much longer she can take it. Maybe she could drop Jonah off at a fire station, have him put with a family that deserves him.

She feeds the fussy baby, who only cries more when he’s finished. Throwing a bottle with such force he puts a dent in the stainless-steel refrigerator.

He cries and cries and cries. She doesn’t know how he has this much breath in his lungs. She ran out of tears and breath a long time ago.

On top of that he doesn’t sleep.

It’s three in the morning and he’s just as awake, somehow throwing his loudest tantrum yet.

“Just stop, please! I get it, life fucking sucks but you can’t keep doing this,” Sylvia somehow finds more tears in her body.

He stops for a moment and Sylvia relaxes a little, just long enough for him to spit up on her before he lets out a scream.

“Why are you doing this to me?” She shouts in her son’s face, like if she matches his volume maybe he’ll realize how ridiculous he sounds.

If anything, he wants to win the screaming contest.

Syl has to set him down on the floor to stop herself from shaking him, from throwing him out of a window, from winning worst mother of the millennium award.

She crumples to the floor beside him and sobs. Her body shakes so hard she thinks she’ll bruise her ribs. She never wanted to be this person. She doesn’t want to be a person at all.

It’s 6 AM and it’s still unending; she doesn’t know how he hasn’t just screamed himself into a coma. He’s only stopped when he desperately pleaded for a meal, and the solace of silence was worth her bleeding nipples.

She’s more surprised that the neighbors haven’t called CPS. Maybe they have, it’s not business hours yet.

The door opens, the team had taken a red eye. Sylvia doesn’t react, she might be half deaf at this point.

Tyson comes around the corner at full speed, rushing to the sound of crying. Only to see both Jonah and Sylvia sobbing on the floor.

She looks a mess: dried vomit on an old sweater that probably hasn’t been washed since she moved here, hair looking just as unwashed, and dark bags under her eyes that still show through the red puffiness.

“Shit Syl,” he gets down on the floor and gives her arm a gentle squeeze.

“He’s broken,” she sniffles, “he won’t stop crying.”

Tyson’s heart shatters, “Okay,” he pauses to think, he doesn’t want to say the wrong thing, make her feel like a bad mother.

“How about I take him for a bit and you go shower and refresh,” he smiles and picks Jonah up before she can respond.

The baby screams in his ear while he helps Sylvia up. She seems too dazed to move so Tyson pulls her along to the bathroom and turns on the shower, waiting until the water is warm.

“This will make you feel a little better, or at least more human,” he kisses her forehead and walks out.

Tyson is right, Sylvia does feel a little better after washing the grime off of her. But she’s not ready to face Jonah again, the echoes of his cries ringing in her ears. She sits on the floor of the shower and cries until the water turns cold.

She gets out and it’s quiet. For a second she thinks she might have actually gone deaf. She puts on pajamas and pads out to the living room, no sign of them. She peers into Tyson’s room and finds Jonah sitting in Tyson’s open suitcase, chewing on a hockey puck. He has big crocodile tears still pouring, but that’s a million times better than he had been.

“I know the puck is pretty cool, but I thought you’d like the matching shirts,” Tyson is modeling a Hawaiian shirt and hold up a tiny version of the same one, they’re horribly bright and in any other moment Syl would point out a colorblind person clearly picked them out.

“We can’t exactly wear them here, so I got it a little bigger so you can grow into it.”

“I’m an awful mom,” it’s not what she wants to say, but it’s where her brain goes.

Tyson turns around and pulls her into his chest.

“Sylvie, you’re not a bad mom, you were just overwhelmed.”

“He’s been crying for like days straight and you come home for five minutes and he stops! Obviously, it’s because I don’t know how to take care of my son.”

He rubs circles on her back and takes a deep breath, willing her to follow suit.

“You’ve been mostly alone for over a week, you were overwhelmed. It doesn’t make you a bad mom.”

When she doesn’t make eye contact with him, Tyson lifts her chin to make sure she sees how serious he is.

“You’re a good mom, Sylvia. You just had some bad days and look,” he points to Jonah who is now snoozing on a pile of Tyson’s travel clothes, “you made it through and he’s still alive.”

Sylvia still seems unsure but she’s too tired to protest. She just nods in agreement.

“He’s really lucky to have you, he just doesn’t appreciate it yet. And obviously he was lost without seeing me every day.”

Sylvia shakes her head and laughs, the feeling is foreign.

“You may be his food source, but I’m the entertainment,” Tyson grins, loosening his embrace but no quite letting go.

“I’m glad he has his own personal clown,” she playfully shoves him.

“Go get some sleep Syl, I got the rugrat for a few hours.”

Sylvia is out of the room before Tyson can second guess his offer. She’s asleep before her head hits the pillow.

If she doesn’t wake up at least Jonah would be in good hands. The sick thought is the last thing that runs through her mind before slumber takes over.

She wakes up, much to her chagrin.

But then she hears Tyson and Jonah laughing outside her room and she hates herself. Here she is with a happy, healthy baby and a friend so nice he’s willing to upend his life to help her out, and she’s acting this way? She hates being ungrateful.

She recommits herself to being better.

And it works, for the most part. Sure, she cries in the shower where Tyson can’t hear her or stays in a parking lot to sob, but who doesn’t do that? It could be worse, she knows that, until a few weeks ago Syl was living that.

It’s pretty late at night for Jonah to still be up but he’s been buzzing all day so Sylvia is hoping to tire him out a bit more before putting him down. She’s noticed that he doesn’t wake up in pain over his fresh teeth if he’s completely worn out.

She’s folding some of Tyson’s laundry, a new chore she’s picked up in an attempt to keep her mind busy and have more of a routine. Jonah is laying on his stomach, doing an impression of pushups as he tries to get a Sabretooth plushie Sylvia put just out of reach to keep him occupied.

“You’re so strong Jo,” she laughs as he pushes himself up a little further and moves himself a bit closer to the toy.

He grunts with concentration.

She moves to grab another shirt to fold and turns back to see Jonah on his hands and knees, crawling towards his prize.

“Holy shit,” she whips out her phone to take a video, moving the stuffed animal a little further away from him.

He takes the challenge and moves a little further, getting his hands on the Sabretooth. He gurgles happily and puts it in mouth.

“You’re crawling baby,” Syl doesn’t think she’s ever been so happy than seeing him reach a milestone.

She baits him to crawl a little further a few more times when she hears the door open. Syl doesn’t even think twice about her newly mobile baby before she shoots up and runs towards the door.

“Tys you have to see – oh shit sorry,” Sylvia freezes in her tracks and half turns away in embarrassment.

Tyson has a woman hanging off of him, they’re intentions clearly painted on their flushed faces.

“Oh my god you have a girlfriend?” The woman says as she detaches herself from him.

“No, I’m just staying here, I’m so sorry. I’m usually in bed by now so you wouldn’t even know I was here.” Sylvia rambles, feeling so embarrassed and remorseful she completely forgets why she was so happy.

“Tys you should have texted I would have made sure I was out of the–“

“Jonah you’re crawling?” Tyson interjects when the baby scoots his way towards the noises.

Syl can’t even relish in the pure joy spreading across Tyson’s face as he beams at her son.

“And there’s a baby,” she’s clearly a second from leaving but the cold is probably preventing her from just waiting outside.

Sylvia picks up Jonah, “I’ll just go for a drive with him and let you two have the place for a while, I’m so sorry. I’m such a fucking cockblock.”

She starts to gather her coat and boots when the woman speaks up, “I think the moment’s passed, but maybe we can go back to mine next time”

She sends an understanding smile towards Sylvia and somehow that makes her feel guiltier.

“I can drive you home,” Tyson offers.

“I called an Uber,” she holds up her phone, “it’s outside,” she gives Tyson a tentative kiss before leaving.

Sylvia lets out an embarrassed groan, “Oh my god I’m ruining your fucking life.”

“You think that ruined my life?”

Sylvia just glares in response.

Tyson takes Jonah from her, “Now show me what this crawling business is all about.”

“My son isn’t a dog you can ask to show you tricks,” she laughs as she follows him into the living room.

“I think you have to do this for me, since you’re ruining my fucking life,” he winks and sets Jonah on the ground.

The baby immediately makes his way over to the stuffed animal he left on the floor.

“I know it sounds stupid, but this is like the most amazing thing I’ve ever seen,” Sylvia says while holding back tears.

“It kind of is.”

Now that Jonah is on the move any time he’s set on the floor, Syl realizes she should probably baby proof Tyson’s place. It’s a lot of work but it’s just another thing to keep her occupied and if it’s funny every time Tyson finds a new drawer or cupboard he can’t open, then that’s just a bonus.

It feels like she’s on the other side of a tunnel. Then her lawyer calls.

Uncontested divorce.

It sounds nice to get it over with, no arguing or going into court. Never having to see him again

Then the reality sets in. She loves the idea of not fighting over custody but also agreeing to not take alimony or child support in return is a little extreme. Without a little income from the divorce, she doesn’t know when she’ll be able to work and get on her own feet. And she can’t expect Tyson to just be okay with this arrangement indefinitely.

But she also knows her opponent, and she knows he’ll make her life a living hell if she fights back, and is that worth it?

The lawyer talks her through all her options, Sylvia tries to absorb all the information she can but the emotional and logical parts of her brain are at war.

She lying on the ground and tossing a ball a little bit away for Jonah to grab; essentially, she’s playing the most passive game of fetch, but it’s entertaining him so she doesn’t care. It’s the perfect way to wallow and be a somewhat decent mother.

The door opens and Tyson calls out, “I went to the store but I couldn’t remember what solid food he was on, sweet potatoes or beets?”

At the sound of his voice, Jonah bypasses the ball and scrambles to the kitchen. Tys picks him up and flips him upside down, much to the little boy’s delight.

“What?” Syl sits up and gives him a quizzical look.

“We were out of baby food, but I know he’s trying a new food this week and I couldn’t remember what it was.”

The way he says ‘we’ makes Sylvia’s heart swell then burst. She can’t tell if it’s in a good or bad way, but it makes her a little lightheaded.

“You, okay?”

“Yeah, just lost track of time. Forgot it was lunch time,” she rubs her eyes even though she’s not actually tired, “And it’s sweet potato week,” she puts on her ‘happy baby’ voice and walks over to the pair.

She starts to set up the high chair and Tyson helps strap Jonah in and together they’re like a well-oiled machine. Before she knows it, Tyson is spoon feeding her son, sing-songing ‘here comes the plane.’

“Wow bud, you really love these sweet potatoes. You might even rival my friend Nate Dogg,” he laughs and Jonah copies him.

Syl can feel herself doing a robotic kind of laugh, like she’s trying to solidify the fact that she’s there and present, but her brain is a million miles ahead of her and maybe in a different country.

Tyson doesn’t seem to notice from his bonding bubble with her son.

“I think I have to go to Toronto for my divorce,” she blurts, finally coming back to reality.

“What?”

The orange goo of sweet potato slips off the spoon and onto Jonah’s bib. Sylvia takes a moment too long, staring at the food as it slides down further.

“My lawyer called today and I think I want to contest his terms of the divorce.”

Tyson puts the spoon and bowl of food down, doesn’t even notice that Jonah takes this as an opportunity to take both and make a mess.

“And what are the terms?” A deep wrinkle forms between his brows.

“I get to keep Jonah 100%, but no child support or alimony.”

Tyson stares on like he’s missing something.

Syl doesn’t know how to voice all her jumbled thoughts, so she just lets the words flow out, “I can’t just go without money from him, I’ll never be able to pick myself up without something and you can’t take care of us.”

She knows it’s not exactly what she meant to say, but it’s also not completely off. She can’t go from her whole life depending on one man then another, even if Tyson would never use that as some power to hold over her.

The hurt that crumples Tyson’s face makes her realizes he doesn’t understand what she’s really feeling.

“I don’t mind taking care of you guys,” his voice is so small and hurt.

“Just because you don’t mind doesn’t mean you should have to Tys, I’m not your problem,” she can feel her words digging a deeper grave.

Jonah can sense the shift in the air and his lip starts to tremble.

“I’m gonna give him a bath,” she mumbles and leaves the room in a hurry, the hot sting of tears coming through.

Tyson leaves on a road trip the next morning. She doesn’t get the chance to explain herself or apologize.

After two days of fretting over an apology text she never sends, Danielle Okposo comes knocking on the door.

“How would you and Jonah like a playdate?”

Syl doesn’t feel up to leaving the house, she’s back in ‘fully alone and unable to clean herself and her son’ mode.

“Uhhh–“

“This is like 90% for me, my oldest two keep bringing up having another baby and I think having them play with an actual baby might help my cause. Because either Jonah is really cute and satisfies the baby needs or he’s a nightmare and they remember how hard having a baby is.”

“Wow, babies having baby fever,” Sylvia laughs.

“So will you come?”

“Why not,” she decides adult interaction is probably healthy and will keep her mind off of Tyson.

“You’re literally a lifesaver.”

They end up at the Okposo house, which is controlled chaos at its finest. Four kids, toys everywhere, but it’s cozy; it’s the kind of house Sylvia always dreamed of living in.

The kids are instantly enthralled with Jonah, who is living for the attention. They place him in front of a mini stick net with an oversized helmet on to play goalie. The three older kids take soft shots at him, and now that he can move, he actually stop some of the foam balls that come towards him.

Sylvia can’t help but take a picture without a second thought she sends it to Tyson with the caption, he’s strangely good at this, a sign I gave birth to a weirdo?

As soon as it says delivered, she worries away at the corner of her lip, wondering if it was wrong to send that without any apology or acknowledgment of their last conversation. The image of his hurt face burned into her mind.

“Everything okay?”

And maybe it’s because Danielle is a real adult who really has it together or that Sylvia kept everything shoved down in the darkest part of her mind for years, but whatever it was about being here right now makes her open up. About everything.

Suddenly there’s someone in the world who knows it all, and she a weight she didn’t even know was on her chest is lifted. She can finally take a full breath and with all the newfound air rushing to her lungs she starts to feel overwhelmed and hyperventilates. It brings out the tears that were just below the surface.

Danielle rubs her back and just lets Sylvia feel her emotions and there’s something profoundly new and profoundly sad about that.

“Oh Syl, that’s a lot to have to carry all on your own.”

Sylvia quickly wipes her tears when she hears the kids come in asking for a snack, Odin awkwardly holding a rather happy Jonah. She sniffles and offers to take the baby.

“We just knew we couldn’t leave him alone; he doesn’t want to hang out with moms,” Odin scrunches up his nose and Syl can’t help but laugh at the glimpse into her own future.

“Why don’t you guys pick a movie and we’ll bring you some snacks in a bit,” Danielle diplomatically gets rid of the kids before they really notice Sylvia’s tear-stained face.

Once they’re out of ear-shot Danielle turns back, “My advice might not mean a lot coming from someone who has not gone through half the stuff you’ve gone through, but I do think you should let Tyson in a little more, so he understands what you’re thinking.”

Sylvia gnaws at her lip but nods.

“And I think you should see a therapist, because the way you talk, that’s not just being sad or motherhood being hard. It sounds like postpartum depression and you can’t take care of Jonah if you aren’t taking care of yourself too.”

Talking about all of this with a stranger almost seems more appealing than talking to Tyson.

“I have a few names I can give you,” Danielle squeezes her hand, “now let’s go feed some kiddos before they get really crazy.”

Tyson is set to arrive home and Sylvia is tempted to ask if she can stay with the Okposo’s just to push off her conversation another day. But she knows she has to be brave. She was brave enough to leave an emotionally abusive relationship, why couldn’t she be brave enough to talk to her best friend?

Jonah is down for a nap and Syl starts making dinner, something to keep her hands and brain busy.

Tyson comes through the door; his usual loud and happy greeting doesn’t follow him. Syl can hear him rummaging around his room, taking his sweet time before they talk. He finally sheepishly makes his way into the kitchen, sitting on a barstool but not yet acknowledging Syl.

She goes on with her business, finishing a stir fry and plating it for the both of them. She sets a plate in front of Tyson, a sort of peace offering, before taking the seat next to him. They eat in silence until it becomes too deafening for Syl, she doesn’t know if she’s ever heard Tyson so quiet.

She doesn’t quite dare to look over to him yet, “you have been so kind and amazing to take care of us and I really appreciate it, more than you’ll ever really understand.”

“But…” he fills in for Sylvia.

“But,” she takes a deep breath, she wants to get it right this time.

“I want to get back on my feet or I guess find the footing I never had so I don’t have to need your money.”

“Sylvie, I don’t mind. I like helping.”

“What if I never get on my feet?” she finally looks at him giving him a stern look in hopes of getting through to him.

“Then you don’t, it’s fine,” he has this blank look, like he can’t understand there are alternatives.

“Tys this isn’t about you! I want to be able to afford daycare while I go to a job or pay for my own lawyer without relying on you.”

She puts a hand on his arm, gently rubs her thumb up and down his sweatshirt covered bicep.

“The last time I let a man have this much power over my life…” she doesn’t need to finish the sentence, “And I know you’re not him, you could never be like that. But I need the chance to find that independence I’ve never had, even if it’s hard.”

She can feel tears falling down her face, Tyson reaches up to wipe a few away, his own eyes glossy.

“I just don’t want you to feel like you have to fight him to get that independence.”

“What did you say before? People like him can’t win?”

Tyson lets out a hesitant laugh, “then let’s kick his ass and take him for all he’s worth.”

Sylvia is finally seeing a rainbow after the storm. For most of her adult life she’s been on edge, waiting for the other shoe to drop; if it’s coming soon, she doesn’t care, or at least she knows she can handle it.

Her lawyer seems to think they’re building a solid case. Years of texts and voicemails she was too lazy delete are making quite the damning pile of evidence.

Her new therapist seems to think she’s making good progress, even before they fully cracked open the can of worm that was her marriage.

“Mmm, mmm” Jonah babbles.

“You almost got it Jojo, it’s Ma Ma,” she smiles at him.

“Mmma, mm.”

“I’ll even settle for no,” Syl pauses but he doesn’t respond, “or hi? But Hs are hard.”

“Duh dddd,” he gives a her his gleaming four tooth smile.

“Okay, I don’t know who’s teaching you that one,” she narrows her eyes at him.

“Duh mmmm.”

“Maybe you can try bye bye?”

Jonah happily waves at her, having recently mastered the skill.

“Yeah, bye bye! Can you wave and say bye bye?” She prods.

“Buh duh,” he waves.

“Fine, I guess I can live with your timetable.”

He gurgles and drools in response.

“But Ma Ma was really hoping to write that she was grateful you said your first words this week.”

When he still doesn’t respond, she sighs and writes down her daily gratitudes sans first words. Jonah and Tyson are numbers one and two every day, which she loves but she hates feeling so boring.

Though if she thinks about it, she can’t recall when she was ever actually interesting. She was kind of interesting when she left behind Alberta for Toronto to be with the love of her life, but that didn’t turn out very well.

The next time was probably when she got pregnant, but that’s only in the way that making human life is interesting. And no one was really interested in her then anyway; recently some of the Sabres’ better halves were sharing pregnancy photos and Sylvia only had one mediocre picture a nurse had taken when she was in the early stages of labor. The rest of her pregnancy lost in preparations to flee her own life.

She guesses that makes her interesting, her escape from a bad relationship; not that she’s publicly sharing that information. But she doesn’t want to be interesting because of her trauma.

Tyson comes into the kitchen in a navy blue suit, he gets an excited, goofy grin on his face when he sees Jonah in his tiny Sabres jersey.

“Hey bud, ready for the game?” he waves at the baby who happily waves back, always excited to show off for Tyson.

“He may not know what’s going on but he is a great good luck charm,” Syl laughs at the fact the team of 4-0-1 when Jonah is in the arena.

“You’re both my good luck charms.”

He doesn’t look away from Jonah as he says it, doesn’t see Sylvia’s cheeks heat up as he gives Jonah a raspberry on his where his shoulder meets his neck; for a moment she pictures Tyson’s lips on her neck.

“You ready to help me win Jonah? Can you say Ty-son?”

“Yah duh.”

Sylvia snatches her son, “Mama might not be his first words but if he’s gonna acknowledge a person by name, it’ll be the person who grew him.”

“Fair enough,” he raises his hands in surrender, “well, be good for mama and I’ll see you later.”

He gives Jonah a loud, obnoxious smooch on the cheek then a subtle one to Syl before he heads out.

Jonah continues to be enthralled by hockey, just stares at the ice with big eyes like he understands what’s going on. The only thing he actually understands is that he loves Sabretooth, especially the life-size one who picks him, it’s much better than the small one he drops when the mascot arrives.

Sylvia takes a picture of it and sends it to Tyson’s family. She gets a 50-emoji response from Kacey.

The team wins and Jonah keeps the title of good luck charm, the others joking that he has to come to every home game until they make the playoffs.

“Okay, hand the baby over and enjoy your night out,” Danielle reaches out for Jonah.

Sylvia doesn’t follow orders, just looks confused.

“Sorry I didn’t tell her, I didn’t want her to run away,” Rachel chimes in, sporting a sort of apologetic look, though Syl doesn’t know if it’s directed at her or Danielle.

“Am I having a stroke?”

“No Syl,” Rachel responds, “we got a babysitter for the night and getting you out on the town.”

“You deserve it, now give me Jonah. Tyson dropped of a bag of his stuff he’s in good hands.”

“I don’t like that this was a coordinated effort; do I seem that desperate to go out?”

“No, but you haven’t had a night to yourself since you moved here,” or since you had a kid or God knows since when is implied between Danielle’s words, “so go be young and have fun.”

Sylvia knows when she can’t win a fight so she squeezes her baby tight and kisses him before reluctantly handing him over.

They go to the Thompson’s house and Sylvia gets handed a drink to loosen her up while Rachel does her makeup and finds something for her to wear.

Halfway through the drink Syl feels tipsy, she never was a big drinker and it had been a while, but she’s enjoying the warmth and weirdly the attention she’s getting right now.

“You’re always hot, but damn you really clean up nice,” Rachel smiles at her while she puts on the finishing touches.

She finally looks at herself, it’s like a looking into an alternate universe. Like maybe this would be a normal occurrence if she had gone off to college, made normal 20-something mistakes, had a close group of girlfriends who shared clothes.

She takes moment to mourn that Sylvia.

“Thanks, I can’t remember the last time I wore make up, or a dress,” she laughs and spins around in the mirror.

They arrive at a crowded bar and meander through the crowd until they find the team. Sylvia waves before she feels everyone’s eyes on her, suddenly self-conscious about how she looks.

“Who’s gonna get our girl a drink? Welcome her to the Buffalo night life?” Rachel’s voice cuts through the noise.

Jeff is at the edge of the booth and the first to get up, Sylvia thinks he’s gonna guide her to the bar but instead he guides her to take his seat, conveniently next to Tyson, before he takes her order.

“Surprise me,” she says before she rethinks it, “but nothing too strong.”

She awkwardly readjusts her skirt that has ridden up too high, she’s too aware of the eyes on her and the weight of Tyson’s arm that’s now wrapped around her shoulder.

Sylvia hadn’t gone out in years; it was always a whole ordeal only for her to get in trouble. She always had to look nice, but if she looked too nice, she was accused of trying to attract male attention. If she went to the bar for too long, it was because she had to be flirting. If she danced too long or in a certain way or with anyone who wasn’t him, she had to expect a long lecture and some verbal degradation.

Going out meant being emotionally exhausted and in a way, she could feel that exhaustion already seeping in.

Jeff comes back and drops a drink in front of her, waiting for her to take a sip of approval. She gives him a thumbs up after tasting the semi-sweet concoction, she’s not sure what it is but it’s good.

“Cheers to mom’s night out,” Rachel holds up a drink and they all cheers.

This drink goes to her head much quicker, probably because she’s taking nervous sips every two seconds.

Suddenly she stands up, a little wobbly on her feet, Tyson grabs her hand to steady her or maybe concerned she’s about to run or something.

“I’m gonna go dance,” she doesn’t yell so she’s not sure anyone hears her, but she wanders onto the dance floor anyway.

It feels freeing, to just let go for a bit and dance. She forgets about her problems and the other people around. It’s a moment of pure joy she hasn’t felt for just herself in a long time. It feels like she’s shaking rust off her heart.

Syl feels someone come up behind her, warmth radiating. She doesn’t care to look just happy to keep dancing to the beat of whatever song. Still, she gives a little start when she feels hands on her hips, it’s a foreign feeling.

Before she can move to look behind her, she sees Tyson move in front of her, she can feel her smile growing. She moves a hand to pull Tyson closer the her, feeling the large warm hands retreat. In her hazy mind she thinks she’s a gloating glint in Tyson’s eyes but when she turns to look, there’s only the mass of the crowd, not one person standing out.

Tyson and Sylvia aren’t really touching while they dance. Syl can’t bring herself to look away from his warm brown eyes, she finds herself thinking about how long and thick his eyelashes are, that Tyson is very pretty. Before she can voice some of these thoughts, she feels her eyes drooping.

“It’s pretty late for mom’s first night out,” he leans in to whisper into her ear, it makes Syl shiver a bit, “want to head home?”

Syl can only nod suddenly feeling very overstimulated.

As they make it home, she feels like she’s only getting drunker. Even though she stopped drinking a while ago. Tyson ushers her into the kitchen and gets her a glass of water.

“Oh no, I’m still wearing Rachel’s clothes.”

Tyson chuckles, “you weren’t exactly going to return them in the bar.”

Sylvia shrugs and downs half the glass of water; she holds it out to Tyson for a refill.

“I miss Jonah. This is the first time I won’t be able to kiss him good night,” it feels weird to have her heart somewhere else.

“You can give him extra kisses tomorrow,” Tyson gives her a hug.

He starts to pull away but Syl doesn’t quite let go, “I can still give you a goodnight kiss.”

She leans up to close the distance between them, she would normally go for a quick peck on the cheek but she doesn’t start to turn her head. They’re lips touch and it should be quick, it should be over already, but it’s not.

There’s too much heat and Sylvia doesn’t who it’s coming from. She doesn’t know whose tongue comes out first, but it doesn’t make either pull away. It’s an unfamiliar feeling that radiates through her chest and she wants to see where it takes her, but it’s also too scary and she can’t possibly go through it without perishing.

She pulls away too quickly and almost falls off the bar stool, Tyson catches her by the waist and it lights her skin on fire.

“Well, good night!”

Sylvia rushes to her room, she falls back on her bed; touching her lips with awe, like it will keep the sensation there longer.

Tyson leaves on a road trip the next day. He comes in to check on her before he leaves, but Syl pretends to be asleep. Not ready for any conversation or to look Tyson in the eyes. Still, he moves deeper in the room, kissing her forehead before he leaves.

So, at least she knows he doesn’t hate her.

She texts Danielle later about dropping off Jonah, claiming she has a raging hangover and couldn’t possibly leave the house. It’s partially true, there’s persistent but dull ache in her head. It may be from thinking too hard about the kiss though.

Once Jonah is home, Sylvia can’t let him out of her arms, he’s the anchor keeping her grounded while her brain is all static. She spends most of the day snoozing with Jonah pressed up against her.

The following day she tries to get her head on straight, come up with a game plan for talking about the kiss. She doesn’t have much time with Tyson set to return that evening and with Jonah having an unexplainable meltdown.

She tries to put on a calming demeanor, but it’s like Jonah can sense the worried churning in his mom’s stomach. He’s only communicating his concern in the best way he can, but it doesn’t make the day easier.

She can’t pinpoint the moment her feelings changed and maybe that’s what makes it scarier. It feels a bit out of the blue, she had no time to gauge Tyson’s thoughts before her inhibitions were down and she was acting on it.

All Sylvia knows is friendship isn’t enough for her anymore.

In a panic she packs a go-bag, a déjà vu moment she was never hoping to repeat. But she has no idea what’s to come and she doesn’t want to be a burden in Tyson’s house with any unresolved feelings.

She doesn’t even know where she would go this time around, all her friends are Tyson’s friends first. If it weren’t for her baby she’d just sleep in her car. Maybe she could haul ass to Edmonton.

There’s no time to dwell, Jonah is screaming in her ear and she can’t think over the din.

Tyson comes home to screaming, which is oddly comforting for him. He was a bit worried Sylvia might leave in a panic, embarrassed about the kiss.

“Hey Sylvie,” he says quietly.

“Hi Tys,” she looks exasperated, “I don’t know what’s wrong, I’ve tried everything.”

Jonah continues to cry, knocking over a bowl of food and making a mess. Sylvia looks a second away from breaking down with him, but she’s not looking away from Tyson to notice the chaos.

“Let me try,” he gets Jonah out of the highchair and bounces him on his hip.

Jonah doesn’t stop. But Tyson looks so natural with her son, Sylvia has to have this conversation now. She can’t live in this fantasy world a moment longer if it’s going to be snatched from her.

“I’m not sorry I kissed you,” she nearly shouts, making sure Tyson can hear her.

She flinches out her own loud voice and tones it down, “I mean I’m sorry for the when and the how of the kiss but I’m not sorry it happened.”

Tyson just has this unreadable look on his face, he stares on as he rocks Jonah, who’s screams are subsiding a little.

“You’re good to my son and you’re good to me. And maybe I don’t deserve that or deserve you. But I want you and I can’t help it,” her eyes well up as she exposes her heart.

Her heart hurts too much in the extended silence from Tyson. It’s like it can’t pump enough blood any more, like it doesn’t understand how it was even working before she loved Tyson; like it can’t survive a minute longer not loving him wholly.

“And if you don’t want that, I get that. My life is a mess and I have so much baggage,” she can’t hold back the sob in her throat, “We can leave if this is too much.”

“No!”

It takes her second to grasp that the voice is small and foreign.

“No” Jonah says again.

“Did you just say your first word?” Her tears quickly shifting focus.

“No”

She can’t stop herself from coming over and kissing her son all over his face to a chorus of little nos.

“Kid stole my line.”

Sylvia is jolted back into the moment. She looks up into deep brown eyes, their bodies are too close together.

“I don’t know what that guy did to you and you don’t ever have to tell me, but it makes me so angry that he made you think you aren’t worth it or don’t deserve good things.”

He has blink back some tears, Sylvia can’t stop herself wiping the stray ones away.

“Syl, you’re kind and loving and an amazing mother. You deserve the world and I want to be the one who gives that to you.”

She can’t stop herself from going for the kiss, Tyson is left so breathless he almost forgets he’s still holding a baby. It’s not as heated as the last kiss, but it says everything much clearer.

“No!”

“Yeah we get it bud,” Tyson laughs when they break a part, “You said your first word, the moment is all yours.”

#tyson jost #tyson jost fic #tyson jost imagine #tyson jost story #buffalo sabres #buffalo sabres imagine #buffalo sabres fic #nhl #nhl fic #nhl stories #nhl imagines #hockey #hockey fic #hockey story #hockey imagines

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bqstqnbruin · 4 months ago

Text

Tyson Jost Teacher AU

I think this is number 10

Teacher AU Series

Warnings: swearing

WC: 1153

____________

“Ms. Martinez?” one of the students' heads pops up next to Brynn’s seat, causing her to jump. “How much longer until we get to the hotel?”

Brynn takes out her phone, typing in the hotel’s address to her maps. “This says about half an hour.” The student just nods, a sad look on her face. Brynn understood; they were supposed to get to their hotel about eight hours after they left if they were making good time. Of course, they got caught in traffic in New Jersey, which lead to traffic getting into New York City, which means they were still trying to get to their hotel. None of them had wanted to be stuck in this bus anymore, given that it had already been about twelve hours since they left school that morning, but they really didn’t have much of a choice, did they?

Brynn honestly had no idea how she got roped into chaperoning this trip in the first place. She would rather be in her classroom with her students, primarily her AP students who were still trying to get ready for their exams that were next month. She had a history of her students passing the AP Spanish Language and Culture Exam, and now she was missing a week of classes to chaperone the junior class on a trip to the city that was some sort of tie in for their US History class the entire grade took.

“Alright, listen up,” she hears. She looks up to the legs and waist at her sightline standing next to her, suddenly remembering why she was stuck in a metal tube death trap with about 45 students on one of two buses. Tyson Jost stood up, addressing the students, the coworker she had a crush on since the moment she met him when she first started. Of course, she never acted on it, because what good could come of dating a coworker? “We are going to be getting to the hotel in less than 30 minutes, which means we are getting off this bus and taking all our belongings with us. Everything, including trash needs to be off, and if you think we won’t match your trash you leave to you, you’ve got another thing coming.”

The students laugh, their attention on Tyson making Brynn’s heart race. “When we park, we are not getting off right away because we need to check in. Ms. Martinez and I will call your names for room keys and Andrew will be helping you get your luggage out from under the bus.”

Tyson sits down, the students shuffling around trying to clean up after themselves on a stop-and-go bus. “This hotel is supposed to be really nice,” he says, turning toward her. “Have you been here before?”

Brynn shakes her head. “Nope.”

Tyson smiles at her, her already elevated heart race going even higher at the sight. For fucks sake, how is she supposed to get through this trip with him? “So that’s why you came on the trip,” he responds, a playfulness in his voice that Brynn was sure she was going to overthink later when she was alone in her room.

She laughs, knowing she can’t tell him the real reason why she was chaperoning. “It’s kind of hard to say no to Norma when she asks you do to something like this,” she tells him, referring to the head of the history department, the one who was organizing the trip, and the one who had asked her personally to chaperone multiple times, only getting her to say yes once she told Brynn that Tyson was one of the other adults.

Tyson laughs with her, throwing his head back. “That’s for sure.”

He turns to the window, Brynn doing everything in her power not to stare at his profile. This trip was going to be difficult for a multitude of reasons, and at least half of them were going to be related to Tyson.

The buses finally pull up to their hotel, Brynn watching Norma run off the bus to get the students and themselves checked in as fast as possible. It took about half an hour to get all of the students their room keys and get their luggage out of the bus, somehow leaving both her and Tyson more visibly exhausted than they were from the trip itself.

“We have a problem,” Norma says, the other two chaperones nowhere to be seen, Brynn assuming they were already in their room where she wanted to be to nap before dinner. “The hotel messed up the reservation.

“What’s going on?”

“There’s only one room left.”

Tyson and Brynn look at each other, confused. “Meaning?”

“Are you two ok with sharing a room?”

Brynn could feel the color draining from her face, Tyson letting out a sigh. “I thought you were going to tell us we had to go home,” he laughs. “I’m fine with that if Brynn is.”

They were both looking at her, hopefully unable to notice the panic that she was sure anyone could see. “Yeah, yeah,” she stammers. “Of course, that’s fine with me, too.”

Norma lets out a sign of relief, handing them their keys and turning on her heels to leave the two of them in the lobby.

He looks at her and smiles, tagging her bag with his and gesturing towards the elevators. “After you.”

They make their way over, Brynn getting a weird feeling. She was nervous, like them going to the hotel room together meant way more than it should have meant. They were two adults who were sharing a room on a work trip because of something out of their control. There was nothing for her to read into, despite the fact that her brain made her want to look at every detail and make it something more than it was, from how close he was standing to her in the elevator, how he looked at her when they got to their floor and let her walk in front of him, which made her wonder if he did that so he could watch her because he felt the same way she did or because he was just being nice.

Her mind, obviously, was running way faster than she ever could.

Brynn gets to the hotel room, opening the door and holding it for Tyson, letting him go first to put the bags down.

“Oh,” she hears him say, dropping the bags on the floor. She could tell the room was small before she ventured in that far. There was barely enough room for their bags in the space between the bed and the dresser that had the TV.

“Oh,” she repeats, ‘shit,’ following after in her head.

There was only one bed.

They look at each other, Tyson smiling and letting out a noticeably nervous laugh.

“We’re going to be getting really close on this trip.”

#tyson jost #tyson jost fic #tyson jost au #nhl #nhl fic #nhl au #hockey #hockey fic #hockey au #carolina hurricanes #carolina hurricanes fic #carolina hurricanes au #teacher au

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buttercupjosh · 1 year ago

Text

The Journey of Loving You

(Gif credit to @mattymartin)

Word count: 4,376

Genres: strangers to lovers, fluff

Warnings: none

A/N: I've had pieces of details of this fic in mind for a few months and I had a difficult time figuring out who to write it with so I ended up choosing to give Josty another fic. It is not intended to be a sequel to star-crossed (which you still read and check out and if you want this to be a sequel to that, you can interpret it that way). It did take me awhile to get this fic done because I decided to write other stories before completing this one. This story is based off of the songs “Not a Bad Thing” and “Mirrors”, both by Justin Timberlake and the title is something I came up with. It did take me awhile to get this fic done because I decided to write other stories before completing this one. I also have a bunch of other songs linked throughout the story and I highly recommend listening to them when you come across them during reading. It’s not set at a specific moment in time (It's taking place in a fictional future but you could also say that it's set in the future and this season. However, the season is still ongoing at the moment and anything can happen or change so don't hold me to what occurs in the fic and if things do change (ex. Tyson goes to another team), I'm not going to update this fic to reflect that). It’s written with a female reader in mind because I’m a female of color but the reader doesn’t specifically have to be a POC or a woman and there’s little dialogue. As always, I’m open to any and all feedback, comments or questions; just put them in my inbox or dm me. Thank you so much in advance for reading, I appreciate it😌

(P.S. I have other stories (linked here) that I have written for other players as well if you want to check it out)

“I want it all with you and if I'm coming on too strong, it's 'cause I've waited far too long for someone just like you” -“Share Your Address” by Ben Platt

In your role as the social media manager for the Buffalo Bills, you got to interact and meet with many different types of people. You would have never imagined that something as simple as doing your job would lead you to meet the love of your life. During the Bills season, some of the Buffalo Sabres players had come by to watch a game and you were responsible for capturing their experience at the game. Through mutual connections in the industry, you knew the social media manager for the Sabres but you only watched hockey occasionally. Before the game started, the guys were given a tour of Highmark Stadium and you were trailing around as the guys made their way around your workplace. Throughout their time there, you had noticed that a particular curly-haired hockey forward named Tyson Jost kept being close to you; as one of the few single guys left on the team, his teammates were shifting around and nudging him to talk to you. Tyson walked at a much slower pace to keep up with you instead of with the guys. He asked you a lot of questions and it was a bit odd to you that Tyson was more interested in paying attention to you than the football stadium tour was occurring. Tyson seemed curious about you, which you thought was cute, but you couldn’t quite be as flirty with him on the clock. The tour was only for an hour and concluded at the sidelines before the game officially started. You still had a lot of work to do since it was gameday so before going back to your office to review the content you acquired and what the team photographers captured, you discreetly exchanged numbers with Tyson to talk to him later on. During half-time, you checked your phone quickly and saw a text from Tyson that read “Thanks for answering all of my questions back there, I appreciate it. Can I ask you some more over coffee sometime?”. You were slightly taken aback by him asking you out so soon but you weren’t going to let that opportunity slip away so you agreed to go out with Tyson.

On your first official date, Tyson forgot to bring flowers because he was nervous. You didn’t mind that he forgot and understood his nervousness. Over drinks and pastries from Five Points Bakery, Tyson asked you a lot of questions because he was so enamored by you and you got to ask him a lot of questions in return: you even made each other laugh a few times. The conversation flowed so easily and effortlessly from topic to topic. As you chatted, for some reason, it felt like you had known each other for so much longer. The time that you spent together went by so fast that you ended up closing the bakery. Neither you nor Tyson wanted the date to be over so you ended up strolling around the leaf-riddled streets of Buffalo, making a stop for some additional fun at Lock and Key Escape Room and popping into Mythos for a last-minute dinner date. After dinner concluded, you mutually agreed to call it a night. You learned a lot about each other in the hours that you spent together that day. By the time the date officially ended, all Tyson had wanted was to see you again the following day and whatever days he could after that; you felt the same way. He walked you to your car and before going your separate ways, you shared a long goodbye embrace; a kiss would be saved for the next date. Speaking of which, on your next date, Tyson brought you flowers for the first time, and for the rest of your relationship, he would never forget to get them for you ever again.

With the both of you working in sports, your schedule was never really consistent but despite that, you and Tyson still kept in constant contact and made time for each other whenever you could. You would go to some of Tyson’s games and some team events and Tyson would always hype you up on Bills gamedays. You even surprised Tyson once at an away game; the Bills had a bye week so you flew out to Boston to cheer him on. Whenever your schedules aligned in Buffalo, you and Tyson would go out on different dates around the city and suburbs; these dates were always guaranteed to be an enjoyable time and all of those dates eventually turned into a deeply committed romantic relationship.

Being loved by Tyson and loving him was like your dreams coming true; your relationship worked well because you admired each other so much and neither of you could imagine being with anyone else. You were both used to people making promises to you and turning around and breaking them, used to giving your heart to others and they just cut you and leave you bleeding all over the place. However, this relationship was different and all you had to do was try; this time, trying paid off well because being together made those realities not true anymore. The relationship you shared was determined to heal you both from those who had hurt you in the past and you both felt safe with each other. You were worth the challenge of mending together a broken and tender heart for Tyson; his heart was ignited for you and he would do everything in his power to continue to pursue you and you only. Your relationship also had no moments of wasted time or any broken promises and you were always honest to each other. You both had waited so long through dating around and heartbreak for the right person to come along into each other’s lives but the wait was worth it because you ended up together. Falling in love wasn’t a bad thing at all; as expected, it was scary to give your heart to someone else but like a rollercoaster, it was also thrilling and exciting and you got to fall into the arms of someone amazing. Of course, things weren’t always sunny and there were some setbacks and struggles while you were dating. You and Tyson did disagree and argue sometimes but you could compromise when needed; you also had to balance your relationship with the demands of your job and Tyson constantly being either home or away but being with him was worth those challenges. Like anything in life, there would be a moment that would test how strong your relationship is.————————————————————One Saturday afternoon, you and Tyson decided to get ice cream after Tyson was healthy scratched from that afternoon’s game. Unfortunately, the person who served the ice cream used the same scooper that was used to scoop ice cream with nuts in it and you had an allergic reaction. Thankfully, you had an EpiPen in your bag and used it to help you. Your symptoms began to slowly subside but the instructions mentioned that you should visit the ER if used so Tyson took you. The ER doctor put you on an IV and decided to keep you overnight for observation. Tyson begged the doctor to let him stay in the room with you and they surprisingly agreed, even though you weren’t married and common law marriages weren’t a thing in New York. You were so grateful that Tyson stayed with you instead of leaving to go sleep in his comfy bed and just picking you up whenever you were discharged, not having to deal with the nurses and doctors coming in and out of the room throughout the night, interrupting whatever rest he got in that uncomfortable hospital chair. You were awake and observant for a while but you eventually drifted off to sleep. Tyson was tired but he couldn’t bring himself to sleep because he was so worried about you. As he saw you lying in the hospital bed, Tyson thought to himself that you should never have to go through any sort of health crisis alone. He knew that he wouldn’t be able to be there all the time but he would be there for you as much as he could. This whole experience opened up Tyson’s eyes to realizing that he wanted to share your address and move in together and also to be your emergency contact.

To say that Tyson was in love with you was a bit of an understatement; he was so smitten about you and everyone around him could pick up on that immediately. Tyson would see things that would remind him of you and his heart would swell with so much joy and the light in his eyes shined differently whenever he talked about you. Tyson truly and deeply loved you so much that he couldn’t lose you. His heart would beat so fast whenever you were around or if someone mentioned you and you were the one that he adored. To him, it felt like days would go wasted without you in them. He wanted a house with kids running around that shared both of your traits, to travel across the world, and grow old, all with you. In that moment, Tyson privately vowed to himself that he was going to marry you one day.

Months down the line, after waiting for your lease to be up and for the hockey season to be over, you and Tyson rented a house together. Living together meant that you got to see each other a little bit more frequently, which you both liked. You settled into a comfortable routine with Tyson and had mild complaints about your cute roommate; sharing a space wasn’t so bad. Tyson got to cook for you, serenade you on his ukulele, and slow dance in the kitchen with you as often as he could. You got to taste all of Tyson’s recipes, annoy him with your purposefully bad singing, and wake up next to him on the rare days you were off together. You and Tyson even began hosting a monthly trivia night at your home with your friends and some of Tyson’s teammates. Moving in together also meant that you were around to help Tyson whenever he was injured and always there to comfort him after a disappointing healthy scratch or game loss as well.

Combining your lives together meant that your families would mix at some point. Tyson’s mother, Laura, visited frequently and came down for the Sabres’ Moms’ Trip and stayed for a week afterward so you got to know her more and she got to know the person her son was so lovestruck about. You also got to meet his sister, Kacey, when his mother returned for Christmas and also brought Grandpa Jost along. You had a good relationship with Tyson’s family; they adored you and liked you with him. In regards to your family, your parents only came to Buffalo once in a while and you would go back to your hometown for holidays but your parents talked Tyson through video calls and knew how much he meant to you.

While you were still dating, your parents ended up contributing to a significant memory for Tyson and you weren’t even there. When the Dads and Mentors Trip came around, for some reason, Grandpa Jost couldn’t be there for his grandson so your dad flew out to Buffalo to accompany Tyson on the trip. This was going to be your father’s first time meeting Tyson in person and it was intimidating at first but that intimidation faded away as your dad and Tyson got to know each other. Tyson was so thankful that your dad took the time to be there for him. Before returning to Buffalo, Tyson had asked your father for your hand in marriage and your dad agreed to let his little ray of sunshine shine their light into someone else’s life. If there was anyone else in the world that he would walk his precious child down the aisle to, your father was glad that Tyson would be the guy on the other side.————————————————————After getting your father’s approval, calling your mom to get her blessing, and telling both of your family and friends about it, it was time for Tyson to propose. Tyson arranged a fun scavenger hunt for you around Buffalo during the NFL off-season and at the end of the NHL regular season. This scavenger hunt was bittersweet because Tyson was going to be a free agent that upcoming off-season and there was no full guarantee he would return to play for the Sabres so you both prepared for the likely possibility that you would have to move away for Tyson to play with a different team. It was going to be hard to leave behind the place that you both called home and also your job but you would follow Tyson wherever he would go. Thankfully, you still had some time left to hang out with your friends and former co-workers before leaving for the off-season.

The scavenger hunt started with an index card on the fridge that read: “Good morning, my love. Look for the next clue inside our home on a masterpiece hanging above.” Tyson had gone golfing with his teammates for what could be the last time so these little notes were the only communication you had with him that day and you read all of the clue cards in his voice. You found the next note that read on top of a painting you made: “Remember when we went to that art class and you painted the most beautiful sunset? Go to the visitor’s desk at Buffalo AKG Art Museum to find out the rest.”

You headed to the Buffalo AKG Art Museum and the guide at the visitor’s desk handed you an envelope with a prepaid admission ticket inside; there was also a sticky note inside that read “Your reflection is a work of art. Go to the mirrors exhibit and see how your beauty captured my heart.” The heat rushed to your face as you read Tyson’s note; he wasn’t there but he still made your heart skip a beat through his words. You headed straight to the mirrors exhibit and took a bunch of cute photos while you were there. After the mirrors exhibit, you continued to look around the art museum and ran into Danielle Okoposo, Kyle Okoposo’s wife, while you were there. She mentioned that she was visiting the art museum because her kids were taking an art class there and told you to stay with her until the class was over because one of her kids had the next clue for you. You didn’t wait long for the kids to come out and all of the Okoposo children showed off to their mother and you what they had created in class. Livia, the youngest Okoposo daughter, gave you a personalized drawing of you and Tyson with a lot of hearts on it. Written in Livia’s youthful handwriting, the back of the drawing read: “As you can see, we are surrounded by lots of love, and no matter what happens, that will always be true. Head to Five Points Bakery for a snack pickup and your next clue.” You departed from Danielle and the Okposo children and headed to the spot where you and Tyson had your first date.

The bakery wasn’t as busy when you went to pick up your order; although Tyson had already placed the order for you, you still picked up a sweet treat for your sweetie as a reward for all of the things he’d done with this scavenger hunt. Your next clue card was inside the bag with your order that stated: “After my snack has had their snack, don’t be perplexed by my request for you to ask your parents for where to go next.” You followed Tyson’s instructions and your mom texted you: “Summer is approaching and we can’t wait to see you soon so go to the Botanical Garden where the flowers bloom.”

The Buffalo and Erie County Botanical Gardens was a special place to you and Tyson; it’s where you celebrated your first year of dating with a cute couples photoshoot and also had membership to the space. Your favorite part of the Botanical Gardens was the koi fish pond so of course, you would find your next clue taped to the back of the bench near where the pond was. “I know you’ve been out for hours but I have you running around for a reason. Now, go home, there’s something fun that we need to do before we go to Canada for the off-season.”, the clue card read.

You went back home; all of the nostalgia from visiting some of your favorite spots around Buffalo made you feel both happy and sad at the same time. Even though the scavenger hunt was a final trip for you to go to the places you enjoyed in Buffalo, you wished deep down that Tyson would have been there to experience them with you for one last time. Tyson still wasn’t back yet and his location indicated that he was at a restaurant near the golf course; you tried to call and text him throughout the day to check on him but he didn’t answer at all. You walked into your bedroom and saw a note on the closet door that read “You’re going to want to dress your best for this next part (as the kids say, make sure your look serves) and when you’re done, meet me at Tifft Nature Preserve.” The last part of the note confused you because the nature preserve would be closed by now but you showered, got ready, and went there anyway.

Inside the Tifft Nature Preserve Education Center was a trail of lights that led you to a projector with a Kahoot game, ready to be played. Tyson, looking handsome in a crisp polo and jeans, was surrounded by blankets and snacks. You hadn’t seen or heard much from him the whole day so it was nice to see the face of the man that you loved.

“Tyson, you did not ask me to dress up and drag me all this way to play trivia when we could do it at home or go to trivia night at the bar.”, you stated.

“This might be our last time playing our monthly trivia game in Buffalo so why not go all out?” Tyson responded.

Trivia was amusing as expected and you won the game so you asked Tyson what your prize was; your prize was Tyson was going to sing you a quick song on his ukulele. The notes sounded familiar to you and then you recognized what your lover was serenading you to.

“Cause I don't wanna lose you now, I'm lookin' right at the other half of me. The vacancy that sat in my heart is a space that now you hold. Show me how to fight for now and I'll tell you, baby, it was easy, comin' back here to you. Once I figured it out, you were right here all along. It's like you're my mirror, my mirror staring back at me. I couldn't get any bigger with anyone else beside of me. And now it's clear as this promise that we're making two reflections into one.” Tyson sang during the chorus of Mirrors by Justin Timberlake. The lyrics were right for describing your relationship with Tyson; you were separate individuals but your relationship intertwined you together and also allowed you to change for the better as people. Music was something that was important to both of you and Tyson had sung to you several times before, including love songs, so this wasn’t much of a surprise to you. After he concluded singing, Tyson handed you over one final clue card that simply read “Will you marry me?”.

Tears of joy began to fill your eyes and Tyson was down on one knee, holding out your dream ring. The sun was going to set soon so the golden hour sunset hue coming through the windows was a nice natural touch to the proposal. You had thought Tyson was going to propose on your planned trip to Banff that summer so this was definitely a huge surprise. You were both speechless because there just weren't enough words to describe the feeling of love that was flowing between the two of you at that moment. After over a year of dating, you were moving on to the next step of getting married and like the lyrics of the song said, merging your two reflections into one. After your engagement/farewell dinner with some of the Sabers players and their families, you and Tyson returned home and had an impromptu dance party in the living room with your new fiance to “Let’s Get Married” by Bleachers, “Slow Dance” by Saint Motel, and “Just The Two of Us” by Grover Washington Jr. featuring Bill Withers. Your time in Buffalo was coming to an end but it ended in the best way.————————————————————Just as you both suspected, the Sabres did not choose to offer Tyson a contract so he ended up signing on a short-term NHL contract elsewhere as a free agent and you moved away from Buffalo. Tyson was used to moving away and starting over more than you were but you both knew that home would always be wherever you were with those that you loved. The move and the wedding planning did add some additional stress to both of you but it wasn’t anything you couldn’t handle. You both adjusted well to your new life in your new home city; you had good relationships with the other WAGs and their families and continued your career as a social media manager for a local sports team. Tyson meshed great with his teammates, got more ice time and his play improved. You and Tyson rented a house again and added a dog named Maverick to your little family.

The wedding planning time went by in such an exciting and enjoyable blur and before you both knew it, it was time to marry the love of your life. You and Tyson decided on a destination wedding at a Four Seasons Resort in Florida. Both of your families helped out with the wedding in the many different ways that they could and were delighted to unite together on behalf of your love. It was also nice that all of your friends and some of Tyson’s former teammates were there for your special day as well.

The details of your wedding day were so beautiful and perfect; your something new was a diamond necklace given to you by the Jost family, your something borrowed and something blue was a blue bracelet from your mom that she wore on her wedding day to your dad. You floated down the aisle with your father by your side to meet with your soon-to-be husband, waiting for you in his black tux. Tyson saw you, walking towards him, and he got a little emotional. Tyson’s parents’ relationship didn’t work out and he was terrified to face a similar doom in his life but being with you restored his faith in relationships and marriage. Seeing Tyson cry made you tear up too but everyone knew that those were happy tears. Even though there was an audience of other people in the room, it felt like you and Tyson were the only ones there. Your vows to each other were like the most poetic song lyrics and were sealed with a sweet kiss. You had dreamed of your wedding day for a while, unsure who would be the one to greet you at the altar but finally, you knew.

Your first dance as a married couple was to the Mariah Carey and Luther Vandross cover of Endless Love (originally performed by Diana Ross featuring Lionel Richie), which was considered one of the greatest duets of all time. Like the vocals in the song, you and Tyson debuting as a married couple to a duet made sense because you were complementary to each other and brought out each other’s strengths. The rest of your wedding was spectacular. You danced the night away to a variety of tracks from a carefully curated playlist, enjoyed delicious food, took plenty of photos, laughed, and happily cried a few more times too. You also both mixed and mingled with your guests and were swept into all different directions around the venue.

Towards the end of your wedding and before you walked out to say goodbye to all of your guests, Tyson pulled you away for a surprise private dance as newlyweds. You and Tyson would get plenty of time alone together on your honeymoon in Greece but the private dance without the pressure of any other eyes on you was much appreciated. You swayed back and forth with your husband to “All My Life” by K-Ci and Jojo, “You’re Still The One” by Shania Twain, and “This I Promise You” by *NSYNC, and sang along to all of them together. Just like the lyrics in the songs had said, “All my life, I’ve been waiting for someone like you” (“All My Life” by K-Ci and Jojo), “we’re still together, still going strong” (“You’re Still The One” by Shania Twain), and “and with this vow, forever has now begun” (This I Promise You” by *NSYNC), all that you had been waiting for, for so long was right in front of you and it was true that your forever love was just getting started. In a whisper, you asked to play a song and chose “Because You Loved Me” by Celine Dion as the final song for your private dance. The song served as a thank you to each other by summing up the journey of your relationship so far and how your love helped you both grow as people. Getting married allowed you to write a new chapter in your love story. You made it this far as a couple and there was so much to look forward to in your future together.

#tyson jost #tyson jost x reader #tyson jost imagine #tyson jost fic #buffalo sabres #hockey fic #my writing #hockey writing #please read my story

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blueskrugs · 2 years ago

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Written in the Sand | Tyson Jost

it’s finally here! I started this fic in September, thinking it would be a cute couple thousand words, and then finally finished it four months and almost 30,000 words later.

huge thank you to @antoineroussel who held my hand through a lot of this and also did the hard work of beta reading and editing all of this.

recommended listening: Written in the Sand by Old Dominion (where else would I get title and inspo from?), Colder Weather by Zac Brown Band, and The Dance by Garth Brooks.

length: 29.8k words (lol)

this fic has now been broken into chapters for easier reading

Are we written in the stars, baby, or are we written in the sand?

Tyson never meant to catch feelings. Really. It was supposed to be a one-night stand. Then it happened again, and again, and somewhere along the line it turned into regular hooking up. And, well, anyone would tell you that Tyson wore his heart on his sleeve. It wasn’t long before he was falling fast and hard.

Tyson looked across the couch at where she was dozing, wearing one of his T-shirts. His birthday was in a few days. He’d already resolved to ask her out for real before then. This stupid not-quite-friends-with-benefits shit was getting old. It needed to end one way or another, for Tyson’s sanity—and his heart. If he was going to get his heart broken anyway, why prolong the inevitable?

But he was getting ahead of himself.

November

It’s early in the season, too early to be celebrating wins the way they are. But they blew out the Canucks and the Sharks in consecutive games and don’t have another one for four days, so Gabe dragged them all out to a bar. There’s something special about this team, Tyson can feel it, and so can the rest of the guys.

Which is how Tyson finds himself a couple beers and a shot or two deep on a Saturday night in November, with JT squished against his side in the booth. The team is extra loud to account for the fact that they’re in a crowded bar; EJ is across the table chirping Andre about something or other. Tyson settles in and takes another drink of his beer.

JT elbows him in the ribs. Tyson elbows him back harder on principle.

“No, idiot, there’s a cute girl over there,” JT says.

“You have a girlfriend,” Tyson says, not following. He tries to figure out which girl JT is talking about, but there’s a lot of girls in the bar.

“You don’t,” JT points out, and, oh.

“I’m not really looking for anything,” Tyson says, because it’s true. Especially not some hookup with a girl in a bar. He doesn’t really roll that way. He really wants to focus on having a good season here. He still doesn’t know which girl JT is talking about.

Gabe, the nosy asshole, leans over Cale to give his two cents. “Josty, I think you need another beer.”

Tyson glares at his unfortunately almost-empty beer bottle. He glances over at the bar again. This time, a girl catches his eye and gives him a small smile over her friend’s shoulder. She is kind of cute, Tyson supposes. Tyson heaves a sigh and elbows JT again to force him out of the booth. A small cheer goes up. He flips them off without turning around.

It’s even more crowded at the bar, but Tyson manages to squeeze in near the girl and lean against the bar while he waits for a bartender. The person on his left leaves with their drink, and then he’s next to the girl. He wishes he knew her name. She smiles at him again.

He’s about to lean in and introduce himself when a bartender comes over and asks for his order. She’s smirking at him when he turns back.

“All the beers in the world, and you’re drinking Coors?” she asks. She has to lean in close to be heard, and Tyson doesn’t mind it. He makes an outraged noise, which only makes her grin grow. “I’m Madison,” she says.

“Listen, Madison,” Tyson starts, but he doesn’t actually have a great argument. He’s just not very picky when it comes to beers. He closes his mouth. Madison laughs at him and takes a sip of her drink. “And what’re you drinking, huh?” Something with a lime wedge on it. Red, maybe. The dim lighting makes it extra hard to see colors.

“All beer is gross, first of all,” she says. “Second of all, it’s a vodka cran.”

“Can I buy you another?” Tyson asks. Her glass is less vodka cran and more ice at this point.

On Madison’s other side, her friend groans. Tyson probably deserves that. Madison rolls her eyes at him. He deserves that, too.

“Real smooth,” she says. Tyson winks at her. “I don’t even know your name,” she points out. Oh, yeah.

“I’m Tyson,” he says. He sticks out a hand for handshake, and Madison takes it, though she raises an eyebrow and laughs at him again as she does it.

“Okay, Tyson,” Madison says, “you can buy me a drink.” Tyson thinks she sounds amused.

Tyson fist pumps and turns back to catch the attention of one of the bartenders again.

Drinks procured, Tyson loses track of time as he chats with Madison, as much as they can over the din and constant jostling. By the time they’re both finished, Madison’s pressed close to Tyson’s side. She’s looking up at him expectantly.

Fuck it, Tyson thinks. He leans close and settles a hand on Madison’s hip. “Can I take you home?” he asks.

Madison slides a hand around the back of his neck. Her nails scratch the curls at the nape of his neck, and Tyson suppresses a shiver in a warm, crowded bar.

“God, I thought you were never going to ask,” she says.

Some of the guys are still posted up at tables in the corner. He’d forgotten about them. He hears a few jeers over the din of the crowd, and he flips them off with the hand that’s not clutching one of Madison’s.

“Friends of yours?” she asks, looking over her shoulder at the cluster of rowdy hockey players, letting Tyson drag her towards the door.

“Unfortunately,” Tyson says, once they’re safely out the door, and he can talk at a normal volume again. “Can I kiss you?” he blurts, pausing in trying to fish his car keys out of his pocket.

Madison laughs again, but it’s not mean. Tyson likes it, the way she already seems comfortable teasing him. She doesn’t answer, instead just slides her hand around Tyson’s neck again and pulls him down to kiss her. Tyson’s dizzy with the feeling of her lips warm against his, there in the middle of the sidewalk. He makes himself pull away.

“Fuck,” he breathes.

Madison lets Tyson keep a hand on her thigh as he drives, edging up under the hem of her shorts. He’s dying to be able to kiss her again. She lets him as soon as she’s out of the car and pressed up against the passenger door. Then again, in the elevator until they’re both breathless, and even more once they’re safely inside Tyson’s apartment. Against the front door, tripping over themselves down the hallway, and, finally, finally, twisted up in Tyson’s sheets.

Madison stirs next to Tyson, knocking him out of his bask in the afterglow. Her hair, once nicely curled, is a mess. Tyson’s probably doesn’t look much better, actually.

“I should go,” she whispers.

Tyson wants to argue. To tell her she can stay. But that’s too much, too strange. He rolls over to kiss her again, instead. She pushes him away with a soft giggle.

“Not helping,” she says. She sits up. “Can I use your bathroom?”

“Yeah, course,” Tyson says, nodding too hard. Madison slips out of bed and collects her clothes. If Tyson watches her ass as she goes, who’s to blame him?

He’s dozing when she re-emerges, fully dressed and a little less disheveled.

“Can I get your phone number?” Tyson asks without thinking. That’s not what this was supposed to be. He told JT he wasn’t looking for anything just a few hours ago. He just knows he wants to see Madison again.

She hesitates. Tyson understands.

“I’d really like to see you again,” Tyson says, maybe too honest for a hookup, but it’s late. He can’t be blamed for the things he says after 1 AM. “And it’s late, I’d sleep better if I know you got home okay.”

Tyson can see the moment she gives in. Madison sighs and steps closer to the bed, but there’s something soft in her eyes when she looks at Tyson.

“Where’s your phone?” she asks. Tyson reaches for his bedside table out of habit. His phone never made it there in their haste to get into bed. He turns back to face Madison, sheepish.

“I don’t know, actually.” Probably still in the back pocket of his jeans, but he can’t remember if he stopped to take it out and set it somewhere, either.

Madison sighs at him again and shakes her head. Tyson watches as she scoops his jeans off the floor and digs through them before coming up with his phone. He probably should have done that himself, but Madison tosses it at him before he can push the sheets away from where they’re pooling at his waist. Tyson isn’t expecting it and fumbles the phone. He has to dig it back out before he can unlock it and toss it back to Madison.

She catches it with ease, and Tyson sticks his tongue out at her. Show-off. She ignores him, thumb swiping idly through his apps until she finds his contacts. She types for a moment, oddly serious. Her own phone vibrates in her other hand. She throws the phone back at Tyson. He doesn’t drop it this time.

He unlocks his phone to see that Madison’s made herself a contact—just her first name and a smiley face typed out— and texted herself—a little blue bubble that just says, tyson.

She checks her phone again. “I really should go,” she says softly. “My ride’s here,” she adds.

“Wait,” Tyson says. He reaches out a hand, wraps his fingers around her wrist when she steps closer and tugs her down so he can kiss her one last time. “‘Kay, now you can go,” he whispers.

Madison cups his cheek and gives him one quick peck, then she’s out the door.

Tyson’s not quite asleep when his phone vibrates next to him, and she slaps at it, squinting at it in the dark. A text from Madison reads, home x. Tyson falls asleep smiling.

He almost expects that to be the end of it. He knows he said he wanted to see Madison again, but he’s not sure either of them are going to follow up on it. The Avs’ schedule gets busy—away, then back home, then gone again.

But it happens again. Tyson’s high on another win when he dials Madison’s phone number. It rings long enough that Tyson thinks she’s not going to answer.

“Hello?” Madison says, startling Tyson.

“Oh,” he says. He didn’t think he’d get this far.

“Tyson?”

“Are you busy tonight?” he blurts. It’s a Saturday night, he’s expecting her to say that she’s going out with friends or something. Tyson’s just getting home from the game himself.

He’s surprised when she says, “Not really.”

“Oh,” Tyson says again. He pulls his tie off over his head and tosses it aside.

“Tyson? This is a booty call, isn’t it?”

“Uh. Maybe?” Tyson says. “Is it working?” Tyson surveys his apartment. He’d cleaned before leaving for Dallas, and he’s barely been home long enough to make a mess again. Though, his unpacked suitcase is exploding in the corner of his room where he dumped it when they got in late the night before.

“God, you’re so bad at flirting,” Madison says. Unfortunately, she’s endeared by it. “I can be there in like thirty minutes, text me your address.”

Tyson fist pumps when he hangs up the call. He frantically texts Madison before going to change into sweats. He’s fidgeting restlessly on his couch when Madison calls him again thirty-six minutes later.

“Can you let me up?” she asks.

“Oh, shit, yeah,” he says. He doesn’t bother with shoes, just swipes his keys from his kitchen island and heads downstairs.

Madison’s waiting awkwardly in his lobby when Tyson steps off the elevator. She spots him and grins when he waves at her. She wants to hug him, for some reason, when he approaches her, but that’s not what they are, so she settles for taking his hand and twining their fingers together when he reaches out for her.

Tyson doesn’t pin her against the elevator wall to kiss her after the doors close behind them, but Madison can tell he wants to. She squeezes his hand, and Tyson pulls her into his side.

“Little excited, huh?” Madison teases, looking at Tyson’s feet.

He wiggles his socked toes and grins at Madison.

“Well, duh,” he says. The elevator doors open again. Tyson all but drags Madison towards his apartment. He’s kissing her before the door is shut all the way. They stumble over to Tyson’s couch, and Tyson’s pulling Madison into his lap before he’s even settled. She lets him kiss her for a few minutes before she pulls away.

“Is this going to become a thing every time you guys win?” she gasps.

“You know who I am?” Tyson doesn’t ask, resting his forehead on Madison’s shoulder to catch his breath. “You watch hockey?” he asks instead. He’s not sure it’s a better question than the one he didn’t ask.

Madison twists her fingers in the hair at the base of Tyson’s neck. “Not avidly. I really didn’t know who you were the first time, but my friends and I were out the other night, and I saw you on TV.” She tugs a little on his hair, and Tyson tilts his head back to look at her. She’s watching his face closely, waiting for his reaction.

Tyson’s relieved, in a weird way, that she didn’t know who he was when they hooked up the first time. He’s just not sure how he feels now that she’s back in his lap, and evidently knows he plays for the Avalanche. Madison’s unwavering, looking steadily back at Tyson.

“What, so you’re just fucking me because I’m a hockey player now?” he jokes, or tries to joke. He thinks it falls flat.

Madison laughs. “No, you idiot, I’m fucking you because you’re kinda cute.” She rolls her eyes, and Tyson pouts a little. “I told you, I didn’t know who you were the first time. I’m not chasing anything, Tys. Besides, if I were chasing hockey players, I’m sure there are single Avs players who score more goals,” she teases.

“Hey, I scored a goal tonight!” Tyson protests.

“I know, baby,” she says, kissing him quickly.

“Did you look up my stats?” Tyson asks, distracted.

“I like you, okay?” Madison says, ignoring him. “Wouldn’t be here for any other reason.”

Tyson has to kiss her again. They don’t end up making it to the bedroom.

“Do you have to go?” Tyson whines, watching Madison sit up and search for her clothes. Tyson thinks her T-shirt ended up behind his couch.

Madison pauses. Tyson’s curls are a disaster, and Madison kind of wants to mess them up more. “And what exactly would we do if I stayed?” she asks, eyebrows raised. She threads her fingers into Tyson’s hair, tugs once, because she can.

Tyson blushes a little. “I dunno, watch a movie?” Madison makes a face. Tyson’s phone got buried in the couch cushions, and he fishes it out to look at the time. “Okay, I guess it is kinda late.” Tyson’s stomach growls. “Do you want to order pizza?” he asks instead.

Madison finds her shirt and checks the time on her own phone. “I really should get home,” she says, apologetic. “I hate getting Ubers late at night.”

“You can spend the night,” Tyson says without thinking. At the look on Madison’s face, he says instead, ”Or, I could drive you home. Whatever.”

“‘Whatever,’” Madison scoffs, shaking her head. But she grins at Tyson and pulls her shirt over her head. Tyson briefly mourns the loss of her bare chest. “I guess I could go for pizza,” she says.

“Wait, for real?” Tyson asks. He realizes he probably sounds too eager.

“Don’t make me change my mind,” Madison warns, but her smile is playful.

She’s still standing next to the couch, and Tyson has to pull her back into his lap. She giggles as she settles across Tyson’s thighs. He kisses her cheek, the corner of her mouth, before she turns her head and captures his lips with her own. They kiss for long minutes, Tyson doesn’t know, time slowed down and unimportant. That is, until Tyson remembers he’s hungry and has to pull away.

“Pizza?” he asks, somewhat nonsensically, panting a little.

Madison kisses him again. Tyson tightens his grip on her hips, but pushes her away. “As long as you order pepperoni.” She slides off Tyson’s lap and slumps onto the couch next to Tyson.

Madison suddenly realizes that she’s tired, her eyes feeling heavy as she watches Tyson order pizza. She considers for a second, before carefully poking him in the ribs with her toes. Tyson doesn’t flinch. Madison stretches and settles with one of her feet across Tyson’s lap. He drops his hand to her ankle without looking down, thumb rubbing small circles across the bone absently. Madison closes her eyes and dozes.

She’s woken up again by Tyson gripping her foot and shaking it. She’s melted further into the couch cushions, bones heavy with exhaustion. Tyson smiles at her.

“Pizza’s here, babe,” he says softly.

Sure enough, there’s a pizza box resting on the coffee table. It smells enticing enough to rouse Madison the rest of the way. She reaches a hand out, intending for Tyson to give her a piece of pizza, but he wraps his fingers around hers and pulls her to sit up. She leans into Tyson’s side. He laughs quietly and drapes an arm across her shoulders. Madison could probably fall back asleep like this, Tyson warm and solid next to her. Tyson hands her a slice of pizza, and Madison’s actually too hungry to resist.

Tyson turns on some show on Netflix while they eat. Neither of them are paying much attention, but it fills in the silence nicely. It’s cold and dark outside, the city of Denver sleepy, but inside Tyson’s apartment, it’s cozy and warm.

It’s dangerous waking up next to Madison the next morning. It’s something Tyson could get used to far too easily. Madison’s still asleep when he rolls over in the early morning light. She’s rolled over to face him in her sleep, face soft and hair a mess. Tyson’s not sure what time it is. He should maybe get up, but he’s not in any rush.

Madison blinks awake to find Tyson watching her. She rubs at her eyes and rolls onto her back.

“Whatchu lookin’ at?” she mumbles. She turns her head back to look at Tyson.

Tyson grins lazily back at her. “You, duh.”

Madison facewashes him. Tyson grabs her wrist and wrenches her hand away, cackling. “You’re the worst,” she says over his laughter.

Tyson scoots closer and sticks a foot in between Madison’s legs. No ulterior motive, just wanting to be close. Okay, maybe a teeny bit of ulterior motive: Tyson’s toes are cold. He’d wheedled Madison into wearing a pair of his sweatpants and a T-shirt before they’d fallen asleep. She looks like she belongs in Tyson’s bed.

Madison watches Tyson closely as he settles back in. She tries to read the expression on his face, the small smile on his lips. She’s not sure what any of it means.

“So what next?” she asks softly. Two hook-ups and a sleepover does not a relationship make.

Tyson knows what she’s asking. He runs through their upcoming schedule in his head. They’re about to leave for a week. That’s about as far as he gets. They can worry about all that later. All he knows that he wants, no, he needs to see Madison again.

What he says now is, “Breakfast?”

December

Madison doesn’t hear much from Tyson for a while after that. It’s not like she expected to, really. She knows the Avalanche went on another long road trip, and it’s not like they need to be texting each other constantly.

Madison finds herself checking the Avalanche box scores after each game. Tyson gets two goals while they’re gone. Not that she’s counting, or anything.

Tyson means to call. He really does. Or even text some. But in the air somewhere over Canada, he realizes he’s never actually talked much with Madison. He doesn’t know anything about her, unless you count what she’s like in bed. He’s never been good at small talk, or the talking phase. Which, when he thinks about it, is probably why he’s still single.

It’s not until he’s staring down three and a half weeks of nothing but practices that Tyson picks up his phone again.

Madison answers faster than he’d expected. “You’re not bored already, are you?” she asks. “It’s only been two days since you had a game.”

It’s only been one day since their last game, actually. Tyson whines into the phone. “Yes, I’m bored, okay?” Madison laughs at him. Tyson makes a face, even though she can’t see it. “We never get this much time off, it’s weird,” he goes on. “What am I supposed to do?”

“You’re a smart boy, Tyson,” Madison teases. “Went to college and everything, I’m sure you’ll figure something out.”

That’s not to say that Tyson doesn’t have ideas, and he thinks Madison knows what he’s angling for because she’s not a fool. She’s really going to make him work for this one.

“I mean, I guess I could watch some movies or start a new TV show,” Tyson hedges.

“Watch The Hobbit and Lord of the Rings trilogies,” Madison says absently. “Could get you through a good couple of days.”

Tyson takes his opening. “You could always come over and watch them with me,” he says.

Madison groans, as if they both didn’t see where this conversation was going. “You’re terrible,” she tells him.

“No, really, we can just hang out,” Tyson says. And if hanging out leads to other things, well. “Don’t you have teammates you can hang out with or something?” Madison asks, skeptical.

“I see them literally every day”—Madison laughs again—“and I want to see you,” Tyson adds. “Really.”

Madison pauses on the other end of the line. “Fine,” she says finally. “Should I pack a bag?”

Tyson freezes. He hadn’t gotten that far in his scheming. Never considered Madison would even want to spend that much time with him this weekend. He’s quiet long enough that Madison says something.

“Tyson?” she says softly.

Tyson shakes himself, tries to get his brain back online. “I, uh, I mean. I guess? You can, if—if you want?” he stammers. It’s Friday afternoon. He still has some practices over the weekend, but the long break between games suddenly seems less daunting with the prospect of Madison staying over, staying in his bed.

“I’ll be over soon, okay?” Madison says.

Tyson isn’t sure if he manages to say anything else before she ends the call. Fuck. He’s getting the sense for the first time that he’s in over his head. He isn’t so sure he minds, actually.

The weekend passes quickly once Madison’s there, though Tyson swears time slows down when he’s with her. They do actually end up watching The Lord of the Rings movies—which Madison had proudly produced from one of her bags, along with several packs of microwave popcorn, which had sent Tyson into a laughing fit— in between falling into bed (or the couch, more than once) and Tyson dragging himself out of the apartment to get to skate.

“We really should do The Hobbit first, since those come first chronologically, but other than the first one, they’re not as good,” Madison explains at one point, gesturing with a handful of popcorn. Tyson just nods. “And we could have probably had a proper marathon and watched all the movies, but that’s like twenty hours, and I figured you had other plans, anyway.” She looks sidelong at Tyson, one eyebrow raised.

“You’re kind of a nerd, you know that?” Tyson asks later, breathless from making out. He’s pressing Madison into the couch cushions, their legs tangled together underneath a blanket. He’s aiming for light, teasing, but he’s not sure he quite gets there.

Madison tugs on the hair at the nape of Tyson’s neck. “Yeah, but you like me anyway.” Madison’s smirking a little.

Tyson absolutely does like her anyway. It might make him like her more, actually.

Madison’s standing at the kitchen counter with the last of her coffee on Sunday morning when Tyson comes up and presses himself against her back, pinning her in place. He presses a kiss to the spot where Madison’s neck meets her shoulder. Madison tilts her head to the side some. With better access, Tyson drags a line of kisses down her neck and across the top of her shoulder.

Madison sets her coffee mug down on the counter with shaky hands before she drops it.

“Are you sure you can’t stay longer?” Tyson mumbles into Madison’s skin.

From this angle, Tyson can see the hickey on Madison’s collarbone from the day before. He’s got one to match, somewhere. He wants to get his mouth on it again, make it darker, make sure it’s there for days.

Tyson feels it more than he hears it when Madison laughs. She reaches up and drapes an arm backwards over his shoulder, holding him in place as much as he’s pinning her.

“Sorry, bud, but some of us have to get back to the real world,” she says. She doesn’t make any effort to move.

Tyson bites her shoulder, gently, but pulls away. “Same time next week?” he asks next, only half a joke.

Madison turns around and looks at Tyson. “Tyson, next week is Christmas.”

“Fuck, is it?” Tyson tries to remember what day it is. His family is coming to town this year. He should probably put some effort into decorating his apartment, then.

Madison just shakes her head at him. Tyson wonders if his mom and Kacey will be able to look at him and know what’s going on in his heart.

Tyson’s apartment feels empty without Madison in it when he gets back from practice later that afternoon. She’d filled in all the quiet spaces Tyson didn’t realize it had—a spare throw blanket strewn across the couch, her makeup bag overflowing on his bathroom counter, an extra set of dirty dishes in the sink.

He misses her. More than he should, probably. Huh.

This was never supposed to be anything. Just a hook-up from the bar. Now Madison’s spending weekends at his place, and Tyson wants to see her all the time. He should’ve seen it coming, maybe. He’d never been good at flings.

He thinks about calling Madison, but that seems like too much. He’s been told he can be too much, sometimes. He puts his phone back down, flops face down onto his couch for a while, instead.

Tyson spends the next few days doubling down on getting ready for Christmas. He had, in fact, forgotten that it was coming up so soon, and he still needed to get presents for his grandpa and sister. He digs out his meager box of Christmas decorations and sets them up around his apartment. It’s not very much, but it does go a long way towards making the apartment feel a bit more like home.

He holds off on texting Madison until Wednesday. He shouldn’t have; his family’s flying in later this evening. They’ll be in town all week, and Tyson might actually go insane if he can’t see Madison, get his hands on her again until after the new year.

If Tyson ends up picking up his family with sex hair, well. They probably didn’t notice. He’d shoved a ball cap on, anyway, though Kacey still raised her eyebrows at him in the rearview as she slid into the backseat next to their mom. He’d flip her off if he could, but his grandpa is right there.

Tyson makes it through the holiday without an interrogation from his mom and sister, but he knows it’s coming. The blanket Madison had left behind is still laying across the couch, and Kacey’s been curled up under it more often than not. Madison texts Tyson on Christmas morning, a simple merry Christmas! with a heart emoji that has Tyson grinning stupidly at his phone. Kacey clears her throat loudly, on the floor next to Tyson. He feels himself blushing as he fumbles to lock his phone and drop it face down next to him. His mom and sister share a look over his head.

Madison texts again a few days after Christmas, asking if Tyson wants to grab lunch and hangout. Tyson does, obviously, but he has to figure out how to dodge his family for a few hours, first.

“I’m gonna go workout, I think,” Tyson announces. He needs to find his shoes, a water bottle. He is restless, too many days off in a row.

Kacey looks up from her computer. “Oh, can I come? I’m supposed to be working out over break, too,” she says.

“Uh,” Tyson says, trying to stall. He should’ve thought this through better. Kacey raises an eyebrow at him. “I was actually hoping for some time alone, y’know?” Kacey’s other eyebrow raises.

“Are you saying you’re tired of us?” his mom asks, teasing.

Tyson’s phone vibrates in his pocket. Madison again. He hasn’t had a chance to respond to her yet. He hates lying to his mom, but he still says, “Yes? No?” Tyson’s never been one to need space. “I just—”

“It’s okay, Tys,” his mom says gently. “Have a good workout, sweetheart.”

Tyson doesn’t linger, grabbing his coat and shoving his feet into the first pair of shoes he sees on his way out the front door. He texts Madison that he’s on his way in the elevator. He does pick up lunch for both of them, too, on his way over to Madison’s place. He’s thoughtful like that.

It takes just about all of Tyson’s self-control to actually sit next to Madison on her couch and eat first.

“How’d you ditch your mom and sister?” Madison asks eventually, eyes still on the TV, playing some random Hallmark Christmas movie.

Tyson swallows. “Told them I was working out,” he admits.

Madison turns to smirk at him. “Working out, huh?” she asks, laughter in her voice.

Tyson nudges her knee with his foot. “It’s not entirely a lie,” he points out. His lunch is practically finished anyway, so he sets it aside and slides closer to Madison. “I think they’re on to me, though.” He never could hide anything from the people he loves.

Madison swings her feet into Tyson’s lap. She’s still eating, and Tyson’s about fifteen seconds away from taking her lunch from her and just kissing her. His leg bounces—his restless energy has only gotten worse since landing on Madison’s couch—until Madison digs her heel into his thigh, forcing him to stop.

She’s looking at him carefully. “Would that be such a bad thing?” she asks. “People knowing about us?”

Tyson considers. It’s not like there’s anything to keep a secret, really. He realizes that no one even knows that he and Madison had hooked up more than just that night at the bar. He hadn’t realized how close he’d been keeping them to his chest.

Madison’s still waiting for an answer. Tyson squeezes her ankle where it’s still draped across his lap. “I guess not, actually,” he says.

Madison grins at him and, finally, finally, sets aside the remnants of her lunch. Tyson slides his hands up Madison’s legs, underneath her thighs, and drags her into his lap, finally, finally, getting his mouth on hers.

Kacey and his mom are waiting for Tyson when he sheepishly slips in his front door an hour later. Kacey’s smirking, leaned up against the counter with her arms crossed. Tyson could kill her. He tugs the collar of his hoodie up, hoping it covers the hickey Madison left on his collarbone.

“Good workout, Tys?” Kacey asks. Tyson flips her off. Even their mom smacks her arm in reprimand.

“Great, actually,” Tyson says, allowing himself a moment of smugness in spite of his embarrassment. He hopes he’s not blushing. Kacey laughs.

“If you’ve gotten yourself a girlfriend, Tyson, you know you could always bring her around,” his mom says gently. Tyson winces. He really hates lying to his mom. And he definitely could not just bring Madison around.

“Yeah,” Kacey chimes in, “I want to meet whoever’s got you sneaking around like an idiot.”

“She’s not—it’s not like that,” Tyson rushes to say. “We’re taking it slow, I guess.” He’s definitely blushing now, his face warm under the matching gazes of his mom and sister. He forces himself to shrug, hands shoved in his hoodie pocket. “We’re just…friends,” he finishes lamely.

Kacey and his mom pin Tyson with matching pitying, yet disbelieving looks. Tyson hunches his shoulders, nervous underneath their gazes. He thinks of Madison telling him that it’s okay if people know about them. Thinks about having to tell his mom and baby sister that he’s just fucking around with a girl he thinks he could fall in love with, given the chance. He decides against it, for now.

Tyson shrugs again. “I mean it,” he says. “It’s not really anything right now. I don’t know.”

He escapes to his bedroom for a shower and to bury his head under a pillow for a while, until he feels like he can face his family again.

The days seem to pass more slowly after that. Tyson works out—for real, thank you very much— and watches way too many cooking shows with Kacey, curled up under a mountain of blankets on the couch. Tyson doesn’t know the last time he got to spend this much time with his family during hockey season. It’s nice, even as he starts getting restless again, anxious to be back on the ice with his teammates.

There’s a team New Year’s Eve party at Gabe’s. It’s pretty chill, especially as far as team gatherings go, but Tyson maybe has a little too much to drink. He’s surrounded by happy teammates with their significant others, and he’s maybe feeling a little alone. He cracks open another beer.

It’s almost midnight when Tyson sinks onto a couch next to JT and slips out his phone. No notifications. He doesn’t know what he expected. Madison had posted on her story earlier in the night that she was celebrating with friends, too. Tyson stares at his phone for a moment.

miss you, he carefully types out. It takes him longer than it should to get it right, drunk as he is, squinting at his phone and concentrating really hard on hitting the correct keys.

Madison responds quickly, way faster than Tyson had expected her to. The typing bubble appears almost immediately. Tyson waits.

miss you too tys, it says. Then, please drink some water.

“Who the fuck is Josty texting?” EJ yells from across the room. Tyson realizes that he’s been smiling stupidly down at his phone. He makes to lock it and put it back away, but he’s not fast enough. JT grabs Tyson’s wrist and wrenches it around so he can see his screen.

“Who’s Madison?” JT asks, quieter than EJ. He lets Tyson lock his phone, finally.

“She’s—” Tyson pauses. He doesn’t want to say that she’s no one, because that’s not really true. He doesn’t have any other word for her, either.

JT’s been watching Tyson’s face carefully. He knows better than anyone that Tyson isn’t good at hiding his emotions, and something must be showing on Tyson’s face now. JT’s eyebrows raise.

“Is that the girl you brought home from the bar like a month ago?” JT asks. Tyson hesitates, pulling his hand free from JT’s grasp. Tyson’s hesitation is enough. “Oh my God, are you still fucking her?”

Tyson winces. It sounds crass when JT says it like that. “We’ve hooked up a few more times,” he admits. JT doesn’t need to know about the number of times she’s slept over, too.

JT laughs at him, shaking his head. “‘Not really looking for anything,’ huh?” he teases, echoing Tyson’s own words from that night in the bar. Was it really only a month ago? Feels like Madison’s been in Tyson’s life way longer than that, with how quickly she’s taken over Tyson’s thoughts.

“I wasn’t!” Tyson protests. He shoves JT a little for good measure. He’s so drunk he doesn’t think it has the intended effect. JT just sways back into Tyson, leaning more of his weight on Tyson’s side.

It’s almost midnight. Around them, teammates are moving around, finding someone to kiss. Someone’s opened champagne, someone else is passing full flutes around. Tyson takes one when it passes in front of him. JT digs his elbow into Tyson’s ribs one last time before getting up to find Sydney.

Tyson’s left on the couch, alone. He pulls his phone back out as people begin counting down around him. Madison’s text comes through just as everyone starts cheering and the clock strikes midnight. Happy new year Tyson! 🖤

Tyson closes his eyes and drains his glass of champagne.

January

Tyson usually dreads January. It’s a long, cold, and dark month. The grind of the season feels like it’s at its…grindiest. The game days and travel days start to run into each other and turn into one exhausting, never-ending blur. Someone’s always getting sick, or injured,

He’s perfectly happy to throw himself back into hockey when the new year finally rolls around after so many weeks without it, but he hates how quiet his apartment is without Kacey hanging around, being annoying. He leaves his Christmas decorations up, anything to make his apartment feel lived-in.

Tyson lasts until the team gets back from Chicago on the fifth before he calls Madison again. She doesn’t answer. Tyson stares at his phone after it goes through to voicemail, bewildered. That is, until Madison texts him back and reminds him that she has a “normal job with normal hours.” Right.

Madison calls Tyson back on her way home from work. His groggy, mumbled “‘ello?” makes Madison smile when he answers, voice tinny over her car’s speakers.

“Did I wake you?” she teases.

Tyson scoffs, but says, “...yeah. Sorry for calling you earlier,” he adds. “I’d just gotten home and wasn’t thinking.” “You can’t just call at 10:30 in the morning on a Wednesday, Tyson,” she admonishes.

“I know, I’m sorry, I was just—” missing you. Tyson dismisses that thought. Too earnest. “I was just bored,” he finishes. Not much better, actually.

Madison’s quiet for a while, focused on driving. She realizes she should figure out where she’s actually headed. “Were you calling for any particular reason earlier?” she asks. “I was beginning to think you’d forgotten about me.”

“I could never forget you,” Tyson says quickly. “I just wanted to see you,” he admits after another moment.

Madison turns on her blinker at a red light. She should be turning left, towards her apartment. She turns right, towards Tyson’s place. “Did you want me to come over,” she asks, wanting to hear Tyson say it.

“I mean, obviously, yeah. I can make us dinner.”

Madison laughs. “Oh, sure, you’re gonna make me some toaster waffles, huh?” She had seen the Instagram stories. “You really know how to woo a girl, Tys.”

She can practically feel Tyson’s playful outrage on the other end of the phone. He sputters for a minute before saying, “Okay, I can order us dinner.”

Madison’s almost to Tyson’s apartment building. She hates that she already knows how to get there so easily. “Are you going to get your ass out of bed and meet me downstairs?” There’s the sound of something hitting the floor, like Tyson actually rolled out of bed.

“I’ll be right there!” Tyson says, before hanging up. The radio cuts back in, music playing softly to fill in the abrupt silence of the call ending. Madison parks and turns her car off, sitting in silence for a minute. She wonders just what the hell she’s doing, what she’s getting herself into.

Tyson sprawls onto his couch and pulls Madison into his lap almost immediately after they’re both through the door. Madison rolls her eyes, but she goes willingly. Tyson’s perfectly content to just make out for a while, all sense of urgency gone as soon as he gets his hands on Madison. He’s not sure how long they’re there before he realizes something and pulls away.

“Have you ever been to an Avs game?” he asks.

“What?” Madison lost her shirt at some point, and Tyson’s thumb has been fiddling with one of her bra straps for the last several moments. She’s admittedly a little distracted. She processes what Tyson said. “Tyson, are you seriously thinking about hockey right now?” She tries to roll off his lap, but he digs his hands into her thighs and refuses to let her move.

“I’m always thinking about hockey, a little bit,” he defends. Madison rolls her eyes at him again. What Tyson had really been thinking about was introducing Madison to JT, then he’d remembered that she said she didn’t watch much hockey, and somehow that’s what had come out of his mouth. Madison still looks a little bit like she wants to smack him. “I told my best friend about you,” is what he ends up saying next. “He’s actually the one who pointed you out to me at the bar that night, and he wants to meet you for real.”

JT had actually said that, in between chirps about Tyson’s hooking up habits. Some of the other guys had picked it up, too, but Tyson wasn’t ready to subject Madison to them yet. Except maybe, like, Cale. And maybe after a game at the arena wasn’t the best place to introduce Madison to his friends, but Tyson could get tickets for Madison and a friend, ask Mel to introduce herself or something, and then meet Madison after with JT.

Tyson realizes Madison hasn’t answered him. She’s still in his lap, but she’s tense. Tyson squeezes her thighs again.

“You don’t have to, obviously,” he says softly. “I dunno, I just thought you might want to meet the guys.”

Madison relaxes a little. “You really want that?” she asks.

Tyson can’t help but grin at her. He kisses her again, slowly. “I do.”

Later, when they’re sitting at Tyson’s little table eating dinner—that Tyson did actually cook, thank you very much—Madison knocks her ankle into Tyson’s. Tyson swallows his mouthful of food and traps her foot in between both of his. Madison had gotten re-dressed in one of Tyson’s sweatshirts, and Tyson’s doing his best to feel normal about it.

“So, did you have a day in mind for me to come to a game, or had you not thought that far ahead?” Madison asks.

Tyson tries to run through their upcoming schedule in his head. “Uh?” They’re home for a lot of January. “Next Friday, maybe? The…14th?” He can’t remember who they’re playing, but that’s not really important. Tyson squints over at the printout of their schedule he keeps on his fridge. “We wouldn’t be able to hang around because we fly out that night, I think.”

Madison looks faintly overwhelmed suddenly. It might be for the best that the guys will only be able to say hi briefly, actually. “Sure? Whatever you want, Tyson.”

“You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to,” Tyson reminds her. He feels a bit as if he’s thrown her off the deep end, even though she’s the one who pushed Tyson to tell JT in the first place.

Madison shakes her head. “No, it’s okay, I just didn’t really expect it.”

Tyson pulls a face. “Maybe I’m tired of keeping you a secret.” He doesn’t know what he was trying so hard to protect, now.

Madison stares at him for a long moment, face unreadable. Tyson stares back. Finally, Madison drops her fork with a clatter and leans across the table to kiss Tyson. The fierceness of the kiss surprises him, Madison’s lips hard against his, her hand sliding around the back of his neck. Tyson cups her cheek and tries to soften the kiss, but Madison pulls away just as quickly as she’d kissed him.

Tyson blinks at her, bemused. He’s not sure what just happened. It feels significant somehow, something unspoken changing between them. Tyson turns back to his dinner.

Madison sees Tyson a few more times over the next week and a half before the game. Tyson acts the same, but Madison feels like she’s on edge, counting down the hours until Friday. Tyson doesn’t seem to notice.

“What the hell am I supposed to wear to a hockey game?” Madison complains over the phone to her older sister, Emma, who she’d asked to come with her on Friday. Emma just laughs at her. Madison’s seen what WAGs wear to games—cute outfits with leather pants and heels. Madison doesn’t own that type of shit, and she’s not really a WAG, besides. She doesn’t own a jersey, either, and it would probably be weird to wear a jersey that’s not Tyson’s anyway. Madison’s pixie pants from Old Navy and sensible work shoes aren’t going to cut it.

“What were you wearing when you met Tyson?” Emma asks, as if she doesn’t know they met in a bar.

Madison snorts. “Nothing that’s appropriate for a hockey game.” Madison regards the handful of sweaters she’s pulled from her closet. One of them is close enough to Avalanche burgundy, maybe. Somewhere in her dirty laundry is one of Tyson’s sweatshirts. Madison’s not bold enough to wear it.

Game day is overwhelming, to say the least. Tyson had gotten them good seats, but Madison’s not used to being around so many people, and it’s noisy all around her. It’s easier to follow the pace of the game in person than on TV, she learns, and her eyes follow Tyson whenever he’s on the ice.

Tyson scores a goal late in the first period, and Madison’s probably the one who cheers the loudest for him.

Madison waits outside the arena for Tyson after the game. Her sister’s waiting in the car, telling Madison it was too cold to stand around. She watches some of the other players make their way past her and onto a waiting bus. It’s cold, and she hates Tyson briefly. It’s only another few minutes until Tyson appears, closely followed by someone. They’re arguing, but Tyson breaks off as soon as he sees Madison waiting for him.

Tyson forgets himself for a moment. He runs over to Madison and wraps his arms around her waist, picking her up and spinning her once. Madison laughs at him. He ignores JT snickering behind him in favor of leaning down and kissing Madison quickly.

Madison’s blushing when he pulls away, but it might just be from the cold.

“Nice goal tonight, babe,” Madison tells him. Tyson just shrugs.

Behind them, JT clears his throat. Tyson kind of forgot about that part. He drapes an arm around JT’s shoulders and drags him closer. “This asshole is JT,” he tells Madison. “He’s one of my best friends.” To JT, he says, “This is Madison, be nice.”

JT scoffs. “I’m always nice.” He grins at Madison. “I’m also the reason Tyson went up to you at the bar, so I guess you could thank me for whatever’s going on here.” Tyson smacks him.

“You can get on the bus now, actually,” Tyson says. JT’s laughing again as Tyson tries to elbow him out of the way. Madison’s smiling, too, though, amused by their antics.

JT does leave, then, and Madison and Tyson are alone. Or, as alone as you can be with half of Tyson’s teammates watching them through the bus windows. Tyson steps closer to Madison.

“Thanks for tonight,” she says. Tyson barely did anything, but he’s not going to say that now. Tyson should really get on the bus, but he can’t tear himself away. Madison’s hand finds his, tangling their fingers together and squeezing once before letting go again. “Text me when you get to the hotel, yeah?”

Tyson has to kiss her again. “I will, I promise.” He really needs to go. One last kiss, pressed to Madison’s cheek this time, then Tyson forces himself to step away. Madison’s gone when he turns around as he steps on the bus. Tyson shakes himself and goes to find JT, flopping into the seat left open for him.

“You’re in deep, bud,” JT says. Tyson glares at him.

“God, I know.”

February

Tyson should be planning a vacation somewhere warm. That’s what most of his teammates are doing, with the All-Star break coming up in just a few days, everyone ready to escape winter in Colorado. What Tyson’s doing instead is texting Madison, trying to convince her to spend the week with him.

He doesn’t understand why she’s being so resistant to the idea. She’s spent nights and weekends with him before. She’s spent more time around his friends, even sticking around the other night when JT and Cale crashed their evening.

Fine I’ll just stay over at yours then, Tyson finally texts as a last resort.

Madison leaves him on read for, like, two hours. He spends most of that time trying to figure out what he could have said to make her pull away so suddenly.

Tyson’s this close to actually driving over to Madison’s to finish this conversation-slash-argument in person when she finally texts him back.

I don’t think that’s a good idea either, Madison has texted. Tyson stares at it. Tries to type a response, deletes it.

Before he can think much more about it, Tyson’s grabbing his car keys. He ends up driving aimlessly around Denver for a while before he heads towards Madison’s apartment. He’s worried he’s too upset to go straight over, that he’ll just start saying things he doesn’t mean out of frustration.

He still knocks on Madison’s door a little too hard, maybe. She looks confused when she answers the door. Tyson realizes he probably should have given her a heads up.

He’d planned what he wanted to say in the car, but what he blurts out instead is, “What, are you sleeping with someone else on the side?” Tyson could play it off as a joke any other time, but right now it comes out too accusing, too hurt.

Madison’s face does something complicated before she grabs him by the wrist and hauls him inside.

“What the fuck, no,” she says. “Tyson, what the fuck?” she repeats.

He crosses his arms. “I don’t get why you don’t want to spend the week off with me.” She’s already spent days at a time in his apartment. This week shouldn’t be any different.

Madison’s always hated cuffing season, is the thing. Maybe it’s just because she usually finds herself lonely through the winter months. She’s not stupid, this thing with Tyson has an expiration date; if she’s being honest with herself; they’ve been pushing it ever since they extended all of this past a one night stand. With every day that passes, Madison feels herself falling just a little more for Tyson, and she feels the impending end creeping closer. She needs to put some space between them before she gets her heart broken.

She just doesn’t know that Tyson’s busy falling, too.

Madison doesn’t know how to put all of that into words without blowing up her spot, though. She settles for saying, “I just need some space, I think.” It’s not exactly a lie.

Tyson’s face falls, and Madison immediately wishes she could take the words back.

Tyson’s quiet for a moment before he quietly says, “I didn’t do anything, did I?”

“No, God, of course not,” Madison rushes to assure him. She tries to collect her thoughts. “It’s just that, with Valentine’s Day coming up, and winter ending, I don’t know, I think I need to figure out what I want.”

Tyson forgot about Valentine’s Day. He doesn’t even know their schedule that far out. He supposes they have been hurtling towards something they’ve yet to define lately. But, “Hey, we’ve got a good thing going right now, don’t we?” Madison nods hesitantly. “Who said anything about changing that?” Tyson’s heart has other ideas, but he can worry about that later.

Madison takes a deep breath. “I guess,” she says, and Tyson grins at her.

“I’ll drop the All-Star break thing if you want. I just wanted to spend some time with you.” He doesn’t spend a lot of time with people other than teammates. It’s nice to change things up.

“Like you wouldn’t be calling me all the time to hook up, anyway,” Madison teases. Tyson can’t argue with that.

He ends up sticking around for a while, sprawled across Madison’s couch with her tucked against his chest between his legs. Madison turns on The Hobbit, even though Tyson doesn’t think they quite managed to make it through The Return of the King the last time they had a Tolkien marathon.

When he leaves later, pulling Madison in for a chaste kiss in the doorway, he realizes it’s the longest they’ve spent together without it ending in a hook-up. It’s kind of nice.

Tyson does back off some after that. All-Star break is already upon them, anyway. He can handle winging it solo for a few days. Probably.

Actually, now that he thinks about it, he hasn’t properly cleaned his apartment since their last long break back in December. The Avs have been home a lot in January, too, and his fridge is looking pretty bare these days.

He considers texting Madison and asking if she wants to tag along for his groceries, but he thinks that might be crossing the line of “too domestic.” He throws himself into cleaning and does his best to not think about texting her, instead.

It’s Madison who breaks the silence first. She lasts two days. She thought time and distance was what she needed, but that was before she realized how much she missed listening to Tyson chattering at her in between falling into bed.

She texts, i’m coming over, before she can think better of it. She makes the now-familiar drive to Tyson’s apartment on autopilot. Tyson’s seen her text by the time she parks, and he readily buzzes her into the building. Madison doesn’t even have to knock when she gets to his door; Tyson jerks it open like he’s been waiting, beaming.

“Burky’s here,” he says, pulling Madison in for a kiss. Madison peers around Tyson. She hasn’t met Burky yet, but she vaguely recognizes the guy standing in the middle of Tyson’s living room as another teammate.

“Hi,” he says. Awkward. Madison likes him.

“This is Madison,” Tyson announces, somewhat needlessly. His brain shorts out a bit after that, unsure what he can call Madison. ‘Friend’? ‘Hookup’? Definitely not ‘girlfriend’.

“Tyson hasn’t stopped talking about you since you came to the game a few weeks ago,” Burky tells Madison, interrupting Tyson’s runaway train of thought.

“Hey,” Tyson whines. “You don’t need to tell her that part.”

Madison laughs. “Nah, it’s okay, JT’s already told me.”

Tyson’s busy trying to come up with a sufficient way to threaten JT whenever he sees him again as Burky slips out the front door, and suddenly he and Madison are alone.

Madison starts to apologize for showing up with little warning, but Tyson cuts her off, pushing her—as gently as he can—against the nearest wall and kissing her.

“Hi,” he breathes when Madison ducks her head to pull away. He kisses her again before he can admit how much he missed her.

“I missed you,” Madison says, which. Tyson can handle that.

“God, me too.” Before, he might have felt overexposed by telling her that, but, now, it’s just comforting to know she misses him the same way he misses her. “I was actually about to make dinner, if you’re hungry?”

He starts to head towards his kitchen, not waiting for Madison to follow. He hadn’t really planned much further than deciding to cook, but he can probably figure out enough to make for two people. Madison leans against the counter as Tyson opens his fridge and peers inside. He could make chicken, but that’s boring.

“I did just buy burger patties,” he says, sort of thinking out loud.

“Tys, make whatever you want,” Madison tells him, laughing a little. “I’ll eat it.”

Tyson twists around to grin at Madison. “Be careful, you haven’t actually seen me cook yet.”

He’s a passable cook, actually—his mom wouldn’t let him leave for North Dakota before he knew the basics, and he’s only learned more since then. He plucks the burger patties out of the fridge.

Tyson talks while he cooks. He’s not even sure what he’s chatting about after a while, but Madison listens intently to everything he says. She winds up sitting on the counter near him, and he keeps stepping away from the stove to steal kisses in between sentences. He roasts up some red potatoes, too, and digs his hamburger buns out of the freezer. “They last longer,” he tells Madison, sticking two buns in his toaster. “Also, don’t tell Nate I’m eating white bread.”

Madison has not yet met Nathan MacKinnon, and she doesn’t think she’d be telling him what Tyson’s eating for dinner on a night off when she does meet him, either.

Tyson spends almost as much time dramatically plating the food as he did cooking it. Madison pours them both glasses of wine. He finally slides a plate in front of her but whips out his phone before she can take a bite.

Madison groans. “Tyson, oh my God.” She hides behind her wine glass while Tyson takes a picture of their plates.

Tyson reaches across the table to pull Madison’s hand away from her face. “Relax, I’m just sending it to JT.”

Madison scoffs, “Sure, just JT,” but she sets her wine back down.

Tyson tries to sneak another picture of her, but she catches him. The artificial shutter clicks just as she smiles sweetly at Tyson and flips him off.

“Delete that,” she whines.

“Absolutely not.”

They continue to chat over dinner. Tyson drips ketchup on his shirt, and Madison laughs so hard she chokes on her wine, which sets Tyson off, too. It’s several minutes before they can collect themselves again. Until Madison meets Tyson’s eyes across the table and bursts into laughter again.

“What’s so funny?” Tyson whines, still dabbing futilely at the stain on his shirt.

Madison wipes at her eyes, trying to catch her breath. “Nothing, nothing.” It really wasn’t that funny. “I think I’m just over-tired.” She doesn’t tell Tyson that she’s been worrying about him, about their relationship, so much that she hasn’t been able to sleep well.

Tyson frowns at her, anyway, like he knows what she’s not saying. He glances at the time.

“Do you want to take a nap or something? It’s still early enough.”

Madison knows that if she falls asleep in Tyson’s bed now, she will not be getting out of it until morning at least, and, “I didn’t pack anything.”

She doesn’t know why she was half-expecting Tyson to shut the door in her face when she arrived. She definitely hadn’t been planning on staying the night.

Tyson frowns harder. “You can always wear something of mine. Unless…you don’t wanna stay?”

Madison pushes a piece of potato around her plate with her fork for a moment before answering.

“I wasn’t sure you’d want me to stay,” she says quietly.

“What?” Tyson’s so surprised he drops his fork. He snatches it back up and points it accusingly at Madison. “Don’t be ridiculous, of course I want you to stay. I literally always want you to stay.”

Madison can feel herself blushing and she ducks her head so Tyson can’t see.

Tyson goes on. “Plus, it’s a Friday night, we can stay up late and watch a movie, then sleep in tomorrow. I’ll even make you breakfast!”

He’ll probably actually persuade Madison into going out for breakfast, but that’s an argument he’ll save until the morning. Tyson decides he’s done eating and pushes back from the table. He tries to clear Madison’s plate, but she glares at him and swipes her plate away. Tyson makes grabby hands for it.

“C’mon, I’m not making you clean up after yourself, you don’t have to.”

Madison shakes her head and holds her empty plate farther out of Tyson’s reach. “You cooked, I clean, baby.”

“That’s not—” Tyson’s so distracted that Madison snatches his plate and darts towards the kitchen. “Hey!”

He chases after Madison, who’s laughing again. Tyson loves the sound of Madison’s laugh, the way it fills his apartment. He waits until the plates have clattered into the sink to press up behind her. He kisses her shoulder, her neck, before burying his face in the crook of her neck. Madison shudders and leans back into Tyson.

“How about neither of us clean up, and we go watch a movie instead?” Tyson mumbles into Madison’s skin.

Dishes can wait; Tyson needs Madison on top of him, like, five minutes ago. He doesn’t wait for her to respond before he loops an arm around her waist and drags her over to the couch. She grunts when he pulls her on top of him, but she’s pliant as he arranges both of them until they’re comfortable. He even pulls the blanket off the back of the couch and drapes it over Madison’s back.

Madison snuggles in, the top of her head nestled perfectly under Tyson’s chin. He had intended for some making out, but now that they’re there, he’s fine with actually turning on a movie. He’s pretty sure Madison’s eyes are closed already, anyway, her breathing already starting to slow down and even out. Tyson scrolls for a while aimlessly before he settles on something stupid he’s probably seen before. He keeps the volume low. He dozes a little himself, absently rubbing Madison’s back underneath her shirt. She mumbles in her sleep and shifts closer.

It’s late by the time the movie ends, and Tyson rouses himself. They should both move to the bed, but he’s loath to wake Madison. She’s cute when she sleeps.

Tyson nudges Madison gently in the ribs. She stirs and blinks blearily up at Tyson.

“Hm?”

“Let’s get you to bed, baby,” Tyson whispers. He starts to move, and Madison makes a grumpy noise and snuggles back in. “C’mon, c’mon, it’s more comfy, I promise.”

He gets Madison up with quite a bit more poking and prodding. She’s unhappy with being woken up, and Tyson’s doing his best not to laugh at her. He nudges her towards the bathroom and gets a glare for his troubles, but she does dig out her toothbrush.

Tyson roots around for an old shirt for Madison to wear. He holds it out to her when she emerges from the bathroom, but Madison bypasses the shirt and kisses Tyson instead. He tries to keep it gentle, but Madison whines and presses closer. Tyson drops the shirt in favor of sliding his hands along Madison’s shoulders, her ribs, down her hips. They’re not very coordinated as they fall backwards onto Tyson’s bed. Their feet tangle as Tyson tries to push even closer, pinning Madison to the bed as they continue to kiss.

Madison breaks the kiss to yawn in Tyson’s face.

He huffs out a laugh, and Madison whines again. “No more, or you’re gonna fall asleep on me.”

He watches as Madison squirms around until her head is on her pillow. She’s already half-asleep again. Tyson leans over the foot of the bed and fishes around for the sleep shirt he dropped. He tosses it to Madison, and it lands on her face. She tears it away to glare at him.

Tyson’s even polite and doesn’t stare at Madison’s chest as she strips off the shirt she had been wearing and shimmies into his shirt.

He also wins the argument over breakfast the next morning, and triumphantly takes Madison to breakfast at Snooze. Madison’s grouchiness only lasts until a plate of French toast lands in front of her.

They’re out of town the day before Valentine’s Day. It’s just Dallas, and they’ll fly home after the game, but Tyson’s not actually sure where the line is between him and Madison and February 14th. Romantic dinner is absolutely out of the question. So are roses, probably. Tyson still wants to do something though, which is how he ends up on the website for a local flower shop while he’s supposed to be napping after skate. He scrolls for a few minutes before he remembers that he’s colorblind, and he should probably enlist some help.

JT and his judgmental eyebrows are at Tyson’s hotel room door seven minutes later. He shoulders his way past Tyson without a word, settles next to Tyson’s laptop on the bed.

“Flowers?” JT asks. “For your not-girlfriend?” He’s still being judgy, but Tyson knows he’s amused a little, too.

“Shut up, at least I’m not sending her roses,” Tyson says, trying to defend himself. He flops down on the bed next to JT. JT’s already busy scrolling. ”You need help picking the right colors, don’t you,” he says, teasing.

“Maybe.” Tyson’s never really understood flowers—they all sort of look the same to him—but girls are supposed to like them. Tyson’s never claimed to understand girls, either.

JT clicks around a few times before he punches Tyson in the shoulder.

“Ow,” he complains, sitting up and peering over JT’s shoulder. “...What am I looking at?”

JT sighs. “I don’t know, some pink and purple flowers.”

Tyson squints closer at the photo of the arrangement JT picked. “Wait, is that a rose? I said no roses.”

“It’s pink, it’s fine.” JT tilts the screen away for a second. “You’re adding on a stuffed animal.”

“I am?” JT gives him a look. “I mean, sure.” JT turns the laptop back towards Tyson, and he dutifully fills in his credit card information. He has to hunt for Madison’s address in his phone, but then he’s pressing the confirmation button, and that’s it. “That’s it? That was easy.”

JT snorts and shuts Tyson’s laptop. “Sure, easy after you asked me for help.” He facewashes Tyson. “You’re welcome.”

“I’ll buy your coffee before the game,” Tyson offers, ignoring JT’s sarcasm. “Besides, you’re the one of us in a cute, long-term relationship.”

JT smirks at Tyson over his shoulder, heading for the door. “You could change that for yourself, you know.”

“Working on it!” Tyson yells as the door shuts behind JT.

Tyson mostly forgets about the flowers after that, with the game, and the flight home, and crashing into bed and sleeping for almost ten hours. He hopes Madison likes them, hopes he isn’t pushing it too far.

Madison isn’t expecting the knock she gets on her door the next morning. She’s even more surprised when she opens her door and finds a small vase of flowers waiting on her doormat. There’s a teddy bear propped up next to the flowers; she hugs it to her chest as she carries the flowers inside. She has to set the teddy back down with the flowers to take a picture to send to Tyson.

She sends, should I be worried about a secret admirer? Tyson, eternal dork that he is, sends back the smirking emoji and the emoji blowing a kiss. Madison adds a selfie of herself hugging the bear and says, come cuddle?

Tyson probably, maybe, goes a little over the speed limit on his way to Madison’s.

March

Fucking Calgary. Tyson’s face hurts. He gingerly sticks his tongue through the gap where his front teeth used to be, but moving hurts too much. He sits back in the passenger seat of JT’s car with a quiet groan. The training staff had been adamant that Tyson couldn’t drive himself home, and Tyson wasn’t really in any shape to put up a fight. JT looks at him sideways, something amused in the tilt of his eyebrows.

All this and they didn’t even fucking win.

“Want me to call your mom?” JT asks.

Tyson groans again. He really should call her. He knows she’s worried, and if he doesn’t tell her he’s fine—mostly— she’ll probably take the next flight into Denver to check on him herself. She’s pretty great like that.

He should probably text Madison, too.

What Tyson really wants to do is go home and pass out for about twelve hours. He’s already scheduled for emergency dental work in the morning, though, and then Tyson’s going to have to beg the training staff to let him play on the road trip they’re about to head on. He hasn’t even packed yet.

JT holds his hand out for Tyson’s phone. Tyson fishes it out of his hoodie pocket and slaps it into JT’s hand. JT waves it at him.

“Unlock it, dumbass,” JT says. Tyson could grumble about how JT definitely knows his passcode, but he just takes his phone back. “And dial your mom while you’re at it, I can’t do it while driving.” Tyson settles for a disgruntled huff and does as he’s told.

He only half-listens, eyes closed, as JT talks to his mom, repeated reassurances that he’s fine, and, no, she doesn’t need to come down, and, yes, JT will keep an eye on him.

They’re almost to Tyson’s apartment by the time JT hangs up. He doesn’t hand Tyson’s phone back. Tyson cracks open his eyes to squint at JT.

“Need me to call your little girlfriend, too?” he asks. The way he says it isn’t mean, but Tyson bristles anyway.

“Not my girlfriend,” he manages, swiping for his phone. Not yet, anyway, or maybe not ever. Tyson’s working on it. JT lets him take it, but Tyson doesn’t miss the raised eyebrow he gets before JT turns back to the road.

JT insists on walking Tyson to his front door, then following him inside. Tyson’s too tired to begrudge the fussing. Plus, he does feel like shit, and it’s kind of nice, even if he’ll never, ever tell JT that. JT hovers in the bedroom doorway as Tyson kicks off his slides and faceplants into his pillow.

“Ow,” he says, gingerly turning back over.

JT snorts at him. “Need anything?” The trainers gave Tyson painkillers after the game, and it’s not like he can brush his teeth—or what’s left of them, anyway. He settles for flipping off JT. “Yeah, yeah, I’ll lock the door on my way out.” Tyson probably owes him one after this.

He barely remembers to text Madison a thumbs up emoji before he falls asleep.

Tyson grimaces when he sees himself in the mirror the next morning. His jaw is swollen and bruised, and he can barely open his mouth. He’s not sure he wants to see the state of his teeth, anyway. A knock on his door drags him away from his mirror.

Madison knocks again, unsure if Tyson’s awake. She should’ve called, or texted, before she showed up. She shifts anxiously from foot to foot while she waits for Tyson to answer. It’s only another few seconds before the door swings open, and Tyson appears. He looks miserable as he leans against the door.

“You look like shit,” Madison says. She waits until he steps back before pushing past him and inside his apartment.

“Thanks,” Tyson mumbles, following Madison to the kitchen.

She hops up onto the counter and thrusts one of the smoothies in her hand at Tyson. “Breakfast,” she says.

Tyson takes it and takes a wary sip. It’s his favorite flavor, and he takes a bigger drink. He’s halfway through slurping his smoothie before he remembers to say anything else.

“I’ve, uh, got the dentist this morning, then I’ve gotta meet the team to fly to New York,” he tells Madison. He talks carefully around his swollen gums.

Madison shrugs. “Just wanted to check on you, bud,” she says. She sets her smoothie aside and holds her arms out to Tyson. He steps into her arms and lets her hold him. He wraps his arms around her waist and buries his face in the crook of her neck. “Looked pretty rough out there last night.”

Tyson grunts. Madison pokes him in the ribs until he squirms away. He takes a petulant drink of his smoothie.

“Do you need any help with anything?” she asks.

Tyson still hasn’t packed. His dirty laundry has piled up. He should really clean his apartment.

Instead, he shakes his head, muttering, “You don’t have to.”

“That’s not what I asked, Tys,” she says, crossing her arms. She stares him down.

Tyson cracks. “I’ve just got a bunch of cleaning to do, is all.” It hurts to talk too much. He forces himself to shrug, tries to do the math on how much time he has before the dentist and before heading to the airport to get everything done.

Madison doesn’t seem concerned. “Okay, where do you want to start?”

“You don’t-” Tyson starts. You should just leave, he wants to say, but doesn’t.

“Shut up and drink your smoothie, Jost,” Madison tells him.

Tyson shuts up and drinks his smoothie.

He goes to start a load of laundry while Madison tackles his kitchen. He’d run the dishwasher the day before, but what hadn’t fit had piled up in the sink, and he had never exactly gotten around to emptying it. More dirty dishes piled up in the sink. Tyson stands in his bedroom for a moment, listening to the sounds of Madison putting things away in his cabinets.

He doesn’t know when she learned where everything goes.

They work around each other in silence for a while. Tyson stops a few times and watches the confidence and comfort with which Madison moves around his apartment. He likes it more than he should, probably.

He’s got clothes in the dryer when he realizes he should’ve left already. He’d gotten a lot of work done the night before, and he’s got more appointments for when they get back to Denver at the end of the week.

He looks around his half-cleaned apartment in despair. He’d managed to pack enough to get by, he thinks. It wouldn’t be the first time he’s had to borrow socks from JT on a road trip, anyway. Madison must see the look on his face, because she walks over to Tyson. He looks down at her as she places her hands on his hips.

“Go, I can handle the rest of this,” she says. They’d made good progress, but most of Tyson’s laundry—anything that hadn’t gotten immediately packed—still needs to be folded. “Just leave me the apartment key. I’ll finish up, and make sure everything’s locked up. Promise,” she tells him.

Tyson can’t ask her to do that, and he tells her as much. That’s like. Girlfriend shit. He doesn’t say that part.

What he ends up saying is, “Are you sure? You really don’t have to.”

Madison leans up on tiptoes to press a quick close-mouthed kiss to Tyson’s lips. “I know. But I want to help you, babe. Let me help you.”

Tyson sighs. This isn’t a fight he’s going to win. Madison watches him with something like satisfaction on her face as he finds his keys, carefully unhooks his apartment key and hands it over, but there’s something soft in her eyes, too. Tyson can’t bear to think too hard about what that look means, so he steps around Madison and goes to grab his bags.

Tyson gives her a quick kiss on his way past. He wants nothing more than to kiss her properly, like she deserves, but he doesn’t think his jaw could handle that. Madison grabs Tyson’s wrist before he can get far. He turns to look at her again, a question on the tip of his tongue, when she slips a hand around the back of his neck and pulls him down to kiss him again. It’s almost desperate, but slow and gentle. Tyson lets himself get lost in it for a second. Madison squeezes his neck once before she pulls away. She gives him a soft smile. Tyson presses his forehead to hers for another second before he regretfully pulls away.

“See you in a few days,” she whispers.

Tyson deserves all the chirps he gets for being late.

The road trip fucking sucks, to say the least. Tyson’s jaw hurts more often than it doesn’t, and he ends up with more penalty minutes than points. He’s looking forward to going home and sleeping in his own bed for a minimum of twelve hours.

He panics, too, a little. It’s become startlingly obvious that he’s fucking head over heels for Madison, and he has no clue what to do about it. They’ve got a good thing going, he thinks, and he doesn’t want to mess with it, really. He doesn’t really want things to stay how they are, either.

So, panic. He thinks about JT calling Madison his girlfriend, just a few days before. He thinks of his own realization that the lines between hooking up and relationship have become blurred. What he needs is distance, some clarity. The time difference between Denver and the East Coast is an easy enough excuse to start; they’re busy, and it’s easy to let texts from Madison go unanswered for a few hours, or a few hours longer than a few hours.

Madison must get the hint, because her texts peter out after a few days.

Tyson is trying to find his keys in his carry-on bag as they step off the plane when he remembers that he left them with Madison so she could lock up his apartment for him. He’s locked out of his apartment and being iced out by Madison, and all he really wants is to go to sleep and not talk to anyone.

He sheepishly calls Madison as he leaves the airport. She sounds normal when she answers, and she doesn’t hesitate to say, “Sure,” when he asks if he can pick up his keys. Tyson climbs into his car tiredly and puts Madison’s address into his phone GPS.

Tyson’s only been to Madison’s place a few times. He hasn’t realized until now that he usually prefers having her over at his apartment. He likes seeing her there, forcing him to make room for herself in his life, at ease in his bed. He shakes those thoughts off.

Madison makes him wait when he knocks on her apartment door. He stands awkwardly with his hands in his pockets. Finally, after what feels like forever, Madison swings the door open. She doesn’t move back to let Tyson in, keys already in her hand.

“Hi,” Tyson breathes. Madison raises an eyebrow at him. Tyson gets the sudden urge to apologize. He rubs the back of his neck nervously. “Thanks again, uh, for helping me with everything,” he says eventually. “I owe you.” He hasn’t seen his apartment yet, obviously, but he knows Madison left it cleaner than it’s been since he moved in, probably. Madison’s breath catches. That was the wrong thing to say. “No, you don’t, Tyson,” she says shortly. She tosses Tyson his keys. He’s not expecting it and fumbles them. The sound of them hitting the ground is deafening. Tyson’s exhausted, and he’s only so strong.

“Can I come in?” he asks. “Please?”

Madison regards him. Tyson looks pathetic, if she’s being honest with herself, worn-out and worn-down. His swelling has gone down since she last saw him, but he looks uncomfortable. She gets the feeling it’s not just about his jaw. She, too, is only so strong. “C’mere,” she says, finally stepping back and opening the door wider. Tyson’s so relieved he could cry.

Tyson ends up collapsing in Madison’s bed and sleeps for twelve hours, face buried in a pillow that smells like her. So much for getting some distance.

Madison’s waiting outside Tyson’s apartment door when he gets home after beating Calgary a few nights later. Tyson’s tired, and cold, but he feels himself grinning when he sees her. She’s leaning casually against his door frame, playing idly on her phone, but she’s wearing one of Tyson’s hoodies. He wants nothing more than to kiss her right there, but he settles for bumping her out of the way with his hip so he can unlock his front door.

“What if JT had come home with me, huh? Or Cale?” Tyson asks instead of saying hello. She follows him inside and locks the door behind her. Tyson busies himself with his coat so he doesn’t blurt out something dumb. He and JT weren’t quite as inseparable as they used to be, but it could happen. And Cale only lived a few floors away. Though, now that Tyson thought of it, he hadn’t been inviting teammates over after games very much lately, not when there was usually someone else waiting for him.

He’s seen Madison since they got back from their road trip, but he misses her so much when she’s not around now. He can’t get enough of her. That probably means something. He’s working on it. Sort of.

“Hello to you, too, Tys,” she scoffs, kicking off her shoes. She carefully aims one at Tyson’s shin.

“Hey, hey, watch the suit pants,” he protests. He gives in and steps closer to her, looping an arm around her waist and pulling her into him. He allows himself a quick kiss, just a chaste one, forcing himself to pull away before either of them can deepen it.

She pouts at him. Tyson allows himself one more kiss. He is beginning to realize that he is so, so fucked.

Tyson strips off his suit jacket as he heads towards the kitchen. She trails after him. Tyson swings around to walk backwards so he can face her. He immediately bumps into the doorway to the kitchen and stumbles. He doesn’t turn back around.

“Snack first,” he says. He doesn’t say what comes next, but he’s pretty sure they both know.

“Didn’t you eat after the game at the Can?” she asks. Tyson drops his suit jacket on one of his kitchen chairs. She picks it up with a sigh and a small smile before draping it nicely over the back of the chair instead.

Tyson turns back around, intent on digging through his fridge. “Well, yeah, but—” He freezes. Blinks. There are balloons tied to the faucet of his sink. Next to them, a cookie cake and two wrapped presents. Tyson peers closer at the cookie cake. Happy birthday, Tys! It reads, in looping cursive.

Tyson turns slowly back to face her. She looks shy, biting her lip and watching Tyson with something like nervousness written across her face. Tyson feels guilty, suddenly, for the way he tried to put distance between them just a few days before.

“How did you—When?” Tyson gets out. She doesn’t look any less nervous, he realizes, and he rushes over to hug her.

She holds up a familiar key when he lets her go, the beginnings of a smile on her face, now. “Cale slipped me your spare key,” she explains. “I snuck in after you left for the game this afternoon, after I got off work.”

Tyson had completely forgotten that he and Cale had swapped spares when they ended up living in the same building. The idea was to save them from the potential embarrassment of locking your keys in your apartment, but apparently Cale was using his for more nefarious purposes now.

Madison had been surprised at how easy it had all been. She doesn’t even remember when she got Cale’s number, but he had readily agreed to help her out some. She’d even considered sticking around and surprising Tyson when he got home, but she still wasn’t quite sure how he’d react. She couldn’t tell with him sometimes.

Tyson has to kiss her. She giggles, breathless, when he pulls away.

“Well, now I know what we’re eating for a snack,” Tyson says, taking her hand and dragging her towards the island. He only lets go long enough to dig through a drawer for a knife and to tear off two paper towels. He cuts two large slices and hands one to her. He shoves a bite of cookie cake in his mouth before he says, I love you.

She hops up on the counter when they’ve both finished their slices, swinging her feet into the cabinets. Tyson steps between her legs and kisses her again, because he can. He reaches behind her and picks up one of the wrapped packages. It’s small, light. He flips it over once in his hands. “Hey, your birthday isn’t until tomorrow,” she says, swiping for the present.

Tyson holds it out of her reach, and she wraps her legs around his waist, pressing him close against her. Tyson takes a deep breath.

“You didn’t have to get me anything,” he says. He sticks a finger underneath a flap in the wrapping paper. He really hadn’t been expecting anything.

She shrugs. “It’s stupid,” she says.

“Good thing I like stupid,” Tyson counters. He tears into the wrapping paper properly, letting it drop carelessly to the ground. He’s left with a small book. “It’s a ukulele book?”

“It’s sheet music, so you can finally stop playing the same three songs all the time,” she says.

Tyson realizes he hasn’t said anything else. He stops staring and sets the book aside. “It’s perfect, not stupid,” he says. She tilts her chin for another kiss. Who is he to say no? “Thank you,” he murmurs against her lips. He reaches for the second present, still kissing her. She groans at him.

Tyson tears into the second present just as eagerly as the first. She’s laughing at him, and this time he crumples the wrapping paper up and tosses it at her face. It’s just a case of beer, Tyson’s favorite. He hadn’t realized she noticed it was always stocked in his fridge.

Her legs are still wrapped around his waist, and Tyson presses closer, as close as he can get. The counter digs into the tops of his thighs, but he’s too busy making out to care. She slides her hands into his hair. She tastes like cookie cake and peppermint Chapstick; Tyson would kiss her forever if he could.

Speaking of. They fell over the last time Tyson tried to carry her to his bedroom, but he slides his hands underneath her thighs, anyway, tugging her off the counter. She slips down, still pinned between Tyson and the countertop, still kissing him languidly.

“Gonna actually move at any point?” she eventually asks, pulling away to press her forehead to Tyson’s.

Tyson pretends to think about it. “I mean, we don’t have to go to bed,” he says. Not being on a bed hadn’t stopped them before.

She pushes on Tyson’s chest, and he goes, laughing. She lets herself be dragged to Tyson’s room, kicking the door shut behind her.

It’s late by the time they tumble into bed for real. She’s in one of Tyson’s shirts, and nothing else. If Tyson weren’t actually exhausted, he’d be considering round two. He had nearly gotten caught while they were cleaning up in the bathroom after round one, sleepily staring as she took off her makeup and brushed her teeth—a bottle of her makeup remover and her toothbrush live on Tyson’s sink, and have for months. Tyson tries not to look into it too much.

“What?” she’d asked, catching Tyson’s eye in the mirror.

He had shaken himself. “Nothing,” he said, giving her a sleepy grin. He pressed a kiss to her temple as he slipped out of the bathroom.

Madison watches him go. She’s trying to decipher that look in his eyes. His face was soft, fond behind drowsy eyes. She realizes she’s frozen with her toothbrush still in her mouth. Tyson’s waiting for her.

He’s staring up at the ceiling fan, rotating slowly above him, when she emerges and slips under the covers next to him. Her toes are cold where she presses them to Tyson’s leg, and he swears under his breath, even as he reaches across the bed to pull her closer. He presses a kiss to her hair and rests his chin on top of her head. Madison hides a smile in his chest.

Tyson wakes up slowly the next morning. It’s still early, the sunlight filtering through his curtains the hazy grey of dawn. Madison’s still asleep next to him when he rolls over. Tyson dares to pull her closer until she’s tucked underneath his chin again. Madison stirs a little, making a soft noise and pressing closer. She pulls back and blinks sleepily up at Tyson.

“Happy birthday, Tyson,” she murmurs.

Tyson grins at her and brushes a stray piece of hair out of her eyes. He kisses her quickly, and she makes a soft noise and leans into it before yawning. “Thank you,” Tyson whispers back. “Now go back to sleep.”

Madison grumbles, but snuggles back in, pressing her nose to Tyson’s collarbone.

It’s brighter out when Tyson next blinks himself awake. Madison’s already awake this time, scrolling quietly on her phone, but she sets it aside when she sees Tyson look at her. He rolls so he can prop himself up on one hand, leaning over Madison. She grins up at him, reaches to slide her fingers into Tyson’s hair.

Tyson has practice today, and then they’re leaving again. Those things aren’t important right now, though. What’s important is Madison’s mouth opening up to his, the pressure of her knee against his hip, the feel of her skin underneath his fingers when he slips a hand below her shirt.

It takes them a while to get out of bed.

Madison moves easily around Tyson when they finally make it into the kitchen. Tyson makes Madison coffee the way she likes it and mans the toaster while Madison makes them both eggs. She showers—Tyson bought all of her shower products weeks ago—while Tyson gets dressed. Tyson perches on the bathroom counter and watches while she does her makeup. She catches him looking at her.

“What?” she asks. She pushes her hair out of her face nervously.

“Uh,” Tyson says. He had gotten caught up, wasn’t really thinking about anything, distracted by thoughts of how easily Madison moves through his space, by his side.

“Tyson,” Madison says, impatient.

“Do you, uh, maybe wanna go on a date with me?” Tyson manages.

“Tys, you’re leaving on a road trip in,” she checks the time on her phone, “like four hours.”

Tyson rolls his eyes. “Okay, but we’ll be back in a few days. What about then?”

Madison smiles. “We’ll see, ask me when you get back.”

“That’s not a real answer,” Tyson says. He can hear himself whining. He needs this answer before he can board a plane, though. He grabs her wrist and tugs her closer. “C’mon, am I really that bad?”

She goes easily into Tyson’s side. She pretends to think about it for a moment—too long for Tyson’s nerves—before relenting. “When you get back,” she says. She goes up on her toes to kiss Tyson’s cheek. “Now get out of here before you’re late to practice.”

They don’t get to go on that date.

He’s in California when he gets the call. Minnesota. It’s not like he didn’t see it coming. The deadline’s coming up in, like, a week, and besides. He’d asked for a trade, hadn’t he? He doesn’t say goodbye to anyone before he’s back on a plane, this time to St. Paul.

He calls his mom first, asks if she’ll pack him some shit from his apartment in Denver. He was supposed to be back in just a few days.

“I don’t have any clothes for fucking Minnesota,” he complains, his one moment of self-appointed wallowing. He’ll be happy about this, probably, he just needs to process it.

He doesn’t think about it when he turns his phone off before getting on the plane. He’s met by some people from the Wild—the team, his team, now—at the airport in St. Paul, hustled to a hotel near Xcel Center with his meager belongings and left to “settle in.” He’s expected at morning skate tomorrow; his jaw aches.

They’ve put him up in a nice hotel downtown. He can see a river—the Mississippi, he thinks— out his window. His phone’s still off, tossed on the bed when he came in. He swipes it off the comforter and powers it back on, shoving it and a room key in his pocket on his way out the door.

His hotel room is too stuffy, too small. He takes the stairs and pushes his way outside. He can see the Xcel Center a few blocks away, and he turns his back to it, starts walking. He has no idea where he is or where he’s going. He hopes no one recognizes him.

It’s not long before he finds himself in a park alongside the river. It’s quiet, and no one looks twice at him as he finds an empty bench and finally pulls out his phone. He scrolls through his notifications: texts from Kacey and his grandpa—he’ll have to respond to them—dozens from his—former—teammates on the Avs that he ignores, a handful from numbers he doesn’t have saved, Wild players introducing themselves and welcoming him to the team—he’ll have to make some new contacts. He swipes everything away to deal with later, once his head stops spinning. He pauses on one text, the only one he’d really been looking for.

So much for that date, huh. it says. She’s added a broken heart emoji to soften the blow. Then, an hour later, call me when you get the chance. Another emoji at the end, a black heart, even though Tyson’s told her repeatedly that he can mostly tell colors apart.

He already knows what she’s going to say. Can you get broken up with before you’re even dating? How do you make friends-with-benefits work long-distance? Tyson’s not in the mood for that conversation, doesn’t know if he ever will be. He swipes away her notifications, too.

Minnesota is chilly, and Tyson’s fingertips are a little numb by the time his hotel room door slams behind him later. It’s getting dark. He should order dinner. He should do a lot of things, actually. He lets himself wallow for a few more minutes, flopped on his back in the center of the bed, staring up at the dark ceiling.

He halfheartedly peruses the room service menu on his nightstand before calling something in. He’s not even sure what he ordered.

Tyson’s woken up by knocking on his door. He blinks awake and stumbles blearily out of bed. It’s fully dark in his room now. Room service knocks on his door again.

“I’m coming, I’m coming,” Tyson grumbles, not even loud enough to be heard, probably.

His food is lukewarm at best by the time he gets everything spread out on the little desk in his room. Tyson picks at it more than he eats it.

Back in Denver, Madison’s phone doesn’t ring. She figured Tyson would be busy and exhausted by the time he made it to Minnesota. She wants to check in, but her messages show that they’ve been read. He’s made it clear that he’s not in the mood to chat.

It’s fine. He’s allowed to be upset over all this. Madison had just thought that they’d made it far enough in their relationship—whatever that relationship was—that she wouldn’t get stonewalled the second something serious happened.

She hasn’t had a chance to return Tyson’s spare key to Cale yet. She’d stayed behind after Tyson left for the airport on his birthday to clean up some of the disaster they’d left behind the night before. She was going to give it back when they got home. Except now Tyson’s not coming home, and she isn’t sure he’ll speak to her again, either.

She tries to convince herself she’s not hurt by it.

Madison sneaks back into Tyson’s apartment the day after the trade. She’s collected some of Tyson’s clothes over the last few months, and she should pick up her own belongings that have become scattered across his apartment. She’s not sure how Tyson’s going to get the rest of his stuff to Minnesota, but she knows it’s not her problem. Tyson’s made that clear.

She opens the text thread with Tys 🖤 again anyway. No new messages. She starts to type, to ask how Tyson’s doing, if he wants to talk, but she deletes it all. She closes her text thread with him again.

Madison wanders around the apartment, collecting things she recognizes as her own: her toothbrush, a half dozen ponytail holders that Tyson delights in tearing out of her hair to make out, the makeup remover that Tyson bought after she fell asleep there the first time and left makeup all over his pillowcase. She leaves the clothes she dug out of her closet and drawers folded on the end of his bed. She keeps one of his hoodies, because it’s comfy and it smells like him. It’s an Avs hoodie, anyway; it’s not like he’ll need it. The cookie cake she bought for his birthday is still sitting on the counter. They’d eaten it with breakfast on his actual birthday, but it was otherwise untouched. She figures someone will be by soon to pack up his apartment. She leaves it on the counter for them, whoever it is.

She locks the door behind her. It feels final in a way that she hates.

Tyson drags himself to morning skate early the next morning. He doesn’t feel like he slept much, though he fell asleep before he ever got around to responding to anyone’s texts. He makes no less than four wrong turns trying to find the home locker room in Xcel Center. The equipment staff has a locker set up for him already, all of his new gear waiting for him when he finds it. Tyson stares at the white practice jersey for a long moment, the green helmet already fitted with his full face shield and new number. He’s the only one in the locker room so far.

Tyson feels himself smile for the first time in what feels like days.

Skate passes in a blur. Tyson throws himself into everything the coaches ask of him, trying his best to learn a new team on the fly. His muscles ache from all the travel in the last few days and the lack of sleep, but he leans into the pain with a grin. It’s fun, in a weird way, and everyone’s quick to chirp Tyson, make him feel like he’s already a real part of the team.

Madison watches the Wild’s game that night. Tyson’s still in his little fishbowl after the broken jaw, and Madison winces every time he takes a check, even though she knows he’s fine, really. Minnesota wins. She doesn’t watch any of their other games, or follow Minnesota on any socials. She considers blocking Tyson’s phone number, the last message she sent to him still sitting open and unreplied to.

She can’t bring herself to do it.

Tyson’s mom, ever the lifesaver, arrives a few days later with most of the contents of his closet in tow. She’s also brought the cookie cake Madison had bought him for his birthday. It’s half-eaten and stale, now, reading only “-hday, Tys!” He eats a piece, anyway, and his mom doesn’t ask who bought it for him. She doesn’t ask any questions, actually, which Tyson is grateful for. He’s told her bits and pieces about Madison over the last few months, but he hasn’t told her how he’s fallen in love. It doesn’t matter now.

Tyson’s trying to unpack, give himself some semblance of “home” in his stale hotel room, when a piece of paper falls out of the pocket of one of his suit jackets. He picks it up and carefully unfolds it, though he already knows what it says. good luck tonight! ♡ in Madison’s pretty cursive. She’d tucked it into his suit before a game in January, and Tyson had scored a goal that night. He slipped it back in the inside pocket of the suit jacket. Maybe it’ll bring him luck in Minnesota, too.

Madison’s phone rings late one night, a few weeks after Tyson’s been traded. It’s the first time she’s heard from him since he left Denver. She squints at her phone screen in the dark, debating ignoring it. Tyson’s face grins up at her, a stupid selfie he had taken ages ago. She swipes to answer with a sigh.

“Tyson, if you’re just calling because you’re drunk or something, I swear—” she starts. She’s not really sure what she’ll do to Tyson, actually, so she trails off.

Tyson’s quiet on the other end of the line. Madison hears him take a shaky breath, but he still doesn’t speak for a long moment. “The Avs are in town,” he says finally. “Game’s tomorrow night,” he adds.

Madison hasn’t really been paying attention to either team’s schedule lately. She hasn’t had much reason to. She’s not sure what she’s supposed to say here, what’s the right answer to comfort Tyson. She might’ve once, but she feels wrong-footed now, unsure of where they stand.

“You gonna see anyone?” she asks.

Tyson huffs. “Yeah, I got dinner with some of them tonight.” He pauses. “They’re still my friends, y’know, it’s not like they’re the ones who traded me.”

Madison hums, something like agreement. She thinks she can hear the hurt in Tyson’s voice, even though he’s trying to hide it. He’s still talking. “I’ve just…never had to play against my best friends like this before.”

“Oh, Tys,” Madison says softly. “That sucks, babe.” The familiar endearment slips out before she can stop herself.

“Yeah, it sucks alright,” Tyson agrees. He’s quiet again. “Wish you could be here, too. Miss you.”

“You don’t mean that,” Madison says. With the game tomorrow, Tyson might not be drunk, but it’s late, and he’s wallowing in missing his friends. She doesn’t think she really qualifies as that anymore.

“What do you mean?” Tyson asks, indignant. “Of course I mean it.”

“Is that why this is the first time we’ve spoken since you got traded? Two weeks ago?” Madison’s angry, suddenly; that small spark of hurt she’s been trying to bury flares into fury.

She can practically hear Tyson’s wince on the other end of the line. It’s too late to be arguing, but this is where they’re at now.

“Sorry for not wanting to get dumped hours after I got shipped off to fucking Minnesota,” Tyson snaps back, but he sounds tired. The fight leaves Madison just as quickly as it appeared. “Who said anything about breaking up?”

Tyson’s quiet. Madison can picture the way his eyebrows furrow when he’s thinking too hard. “You asked me to call you!”

“I asked you to call me because I wanted to check on you, dumbass.” Madison rubs at her eyes. They should both be asleep, but now she feels too awake to hang up, to end this conversation. She might be annoyed, but it’s the first time she’s heard Tyson’s voice in weeks. She’s missed it, though she’s not about to admit that right now. “How can I even break up with a guy I’ve never been on a real date with?” she asks.

“Oh.”

“It’s been a wild fucking month for you, Tys, I wanted to talk to you and see how you were handling shit,” Madison continues.

Tyson realizes now might not be the best time to admit that he’d requested a trade. This had still blindsided him, somehow. He considers switching to a FaceTime call. He desperately wants to see Madison’s face, the next best thing to being with her right now, getting to touch her. He winces again when she sniffles on the other end of the line. He’d been lonely when he called her, expecting some sympathy, not the anger he was met with.

He guesses he probably should’ve considered she’d be mad at him after moving over 900 miles away and then giving her radio silence for two weeks, actually. He taps the FaceTime button a little harder than necessary. He’s almost surprised when Madison accepts the request.

He runs a hand through his hair. “I’ve been busy,” he says weakly. “I didn’t think—I just figured you were wanting to tell me that we couldn’t keep doing this.” It seems obvious given the distance, but Tyson really hadn’t been in the mood to get effectively broken up with twice in one day.

Madison’s eyes burn as she swipes at them, and she’s not sure if it’s because of the late hour, or if she’s about to cry.

Tyson realizes something. “Besides, you had just gotten spooked and tried to slow things down, I didn’t think you’d want to jump from just hooking up to long-distance.” It’s too dark for him to tell if she’s crying. He hopes she isn’t.

“That was—” Madison starts to protest. But Tyson’s right. It had only been a few weeks since she’d panicked about how fast they were headed towards a real relationship. That had been before the broken jaw, before Tyson’s birthday, before he got traded. Before Madison had the chance to realize just how much she cared about Tyson, and liked Tyson, and how much she missed him when he wasn’t just a text away.

“I was going to ask you to be my girlfriend for real, you know? On that date? But then I was in Minnesota, and I hadn’t even gotten to say goodbye to anyone, and I wasn’t ready to talk about anything.” Madison opens her mouth to argue more, but Tyson cuts her off. “You want to know how I’m handling shit? Not well,” he admits.

Hockey is hockey, but he’s not sure Minnesota will ever feel like home the way Denver still does.

“The fuck is wrong with you?” Madison blurts.

Tyson laughs in spite of himself. “So many things,” he says. It’s easy, for a second, to forget they’re arguing. Fuck, he wishes Madison were with him, and not for the first, or the third, or the tenth time since he’s been in Minnesota. “I guess I should’ve texted instead of shutting you out, huh? I just never knew what to say.”

“You’re an idiot,” Madison says softly. “I really did just want to check on you. But you left me on read, and then a few days had passed, so I guess you’d made it pretty clear that you didn’t want to talk. I didn’t even think about worrying about our future then.”

Tyson squeezes his eyes shut. He’s blurry on Madison’s phone screen, but she can tell his hair is a disaster, like he’s been anxiously pulling on his curls.

“Did I accidentally break up with you to avoid being broken up with?” he asks. He sounds like he’s on the verge of laughter. Or maybe tears. Madison can’t quite tell, actually.

“Mmm, I think so, babe,” Madison says. She rolls over in bed, stifling a yawn. It’s late in Denver, but it’s even later in St. Paul, she thinks. “Hey, you need to sleep. “You’ve gotta beat the Avs tomorrow.” She glances at the clock in the corner of her screen. “Well. Today, I guess.”

Tyson sticks his tongue out at her, but he snuggles deeper into his pillows. “Can I call you later?” His voice is small.

“Yeah, Tys.” They’ve got a lot more to talk about. “Say hi to JT and Cale for me, yeah?” she says.

Tyson grins at her. He stops himself from saying, “I love you,” before he hangs up, but only barely, settling on, “Good night,” instead. There’s still time for the other one, he thinks

The game is…fine. They slap a microphone on Tyson before he goes out on the ice, and it’s definitely weird facing off against some of his best friends, but he gets through it. He doesn’t score, but he doesn’t land in the penalty box either, so. He spends some time attempting to chirp an exasperated EJ that he’ll probably get made fun of for later. Oh, and the Wild win. Tyson guesses it’s an okay night, after all.

Tyson misses Denver, misses playing at the Can, but after facing off against his friends on the still-unfamiliar ice in Minnesota, he’s not sure he can handle returning.

Madison finds herself watching the Avs game for the first time in weeks, but she’s not watching for them. She’s paying attention to all of Tyson’s shifts, and she realizes halfway through the game that she’s completely rooting against the Avs.

The final buzzer has barely blown when she’s pulling out her phone to text Tyson. She hesitates for a moment, unsure of the right thing to say. She feels like they finally made progress last night after Tyson stonewalled her for weeks, but they’re still a half dozen steps behind where they were in the beginning of March. She somehow knows more than she did before Tyson called her, but she feels like she understands their relationship even less now.

She must type four or five messages before she settles on, great win :) 🖤. She kind of hates it as soon as she sends it, but she can’t take it back. She tosses her phone to the other end of the couch before she can obsess over waiting for Tyson to text her back. She doesn’t have to wait long, though, before her phone is vibrating near her feet. She takes one breath, then another, before scrambling for her phone again. Tyson’s texted back, thanks babe. Then, less than a minute later, wish you were here.

Madison stares at her phone, chewing on her bottom lip. She doesn’t know the right thing to say once again. ‘Me too’ feels too earnest, ‘wish you were still here instead’ feels mean somehow. She still doesn’t know when she’ll see Tyson again, if she’ll see Tyson again. All she has is a version of Tyson through a screen. Her thumb hovers over the call button. Tyson’s probably busy with post-game stuff, Madison reminds herself. She misses his voice, though.

She finally settles on: :). She waits anxiously until Tyson has read it before sending: Call me later?

She checked the Wild’s schedule already; they’re in town for a few more days. Tyson will probably be heading straight home—wherever “home” is these days— after the game. She spares a moment to wonder about the future of Tyson’s old apartment in Denver. She wonders if it’s been emptied out yet, wiped clean of all traces of Tyson, of them. That had been home to Tyson, and it had almost started to feel like home to Madison, too.

Tyson sends her back a thumbs up emoji and an emoji with its tongue sticking out. Madison rolls her eyes fondly and tosses her phone back to the end of her couch.

She’s dozing when her phone rings. Half-asleep, she fumbles for it before answering. “‘Lo?” she mumbles.

Tyson chuckles softly at her. “You asked me to call you and then fell asleep,” he says, tsk-ing.

Madison sticks her tongue out at him, even though he can’t see her. “Shut up, it’s late,” she whines.

“Then go to bed, Mads,” Tyson tells her. She can tell he’s trying not to laugh at her.

Madison feels like a toddler protesting bedtime, but she says, “No! I wanna talk to you.”

Tyson laughs again. “Okay, are you at least in bed already?”

“...No.”

“Go brush your teeth, and get in bed, yeah? We can keep talking then.”

Madison sighs but heaves herself off her couch and into her bathroom. Tyson starts chatting as she walks, mindless stuff, like the weather in St. Paul, or how bored he is of living in a hotel room still. Madison puts him on speaker and sets her phone next to the sink so she can keep listening while she washes her face and brushes her teeth. It almost feels like getting ready for bed alongside Tyson again, elbowing each other for space in front of his bathroom mirror.

He falls quiet as she crawls underneath her blankets. Madison stifles a yawn.

“How was it?” she asks.

“The game?” Madison nods, forgetting again that Tyson can’t see her. Tyson continues anyway. “I mean, it was fine, I guess. We won, so.”

“Just fine?” Madison prods.

Tyson hesitates. “Weird,” he says after a few seconds. “It was weird. Feels like a Twilight Zone episode, honestly. Like I woke up one day in some other life that everyone else swears didn’t happen. Like, you get traded, and everyone expects you to immediately fit in with this new locker room, and be all in with your new team. As if all the games played with your friends never even happened.”

Madison doesn’t know what to say to that. It must be weird to have to effectively sever all ties with your best friends. To know and trust the face across the faceoff dot from you. She probably couldn’t handle it if she were in Tyson’s place,

“I’m sorry, Tys,” she murmurs, for lack of anything better to say. “It’s business, but business is shitty.”

Tyson huffs in agreement. Madison’s wearing the hoodie she stole from Tyson, and she tucks her nose underneath the collar. It doesn’t smell like Tyson any more.

“Hey, is now a bad time to ask if we can have phone sex?” Tyson asks.

Madison bursts out laughing. “Yes, Tyson, it’s a terrible time.” Tyson whines a little at her. “Though,” she adds, “I am wearing one of your hoodies.”

Tyson groans. The few times Madison had worn something of his around him, it usually wasn’t long before the clothes ended up back on the floor.

“Now you’re just being mean,” he says. His voice is muffled like he’s buried his head underneath a pillow.

Madison yawns again.

“You need to go to sleep,” Tyson tells her gently.

“No,” Madison protests again. “Tell me more about Minnesota,” she pleads. “I’ve missed listening to you.”

Madison can’t read Tyson’s moment of silence, but he starts doing as he’s told, telling Madison more about his hotel, about the food in the locker room after games at Xcel Center and how different it is from Denver, about all the different personalities on the team, until Madison falls asleep.

Madison wakes up to a dead phone. She plugs it in while she showers, and she immediately checks her call log. Tyson had kept talking for well over an hour. He texted her, too, after he’d hung up. Miss you, promise we’ll talk more soon.

Madison responds the only way she knows how: 🖤.

April

The end of the season passes in a blur after that. Tyson settles in as best he can, but he feels like he barely has time to catch his breath. With the end of the season and the playoffs looming, there’s no time for Tyson to find a real place to live, so he’s still holed up in the hotel, living out of suitcases.

Time moves differently in hotels, he swears, the days blurring into one another. Tyson no longer knows what day it is; it’s only travel day, or game day, or rarely, a day off.

The Wild are winning more than they lose, and Tyson manages to pick up some points here and there. It could be worse. At least it’s not, like, Buffalo.

The team goes on the road for the first time since he got there, and it’s a good chance for Tyson to get to know everyone a little better, spend some time out of his generic hotel room—even if he goes back to another generic hotel room after each dinner out with the guys. He makes a point to call Madison as much as he can, which is almost every night after he crashes into bed and turns on some shitty TV.

Their phone calls end up lasting for hours. Tyson realizes that he and Madison spent more time hooking up than really getting to know each other. It’s nice to take the time to just talk and learn things about Madison. Tyson feels himself falling in love more with each phone call.

Tyson talks about his family—his sister, his mom, his grandparents. How much he misses them with the long seasons away. How much he’s looking forward to going home to Alberta when the season ends. He doesn’t tell Madison that he wants to bring her home with him this summer, not yet.

Madison tells Tyson about everything: her job (graphic design and marketing for a local business Tyson vaguely thinks he recognizes), her family (two sisters, one of whom Tyson briefly met), and her favorite movies (Lord of the Rings, but Tyson could have guessed that). When she tells him she likes to bake, Tyson immediately demands that she sends him some. He’s not even sure if he can get mail at the hotel, actually. Not important.

Tyson throws himself into hockey, though he’s not sure how much it shows. He’s determined to make this work, to stick and make a difference in Minnesota the way he never quite could in Colorado. He tells Madison this, too, voicing fears about his future in hockey that he’s never even let himself think about too much.

The Wild plays the Avalanche again in St. Paul on the last day of the season. Tyson’s dreading it. He’s privately more than a little glad that they’re not playing the Avs in the first round, but he still can’t help but feel like he should be there instead, still on a powerhouse team poised to take on the postseason, not the underdogs.

Tyson calls Madison a week before the game, laying in bed, fresh off a single assist in back to back wins against Vancouver and Seattle. Tyson can hear the smile in Madison’s voice when she answers. Tyson’s chest hurts with how much he misses her.

Which is probably why he blurts, “Can you come to Minnesota?”

Madison’s quiet for so long Tyson pulls his phone away from his ear to make sure the call didn’t disconnect.

Finally, she says, “Tyson, I can’t just drop everything and fly to Minnesota.” “No, I know, I just meant next week,” he says. “We play the Avs again.”

Madison knows that, this time. She’s actually started paying attention to the Wild—mostly just Tyson, though—since April started.

“That’s a Friday night, Tys,” she tells him. “I’d have to take off work for the day.” She could, probably, without too much fuss. She just wants to hear Tyson beg a little. She’s still a tiny bit hurt by the way he stonewalled her after the trade.

“I’ll pay for your plane ticket!” Tyson adds. That wasn’t really Madison’s point. “I really want you to be there, I need to see you again.”

Madison already knows she can’t tell Tyson no. She sighs and drags her laptop towards her. She starts searching for plane tickets. “Just for the game on Friday, or am I allowed to stay the whole weekend?” she asks.

Tyson scoffs. “Like I’d let you leave after one night when I haven’t seen you in two like two months.” He’s already planning on only leaving the hotel room except for practice and maybe to finally take Madison on an actual date. Actually: “Hey, pack something nice to wear. I still owe you a date.”

Madison laughs. “How nice are we talking?”

“Oh, baby, I’m gonna wine and dine you so hard,” Tyson says, breaking off into laughter before he can even finish the sentence.

Madison spends the next week, alternating between excited and anxious. Excited because she hasn’t seen Tyson in weeks, and she can’t wait to be able to kiss him again. She’s not sure why she’s even worried. She and Tyson have already spent months doing almost everything couples do, just without the label. They already know they work well together. Adding a label shouldn’t change things.

She goes out and buys a new dress the day before her flight, after frantically deciding that nothing in her closet was good enough for a first date.

“He already knows what you look like,” her sister Emma points out. “It’s not like you have to worry about him liking you. Also, he’s colorblind.”

Madison ignores her (annoyingly correct) sister and spends almost over an hour in the mall. She carefully packs the new dress at the top of her suitcase before zipping it up and leaving it by her front door. She’s so excited she can hardly sleep.

It’s not a long flight from Denver to Minnesota, but Madison’s not used to flying, and the whole affair has her stressed beyond belief. It takes her unbelievably long to find her gate, and even though she got to KDEN plenty early, she still worries that she’ll be late. It’s a relief when she can finally settle in her seat. She turns on a Disney movie she doesn’t really watch and counts the minutes until she can see Tyson again.

Except then she can’t find her luggage, and Tyson’s supposed to be picking her up and isn’t answering her texts. It takes her twenty minutes to find out that another passenger mistakenly took her suitcase and has brought it back, and Tyson still hasn’t responded to tell her that he’s waiting.

She makes her way outside anyway, following the signs towards parking. Her hands are too full with her carry-on and suitcase to reach for her phone to call Tyson, but when she steps outside her terminal, she recognizes the person behind the wheel of a car just pulling up to the curb.

Tyson has the car in park and is jumping out before Madison can take another step. She’s so overwhelmed she bursts into tears.

She drops her bags to launch herself at Tyson, wrapping her arms around his neck. He doesn’t stumble, just slides his arms around her waist and hugs her back.

“Whoa, whoa, why the tears?” he asks, wiping one away with his thumb.

“I just really missed you,” Madison mumbles into his shirt.

Tyson presses a kiss to her hair. He unwraps one hand and reaches for the handle of Madison’s suitcase. “Well, let’s get you in the car, and then we can talk, yeah?” he says. He doesn’t wait for an answer, letting go of Madison fully to swing her suitcase into the trunk. Madison slips into the passenger seat while he throws her carry-on in, too, before he’s jogging back to the driver’s side. He leans across the console to kiss Madison’s cheek.

“Missed you, too, by the way,” he says.

Madison feels silly for crying now. Everything always seems better when Tyson’s around, and right now is no exception, with the windows rolled down and Tyson singing loudly—and badly—to the song on the radio. Tyson reaches for Madison’s hand, and she lets him slip his fingers between hers. Something restless in Madison’s chest settles when he touches her.

They don’t much as Tyson drives, the city flashing by out the car windows. It’s been ages since they saw each other, but they talk almost every day; there’s not much to catch up on. Madison likes it, the comfortable quiet between two people who know each other well.

Tyson apologizes for the fact that he’s still living in a hotel on the elevator ride up to his room.

“Tyson, I don’t care where you’re living, I’m just glad to be able to see you again,” she tells him.

Tyson blushes, but he also boxes her in against the elevator wall to kiss her properly for the first time since she got off the plane. Madison trails after him as he heads down the hallway and pushes open his hotel room door with a dorky sweep of his arm.

The room’s bigger than Madison expected, with a kitchenette that doesn’t look like it’s been used at all, and a little couch and desk near the TV. Madison can see the bed, sheets rumpled and twisted like Tyson has never bothered to make it in the weeks he’s been here. Tyson’s watching Madison survey the room like he’s nervous.

“So, what’s next?” Madison asks.

With the game last night, Tyson didn’t have skate today, but she’s familiar enough with his game day routine to know he should probably be napping soon. She could go for a nap herself. Madison doesn’t wait for an answer, just dumps her carry-on bag on the couch and wanders over to the bed. Tyson follows, still rolling Madison’s suitcase behind him. Madison flops backwards onto the bed. The sheets smell like Tyson.

“Well?” she asks, raising one eyebrow at him.

Tyson scrambles onto the bed after her. He drops to his elbows above Madison and leans down to kiss her, eager and not exactly gentle. Madison reaches up to thread her fingers into his curls. She runs her fingers through his hair once, twice, before closing her hand and tugging. Tyson groans into her mouth, but he gentles the kiss. They make out until they’re both breathless, and Tyson has to pull away.

“I really should nap,” he says once he catches his breath. Madison tilts her chin up for another kiss. Tyson rolls his eyes but obliges, just a quick peck. He shifts his weight to one hand and pinches the outside of Madison’s thigh with the other. “C’mon, I wanna cuddle.”

They both clamber up the bed until Madison can collapse onto the pillows. Tyson collapses on top of her.

“Oof, bud, what the hell,” she manages. Tyson’s heavy, and it’s hard to breathe.

“Told you I wanted to cuddle,” Tyson says back, face smushed into Madison’s collarbone.

Madison pokes Tyson in the ribs, then again, harder, when he doesn’t react, until he sighs and squirms off her. Her reprieve doesn’t long, though, because Tyson immediately reaches out for Madison and pulls her close. She rolls onto her side to face him, and he grins at her.

“You’re an idiot,” she tells him.

Tyson’s grin only grows. “Yeah, but you like me.”

Madison slides a hand around the back of Tyson’s neck and kisses him.

When Tyson's alarm goes off later, they’ve shifted in their sleep, and Tyson’s half-laying on top of Madison again. He slaps at his phone without moving and somehow manages to snooze the alarm.

“Not ready yet,” Madison mumbles, wrapping an arm around Tyson and keeping him close. He huffs a laugh against Madison’s skin.

“I’ve gotta get ready, baby,” he says. He kisses Madison’s shoulder.

Madison should probably get up, too. She wants to shower the plane funk off and make herself presentable for the game. But Tyson’s bed is really comfy. Tyson rolls off of her, and Madison whines at the loss of her human blanket.

Tyson shoots her an amused look. He leans back over Madison to kiss her one more time, but he avoids her attempts at dragging him back to bed. Madison pouts up at him. It doesn’t work. She watches from the bed as Tyson gets dressed in his gameday suit. He kisses her goodbye before he leaves.

Left alone in the eerie silence of the hotel, Madison forces herself out of bed and into the shower. She brings her Bluetooth speaker with her, blasting one of her playlists loud enough to be heard over the water. She emerges in a cloud of steam to dig through her suitcase for the outfit she’d packed for tonight. She doesn’t own anything Wild-branded, and she doesn’t think wearing Tyson’s old Avalanche hoodie would go over too well. She’d had to buy something new for this, too: an amazing fleece-lined green corduroy jacket that she’d probably live in come fall.

She takes the opportunity to poke around the hotel room a little, looking for traces of Tyson in the unfamiliar space. One of the blankets from his apartment was thrown carelessly across the foot of the bed. His ukulele sits on top of the desk. Madison hangs her date-night dress up in the little closet and finds her own good luck note to Tyson taped to the door. The kitchenette is full of Tyson’s snacks, including some of Madison’s favorites. It’s not much, but it’s enough.

Madison eventually makes her way to the Xcel Center. She’s met by someone’s significant other outside—it’s a blur of faces and names she can hardly keep track of—before they head to their seats. She’d gotten used to the atmosphere at The Can, and Xcel Center is different but the same. It’s easy enough to settle into the rhythm of the game and the crowd. The game is wild from puck drop, but Minnesota manages to pull out a win. Tyson even scores the game winning goal.

She follows the rest of the girls downstairs to the family room after the game. She’s restless, full of energy after the game, with no outlet for it. She all but tackles Tyson when he pokes his head in, stripped down to his base layers, but his curls still plastered to his head with sweat.

“Whoa,” he says, steadying her as they tumble out into the hallway. He’s grinning at her, cheeks pink. He lets Madison pin him up against the wall opposite them. “Hi.”

Madison kisses him, before she can blurt something embarrassing, like, “I love you,” or, “That goal was hot.” Tyson makes a surprised noise into her mouth but kisses back easily, his hands tightening on her hips. He pulls away after a minute.

“Don’t start something you can’t finish,” he whispers, kissing her temple. Louder, he says, “JT has requested to see you.”

Madison’s a little surprised, but pleased, to hear that. She’s hung out with JT a handful of times since she met him back in January, but she doesn’t think she’s talked to him since Tyson got traded. It had always felt more like JT was just a friend of a friend she got along with.

Tyson drags her down the halls towards the visitors’ locker room, JT’s already waiting for them, leaning against the door frame and messing around on his phone. Unlike Tyson, he’s dressed in clean clothes. He looks up as they approach and grins at them. Tyson doesn’t let go of Madison’s hand.

JT ropes Madison into a one-armed hug. “Think you’re Josty’s good luck charm. He’s scored twice now at games you’ve been to.” Tyson sticks his tongue out at JT.

Someone from inside the locker room yells Tyson’s name, and he’s momentarily distracted. JT leans in closer to Madison.

“Take care of our boy, yeah?” he says, quietly so Tyson, who’s still talking to someone else, won’t hear. “He needs you.”

Madison’s not sure how to respond to that. She’s saved by Tyson remembering they’re there. JT smacks a kiss to Madison’s cheek and nudges her back towards Tyson.

“See you around?” he asks Tyson.

“C’mon, you know you can’t get rid of me that easily.”

Madison watches them hug, and then Tyson’s leading her back down the maze of hallways. He says something to her before dropping her off outside the family room, but she doesn’t really hear it, lost in her own thoughts, thinking about JT’s words.

She’s still thinking about what JT said when Tyson rejoins her, as they make their way back to the hotel, up the elevator and into Tyson’s hotel room. She and Tyson move quietly, easily, around each other as they start to change out of their game-day clothes. She’s still lost in her thoughts when Tyson hooks his chin over her shoulder, startling her as she’s taking her makeup off.

“What’s wrong?” he asks. He looks worried. “You’ve been quiet all night.”

Madison shrugs. “Nothing.”

Madison watches in the mirror as Tyson’s brow furrows further. “Did something happen?” Madison knows he’d been worried about how the Wild WAGs would receive her.

She shrugs Tyson’s chin off her shoulder, suddenly annoyed. “No, Tys, nothing happened.”

Nothing did happen, unless you count JT Compher’s casual words sending Madison into a spiral.

Tyson slides between Madison and the sink. He crosses his arms. “I don’t believe you.”

Madison rolls her eyes, but gives Tyson a quick peck, before hip checking him out of the way so she can brush her teeth. Tyson watches, still suspicious. Madison ushers him towards the bed. He sits and drags Madison into his lap. He frowns up at her.

“Tys, really. Everything was just overwhelming, I guess.” Also not a lie; she’d never been to a hockey game as Tyson’s girlfriend—or, almost-girlfriend—and everything had been overwhelming in a way she hadn’t expected. Most things had been the same, but sitting with the rest of the wives and girlfriends and listening to them ask her questions about her life and job had almost felt like a well-meaning interrogation.

“Promise?”

Madison kisses Tyson, slow and gentle. “Promise.”

She yelps when Tyson flips them suddenly. He rolls on top of her, propping himself up on his hands. Madison can tell that he’s not letting this go.

“Then what’s wrong?” He chews nervously on his lower lip for a moment. “And don’t say nothing, I know you’re lying.”

Madison huffs. “Just something JT said.” She shoves at Tyson’s shoulders, but he doesn’t budge. His glasses are crooked from his acrobatics, and Madison reaches up to adjust those next. He swats at her hand.

“I’ll kill him,” he says confidently.

“First, I think JT would beat you in a fight,” Madison says. Tyson makes a noise of protest, and Madison slaps a hand over his mouth. “Second, it wasn’t anything bad, I don’t know, just made me think.”

Tyson pries Madison’s hand away. “Tell me, tell me, tell me,” he says.

He’s distracted enough that Madison can hook a leg over his hips and flip them back over. She settles across his lap as Tyson blinks dazedly up at her.

“He asked me to take care of you, said you need me, whatever.” Madison’s trying to brush it off, as if she hadn’t spent hours thinking about it, as if she doesn’t feel uncomfortably seen. Far too vulnerable for something that was supposed to just be a hook-up way back in November.

They’ve come a long way since November.

Tyson’s face clears. “What do you mean, ‘whatever?’” He surges up to kiss Madison before he continues. “Of course I need you. I fucking miss you constantly. I’ve wanted literally nothing but to be around you, like, all the time since, like, December.”

“Oh.” Madison should have realized that, maybe. It’s different to hear Tyson lay it out like that. “I didn’t realize,” she whispers. Tyson grins up at her. “You did kinda ghost me for a while there,” she points out.

Tyson groans. “I am never gonna hear the end of that, am I?” He runs his fingers through Madison’s hair, tugs a little at the ends. “I panicked because I was terrified of losing you, remember?” He punctuates his sentence with another gentle kiss. His hand slips from Madison’s hair to her waist, underneath her T-shirt. He’s missed the feeling of her underneath his hands. An emotion Madison can’t read crosses his face for a second before he says, “Do you—do you not—?” Feel the same way, is what he means to say, but can’t quite get out.

Madison understands him, anyway. “No, God, Tyson, no.” She hesitates; she supposes they’re laying it all on the line here. “I think I’m in love with you.”

Tyson surprises her by bursting out laughing. Hurt, Madison tries to squirm out of Tyson’s lap, but he reels her in and kisses her until she melts into his hands.

“Baby, I’ve been in love with you since you showed up at my door for a Lord of the Rings marathon.” He giggles a little and kisses Madison’s nose. “We’ve done this all backwards, haven’t we?”

Madison giggles a little too and nods. “I don’t think we’re very good at all this,” she whispers.

Tyson shakes his head, still laughing. “We’ll get better. I mean, look at us, we’re already communicating more!”

Madison kissed him again to shut him up, but by then they were both too busy laughing to take it much farther. Madison collapses to the sheets next to Tyson, letting herself dissolve into giggles. It feels good to laugh like this with Tyson, the last bit of uneasy tension Madison didn’t even know existed disappearing at last. Madison feels delirious with it: the stress of the last few weeks, the long day of travel and hockey, the raw vulnerability of finally being honest with Tyson.

They laugh for longer than the situation warrants. Tyson eventually heaves a sigh and turns his head on his pillow to look at Madison, eyes uncharacteristically serious. Madison sucks in a breath and forces herself to stop laughing.

“I mean it, you know,” Tyson says. “I’ve been falling for you for a long time.” He looks thoughtful for a moment, props himself up on an elbow. “I guess this means you’re officially my girlfriend now, huh?”

“Huh, guess so.” Tyson beams at her. “Don’t think this gets you out of wining and dining me tomorrow, though,” she threatens.

Tyson leans down to kiss Madison. “I don’t put out on the first date,” he murmurs.

Madison drags him closer, slots her mouth against his again. “Bit late for that, babe.”

Madison wakes up late the next morning, bright sunlight streaming through a gap in the curtains. Tyson’s already awake, sitting up against the headboard and fucking around on his phone. He never got dressed besides finding his boxers, and his glasses are slipping down his nose. He grins down at her when he realizes she’s awake.

“You’re a dork,” Madison says, rolling over to bury her face in a pillow again. Tyson pokes her shoulder blade, and she turns her head enough to glare at him.

“Brunch in bed, or go somewhere?” Tyson asks, poking Madison again.

Madison’s not wearing anything, either, and she’d have to shower and fix her hair before they could leave the hotel room. “Bed,” she says, burrowing back into her pillow. Actually, it might be one of Tyson’s pillows. It’s hers now.

Tyson chuckles and rolls out of bed to hunt down the room service menu. He orders a bunch of stuff that they can share, but makes sure to include an omelet for Madison. He learned a while ago that she always has to have an omelet with breakfast. He’s also learned not to question it. He jumps back onto the bed. Madison bounces with it, and turns once more to glare at him.

Her hair’s a disaster, and Tyson thinks he can see a hickey he left low on her neck. He loves her so much. He remembers he can tell her that now.

“I love you,” he blurts. Madison’s face softens. “Also, breakfast in thirty.” He tugs a little on the sheet where it’s slipping down Madison’s shoulders. “Plenty of time for…”

“For what, Tyson?” Madison asks. She’s laughing, now, and she rolls over, letting Tyson slide between her thighs and kiss her, slow and easy.

He has to fish his boxers out of the sheets again when room service knocks on the door, but it’s worth it.

Madison drags herself out of bed after they eat. Tyson’s promised her plans all day, so she and Tyson take turns showering and making themselves presentable. Tyson holds Madison’s hand from the door of the hotel room until they reach his car, and even then, he only lets go after he opens the door for her and kisses her on the cheek.

It’s a warm spring day, and Tyson drives with the windows down through downtown St. Paul. He refuses to tell Madison where he’s taking her.

“Can we at least get coffee if you’re going to kidnap me?” Madison whines.

“I don’t think it’s kidnapping if you willingly got in the car,” Tyson points out mildly. He pulls into the next Starbucks drive-thru he sees, though, so Madison’s pretty sure she wins the argument.

Placated with caffeine, she stops pestering Tyson for details, but it’s only another few minutes before he’s turning into a parking lot for Como Park Zoo.

“Oh my God, are you serious?” Madison asks. She’d idly mentioned, a while ago, that she wanted to visit the Denver Zoo when it got warmer. She had no idea that Tyson would remember that.

Tyson smirks at her. “I think it’s a little smaller than Denver Zoo—”

Madison cuts him off. “Shut up, it’s gonna be great.”

And it is great. Madison all but runs between animal exhibits, and Tyson’s more than happy to be dragged along by the hand, even though he thinks his nose is getting sunburned. They entertain themselves by naming the animals after his old teammates.

“You can’t name them all EJ,” Madison says at one point.

“Well, why not?” Tyson argues. Madison…doesn’t have a good argument for that, actually.

There’s gardens, too, and they wander through those after they’ve looped around the zoo, holding hands the whole time. Madison’s pretty sure she enjoys the flowers more than Tyson, but he waits good-naturedly when she stops to point out a pretty flower or to take some pictures. It all feels like a date, which Madison supposes it is, actually.

“Hey, wait,” Tyson says suddenly, after Madison stands back up from taking a photo. “We should get a picture of us.” He snatches Madison’s phone from her hand.

There’s an older couple nearby, and Tyson approaches them with a smile. Madison can hear him asking if one of them would mind, “taking a picture of me and my girlfriend?” She’s sure she’s blushing when Tyson comes back over and winds an arm around her waist. She smiles obligingly at the camera next to Tyson, and doesn’t even flinch when he turns and smacks a kiss to her cheek for the last one.

Tyson’s gracious and sweet as he takes Madison’s phone back, but he turns on Madison with an evil glint in his eye.

“Shut up,” Madison says, turning and walking away from Tyson so he can’t see that she’s still blushing.

Tyson jogs to keep up, spinning around and walking backwards so he can keep smirking at Madison. “You liked hearing me call you my girlfriend, huh?”

“Shut up,” Madison says again.

Tyson steps in front of Madison suddenly, blocking her path completely. She bumps into him. He’s still grinning. “Get used to it fast, because I can’t wait to tell everyone you’re my girlfriend.” Madison claps a hand over his mouth before he can literally start yelling about it. Tyson pries her hand away and uses it to pull her in for a kiss.

“I love you,” he murmurs. The novelty of hearing that from Tyson hasn’t worn off, either.

Madison kisses him again because she can.

They head out not long after that. Tyson starts insisting that they can’t be late for their dinner reservation, even though it’s still early afternoon. Madison lets him take her by the hand again and all but drag her back to the car.

She’s suddenly tired once she’s sitting back in the passenger seat, the sun and the walking catching up to her. She rests her head on the window while Tyson drives, fighting back a yawn. Tyson still catches her, and he reaches across to poke her in the thigh. She swats half-heartedly at his hand.

“Do I have time to take a nap?” Madison murmurs.

“What? No way!” He pokes Madison harder. “I’m supposed to be wining and dining you, remember?”

“But I’m sleepy,” Madison whines. She’ll rally, probably; she needs to complain a little first. Tyson pokes her harder.

“That’s not allowed,” Tyson says. It’s not a long drive back to the hotel, and they’re most of the way back there already. Tyson checks the time on the dashboard. There’s still a few hours before their dinner reservation. “Okay, how about a mini nap?” he allows. “But we’re setting like three alarms.”

It’s important to him that he still gets this first date right, even if they have done their entire relationship backwards. They got to the right place in the end, though, right?

Madison crashes into bed as soon as they’re back in the room. Tyson considers her for a moment. She’s already wriggled under the sheets, but she’s lying directly in the middle of the bed.

Tyson collapses on top of Madison. He catches himself at the last second so he doesn’t completely crush her, because he’s nice like that. Madison giggles, but she squirms and tries to elbow Tyson.

Her voice is muffled into the pillow as she tries to say, “Get off me.”

Tyson lets his weight press her further into the mattress. “Nope, ‘m comfy.” He does fish his phone out of his pocket to set an alarm and roll off Madison. He pulls Madison close as soon as he lands on his side next to her. “Shh, sleep now.”

They’re both jolted awake half an hour later when Tyson’s alarm goes off. Madison whines and presses closer. Tyson kisses the top of her head where she’s tucked under his chin.

“We need to get up,” Tyson whispers. Madison blinks sleepily up at him.

Tyson forces himself to disentangle himself from Madison. When she doesn’t get up after him, he grabs her by the ankles and drags her to the end of the bed, ignoring her laughter and shrieks.

Tyson follows Madison into the bathroom after she digs her makeup bag and curling iron out of her suitcase, plops himself down on the marble countertop of the sink. Madison raises her eyebrow at him as she plugs the curling iron in and turns it on. Tyson beams at her.

“I wanna watch,” Tyson says simply, still smiling innocently.

He does watch, intent on Madison as she starts to section her hair.

“What’s that for?” he asks. He hands Madison a hair clip.

She brandishes the curling iron at him. “So it’s easier to curl.”

Tyson’s quiet for a few more minutes before he slides Madison’s makeup bag closer and starts pawing through it. He pulls items out one by one and starts asking questions, mostly more of, “What’s this for?”—a makeup sponge, eyeliner, one of those jumbo eyeshadow crayons—until most of the contents of Madison’s makeup bag are strewn across the counter around Tyson.

“Are you proud of yourself?” Madison teases. Tyson snaps a compact of blush shut, surveys the damage he’s done. Madison’s momentarily distracted by Tyson’s shenanigans, and one of her fingers brushes across the hot barrel of the curling iron. “Ah, shit,” she hisses.

Tyson’s immediately serious. “Are you okay?” He grabs at Madison’s hand, bringing it close to his face to inspect her finger. Madison bites her lip to keep from laughing. Tyson frowns before carefully pulling Madison’s finger to his lips, kissing it gently. “There. All better.”

“I love you,” Madison hears herself saying. She’s not used to being able to just say it. Tyson beams at her again.

Tyson behaves himself while Madison finishes her hair and makeup, though he does giggle at the faces Madison pulls while she’s trying to apply mascara. He even helps put away all the makeup he got out. He finally hops off the counter to start getting ready himself.

Madison grabs his wrist when he reaches for the bottle of hair gel. “Nope, I’m rescinding your gel privileges.” She dies a little inside every time she sees a new photo of Tyson and his curls smothered in gel. Tyson squirms, trying to free his hand; Madison tightens her grip.

“Just a little?” Tyson pleads.

“No, I like your curls!” For emphasis, Madison cards her free hand through Tyson’s curls.

Tyson grumbles at her and tries to tamp his hair back down. “You’re gonna make it frizzy,” he complains. Madison is still tightly holding onto his wrist. “Ugh, fine, but just for tonight.”

Madison releases his wrist and kisses Tyson’s cheek as she steps past him out of the bathroom. Tyson blinks at himself in the mirror, wondering what the hell just happened.

Madison’s changed into a dress when Tyson finally makes his way out of the bathroom, too, sitting on the edge of the bed to slide on a pair of heels. She watches Tyson change with a small smile on her face. Tyson takes Madison’s hand and pulls her to her feet, twirling her once before pulling her close for a kiss.

“Let’s fucking do this,” Tyson says, and Madison has to laugh.

Dinner is pretty nice, as first dates go. Tyson picked a good restaurant—good food, nice environment, but not so fancy Madison feels out of her depth—and Madison already knows that he’s good for conversation. The good thing about falling in love before you actually start dating is that you’ve already gotten the awkwardness and discomfort out of the way already, Madison supposes.

She’s even mostly immune to the sad eyes Tyson directs at her as he pleads his case for getting dessert. Mostly. (They end up splitting a slice of tiramisu.)

The weekend passes too quickly. Madison blinks and suddenly she’s standing in the middle of Tyson’s hotel room, trying to figure out if she’s forgotten to re-pack anything.

“Stay,” Tyson begs. “A few more days, through the beginning of the series.”

“Tyson, I can’t, I have to get back to Denver for work, you know that.”

Tyson does know that, but he also hates coming back to a dark and empty hotel room every night after games. He tries to tackle Madison to the bed, but she side-steps Tyson and crosses her arms at him, disapproval in her eyes. Tyson feels a bit like a scolded child for a moment.

“What if I refuse to drive you to the airport, huh? Then you’ll have to stay.” Tyson knows it’s a weak argument, but he’s desperate here.

Madison’s glare softens. She cups Tyson’s face in her hands. “I’m sorry, Tyson, but I really have to go. I’ll see you soon, okay? We’ll figure something out.” She punctuates this with a kiss. Tyson leans into it, his hands tight on Madison’s waist.

“Soon,” Tyson repeats. “I love you,” he adds.

Madison kisses him again, and Tyson slips a hand beneath her shirt, her skin warm beneath his hand. She shudders and kisses him harder. They both startle when the alarm Madison set to make sure they leave for the airport on time goes off. Tyson tries to follow her when she pulls away to silence it.

“Time to go,” Madison says sadly.

After Tyson drops Madison off at Departures, he’s grateful that she’s not there to see him wipe away some tears.

May

Madison sees the Avs’ WAG jackets on Instagram the night they start the first round. The WIld had played the night before, an ugly loss Madison hadn’t been able to tear her attention away from. She could have had one of those jackets, sitting next to Syd and all the other girls. Instead, she’s back in her apartment in Denver, alone.

She wishes she could have stayed in Minnesota with Tyson for the first two games of the series. She gets a text from Tyson after the game that’s just a thumbs down emoji. Madison “dislikes” it out of solidarity. Tyson doesn’t call her that night. Madison has to remind herself that it’s okay, that they don’t have to talk all the time.

She watches anxiously two nights later as the Wild drag out a win, clutching a glass of wine for emotional support the whole time.

Before she can think too hard about it, Madison’s opening her laptop. She’s in the middle of searching flights to St. Louis when her phone rings. It’s Tyson, and Madison doesn’t hesitate to answer.

“I miss you,” she says, before Tyson can get a greeting out. She has perhaps had a little too much wine.

He chuckles. “It’s been less than a week, baby.” But then he adds, “I miss you, too.”

Madison shoves her laptop away and flops backwards on her bed. Last minute plane tickets are so expensive. So are playoff hockey tickets, apparently. She wonders if it would be easier to just drive to St. Louis.

“Wish I could be there,” she says next, even though she had just turned down Tyson when he’d asked her to stay.

“Yeah, me too,” Tyson says after a beat. He doesn’t offer to fly Madison out again, though Madison can tell he wants to.

She doesn’t tell him that she’s only a few clicks away from buying herself tickets and meeting him in Missouri. Though she should probably do it while she’s not sober, before she can talk herself out of it in the morning.

“Oh, good game, by the way,” Madison remembers to say.

Tyson huffs. “Are you already in bed?” Tyson asks. Madison can hear him banging around his hotel room, tinny and muffled where her phone has slid off her pillow.

“Sorta,” Madison tells him. She pulls her laptop closer again. She could fly out after work and make it to the arena without missing too much of the game, probably. She winces again at the outrageous prices for the game. There aren’t even any good seats left.

Tyson speaks again. “Go to sleep, we can talk in the morning. I just wanted to say good night to you.”

“In a minute,” she whines. She’s trying to remember her credit card number without having to get up and dig it out of her purse.

Tyson must hear her keyboard clacking. “What are you still doing on your computer?”

“Online shopping,” Madison lies. Well, half-lies. She is spending plenty of money right now. She triple-checks that her flight is booked correctly and that she purchased the ticket for the game before she finally slams her laptop shut and tosses it aside. “There, I’m done,” she tells Tyson.

“Buy anything good?” Tyson asks through a yawn.

“Hope so, we’ll see.”

On Friday, Madison rushes off the plane, rushes through baggage claim, and rushes through renting a car. She’s cutting it close on time, with less than half an hour until puck drop. She drives as carefully and quickly as she can on the unfamiliar roads to the arena, one eye on the clock the whole time. The streets and parking around Enterprise Center are a fucking nightmare, but when she finally parks and makes it to the front doors, there’s still lines of people milling about, waiting to get in, too.

Madison checks her watch. Puck dropped five minutes ago. She pushes around a group of people who are somehow already drunk and towards the front of a line. All hockey arenas are the same, in a way, but Madison is immediately overwhelmed and disoriented. The first period is half over by the time she manages to get to the upper level and settle in her seat, but at least she finally made it.

Madison takes a photo of the ice and texts it to Tyson with her usual black heart emoji. He’ll see it eventually.

Madison has to keep herself from cheering too loudly for every Wild goal, surrounded by Blues fans as she is, and she’s probably one of the only people in the arena who’s happy when the Wild manage a neat win.

She follows the throngs of people outside and back to her rental car. She has a text from Tyson waiting for her, just a string of exclamation marks. Another text comes through while she’s waiting for traffic to thin out, a request for Madison to call Tyson in all capital letters. Tyson’s breathless when he answers Madison’s call. “What the hell are you doing in St. Louis?”

“Surprise?” Madison says weakly.

Tyson laughs. “Hell of a surprise, babe.” He must pull his phone away from his ear, because Madison can still hear him speaking, but distantly. “Hang on, I’m trying to get you the address of the hotel, you can meet me there, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Madison says. Tyson’s gone again, not really listening.

“Hey, I’ve gotta go, I’ll text you where to go, and I’ll see you soon, okay?” He hangs up without letting Madison reply, but he texts again seconds later with the name and address of the team hotel.

Madison is anxiously idling in the hotel driveway when the team bus pulls in behind her. Tyson bounds off the bus almost before it comes to a full stop, and he races over to Madison’s car door and taps on the window.

Madison rolls down the window. “And what if it hadn’t been me in the car?” she teases.

Tyson is reaching through the now-open window to try and unlock the door, his tongue sticking out the way it does when he’s focusing on the ice. “I would have apologized. A lot.” He successfully presses the unlock button and yanks the car door open. “Come here, come here,” he says.

Madison laughs and climbs out of the car. Both of her feet aren’t even out of the car before Tyson’s sweeping her up in a hug so tight she swears she can feel her ribs shift. He sets her down and immediately cups her face.

“You’re here, I can’t believe you’re here.” Tyson narrows his eyes, and he squishes Madison’s cheeks where he’s still holding her face. “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me you were coming.”

Madison pries Tyson’s hands away enough to talk. “I wanted to surprise you.” Tyson’s teammates are still filtering off the bus, and they should probably move inside, too. “Can you let go of me so I can get my bag out of the trunk?” she asks.

Tyson considers this. He slides one hand down Madison’s arm until he can tangle their fingers together. He also leans into the car and deftly turns it off, holding the keys up with a grin. He nudges the door shut. “We can get your bag out of the trunk.” He proceeds to drag Madison around to the back of the car and drags her suitcase out of the back with his free hand. He stares between the suitcase in his hand and the open trunk before Madison takes pity on him and slams the trunk shut.

Madison hangs back while Tyson hands the car keys off to a valet, and then he’s dragging her towards the elevators, happily rolling Madison’s suitcase in front of him. At least the rest of the Wild players have all disappeared, sparing Madison from their stares and jeers. She tucks herself closer to Tyson in the elevator, suddenly self-conscious. Tyson kisses her temple.

Madison is suddenly exhausted as soon as they enter Tyson’s room. Tyson flips the light on as Madison kicks off her shoes. Tyson left the curtains open earlier, and Madison can see the Arch, lit up above the river, through the window. She’s too tired to give it more than a half-hearted glance on her way to face-planting into the pillows.

Tyson’s laughing when she rolls over and brushes her hair out of her face. “I’m so fucking happy you’re here,” he says, jumping onto the bed next to Madison, and, really, that’s all that matters.

The Wild lose the next game at Enterprise, and Madison holds Tyson tightly for a long time in the hall outside the locker room before he has to get on a plane. They lose again at home, then yet again back in St. Louis.

Just like that, hockey season is over.

Tyson calls Madison after the last game. He sounds like he’s been crying, but he tries to be cheerful for Madison. She just wishes she could hug him, but she’s back in Denver. She knows the Avs swept the Predators already, and they’ll be facing St. Louis next. It’s not difficult to imagine how Tyson feels about that.

“Come home with me,” Tyson blurts. He’s on the phone with Madison, getting ready to leave his Minnesota hotel room behind. He survived locker cleanout and exit interviews, and now he’s ready to sleep for about a week.

Madison, in the middle of complaining at work, freezes. “I—what?” She takes another moment to process. “Aren’t you coming back to Denver first?” Madison knows his apartment sits half-abandoned, filled with things too difficult or unnecessary to move after the trade.

“Well, yeah, but like, after. You should come home with me,” Tyson repeats. He’s been dying to introduce her to his mom for months. He hopes his mom likes Madison as much as he does. He is a little worried about his sanity if Madison and Kacey get along as well as he thinks they will, though.

“I’ve never been to Canada before,” Madison says thoughtfully. She’s barely travelled abroad at all, except for one trip to the UK after she graduated high school. Her passport has been collecting dust since then.

“So you’ll come?” Tyson asks.

“Is there even anything to do in Edmonton?” Madison teases.

“There’s so much to do, like—” Tyson pauses. It’s been a while since he’s had to play tourist back home. Madison is giggling on the other end of the line. “Shut up, we’ll figure something out.”

Tyson feels like he can breathe properly for the first time in months when he steps out of the airport in Denver. He wonders if any place will ever feel like home the way Denver does.

Tyson had managed to wheedle JT into picking him up, and he even brought coffee. Tyson ignores the way it almost feels like an apology. JT has nothing to be apologizing for, but Tyson just sips his coffee.

The apartment smells stale when they walk in. Tyson’s mom had done a good job of cleaning for him, at least, and there aren’t any dirty dishes still stacked in the sink. He and JT are quiet as they walk through the apartment, opening windows. Tyson feels like he’s walking through someone else’s life. He stares for too long at his bed, freshly made and untouched for weeks.

He shakes it off and goes to find the moving boxes.

“So, this is it, huh?” JT says.

He could be talking about all the boxes they’ve spent the last few hours filling boxes and separating them into piles to be shipped off to Minnesota—Tyson finally signed a lease for an apartment there—or to be sent back home for his family to deal with. An alarming amount of Tyson’s clothes is Avalanche-branded gear, and more of it got packed away to keep than Tyson is willing to admit.

He could also be talking about the end of everything they’ve known together in Denver. Tyson’s spent years accepting the fact that hockey is a business before everything else, has gotten used to the revolving door of teammates each season. It’s been a long time since Rookie House days with Kerf. Tyson is going to walk out that apartment door, and he’s never going to be able to go back. A chapter—or book, really—in the story of his life ended for good.

Tyson sighs. “This is it.”

The apartment is stripped bare when Madison steps through the door, left unlocked by JT and Tyson.

She drops her laptop bag and kicks off her shoes, saying, “You should be more careful, anybody could just walk in here.”

Tyson drops the box he’s holding and whirls around. Madison winces as its contents rattle. There’s no time to say anything else before Tyson is bounding across the room and wrapping her in a huge hug.

“What, no hug for me?” JT asks from somewhere behind them. Tyson turns to glare at him, but Madison shoots him a smile.

“Hey, JT,” she says. She lets JT drape an arm around her in a half-hug.

“Betrayal,” Tyson says. He is ignored.

They leave most of the boxes for the moving company to deal with. Madison bundles Tyson into her car with his bags of clothes, complaining the whole time about wanting dinner. She lets Tyson hold her hand across the console as she drives him to her apartment.

It’s not the first time Tyson’s been to Madison’s apartment, but it still feels strange to be there instead of his own. They’ve spent so much time there the past few months, watching movies on the couch, doing things other than sleeping in the bed. He misses it already, all the memories they made as they fumbled their way into a relationship.

He says as much to Madison, expecting her to tease him for something so objectively dumb—to miss an apartment he lived in half of the time for like six months—but the look she gives him is almost sad.

“That’s a bit dramatic,” she says. Tyson pulls her in by the hips, letting her lean her weight on him. “But I guess we’ll just have to keep making more memories, yeah?”

Later that night, tangled up in Madison’s sheets, Tyson stares at the dark ceiling. He can feel Madison, looking rumpled and in his shirt, watching him. She nudges his calf with her toes. He doesn’t look at her, focused on keeping his eyes from welling up. Then Madison’s hand is on his cheek, turning his head towards her.

“How you doin’, bud?”

Tyson lets Madison pull him close and hold him tightly. He slides a hand under her shirt and to the bare skin of her hip, just feeling the comforting warmth of her skin.

“What if it’s never like this again?” Tyson whispers back. This—Denver and the Avalanche, friends who become family; Madison in bed next to him, loving him and wearing his clothes. Minnesota had been okay, but Tyson worked his ass off and never felt settled. Maybe it was the endless hotel life, maybe it was the team, maybe it was him. He feels like a child, begging his mom to tell him everything was going to be okay.

Madison doesn’t know how to comfort Tyson. It probably never will be like this again. Madison can’t see the future, and she can’t promise Tyson anything, either. “I don’t know, baby,” Madison admits. “I don’t know.”

Tyson doesn’t cry, but they both lay awake for a long time.

June

They fly into Edmonton together on Friday. Tyson seems nervous the whole flight and all the way through the airport. At baggage claim, as they wait for their suitcases, Madison turns on him.

“What’s up with you?” she asks. Tyson blinks at her like he forgot she was there. “You’re not seriously this worried about me meeting your family, are you?”

“No. Maybe. I don’t know!” Tyson crosses his arms. He’s pretty sure his suitcase just spun past them on the carousel. He lowers his voice. “I don’t really bring girls home, I don’t know. I don’t know how this is supposed to go.”

“Oh, Tys. It’s going to be fine, I promise.” Madison tosses her hair, and Tyson manages a weak smile. “Your family is going to love me so much they’ll forget you even exist.”

“Hey!”

Tyson had lobbied hard for taking an Uber from the airport, to give Madison and himself a few last moments of peace before a week with his family, but his mom had put her foot down and insisted on picking them up. She’s already idling at the curb when they step out of the airport.

Madison calls shotgun, leaving Tyson to throw their suitcases in the trunk and slide into the backseat. His mom is in the middle of telling Madison, “Call me Laura, please!” Madison turns in her seat to grin at Tyson as his mom pulls away and starts driving out of the airport. She refrains from grilling Madison on the short drive home, something Tyson is grateful for. He zones out while Madison explains where she grew up and what she does and lets himself relax back into his seat.

Before he knows it, they’re pulling up to the house, and Kacey is sprinting out the front door to greet them. Tyson groans, but he eagerly shoves his car door open before the car is in park and lets Kacey jump on him.

Madison gets out of the car at a more leisurely—and sane—pace, and Kacey turns to wrap her in a hug as soon as she lets go of Tyson.

“I’m Kacey,” she says, pulling away and gripping Madison by the shoulders. “The better Jost sibling.”

Tyson pulls on Kacey’s ponytail. She smacks him in the chest without turning around. Tyson’s about to lunge and get Kacey in a headlock when their mom yells, “Behave,” at them from the front door.

Madison’s looking faintly overwhelmed. Tyson mouths “You okay?” at her over Kacey’s shoulder. Madison just grins and lets Kacey grab her by the hand and drag her inside. He’s pretty sure he hears Kacey telling her how much their grandparents can’t wait to meet her as they go. He shakes his head and retrieves their luggage from the trunk.

He’s missed all the introductions by the time he makes it inside. Madison sits on the couch next to Kacey, the spot on Madison’s other side left conspicuously open. Tyson ignores Kacey’s smirk and plops himself down next to Madison.

“So, how did you two meet?” Tyson’s grandpa asks.

Tyson refrains from glaring at him. Madison laughs next to him.

“He picked me up in a bar, and I had no idea he was a hockey player,” she says. Tyson had almost forgotten about that part. “We kinda just…kept seeing each other after that.”

That’s a delicate way of putting it.

“So you’re the reason Tyson ditched us over Christmas, huh?” Kacey asks next. She’s smirking again, directed straight at Tyson over Madison’s head. Tyson has not forgotten that part, struggling to lie to Kacey and his mom.

“Kacey!” Tyson and his mom both protest, but Madison just laughs again. Something about the question melts all of the tension out of her shoulders. She turns a little to lean against Tyson.

“Yeah, that was me,” Madison says. Tyson can’t see her face, but she doesn’t sound very sheepish. She tilts her chin to look up at Tyson. “I should’ve known something was up when he couldn’t go more than a few days without seeing me.” “Hey,” Tyson protests again, weakly. She’s right, though. They really should have figured out their shit sooner, but they got to the right place eventually.

Conversation drifts away from the topic of their relationship after that. Tyson drapes an arm across Madison’s shoulders. After a while of catching up—Tyson and hockey season, or Kacey and her school year—mixed in with his family asking Madison questions to get to know her better, Tyson’s mom and grandma head to the kitchen to start preparing dinner.

Madison tries to follow and offer to help, but Tyson tightens his arm around her. He kisses her forehead, whispering, “Stay here,” into her hair. Madison stays.

They’re getting ready for bed later—banished to separate rooms, of course—when Madison notices Tyson getting nervous again.

“What’s up?” Madison asks, sliding between him and the bathroom sink. They’re pushing it, probably, spending this long in the bathroom with the door closed.

Tyson shrugs. “Worried about you and Kacey spending all night gossiping.” They’d really hit it off over dinner, which Tyson is simultaneously grateful for and horrified by. From the look Madison gives him, she’s not buying it. “It’s just…the Avs are in town tomorrow night, and I got tickets, and you don’t have to come with me if you don’t want to, but I want to go, and—”

Madison cuts him off with a hand over his mouth. “Tyson, I’d love to go to the game with you.”

Tyson relaxes again, and Madison moves her hand. Tyson takes the opportunity to bully her up against the sink and kiss her. Tyson’s just getting into it when Kacey bangs on the bathroom door. He’s pretty sure he accidentally bites Madison’s lip when he jerks away. Madison grumbles at him, but she ducks around him to open the door. Tyson tries not to whine about it.

Going to the game together the next night is strange. Tyson hasn’t been to Rogers Place and not been playing a game since he was a kid, probably. Madison had never really been to a hockey game before she’d met Tyson, and she’s definitely never gone to a game with Tyson.

They mostly go unnoticed, except for a handful of people who stop Tyson and ask for a picture. Madison hangs back while he politely smiles at the camera. It’s easy to fade into the crush of the crowd, and Tyson keeps a tight hold and Madison’s hand as they make their way through the concourse and to their seats.

After that, it’s just like any other hockey game. Cheering for the Avalanche is familiar, even if the way Tyson is squeezing Madison’s hand at every single scoring chance is not. She’d tease him for his nervousness, especially because the Avalanche are winning easily, except for the fact that she knows it had to be hard for him to come out tonight. To cheer for his old team, his friends, knowing that with every win they’re one step closer to something he can’t be a part of.

So she lets him hold her hand as tightly as he wants. It’s the best she can offer.

They don’t linger after the game. Tyson seems eager to escape the arena, and Madison lets him lead her back to the car. He puts on a Spotify playlist and turns the volume up loud, but he’s mostly quiet on the drive to the house, one hand on the wheel, one hand on Madison’s thigh.

Madison gets caught up talking to Laura when they get to the house, and she loses track of Tyson for a while. He’s not upstairs in his old bedroom, or even bugging Kacey in her bedroom. Madison ventures outside. Tyson has dragged a lawn chair out to the driveway, but he’s laying on his back on the cold concrete, staring up at the dim stars. The moon is just a sliver in the sky.

Madison nudges him with her foot. He wraps a hand around her ankle, squeezes once.

“You alive down there?”

Tyson makes a sound that almost passes for a laugh. Madison is pretty sure his eyes are wet, shiny in the dark. Madison lays down next to him. The concrete is hard against her shoulder blades, and it feels damp through her thin T-shirt.

“This fucking sucks,” Tyson says. It’s too loud for how late it is, and his voice echoes a little around the quiet street. He rubs a hand angrily across his face. “I want to be out there, playing for the Cup, not fucking sitting in the arena watching them. I guess I should be happy for them because they’re my friends, you know? But I kinda want to hate them, too.” He’s quiet for a moment. He reaches for Madison’s hand, brings it to his mouth to press a kiss to her palm, before settling their clasped hands on his chest. “I might not have asked for a trade if I had known it would be this shitty,” he admits.

“It’s okay to be mad, Tyson,” Madison says gently.

“It’s not—I don’t know if I’m mad. I wish I could be.”

“It’s okay to be sad, too,” she says.

“Yeah,” Tyson says, voice thick.

They’re both quiet for so long, Madison’s half-certain Tyson’s fallen asleep, if not for his occasional sniffle. He sits up after a while, still holding Madison’s hand. Even in the dark, Madison can see him yawn.

“Ready for bed?” Madison asks.

Tyson nods. “D’you think I can sneak you into my bed?”

He pulls Madison to her feet as she lets out a startled laugh. Tyson kisses her quiet. “I’m willing to get in trouble if you are.”

The house is dark when they slip back inside. They giggle their way through brushing their teeth, close together at the bathroom sink, elbows bumping. Tyson shushes her loudly as they tiptoe carefully down the hall. Madison’s pretty sure he’s being louder than her, but whatever.

Madison wakes to an empty bed and late morning sunlight. She can hear Tyson’s voice drifting up the stairs. That boy truly does not know how to be quiet. Madison has an Instagram notification when she swipes her phone off the bedside table: josty17 has tagged you in a post. Madison frowns and unlocks her phone, wondering what unflattering photo of her Tyson took. Instead, it’s a photo Kacey or Laura must have taken the morning before. Madison’s laying on top of Tyson on the couch, Tyson visibly complaining that he’s being squished, despite the fact that he had pulled Madison on top of him. He captioned it with a black heart emoji.

Madison makes her way downstairs. Tyson sits at the kitchen table, arguing with Kacey over something stupid. He reaches a hand out for Madison without stopping whatever he’s ranting about. There’s a fresh mug of coffee in his hand, already doctored the way Madison likes it. Tyson uses his now-free hand to loop around Madison’s waist and tug her onto his lap. She hooks her arms around Tyson’s neck and sips her coffee, content to listen to this argument, even though she’s still not sure what they’re arguing about. She thinks she hears something about which fruit would make the best weapon.

It might not be easy, but Madison thinks they’ll be just fine.

#cait writes things #tyson jost fic #tyson jost imagine #colorado avalanche fic #minnesota wild fic #buffalo sabres fic #nhl fic #nhl fanfiction #nhl imagine #hockey fic #hockey fanfiction #hockey imagine #tyson jost fanfiction

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fallinallincurls · 1 year ago

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congrats on ur 4 years babe!!!! can i pls have #27 from list one w josty <33 🫶🏻

ahh thank you for requesting this one!! it's so cute! #27 from list one is "what made you think putting a holiday sweater on our cat was a good idea? i'll get the bandaids."

he almost will never admit it, but tyson has loved your cat, pumpkin, since they first met a few years ago. since then, the two have become inseparable and you're constantly joking that your own cat likes him more than you because you always fine pumpkin curled up on his chest or rubbing against his leg or meowing for pets.

but one thing you didn't ever expect to come home one day to find your cat wearing a holiday sweater against her will.

"tyson?" you ask when you spot pumpkin running down the hallway and sure enough, your boyfriend is following behind with a frantic look on his face.

"it's the holiday season so i thought she would like to be festive too and i found that adorable sweater the other day. she hated getting into it though and now i can't catch her to get it off!" he explains as soon as he sees you. the story makes you giggle because it's just something tyson would think is a good idea, until you see his arms.

"oh, tys! your arms!"

"i'm okay! she just scratched me a few time as i getting the sweater on her."

"i love you, tys, i really do, but what made you think putting a holiday sweater on our cat was a good idea?" you shook your head at the sight before leaning up to kiss him and heading towards the bathroom. "i'll get the bandaids."

and just as you start laughing to yourself about the situation. pumpkin darts out from under the table and you get to see her in the holiday sweater. "aw she does look cute and festive! maybe we can keep it on her."

"yeah, next time you can put it on." tyson says with a chuckle.

#asks #ask bre #my lovely friends #emmie!#bre's 4 year tumblraversary!#tyson jost #tyson jost blurbs #tyson jost blurb #tyson jost fic #tyson jost fics #nhl fic #nhl fics #nhl imagine

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wyattjohnston · 1 year ago

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k like i know you didn’t open up requests or anything but this one is horrifically flick and josty coded:

forgetting about the argument after a while and going in for a hug, kiss, or any other form of affection that is a force of habit

flick & tyson

i am taking requests!

It had been a cold day—temperature wise it was actually quite pleasant for November in Buffalo, but their home had been frosty. Flick had made a cruel comment, asking why she needed to go to the game that evening when it was looking more and more likely that he’d just be scratched. Maybe it was the truth, that he hadn’t been on the ice a lot to start the season, but maybe it was also an unnecessary dig, and she should have just made up an excuse that she wasn’t feeling well.

She hadn’t, though, had told him straight to his face that she was sick of being at games he didn’t even play in. He hadn’t spoken to her at all since despite an immediate apology. She didn’t blame him for the cold shoulder, not when she knew how hard it was for him to sit in the press box without being injured and solely because the coach didn’t think he was good enough.

He walked around silently, his expression drawn tight and killing Flick a little more every time she saw him. He was still getting ready for morning skate, where he might find out if he was playing that night—Flick was mostly frustrated by the last-minute scratches where neither of them was prepared.

Still tucked up under the blanket she’d hidden herself under after Tyson had stormed off, Flick made no effort to hide the fact that she was tracking his every movement. It was why she held her breath as he walked towards the back of the couch, an unwavering part of his routine when she was home. She tilted her head up, waiting for the kiss, and her entire body relaxing when Tyson leant down into it.

He looked taken back by the brief kiss, and Flick rushed to free her hand from the blanket so she could press it to his cheek.

“I’m sorry, Tys. You play really well when they let you and I don’t know why they keep you out.”

“I don’t want to get put on waivers again, Flick.”

“Tys,” she sighed. “I know. I… I know and I’m sorry.”

Tyson defrosted, though not entirely, and Flick would worry about what remained until he was on the ice that night.

#tyson jost fic #tyson jost imagine #nhl fic #nhl imagine #hockey imagine #hockey fic #homemade fic #this is getting good now fic #1200 follower requests

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ilyasorokinn · 2 years ago

Note

HELLO NEW PFP SPARE SOME TYSON FLUFF IN HONOUR PLEASE?? (he is just so doting boyfriend to me I feel like he’s very protective but in like a gentle way?? he’s always checking if you need another drink when you’re out or if you’re getting tired and loves to cook for you while you just sit at the counter and talk to him very much love language acts of service vibes)

CHICKEN TENDIES

okay, 1. the title has nothing to with the song. promise. it's a happy fic, and 2. this has been sitting in my inbox for months, like actual months. like, from late 2022. it's bad. hope this is what you were thinking of. i tried. anyways, happy birthday tjosty, i love you my little slay king. *muah*

tw: alcohol consumption (all legal)

tyson had been watching you all night. not in a creepy way, quite the opposite. he was watching to make sure you were alright. he knew you could take care of yourself, but the world was scary.

after the song ended, you made your way over to tyson, stumbling and bumping into a few people, giggling and apologizing as you went. you threw your arms around his neck when you finally made it back to your table, and pressed a wet kiss to his cheek.

"did you have fun?" he couldn't help but smile at the carefree smile on your face as he poured you a glass of water.

"sooo much." you giggled, taking the glass and almost spilling it on yourself as you took a big gulp, "did you see me?"

"i did." he nodded, "you ready to go home?"

"i'm hungry," you answered.

"yeah? what do you want?" he asked, pushing a piece of hair that had fallen from the hairdo that was too complicated for tyson to understand, behind your ear.

"chicken tendies." you answered, gulping down some more water.

"all right, let's get some chicken tendies." he left you alone at the table before walking two steps to the table where your group of friends were, and said your goodbyes before helping you walk out of the bar and towards your car.

he buckled you in, nodding along to your drunk babble talk, "all right, let's get you some chicken tendies." you giggled.

by the time the chicken tenders were secured, you were asleep. he knew this would happen, so he got the small size of chicken and drove home in silence.

when he pulled into the parking spot in your apartment complex, he sat in silence for a few minutes, enjoying one of the chicken tenders before getting out and making his way over to you.

"hi, pretty." he cooed, "time to go upstairs."

"chicken?" you mumbled.

"yeah, i got the chicken." he carresed your hair and cheek, "come on, bed is way more comfortable than this seat." you raised your arms, and he set the chicken bag on the roof of the car, picking you up and lifting you bridal style.

you hummed, grabbing the chicken bag and taking the key, locking the door. he carried you all the way up to your apartment, laying you in bed and tucking you in before getting you water.

"good chicken?" he asked, coming back into the room.

"good chicken." you nodded, "thank you, tj."

"your welcome." he smiled, "but please don't call me tj." you giggled.

this made me fell so single, i'm sad. anyways, happy birthday to tyson jost. i love you and you are so slay.

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laurenairay · 9 months ago

Text

Summer days pass me by - T. Jost

“I feel like I’m stuck, doing the same thing over and over with the same nothing at the end. I need to do something new. Wanna help me make this the best summer ever?”

“You do know that sounds like the start of a coming of age film, right?”

Summary: Mollie Thomas has been friends with Tyson Jost since they were children – but this summer by the lake could change everything.

Warnings: childhood friends to lovers, some bad language, a little angst

Word Count: 9.5k

A/N: I love Tyson Jost so much – this is a super indulgent fic that I started back in August 2020, and it’s been one hell of a journey writing it, including a complete rewrite about 2/3 through. This OC was actually the first one I ever attempted on hockeyblr, although I’ve since written a fair few in stories I've since posted over the years, and she holds a special place in my heart.

This Tyson blurb I wrote in July 2022 is what inspired me to rewrite this story (and thank you @bqstqnbruin for all the encouragement to finish it!).

If there was one thing about summer that Mollie Thomas loved the most, it was being by the lake. As soon as the weather was good enough, she would head up there with friends to relax, have barbecues and mess around on the water. Being by the lake simply was the epitome of summer, sunshine and friendship – she’d grown up doing it, her parents trusting her to go alone since the age of 15, and now 10 years later (despite some friends moving away), she still loved nothing more than watching the days roll on by from the lakeshore.

Utter bliss.

Mollie had been teaching history at the local Kelowna high school ever since graduating from the local college three years ago, and when the weather started getting consistently sunny, she even went up to the lake some evenings after work, depending on who was around. But now that the end of the school year was approaching, she would no longer be restricted to the occasional evening after work, and she honestly couldn’t wait.

Why? Because soon one of her best friends would be coming back to Kelowna for the summer. Tyson Jost.

Mollie had known Tyson ever since he’d moved to Kelowna to live with his grandparents when he was 13, his family's house being down the road from Mollie’s family. Her older brother John had been on the same hockey team as Tyson, so he’d always been around – but with John being a couple of years older than them, Tyson and Mollie had become fast friends.

Sure, things had become harder when Tyson had gotten more serious with ice hockey. When Mollie’s brother John had quit playing, choosing to focus on school instead, Mollie had been worried that they wouldn’t want to hang out any more – but that wasn’t the case. Hockey or no hockey, Tyson had always been there for her, and she knew she could count on him for anything.

He was the guy that encouraged her to get out of her comfort zone. He was the guy that turned to her for help asking out his first girlfriend Sarah Cooper. He was the guy that punched her first boyfriend for kissing Jenny Prince behind her back. He was the guy that made her laugh down the phone when college had been stressful. He was the only guy that she would wear another team’s colours for whenever he played against the Canucks. He was the guy that called her with a broken heart when the Avs had traded him. He was the guy that she looked forward to seeing most every summer, and she couldn’t wait to see him this year.

She missed him – who could blame her?

It was a Sunday afternoon, just about to head into the last week of the school year, and Mollie was soaking up the sun by the lake with some of her best friends; Bryony, Louis, Michael, Chase and Allison. There had been other people hanging out with them in the morning, including Mollie’s brother John and his wife Michelle, but the remaining six were the tightest group. So tight, that they’d all chipped in to rent a cottage together this summer, Allison’s uncle owning a couple in the area and offering them first dibs. Naturally, they’d all sprung at the chance of having a summer home base, even if not all of them were there all the time, so Mollie had that to look forward to starting next weekend, the moment that the school year ended. Bryony, Louis and Michael were also teachers, although across various different schools to Mollie, so at least she wouldn’t be the only one up at the cottage during the weekdays.

“Anyone for a refill?”

Mollie turned her head to the camping chair next to her, watching Bryony stand up and wiggle her empty can in the air. Mollie nodded, smiling at her friend, and a few others nodded too. As soon as Bryony walked away, Allison plunked down in the vacated seat, turning to Mollie with a grin.

Allison was probably Mollie’s closest girlfriend in Kelowna – also living on the same street as Mollie’s family – and while the two of them couldn’t have looked more different (Allison a curvaceous insta-airbushed blonde compared to Mollie’s chestnut hair and tomboy runner’s body), Allison had encouraged Mollie to be as confident and friendly as her, and Mollie was forever grateful. Sure, Allison was an incorrigible flirt and flitted between jobs, and sure Mollie had her moments where her anxiety got the better of her – but Allison was as close a friend to her as Tyson was, and Mollie loved that.

Even when Allison’s grin spelled troublemaker, like it did right now as Allison got comfy in Bryony’s vacated chair.

“So you know how my Uncle’s got me helping out with administration for his holiday home rentals this summer, in exchange for us getting our cottage for a lower price?” Allison prompted.

Mollie raised an eyebrow at the glee in her friend’s voice. Whatever it was, clearly she was excited about it – and considering that the cottage had been a good deal, clearly this was good gossip.

“Yeah, I remember…why?” Mollie mused.

“Well, a couple of cottages on this side of the lake have been rented…one of them by someone you know very well…”

Mollie knew her friend meant well, but this cryptic stuff was not helping.

“Out with it, Ally,” Mollie said bluntly.

“Tyson rented the cottage closest to ours for two months,” Allison grinned.

What?

Holy shit.

“He’s going to be here all summer?” Mollie asked, excited.

“Yep! As far as I’ve heard, Tyson’s got some buddies coming up to stay with him at various points, and probably his sister too. I don’t know when or for how long, but there’s definitely enough rooms for all of them in that cabin to be there together so it’s going to be so much fun!” Allison told her, “Now that I think about it, I probably wasn’t meant to tell you. Tyson was probably keeping it as a surprise. Oops.”

Mollie just giggled, too happy to care that Tyson hadn’t said anything to her about his plans. It had been too long since she’d seen her childhood friend – summers just weren’t enough time with him – and knowing that he was going to be around for two solid months just made her heart soar. This was everything.

“Oh man, this is going to be the best summer,” Mollie sighed happily.

“Maybe this summer you and Tyson will finally admit how much you love each other.”

Mollie rolled her eyes, shaking her head. For some reason, Allison (and the rest of their other friends) had it in their heads that her friendship with Tyson was more than platonic. Sometimes it got really annoying because honestly nothing had ever happened between them (not even a hint of an almost) but she tried not to let it bug her. She knew where she stood with Tyson – yeah, he was incredibly handsome, with a good heart and a wonderful smile, but she wouldn’t trade their friendship for anything. Ever.

“We’re just friends, Ally-cat,” Mollie sing-songed, rolling her eyes.

“We’ll see,” Allison sing-songed back.

Honestly. Troublemaker.

Mollie ignored her friend’s laughter as she pulled out her phone, opening up her text thread with Tyson.

From: Mollie

A little birdy tells me you’ve rented a cabin by the lake for the summer…

Mollie barely had to wait a couple of minutes before her phone buzzed with a reply.

From: Tyson

I swear Ally can’t keep her mouth shut.

I was trying to surprise you!

Mollie giggled to herself, ignoring Allison’s wriggling eyebrows.

From: Mollie

Trust me, I’m surprised.

School finishes next week – I can’t wait to see you!

It really had been too long.

“Tell your future husband we miss him!” Allison crowed.

“Oh you’re texting Tyson? Say hi from me!” Chase grinned from across the chair circle.

Mollie stuck her tongue out at him as Allison cackled next to her. Her friends were such dicks sometimes.

From: Mollie

The gang say hi and that they all miss you

“Done, happy?” Mollie said dryly.

“Extremely,” Allison grinned, looking like the cat that ate the canary.

“I don’t know why I like you at all,” Mollie said bluntly, although her smile gave away her lie.

Allison just wriggled her eyebrows again, earning laughter from the whole group and another eye roll from Mollie.

From: Tyson

Hi back from me!

I miss them too

I miss you the most

Mollie’s eyes widened slightly, a light flush warming her cheeks. What? Why was she reacting like this? Tyson said that all the time. Kind of. No, stop it. Mollie swallowed heavily, keeping her eyes down to avoid a reaction from their friends.

From: Mollie

I miss you too

With that, Mollie shoved her phone back into her pocket, just in time for Bryony to arrive with a fresh round of beers, which Mollie was more than grateful for. What was that all about?

“I am so ready for a drink.”

“Make it two,” Mollie mused, grinning at Allison’s words.

“Make it three,” Chase laughed, “I can’t wait to cool off in the lake, it’s too damn hot today.”

That was an understatement. The temperature was sweltering and even just thinking about jumping into the cold water was almost too much to bear. Mollie been waiting all week for this Friday evening – while the four of them who were teachers had been up at the lake during the week every day since their schools finished for the summer a week ago, Allison and Chase had weekday 9-5s, so Mollie had volunteered to drive back into town to bring them out for the weekend, finally bringing their big friendship group together in their rented cabin for the summer. Of course Mollie had visited her family (with her brother John and his wife Michelle reminding her they wouldn’t be up at the lake until next week) to fill the time while she waited for Allison and Chase to be ready, as well as stocking up on supplies, but now Mollie was more than ready to kick back and relax.

After she’d been in the water, of course.

Thankfully Mollie had put a bikini on underneath her clothes, just a simple little red thing, before picking up her friends today, so as soon as she’d parked outside their cabin, brought the cooler of drinks and snacks into the kitchen, and dumped her duffel bag by the stairs, she stripped off her clothes as she walked towards the tempting water. Bryony wolf-whistled as Mollie walked past the three who were already there, and Mollie just flipped them all off with a grin, kicking off her shoes quickly before taking off in a run down the dock and diving into the water.

Bliss.

Allison and Chase, both having stripped down to their swimsuits too, wasted no time in joining Mollie in the water, and all Mollie could do was smile as she resurfaced. This was summer. All of them together in glorious weather at the most beautiful place in Kelowna. What more could she ever want?

“LOOK WHAT THE CAT DRAGGED IN!”

Mollie turned her head at Michael’s hollering, grinning at the sight of the familiar figure walked over from the neighbouring cabin. Tyson. Mollie eagerly hauled herself back up onto the dock, slipping back into her shoes and picking up a towel from the stack at the beginning of the dock to dry herself off with as she walked back to the cabins, waving hello as she got closer.

“There you are.”

Mollie just grinned and threw her arms around Tyson’s neck, him just laughing as he picked her up, swinging her round in a circle, not seeming to care that she was getting him wet.

“You’d think you were happy to see me or something,” Tyson teased, setting her back on her feet.

“Oh hush, you know I am,” Mollie sighed happily, running the towel over her wet hair, “Are you happy to be back here?”

“You know it,” he nodded, smiling sweetly at her, “even more so knowing that I’m nowhere near Buffalo and that you’re here.”

Well Mollie would never say no to a bit of Tyson charm.

“Flattery gets you everywhere, Mr Jost,” she mused, trying to calm her racing heart.

It wasn’t fair that nothing about him had changed at all and yet somehow his pretty curls and pretty face were even more handsome since she’d last seen him. So unfair.

“HEY LOVEBIRDS!”

A shout from Bryony broke Mollie out of her thoughts, and she saw Tyson blush fiercely as they both looked at the group by the chairs to see them all smirking at the two of them. And to think it was usually Allison who was the troublemaker. Mollie just flipped them all double birds, earning laughter.

“We’d better go before people start talking eh?” she laughed, trying to hide her blush.

“Let them talk,” Tyson grinned, but starting walking over to the ring of chairs anyway.

It wasn’t fair that her stomach filled with butterflies at the simple sight of his smile.

As Louis handed Mollie a cold white claw, Tyson already having one in hand, she took the empty seat at Tyson’s side. By the time that Allison and Chase hauled themselves out the water to join the group, they were all well on their way to catching up.

They talked about Bryony and Louis still being together, their relationship going on 5 years strong. They talked about Allison losing another job, her uncle having taken pity on her and letting her do his administration for the summer cabins he owned. They talked about the school year, how parents and kids were a stressful nightmare most days now. They talked about Tyson’s season, sort of, Tyson just saying that he was happy to be back up from the AHL. They talked about Tyson’s sister Kacey, how she was kicking ass and taking names. They talked about Chase’s hard-earned promotion at work, finally getting the recognition he deserved. They talked about all the plans they had for the next two months here at the lake and the more they talked and drank and laughed, Mollie just sank back in her chair, taking everything in, soaking everything up.

This really was heaven.

Tyson noticed her relax back in her chair and just smiled at her, earning a genuine smile back. Yeah this was going to be a summer to remember, she could feel it.

Another couple of days passed at the lake cabin, Chase and Allison heading back into town while Tyson stayed at his place, and Mollie couldn’t be happier. Happy enough to make breakfast pancakes and bacon for Bryony, Louis and Michael after she showered following her early run around the lake, leaving it all in the oven for them with a note while she cleared up. Breakfast she could handle – it was the little things. She knew her friends would appreciate it anyway.

As she was taking out the trash though, she spotted Tyson doing exactly the same from his cabin, and waved enthusiastically at him, grinning as he laughed. He was clearly still adjusting to waking up early, same as she was – he still looked a little bleary eyed as they walked towards the end of their driveways.

“Good morning Tys!” she said cheerfully.

“Morning!” he mused.

She jogged over to him, Tyson catching her in a hug as she reached his side, making her laugh and squeeze him back tightly. Mornings like this were exactly what she had missed while he was away. As she pulled away though, her phone buzzed with a series of texts, and she pulled out her phone only to frown at the sender. Her ex. Ew. He really wasn’t getting the hint.

“Who’s making your face do that?”

Mollie cursed under her breath and tucked her phone away with.

“It’s no-one,” she said simply, willing him to let it go.

“No-one doesn’t make you grimace like that,” Tyson pointed out, “And it doesn’t make you hide it from me. So who is it?”

She really couldn’t pretend around him, could she? And it wasn’t like he hadn’t heard about her terrible ex boyfriends before.

“It’s my ex. Justin. It’s been six months since I caught him texting other girls with all the things he wanted to do to them, and while I don’t know if he physically cheated, I still kicked him to the curb the moment I found out. Every now and again he blows up my phone, even though I never answer him,” Mollie explained, “His mom even knows and yells at him for bugging me. He’ll get bored soon enough.”

Yeah, this latest ex wasn’t exactly one of her finest choices.

The deep frown that shifted onto Tyson’ face was an interesting reaction though.

“If he doesn’t leave you alone, tell me. I still know enough people in this town, and I can hunt him down and punch him if he doesn’t back off.”

A rush of heat went through her veins at his words, a flush spreading across her cheeks.

There was a flashback in her mind to when they were 15, when Tyson found out that her first boyfriend Todd kissed Jenny Prince behind her back, and sucker-punched him at school in her honour. It was a beautiful memory. And to know that he’d still defend her like that?

“You always were my knight in shining armour,” Mollie teased.

But Tyson just shrugged. “You know I’ve got your back no matter what. That’s what best friends are for.”

Such a sweetheart.

Something about his tone though, how seriously he’d taken her words, made Mollie keep her eye on Tyson throughout the day, and by the time that late afternoon rolled around when their barbecue was in full swing, she finally cornered him again. There was just something in his eyes that looked…tense. It wasn’t the Tyson she knew and it worried her that even in the most relaxing place in Kelowna, he still looked so stressed.

“Hey, Tys, fresh beer?”

Tyson smiled his thanks, taking it with a nod. There was no one else standing too closely so she didn’t feel bad for confronting him like this, not at all.

“So are you going to tell me what’s going on with you?” she said softly.

Tyson’s eyes widened a little, before he huffed out a laugh.

“There’s no point hiding anything with you, is there?”

Just like her with him. But Mollie winced. “If there’s something you don’t actually want to talk about, then I’m not going to push. That’s the last thing I want.”

Tyson just nodded, taking a sip of his beer, as if to steel himself. Clearly this was more than passing worry. What was going on?

“Every summer I’ve ever had has been the same. Arrive back to Kelowna, get sympathy and pitying smiles for how shitty the season was, hanging about by the lake, train, start hockey again. I’m tired of it,” Tyson groaned.

“Tired of it?” she asked, confused, trying to understand what he meant.

Surely he didn’t mean he was tired of hockey? She knew how much the sport meant to him.

“I’m tired, Mollie. I feel like I’m stuck, doing the same thing over and over with the same nothing at the end. I need to do something new or I feel like I’m going to go crazy,” Tyson sighed.

Okay, okay that she could manage.

“It must be so frustrating, pouring your whole heart into the sport you love, and not getting the reward you deserve. And the fact that you still feel like this in the off season? That’s not good, Tys,” Mollie murmured, “What can I do to help?”

He sent her a sad smile.

“I’m not sure, really. If I don’t know what I can do, I don’t know what anyone else can do,” he said softly, “But being here with you right now, talking with you like this, I appreciate it. I don’t exactly trust many people with my full thoughts like this.”

That both saddened her and made her heart soar. The fact that he didn’t really have anyone else he could really talk to was devastating…but the fact that he trusted her enough? That was everything.

“Then we can talk and vent and rant and scream as much as you need. And we’ll build your happiness back up, just like you deserve. I’m here for you, Tyson,” she said firmly.

“Yeah?”

That smile would be the end of her, she just knew it.

“Yeah, I mean it,” she nodded, helpless to do anything but smile back.

“Wanna help me make this the best summer ever?” he grinned.

“You do know that sounds like the start of a coming of age film, right?” Mollie teased.

Tyson nudged her with his shoulder, earning a nudge back.

“Is that a yes?” he asked, hope filling his voice.

“Obviously,” she grinned.

How could she say no to him?

But as she looked into his eyes, there was something in his gaze that made her breath hitch in her chest, her grin sliding from her face. Tyson seemed to be caught in the moment too as his own face drifted into neutral, his eyes locked on hers in return. She didn’t realise how close they had shifted until her fingers brushed against his arm, Tyson’s eyes darting down to where they were touching before he looked back up at her. Her heart was pounding, ears full of a rushing sound, her thoughts filled with nothing but the dazed look on Tyson’s face.

It was when his gaze flicked down to her lips that she jolted out of her reverie, just in time for a couple of shrieks and splashes came from the end of the dock.

Fuck. Fuck.

What was that? What the hell was that?

“Mollie…” Tyson murmured, fingers brushing against hers finally.

“I’m going to get some more food,” she said quickly, stepping backwards.

It took all her strength to turn away from the confused hurt expression on Tyson’s face, and walk over to join Bryony and Louis at the barbecue, plastering a smile on her face as her head whirled, desperately trying not to panic. Tyson had almost kissed her. She had almost kissed Tyson. Tyson wanted to kiss her. She wanted to kiss Tyson. Did she want to kiss Tyson?

Of course she wanted to.

But since when did she give into fleeting desires around him? And since when did he ever look at her like that? No, she couldn’t deal with this. She wouldn’t, not tonight. Maybe not ever. What the hell, Tyson?

Tyson and Mollie didn’t talk about the moment they shared at all. The first two weeks of their two month summer, almost a full week since that fateful night, passed quickly and the longer they went not mentioning it, Mollie found herself burying the topic completely. From Wednesday morning to Friday midday, Mollie, Tyson, Bryony, Louis and Chase all quickly fell into a routine that she knew would carry on for the rest of the summer. Mollie did her usual run along the lake front each morning, with Bryony and Tyson joining her for a yoga session today, the Friday morning. She spent each day cycling through swimming, sunbathing, and reading, all of the group taking it in turns to cook dinner while sorting out their own lunches. She kayaked with Chase and Tyson for a couple of hours before lunch on Thursday, the three of them paddling in a comfortable silence most the way, taking pictures to make their friends jealous of the beautiful views.

And now Bryony and Louis were back from their grocery run for the barbecue tonight, to celebrate Mollie’s brother John and his wife Michelle coming up for the weekend, as well as Tyson’s friends Mat and Dante arriving ahead of their own week’s stay. They’d all met Mat and Dante before, the two of them joining Tyson for a few summer’s now (and Dante joining on his own the year before that started) so Mollie was well prepared for the chaos those two always seemed to bring. At least in comparison to the peace and calm that Tyson’s friend JT brought when he visited (which he would be doing for two weeks after Dante and Mat left).

It was going to be an interesting stretch of time, that was for sure.

After Tyson had gotten his friends settled in, they immediately joined Mollie’s group to chill on the clearing by the dock, relaxing for a few hours before they needed to start prepping for the barbecue tonight. Chase and Allison wouldn’t be joining them until later, and neither would John and Michelle, but that didn’t mean that they couldn’t have fun before then.

“We’ve got snacks and fresh fruit and cold beers, help yourselves,” Michael grinned, waving towards the coolers on the back decking of their cabin.

Mat, Dante, and Tyson saluted, making them all laugh, Tyson carrying over their own crate of beers to add to the coolers too. Mollie just stayed silent, offering Tyson a small smile, to which he sent a hesitant one back. Great. He was still going to be awkward around his friends too. With a quiet sigh, quiet enough that no-one else heard it, she laid back down on her deckchair, eager to let the sun wash away the underlying tension she was desperate to ignore.

Maybe with his friends here, Tyson would get over the awkwardness and they could return to normal. At least, she hoped they could. She didn’t know what she would do if they didn’t.

“So, Mollie looks good, huh?”

“Don’t even think about it Barzy,” Tyson scowled.

Dante and Mat looked at each other only briefly before bursting into laughter.

“We know she’s yours, Josty. Chill,” Dante snickered.

“She’s not mine,” Tyson shot back, narrowing his eyes.

His friends just laughed harder.

“Yeah okay, and you totally weren’t distracted when she was sunbathing in that tiny pink bikini this afternoon, right,” Mat teased.

“I swear, I will throw you in the lake.”

The weekend was…odd, to say the least. Mollie didn’t spend nearly as much time with Tyson as she normally did, mostly because he looked like he didn’t know what to say to her and she didn’t have a clue what to say to him. She got away with it though, having her brother and sister-in-law up at the cabin, and Tyson having his friends to distract him. She had to get over this weirdness. She needed to.

On the Sunday evening, when her brother John and Michelle drove back into town, she followed them back, staying at her apartment for a night ahead of a family dinner their mom had insisted on for the Monday night. It wasn’t a hardship to take a little break from the cabin, using the time to pamper herself with a long bath and a face mask, giving herself the time to refresh. And Monday she spent giving her apartment a giant deep clean, driving all thoughts from her mind until she only had enough time to shower and change before heading over to her parents house.

“Mollie! Baby! Are you eating enough?”

Mollie just rolled her eyes fondly at her mom’s greeting.

“Nice to see you too mom. I brought wine,” she mused, stepping into her childhood home.

“Ooh, I do love a good cabernet, thank you darling. John and Michelle are already here – they’re with your dad in the den,” her mom said cheerfully, “I’m just finishing up in here!”

“I’ll help you, mom. It’s been a while.”

Mollie’s mom just beamed at her, kissing her cheek before wandering back into the kitchen. She followed with a smile on her face, heart bursting with the love that only a mom could cause, her mom especially. Mollie put on the apron that her mom passed her, the two of them chopping vegetables for the salad in a comfortable silence, Mollie just enjoying her mom dancing along to the radio while they worked. True to her word, they didn’t take long to finish preparing everything, and in no time at all, her mom was calling everyone to the table for dinner.

Incredible chicken pot pie, with creamy mash, a variety of greens, and homemade gravy, with a fruit cobbler for dessert. This was exactly what she needed.

What she didn’t need was her brother opening his mouth the moment that they finished eating.

“So mom, has Mollie told you about Tyson yet?”

What the hell?

“No? Is everything okay?” her mom asked, voice full of concern as she turned to look at Mollie.

She kicked her brother under the table but he just smiled sweetly at her. Her older brother was such a child.

“He’s fine mom. A little stressed after the season, but fine,” Mollie said, as calmly as she could.

“I was talking about all the flirting actually,” John said innocently.

“Shut up, John! There hasn’t been any flirting!” she hissed.

He was a dead man. Michelle could move on happily.

“Flirting?” her dad frowned.

“Flirting?!” her mom cried happily.

For fuck’s sake. She needed to nip this in the bud before her mom pulled out her scrapbooks.

“There is no flirting. John is delusional, maybe a touch of heat stroke. You really check that out for him, Michelle,” Mollie said firmly, her sister-in-law just sending her a pitying smile, “Tyson and I don’t flirt with each other.”

“It’s been different this year and you know it,” John shot back.

Michelle elbowed him, but other than a grunt he didn’t react at all, his smirk staying put.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. He’s one of my best friends and you know it,” Mollie scowled.

“Me thinks the lady doth protest too much,” John sing-songed.

“Oh you assho-”

“That’s enough,” their mom interrupted, gaze firm. Mollie snapped her mouth shut, John doing the same. “Johnathan Neil Thomas, cut it out. If Mollie says they’re still just friends, then that’s that.”

Mollie smiled triumphantly, earning an eye roll from her brother.

“And Mollie Eliza Thomas, if there ever is a change between you and Tyson then you know you can be open with us.”

Ugh.

“Mom!” Mollie hissed.

John just threw his head back and cackled, not even flinching at the elbow from his wife this time. How was he 27 years old?

“Alright, alright, I’m stopping,” their mom grinned, “and so is John.”

Seriously. It was bad enough that her head was messed up from whatever the hell had happened at the lake the other day, whatever the hell had been happening since Tyson came back this summer, but she didn’t need her family adding to it too.

“Cheer up buttercup. Whatever happens, happens,” her dad shrugged, smiling.

Mollie didn’t know if that made things better or worse. Sure, John could be doing the opposite, getting defensive and shutting down a ‘potential’ relationship between her and Tyson (not that there was anything) but this wasn’t helping.

“I’m disowning you all,” Mollie grumbled, “not you Michelle. As always, you’re an angel.”

Her brother’s wife just beamed. “If John doesn’t want to sleep on the sofa tonight, he’ll stop.”

What an angel she was indeed.

Her dad tactfully changed the topic to his upcoming fly fishing trip, finally giving Mollie some peace, but she was lost in her head from there on out, Michelle just filling up her wine glass in solidarity. By the time John and Michelle went home, Mollie had drunk a couple of glasses too many to safely drive home, so she crashed in her childhood bedroom, her mom thrilled that she got to fuss over her for another day.

Her dad promised to make her a hearty breakfast.

While she got ready for bed, doing her usual skincare routine after she changed, Mollie finally let herself embrace her thoughts. As much as she didn’t want to admit it, John’s teasing had gotten under her skin.

It’s been different this year and you know it.

Because it had been different this year. This summer had been full of all of this tension that hadn’t been there before that she didn’t know what to do with. This was her and Tyson. If she couldn’t figure out what it all meant to her, then where did that leave them?

Oh.

Oh no.

John was right. He’d been right all along. It was different this year. Everything with Tyson had felt different this year, the flirty teasing, the innocent touches, the way her heart had skipped at his smile. But why? What had changed?

And what could she do about it?

Tyson had never said anything to her about being more than friends in all of their years of knowing each other, not even as a joke in passing. There’d never been a moment like that almost moment before the barbecue the other day. There’d never been anything that had flared Mollie’s feelings into a tailspin like this, but now? Now she didn’t know what to think.

Breathe. Take a moment.

Mollie inhaled shakily, running her trembling hands through her chestnut hair. It was like a dam had burst, her emotions rushing over like a tidal wave, her heart racing and her breathing getting ragged. This had changed everything. How could she not think about Tyson differently now that the floodgates had opened? How could she ignore that he was her everything now that she’d admitted it to herself? What the hell was she supposed to do now?

“Mollie? Is everything alright?”

Mollie snapped out of her thoughts at the sound of her mom’s voice through the door, clearly having seen her light was still on. Damn it. Damn it damn it damn it.

“Yeah mom, just doing some yoga!” Mollie called back, hoping that the lie wasn’t too obvious, that her voice wasn’t too shaky.

“Alright sweetheart, get some rest! I’ll see you in the morning,”

Mollie just squeezed her eyes shut tightly, balling her fists at her sides as she curled up under her duvet. This wasn’t fair. All these years she’d maintained an amazing friendship with Tyson, a constant steadiness that she cherished, but now…could it really stay the same? Could she stay the same, knowing her feelings were actually real, when he didn’t feel the same? Could she pretend to be normal?

Could they even stay friends?

At the lake, unbeknown to Mollie, Tyson was going through his own emotional turmoil, sitting with Dante and Mat in the living area of his cabin.

“What’s going on with you and Mollie?”

“It feels different this year,” was all Tyson could offer to Dante’s question.

“Different…how?” Dante frowned.

Tyson sighed, running a hand over his face, missing the look that his friends exchanged.

“Tys, seriously. You and Mollie have always been so close, and yeah we tease you about it…but has something happened?” Mat said softly.

“I don’t know. There have been some moments. Like, emotionally-charged moments. That first weekend when we first saw each other again, she was wearing this tiny red bikini and she just looked so carefree and beautiful and so goddamn hot that it completely blew past all my defences. I couldn’t help but flirting and she flirted back. Talking to her felt like my heart was clenching and there was something in her eyes that said it wasn’t just me. And the other day at the barbecue, I just…I don’t know. We almost kissed and then she basically ran away,” Tyson said miserably.

Mat laughed softly, making Tyson whine in protest.

“This isn’t funny!”

“Oh it’s kinda funny. Why is it that everyone can see the connection between you two other than you?” Mat mused.

“We’re just friends. That’s all she wants, clearly,” Tyson sighed.

“That’s all she wants? Are you saying that you want more?” Dante asked, grinning.

Tyson just whined again at his friend’s excitement, dropping his head to rest in his hands. He couldn’t deny it, not any more. Not now that things felt so different, so…new. How could he?

“So you’re admitting that you like her. Finally. Are you sure that friendship is all Mollie wants? Have you even said anything?” Mat asked, raising his eyebrows.

“Why would I say anything?!” Tyson yelped, lifting his head up again.

Was Mat crazy?

Both Mat and Dante rolled their eyes. “You literally said that it wasn’t just you that had that emotionally charged moment,” Mat pointed out.

“I know but…”

“If there’s another moment like that, why don’t you just take a chance?” Dante interrupted, before Tyson could spiral into a panic, “if things are stressing you out this much, then maybe she’s feeling the same.”

Tyson bit his bottom lip, contemplating his friend’s words. Could he really do that?

Mat sighed, seeing Tyson’s hesitation. “Look, bud, you never know until you try. The friendship that you and Mollie have is so solid – even if things don’t happen between you two, nothing will change that.”

“I guess you’re right. She wouldn’t be weird about it, even if it is just me with feelings,” Tyson murmured.

Mat frowned, opening his mouth to argue, but Dante just elbowed him in the ribs, making him grunt.

“I don’t think it is just you, but yeah, you really should act on this, before you get too in your head about things. I know it’s scary and I know that you’ve got to take a risk, but I honestly think it’s going to pay off. It’s Mollie, Tys. How can things not?” Dante said warmly.

Mat nodded enthusiastically, making Tyson laugh softly.

“You really think I could take a chance?”

“Absolutely. You’re Tyson fucking Jost – you’ve got this!” Dante grinned.

Tyson smiled weakly, trying to put on a brave face. He wasn’t convinced, not with how much was on the line. Mollie was too important for him to lose. But maybe, just maybe, he could gain even more?

The week went on with Mollie no closer to an answer to what her next steps should be. At least Tyson was a little more relaxed around her, offering her genuine smiles rather than the awkward ones he’d been giving her since their almost moment. On Mat and Dante’s penultimate day, Allison arranged for a four jet skis to be sent up to the lake as a surprise, and they all took turns in racing each other on them, no-one getting too drunk to make sure they stayed safe.

After a few races on the jet ski, Mollie took a break, letting Louis take over to race Bryony, Mat and Dante, while Michael cheered them on and took photos. She could see her phone lighting up with jealous messages from Allison and Chase – FOMO was a bitch – so she could already predict that Allison would be extending their rental until after the full weekend had passed so she could have a go herself.

Mollie headed back out of the cabin with a book, a bottle of water, and some sunscreen, ready to relax for a little while now that she’d pulled some shorts back on, only to see Tyson already sitting where she had been planning to sit. Maybe it was fate. Maybe this was the time they needed, apart from the others. Maybe this was a sign.

Then again, Tyson had been fairly quiet today so far, letting Mat and Dante take the reins in conversation.

“Hey Tys. Mind if I join you?”

He jolted, looking up at her like she’d surprised him, making her frown slightly.

“Oh, uh, yeah. Sure.”

Okay, not quite the reaction she’d been expecting. Even for him, this was weird. Still, she sat down in the chair next to him, reapplying her sunscreen before opening up her book. But the way that Tyson was sitting silently next to her, just staring out at the lake, was unsettling.

“Is everything okay?” she murmured, putting her bookmark in her book.

“Yeah. I’m fine.”

His answer was so short, almost distant, unlike any way he’d ever spoken to her, and it hurt a little to hear that tone in his voice. Maybe she was just missing something, but him brushing her off like that on top of all of her emotional turmoil lately was just enough to make tears spring to her eyes.

It was all she could do to swallow heavily to keep her composure, and she stood up, dropping her book on her chair.

“Where are you going?” Tyson frowned.

“I don’t know. Just need to clear my head, I guess,” Mollie shrugged, attempting to keep her voice light.

“Can I come with you?” Tyson blurted.

That would be the opposite of helpful right now. But when he looked at her so hopefully, how could she say no? Maybe he’d actually open up, and his attitude was all a big misunderstanding? She could only hope. She couldn’t take him pulling away from her, if that’s what this was.

No, she had to have hope.

With a quick glance over her shoulder to check that their friends were all occupied, Mollie started to walk in the opposite direction down the lake front, knowing that Tyson would be following her. She wandered, a little aimlessly, trying to clear her head as she’d said to him, but nothing helped knowing that it was his footsteps following her.

Eventually she slowed to a stop at a little cove, ducking into it to get out of the harsh light of the sun, and Tyson stopped next to her, offering her a small smile. She had to return it – this was the place they’d dubbed ‘their spot’ after all. Back in Tyson’s first summer, she’d found him here after a difficult training session, full of frustration and homesickness, and it had been one of the things that bonded them so quickly. She’d never told anyone about this place, that it was hers and Tyson’s. Mollie hadn’t intended to come here, but clearly her subconscious had other plans.

Tyson took a step towards her, slipping slightly on a rock, and Mollie’s hands darted out to stead him, Tyson clinging to her forearms as he regained his balance. It was only when she laughed and looked back up at him that she realised they were standing so close that she could count his eyelashes, and she froze.

No, no she couldn’t do this. She needed less drama, less intensity, less…

“Mollie,” Tyson murmured, voice breathy.

“Tys, I…I can’t,” she choked.

Her head was swirling as she jerked out of his grip, trying not to slip herself as she stepped past him, but Tyson grabbed her hand to stop her leaving.

“Mollie, please don’t go! Just listen to me!” Tyson begged.

The desperation in his voice made her stop in her tracks. She closed her eyes, keeping her back to him as she tried to control her racing heartbeat, jumping slightly as his hand move to touch her shoulder. Against her better judgement, with a gentle squeeze of his hand, she turned back around to face him, biting her lip at the devastation in his face.

“Tys,” she whispered, a little helplessly.

He’d never looked at her like that before, like she had the power to destroy him completely. She wasn’t sure if she liked it.

“Mollie, sweetheart…”

Sweetheart. He trailed off at her whimper, running a shaky hand through his unruly curls before he looked into her eyes with such determination that butterflies erupted in her stomach.

“You’ve got to know how much I like you, Mollie. Seriously. You’re one of the only people I keep in touch with from home, one of the only true friends I can count on, and you know how much our friendship means to me. But you’ve got to know how our friendship has evolved. It’s…more now, right? You feel it too?”

Mollie’s breath caught in her throat. He…what?

How much I like you.

How much our friendship means to me.

Our friendship has evolved.

You feel it too?

“Please. Say something,” Tyson begged.

How could she deny him that? After everything she started admitting to herself? She closed her eyes, swallowing heavily, only opening them when her heart cracked open a little. If he could be honest, as much of a dream as it felt, then so could she.

“I do feel it, Tys. I just…I didn’t let myself hope that you felt the same,” she whispered.

There it was. She’d finally said the words out loud. Tyson let out a wounded noise, low and sad, but Mollie didn’t say anything. What else could she say without losing all composure?

“I’ve liked you for so long, Molls. I just never let myself act on it because I didn’t think you felt the same. But now…”

Tyson trailed off again into nothing, letting out a whoosh of breath. The hope and wonder in his voice sent a thrill through Mollie’s body, her heart beating a little bit faster. Tyson liked her. He really liked her! And she’d told him how she felt about him too? She’d never thought this moment would actually happen. Definitely not since her emotional realisation a few evenings ago. But now that it was? It felt mindblowing. Was this really happening?

But there was still that niggle of doubt she couldn’t deny. So Mollie gathered her thoughts while Tyson stayed silent, hoping they wouldn’t bite her in the ass.

“I can’t do this if it’s just for the summer,” Mollie blurted, “I can’t be only a fling for you, Tyson. I wouldn’t be able to cope with that. Not with you.”

Tyson quickly shook his head, reaching out to clasp both of her hands in his, making her gasp softly at the warmth in his grip.

“You could never be a fling. This is the real deal between us, Mollie. I know it is. You know it is,” Tyson said firmly.

Mollie just nodded, choking out a laugh, unable to stop the tears welling up in her eyes as she smiled at him, earning a hopeful smile back. He was right. Deep down, no matter how her insecurities whispered, she knew that their friendship meant a solid foundation. It wasn’t a temporary wavering summer-fun. It was…everything.

“So what are you saying?” Mollie murmured, trying to blink away the tears.

Was this really happening?

“Will you be my girl?” Tyson asked, his voice full of hope.

Mollie choked a laugh, her voice thick with the tears that wouldn’t leave. “Yeah, Tys. I’ll be your girl,”

Tyson let out a whoop, throwing his head back, making Mollie laugh again. What a ridiculous guy. She liked him so much. He rested his forehead against hers, one hand rising to cup her cheek, making her inhale sharply as his eyes went more serious.

“Can I kiss you now? Finally?”

Mollie tilted her head up to press her lips to his in answer.

Being with Tyson was easy, easier than Mollie could’ve ever imagined. Somehow that transition from friends to boyfriend and girlfriend was seamless, with not even a little awkwardness like she’d feared there would’ve been. She attributed that to Tyson mainly though – he was such a driving force of happiness, and now that she’d allowed herself to feel all those thoughts she’d subconsciously pushed down before, it was like everything had clicked into place. It was almost like it was fate.

Fate that she was seizing with both hands and never letting go.

The moment that they’d returned to the cabins from the cove, Dante had taken one look at them and demanded Mat to ‘pay up’. Bryony had immediately pulled out her phone, typing away furiously, until she groaned and admitted that Allison had won their pool. Tyson had just laughed when he realised that everyone had been betting on the two of them, Mollie hiding her face in his chest with a groan. Somehow she wasn’t surprised – it was their friends after all – but that didn’t make her feel any better in the moment.

Nor did John’s smug texts – Michelle’s happy ones soothed that a little. She wasn’t surprised either when Tyson came to her after the weekend and admitted that John had given him a shovel talk in private, one that he refused to share the details of (so she knew it had to be violent), but when she’d texted John to berate him, all her brother said was that he approved and that Tyson was a good guy.

That much she knew already, thank you very much.

The rest of their summer raced by. After Mat and Dante left, JT stayed for two weeks, just as thrilled for them as Tyson’s other friends had been (especially since he won the bet he had with Alex Kerfoot about them). After JT left, Kacey and Tyson’s mom came up to stay for a week, and their genuine heartfelt welcome to the family talks left Mollie more emotional than ever, Tyson just smiling with watery eyes (that he later denied).

And obviously her parents were thrilled, Tyson being dragged down to a couple of family dinner over the remaining six weeks of summer, in between his intense workouts, getting him ready for the upcoming season.

But those six weeks flew by faster than Mollie anticipated, the end of summer drawing closer, and Tyson only had few weeks before he needed to get back to Buffalo for training camp. His time at his cabin had come to an end, as had Mollie’s, so he’d come to stay at her apartment with her while he figured out what he wanted to for his remaining time.

The more time Mollie could spend with him, the better, so she wasn’t going to complain. Especially if it meant waking up in Tyson's arms in the mornings. Even if it meant Tyson watching her with adoring expressions as she shuffled through old lesson plans to see which she could spruce up ahead of the upcoming school year.

A few days into them living in her apartment together though, Tyson made breakfast for them both and sat down opposite her with a serious expression on his face, making her a little nervous. They ate mostly in silence, the radio playing in the background, and it wasn’t until he’d put their plates in the sink that Tyson was ready to talk.

“Everything’s been so good between us, right?” he blurted.

The nervous expression on his face made her heart twinge, and not in a fun way.

“It has for me?” she offered, wincing.

“It has for me too, I promise,” he said quickly, taking the edge off her anxiety, “I just…I’ve been thinking a lot. About our future. Where we could end up. Where I want our relationship to end up.”

She tried valiantly to ignore how her heart started beating a little faster.

“What have you been thinking?” she prompted, hoping her voice didn’t sound too shaky.

“I don’t know where I’m going to end up with hockey in the future. The Avs didn’t want me, it didn’t work out with the Wild, and who knows where I’ll be after this coming year with the Sabres after all the up and down this past season. I don’t know where I’ll be playing or what city I’ll be in, but…will you come with me?”

Mollie’s jaw dropped slightly, her breath catching in her throat. He wanted her to go with him? To leave Kelowna? Tyson saw her shock and immediately reached across the island counter to take both of her hands in his, desperate to ground her as he knew she needed.

“I know this is fast, or at least it would be by normal relationship standards, but with how long we’ve known each other and with how right this feels…I just can’t bear the thought of another 9 months without you. Especially not in Buffalo,” Tyson said, his eyes wide and honest.

Go with Tyson? Uproot everything she’d ever known, move away from all her friends, her job, her life?

“Tyson, I…”

She trailed off, biting her lip, unsure of how to continue as her thoughts swirled. But as soon as she did, she noticed how Tyson’s shoulders slumped slightly, his grip on her hands going limp.

“No, you’re right. It’s too soon, isn’t it? I couldn’t ask you to give up your whole life, just like that, that's not fair on you,” Tyson sighed, finally dropping her hands.

Her breath caught in her throat at the defeat in his eyes. That, more than anything else, she hated. How he second guessed himself? His lack of self confidence? That devastation, it just wasn’t right. So Mollie shook her head, taking his hands back in hers.

“Tys, I need a moment to process, yeah?”

He nodded, a glimmer of hope entering his eyes again, making her smile slightly. Mollie huffed out a breath, running her thumbs over his knuckles, as she tried to process his words. Moving with Tyson – moving in with Tyson fully – would change everything. It would be the biggest step she’d ever taken with a relationship, but with Tyson it would be…

“Tell me what’s going through your mind,” Tyson begged, interrupting her flow.

“You just can’t stand the silence huh,” she teased, unable to resist.

“You know I can’t,” he laughed.

But the laugh was strained, making her sigh. Time to be honest.

“I guess…the main thing going through my mind is that this is such a big step,” she admitted.

“Yeah it is. But it’s also exciting? And I wouldn’t have asked you if I wasn’t sure it would work,” Tyson said honestly.

She couldn’t help but blush slightly. The fact that he was so certain about their relationship was refreshing. And she knew that Tyson always put his whole heart into everything, which was exciting - no-one else had ever had this conviction.

“What about my job? My friends? My family? And a visa? I’ve never even left BC, you know I haven’t,” Mollie prompted, going through all her doubts.

Tyson tilted his head back slightly, averting his eyes as he chewed his lip, clearly deep in thought. She couldn’t help but smile – he really was putting so much effort into this.

“I know you love teaching, even though the school you’re at right now has terrible parents…but I know you’d also smash any teaching job in any place, so I think that part is solvable? Family and friends though…that’s the big sacrifice. And I know, because it sucks leaving mine at the end of every summer. It’s sucked leaving you at the end of every summer, even though we were only ever just friends before. I don’t want to leave you again, but I understand if only seeing everyone else a few times a year outside of summer is a deal breaker,” Tyson sighed, “The visa thing I can work out with my agent, so that shouldn’t be an issue. And I know that you haven’t ever left BC – but there’s so much of the world I want to show you, even if that starts with Buffalo.”

Mollie huffed out a breath at his words, knowing he was speaking from the heart. But what should she do? Tyson watched the frustration play out across her face and smiled sadly, squeezing her hands in comfort.

“Hey, whatever you decide, just know that it won’t change how much I love you, yeah?” he said softly.

He loves her? Of all the times to drop that declaration, so simple and sweet. How could her heart not sing at that?

“My god, Tys, I love you too. So much. And you’re right, it would suck to watch you leave again because everything is so different this year. I finally have you and to lose you?”

Mollie frowned, shaking her head as she cut herself off. How could she let him go?

Tyson saw the change in her expression, a wide smile spreading across his lips. “So…?” he asked hopefully.

She laughed at his prompting, and squeezed his hands back.

“Yeah, Tyson, I’m willing to try this, to try us,” Mollie nodded, smiling, “I’ll move with you, to Buffalo, and then wherever you go after that.”

Tyson whooped and stood up from his chair, making her laugh again as he ran around to her side of the island, which quickly turned into a squeal as he threw his arms around her and picked her up to spin her in a circle. The joy in his face was just pure happiness, and Mollie knew right then that she’d made the right decision.

“I can’t wait to see what the future holds for us,” Tyson grinned, resting his forehead against hers.

There was so much to think about, with moving, with getting a visa, with her job, with her apartment in Kelowna. But a future with Tyson? That was all Mollie wanted - and she couldn’t wait to see what the future held for them either.

#my writing #tyson jost fic #summer days pass me by #tyson jost imagine #tyson jost fanfic #tyson jost x oc #nhl fic #nhl imagine #hockey fic #hockey imagine

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