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laurenairay · 26 days

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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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ohmyeyesmyeyes · 3 months

Text

MARTHA'S IS PRETTY ROMANTIC - CHAPTER TWO: JEALOUSY, JEALOUSY

summary: a lot can happen over two days, but the stand-out event just had to be that time you went to that restaurant and discovered that you didn't really enjoy seeing tyson flirt with other people. also: who the fuck is jamie?

warnings: awkwardness, mentions of anxiety, swearing, alcohol consumption, meddling, sexual tension, jealousy (both parties), tyson kind of being a dick

word count: 9.9k

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Mat and Toni, respectively, were on a mission. Oddly enough, neither of them had actually discussed their missions, because neither one was aware of the other’s mission. Mat didn’t know what Toni had been chatting about with you, and Toni didn’t know what Mat had been talking about with Tyson on the boat the day before.

But they each had a plan.

Both involved leaving you and Tyson alone at any possible opportunity. Take now, for instance, Toni was completely set on wringing the truth out of Mat about you and Tyson – but only after she’d insisted that she and Mat have a wander around some shops by themselves. That way she could kill two birds with one stone: talk to Mat and leave you and Tyson alone. (She had every intention of talking to Mat after tea, but as soon as the door shut…)

It was how you found yourself sitting at the window of yet another cute cafe, Tyson’s hat askew on your head after he kept complaining about it itching his forehead (he’d patted you rather condescendingly on your cheek when he placed it on you), the man himself at the till ordering your breakfast. There was a gift shop opposite, and it had taken approximately three people to walk out, all bearing paper bags for the idea to come to you.

“A cappuccino with pancakes, milady.” The tray was placed in front of you, as was a glass bottle with am orchid poking out of the top, and you looked up to come face to face with a grinning Tyson, who, after sitting down opposite you, rubbed his hands excitedly, “Fuck me, I’m starving.”

Your eyes wearily scanned over the heads of people in the near vicinity, a little worried that some kid had overheard, but everyone seemed consumed in their own company – no children in sight. You sat up a little straighter.

Martha’s was pretty romantic, wasn’t it?

You swallowed, trying to clear your mind, and almost as soon as your eyes landed on the food in front of you, you felt your stomach rumble loudly, “Me too.”

Tyson nodded, mouth full of his own stack of pancakes, and you stifled a laugh at his impatience, taking a sip of the coffee.

It had been less awkward than you’d initially expected – waking up next to Tyson – considering the comments you’d so thoughtlessly said. He’d actually not even been in bed when you’d woken up, and it took you getting dressed and wandering downstairs to find him also dressed, sitting on the porch swing with a glass of juice as he watched the water peacefully.

(You would have gone back inside after finding him, had he not spotted you and patted the place next to him – but you decided the extra time with him couldn’t hurt. And anyway, you’d both mostly just sat in silence, not really having anything to say.)

It wasn’t until you’d finished eating your pancakes, both your cups of coffee half-empty that you started talking, his eyes instantly snapping to yours, “I think I’m going to get something for Mat and Toni as a thank you for letting me crash their vacation, d’you want in on it?”

Tyson nodded, “Sounds good. You got any ideas?”

You shook your head, “There’s a gift shop across the street, I thought we could start there?”

“That’s fine by me.”

You offered a small smile, wondering if you were imagining the tension as Tyson averted his eyes back out of the window.

And you also didn’t know if he noticed your lingering stares, or if he purposefully chose to ignore it altogether. In fact, you were sure you’d rather it be the former, but you weren’t exactly being subtle. It was always pretty easy to notice when someone had just looked away from you when you looked straight at them – and each time Tyson caught you, you could almost draw the look on his face as he pressed his lips together to muffle a smirk.

“You done?” Tyson leant forwards across the table, peering into your empty coffee mug.

“Yeah.” You nodded, grabbing your bag from the back of your chair, a little distracted by something as your eyes scanned every person sitting at the table.

There were flowers on each table, as well as a few candles, and above the door were more flowers, and everything seemed to be a shade of pastel. The entire cafe seemed…lovey. Ribbons were wrapped around the cakes, and when you thought about it, even your pancake had a heart drawn out in whipped cream.

You hadn’t noticed you weren’t paying full attention to your surroundings until Tyson’s hand shot out to move a chair out of your way, knuckles protecting your leg from an inevitable bruise.

“Are you okay?” He mumbled, and you met his eyes, nodding a little overwhelmed.

His eyes were flickering across your face, no trace of a smile on his lips as he opened his mouth again. You waited for him to say something, but instead he stayed put and silent. It wasn’t until he raised his brows, more out of concern than amusement, that you remembered he’d asked you a question and you hadn’t answered.

“I’m fine.” You said weakly, flashing a tight smile.

He clearly didn’t buy it, but he nodded and continued the winding journey around the tables to get to the door, you at his heels, where he held the door open for you.

It was almost a relief to see the pavement and breathe in non-baked-treat air. It seemed to calm your raging mind – from where that little thing had come from, you didn’t quite know, but it was weird.

It wasn’t until Tyson was stepping up next to you, a strange look on his face that you realised quite what it was.

It was panic.

What for?

You didn’t quite know.

“You sure you’re good?” He asked, “You look a bit shaken up.”

“I’m fine, I just didn’t realise how…cutesy everything was here.”

He tilted his head, “What do you mean?”

You swallowed, looking right to avoid his stare. It felt insignificant and a little embarrassing to be admitting it out loud, but this was Tyson.

You’d passed him neon dino undies last night.

“Martha’s is pretty romantic, you were right.” You mumbled, crossing your arms protectively.

His face didn’t waver one bit, and you were glad, “Thought you said you weren’t allergic to romance?”

Your shoulders shrugged before you could stop it, “I wouldn’t really know.”

Tyson swallowed, a little confused by your words. You still looked distracted, eyes bouncing everywhere, cheeks a little red. If he didn’t know better, he’d have assumed you were about to bolt back to the house, but you stayed cemented to the concrete beneath your shoes, completely unmoving.

And he was about to inquire as to what you meant by that, because his mind was running around pretty quickly.

You wouldn’t know if you were allergic to romance? He had some serious questions, and if his hunch was right, he was about to get pretty pissed with some specific people that you—

Your eyes had settled. They were still moving, but the motion was less hectic and stressed. He followed your gaze, mouth parting at what you were looking at. It was an elderly couple walking down the other side of the street, hands clasped together, and bright smiles plastered on their faces as they conversed with each other.

Oh.

“You…” He started, trailing off. If he was being honest, he wasn’t quite sure where to start that conversation, or if he should start it.

But he knew what you were trying to say.

You turned to him, brow raised and a sigh leaving your mouth, “The gift shop?”

He just nodded.

***

You and Tyson were the first ones back at the house, feet sore and legs a little achy, immediately seeking out the comfort of the soft sofa cushions, deep sighs of satisfaction released from your very souls. Neither of you said a word to each other as Tyson took one end of the sofa and you took the other, feet stretched and overlapping in the centre, eyes glued to the TV screen.

There were much better views to be had in the house alone; the porch swing you’d both sat at earlier was wonderful, but once you’d walked through the front door, all of that logic had just vanished the moment the sofa was in your eyeline. It was comfy – much too comfy to even consider the thought of having to haul yourself up and walk back outside.

By the time the front door opened and the sound of Mat and Toni’s voices travelled through the corridor, Tyson was asleep, head resting uncomfortably on his shoulder, and you were blinking sleepily, the bags by the side of the sofa just out of reach.

“Oh, they’re here–”

You widened your eyes, a finger pressed to your lips as you pointed at Tyson’s sleeping form. His arms were folded against his chest, and it took Mat to lean over his head to see his closed eyes for him to believe you. He pulled a shocked face, disappearing into the hall where Toni was lining up their own bags at the bottom of the stairs, and dragged her out into the living room to laugh at Tyson.

“He’s gonna be so sore when he wakes up.” Mat whispered, once again eyeing Tyson’s positioning, “What did you do to him?”

You shrugged, “Nothing, we just walked around all day. We actually got you guys something, but I’d wait until he wakes up first.”

Toni silently cooed, a hand over her heart as she rounded the sofa to get a look at Tyson, “How long has he been asleep?”

“About twenty minutes.”

“Can I get a photo of you two?” Toni asked, already pulling out her phone, and you hesitated, eyes drifting to the way Tyson’s curls seemed to hang over his eyes with the low angle of his head.

He looked kind of adorable, actually. It wasn’t until Toni was encouraging you to look at the camera that you realised it was the first time you’d actually seen him asleep – he’d woken up earlier than you in the morning, and you’d both slept back-to-back in bed, limbs almost hanging off the edges because you were both too conscious of accidentally touching each other.

In fact, now that you were thinking about it, you weren’t sure he even slept a full eight hours. You’d both gone to bed pretty late, and he’d woken up early – you thought at the time the puffy-eyes were because he’d only just woken up, but now you were looking at him so completely out of it, that it had you wondering if he actually got any sleep at all.

You smiled as best as you could, though after Toni had lowered her phone, it dropped instantly. Mat fidgeted from the doorway, bringing bags of groceries through into the kitchen and shooting you a questioning glance.

“Should we wake him up?” He asked, wandering back into the living room, something else hidden in his eyes. It felt like you were missing something, but you weren’t well-versed enough in the ‘looks’ of Mr Barzal to catch onto what he was trying to ask.

You shook your head, “I don’t know if he slept properly last night. He went to sleep after me and he’d been out of bed a while by the time I went downstairs.”

“When did you wake up?”

“Eight-ish.”

Mat nodded, swallowing, before nodding, “Leave him until we’ve done dinner.”

You agreed, your attention going back to the TV until Mat and Toni had left the room. Then you turned to Tyson, where his feet were by your head, him pressed into the back of the sofa and you on the edge. If you moved or got out, you weren’t sure if he’d wake up at the lack of warmth, or if he’d be disturbed by the sofa dipping.

So you decided to stay put until Mat and Toni started cooking. Then, and very carefully, you peeled yourself off the cushions, cringing everytime Tyson seemed to twitch or move in his sleep – which was more or less successful, especially when you dared to risk putting a cushion between his head and shoulder, attempting to alleviate the inevitable neck cramp he’d experience when he’d wake up later.

And even though none of you were trying to be quiet, pottering around in the kitchen or conversing (the TV was also still on), Tyson still didn’t wake up. In fact, he seemed to slip further from the arm of the sofa until he was laid horizontally on the cushions, rolling over at one point to face the back.

It would have been endearing if you weren’t so worried about him.

And even after all the food had been cooked, and even after you’d filled him a plate up, not even the smell could wake him up.

“You gonna wake him up? Yeah, thanks.” It was Mat, escaping quickly out of the back door and joining Toni on the patio, leaving you alone in the kitchen, your sole focus still glued on the curly haired brunette curled up.

For some reason you’d expected Tyson to snore.

You stood at the front of the sofa, arms crossed. Waking people up was always a tricky thing to do, especially because it was always strangers you had to rouse; people were fussy and mardy about being woken up, but some people were impossible.

And you had a feeling Tyson belonged in the latter group, with the way he’d slept through the noise and commotion.

“Tys?” You asked, rather awkwardly trying to avoid touching him.

Nothing.

You sighed, reaching down to his jean-clad knee and shaking it. When that didn’t work, you contemplated tickling his feet, but the risk of getting kicked in the face was a little off-putting, and then you found yourself poking his cheek. Judging by the warmth radiating off him, you gathered he was pretty snug.

You threw a cautious glance over your shoulder, checking to ensure no one was watching through the window into the back garden, before kneeling down in front of the sofa, by Tyson’s head, and – rather nervously – reaching a hand into his hair. If nothing else worked, head or back scratches were always a pretty good shot.

“Tyson?” You murmured, nails gently scratching his scalp (his hair was softer than you’d imagined), and getting caught in his curls.

It took you using your other hand to flick his earlobe for a sign of life: he hummed, rolling onto his back and simultaneously forcing your hands off him. His eyes were still shut, face half-screwed up, and you held back a small laugh at his sleepy state.

“Tys,” you started, voice soft, “dinner’s ready.”

He slowly blinked awake, eyes immediately squinting at the lights above, before yawning and rolling his head towards you and scratching the beginnings of his facial hair on his chin, clearly a little confused.

“What?” He mumbled, a crease between his brows as he pushed himself up onto his elbows.

“Dinner. We’re eating outside.” You stood, pointing to the back door, where you knew he’d be able to see the outside lights from where he was laying.

“Already?” He asked, swinging his legs over the side and lifting his bare wrist up to his face, “What time is it?”

“Six.”

His eyes widened, and he stood up next to you, stretching and groaning at the relief in his joints. A rough palm cupped the side of his neck and he frowned at the dull ache, “How come no one woke me up?”

“We weren’t sure how much sleep you got.” You said, a little uncertain.

He nodded, though, but didn’t say anything else on the matter, “It takes a day or two for me to be able to sleep in a bed that’s not mine.”

You nodded, your gaze sympathetic as you led him to the back door, where Mat and Toni were sitting at the outside table opposite each other, drinks in hand and pasta bowls full, two empty seats next to them. When Tyson followed behind you, Mat cheered and Toni made a joke, but Tyson only shrugged, taking the seat opposite you, immediately digging into his food.

You snuck glances at him throughout the meal, noticing he had a little more colour than earlier – which wasn’t something you immediately noticed – and that the bags under his eyes looked less severe. Letting him sleep had clearly been the right idea.

“Right.” Mat clapped his hands together, before pointing to the conservatory behind Tyson and Toni, “Pool tournament anyone?”

You froze, mid-sip of your G&T, a pebble of dread settling in your stomach. Automatically, your eyes flickered to Tyson opposite, hoping he’d provide you with some reaction, but he was looking straight at Mat, a competitive gleam in his eye as he grinned, “I’m down. What’re the teams?”

And because you were still looking at Tyson over the top of your glass, admiring his almost childlike excitement, you missed the look Toni shared with Mat.

“Me and Tyson?” Toni spoke up, twirling with her earring as her attention focused on you.

In fact, after you’d swallowed another mouthful of your drink, all three pairs of eyes were on you, and you hastily turned to Mat, finding yourself nodding before you could even dare to protest.

You’d expected Mat to go with Toni considering their relationship and all, but you were probably in pretty secure hands if Mat was your teammate too (besides, you got the impression he’d probably be a little more honest with you than Tyson).

It was how you found yourself in the conservatory thirty-seven minutes later, holding a pool cue and dreading your turn.

You hadn’t played pool in ages, and your skill wasn’t that great then, so you’d prepared yourself for a game of failure and maybe a little embarrassment, but the alcohol would hopefully give you the confidence to embrace that fact.

Only, it seemed you didn’t have to worry too much about your ability, because everyone else was a little too inebriated to concentrate on hitting the ball accurately, and by the time it got to your turn, the only thing you couldn’t play off as the alcohol was actually holding the cue in your hands. You placed a hand on the table, mindful of the nearby balls, and lifted your palm onto your fingertips, slotting the cue between the crevice of your thumb and pointer finger.

Now for the aim: you looked down the cue, lining it up with the cue ball, which was also straight on and in line with a solid ball. If you slammed the cue ball into the solid ball, you’d knock it against the side and…more or less near a pocket.

In your peripherals you could hear Mat and Toni muttering to each other, shoulder to shoulder – clearly no love lost even despite the competition – and you inhaled, steadying your hands, before pulling the cue back and smacking the cue ball; only your angle was a little off, and the ball landed…just shy of the pocket.

You stood up, unable to help beaming to yourself. It wasn’t as bad as you’d initially predicted.

“Boom.” Mat stepped forward, knuckles bumping against yours in celebration.

“You can do the next one.” You mumbled, taking a step towards the shelf on the wall and drinking a mouthful of your drink.

When you turned back around, the first thing you saw was Tyson. He was standing on the opposite side of the table, both hands clasping his cue, and his eyes were trained on you. He caught your stare, pointedly glancing back at the table before mouthing ‘you’re going down, fucker’.

You stifled a grin, and if it were months earlier, you’d have probably teased back something along the lines of ‘on who, you?’, but this was now, and something had admittedly changed the entire dynamic of your friendship – probably for the worse, because as much as you tried to deny it, with all the odd tense moments, there was something beginning to nag at the back of your mind that nothing good could come of it, and you were downright petrified of even the thought of not having Tyson in your life.

So you stuck your middle fingers up at him in playful competitiveness, a dead serious look on your face, ‘in your fucking dreams’.

The smirk and adamant shake of his head in response did nothing to change the fact that you and Mat absolutely thrashed Tyson and Toni. So much so that Tyson pushed you into the pool after teasing him too much, though not before you could grab his shirt and pull him in after you.

You both went to bed with aching cheeks after that.

***

“Hey.”

“Hi,” you looked up at the owner of the shadow that had darkened the printed words in your book significantly – not that you needed to look at him; you would have recognised his voice through a fucking whisper – and faced an extremely familiar silhouette, blocking your strip of sun on the lounger. His chest was heaving a little and his entire upper body seemed to be glistening with sweat, even to the edge of his curls as they caught the sunlight, and he stood before you with his hands on his hips, looking undeniably and frustratingly attractive, “where were you this morning?”

You blinked, finding some semblance of safety and solace behind the dark lenses of your sunglasses, eyes secretly roaming…everywhere. You weren’t aware of the phenomenon of someone getting unbearably more attractive by the day, but you were absolutely certain the person standing in front of you was experiencing it in real-time.

Like the day before, you’d woken up by yourself in bed. The sting of disappointment was still there, but you’d managed to get yourself used to it; your expectations were lower and a part of you seemed to acknowledge the fact that his hockey schedule had his internal clock waking up about two hours earlier than you. According to Toni, the same went for Mat, too.

His broad shoulder shrugged, “I went to the gym with Mat and then we both went on a run for a bit. Why, d’you miss me?”

“I just haven’t seen you before ten in the morning, yet.” You excused, moving your hand to shield yourself from the onslaught of the sun – to say it was late morning and the back garden at the house Mat had rented was facing away from the sun, it wasn’t half blazing.

Tyson raised his brows, his cheeks still a little red from the exercise, “You mean you want to see me before ten?”

In truth, somehow you felt as though things between you and Tyson had eased a little – despite the fact this was the first time you were even interacting with the man since last night; something had just been sorted. It felt as though a squeaky joint had been oiled, though you felt partially that it was the buffer of one day separating you from the awkward comment you’d made about dressing him.

Nevertheless, you welcomed the previous ease with a smile and a fluttering heart. After all, he was standing in front of you perfectly tanned and sweaty and with a glorious smile on his face as he looked straight at you. There wasn’t really anything you could complain about.

“I mean,” you started, “I’d like to at least wake up with you in bed.”

He swallowed, “Oh, really?”

“It’d make me feel less like a lazy-ass.”

“Is that the only reason?”

“No.” For some reason, you were gripped by a sense of boldness that had never really shown itself, “I bet you look cute in your PJ’s.”

Even in the ensuing silence you didn’t take your eyes off of him. It felt like a pointless exercise at this point.

Except, what he answered next seemed to just blow your mind into smithereens.

“I only wear boxers.”

The shorts he’d gone jogging in weren’t all that long compared to the usual sports attire you’d seen him in and the tease of imagining him in only boxers – like the night you’d made that god-awful comment – sent your mind spiralling and your cheeks heating in misplaced anticipation. You knew he looked good in boxers; anything that highlighted the bulk of his thighs and the muscles in his chest and abs seemed to do the job, and knowing that each night so far he’d been sleeping in so little couldn’t help but render you into speechlessness.

Still, you feigned indifference, “I stand by what I just said.”

“I wear a PJ-based outfit nearly everyday,” he excused, swiping a hand across his face, “I’m gonna go shower and then I’ll come back out. Where’s Mat and Toni?”

“Toni’s wandering around and Mat’s in the shower I think.”

“In that case, I’ll be back down soon.”

“‘Kay.”

And Tyson remained true to his promise, returning not even ten minutes later wearing a pair of swimming trunks and a smile as he plopped down on the empty bed next to you, a bottle of sunscreen in his hand. Your eyes remained loyally on the book in your hands, even as he began lathering himself in sunscreen, his skin almost shimmering in the glint of the sunlight.

At least, you didn’t look until his struggle became a little obvious.

“Do you think you could get my back? Please?” He asked, twisting from where he was sitting, the bottle still in his hand but within reachable distance.

In all honesty, you never even had the thought to say no. Why would you?

“Sure.” You tucked your bookmark into the crease of your book, placing it on the bed before swinging your legs over the side of the lounger, choosing to spray the suncream onto the palms of your hands first instead of straight onto his back.

It was no secret that Tyson, along with the general hockey population, had broad shoulders. It was hard to miss; sometimes the seams on his t-shirts stretched a little too much for comfort, or sometimes the seams just simply weren’t aligned with the angles and joints of his shoulders. It wasn’t something you hadn’t noticed before, but it was a whole other thing to experience when your hands were touching him.

He was warm, and his skin was deliciously soft.

It was actually the first time you’d ever touched him skin-to-skin, and he seemed to remember that fact entirely when he shivered, bending his head to his feet to hide the planes of his face from your suspicious eyes. Only, once you’d touched him, it seemed to leave an uncomfortable tingling in your palms.

“Hang on, I think I missed a spot.” You mumbled, squirting some more lotion into your hands.

The relief seemed to kick in when your hands were back on his skin once more, and the confusion of that realisation seemed to send your heart hammering so forcefully against your ribs that it was almost painful.

Tyson’s back was so covered in suncream by the end of it, you’d be shocked if he even got any tanning done in the first place.

He cleared his throat when you clicked the lid back on the bottle, but when he turned back around, there was a little extra something in his eyes when he looked at you. His eyes usually were softer with you, but there was something else hidden in the depths of the dark pools; something you couldn’t quite translate, because you’d never exactly seen that specific kind of look directed at you.

Ever.

You swallowed, trying to ignore the immediate and instantaneous flush of your cheeks as you ducked your head, tucking some hair behind your ear just to give your hands something else to do to distract yourself from the dissatisfaction at not touching him still.

You thought the idea of losing Tyson was the most terrifying thing you’d ever imagined, but it was nothing compared to the devastation you could experience if it meant you’d never be able to do…that.

And that seemed to send you spiralling a little.

Until, of course, he intervened.

“Do you want me to do your back?” He posed, an empty hand held out.

You nodded, swinging your legs over the other side of the lounger. If anything it gave you time to stall and reorganise your own face so that when you inevitably looked at him again, you’d at least appear somewhat normal.

This is what Tyson had meant when he’d told Mat your relationship was complicated.

His hands were like an antidote to the thoughts swirling in your mind, and for a brief moment, everything went silent. He took his time, hands even smoothing under the strap of your bikini, yet not straying into disrespectful territory. You wondered if he was having the same internal monologue as you, but even though you tried to ignore it, there was a small part of you wondering if this was something he had come to terms with a while ago – especially if he’d told that to Mat so long ago.

Nothing seemed to quieten your mind when, not even five minutes later, you turned back to your book. Your eyes were skimming pointlessly over the words, but nothing was quite registering, the main voice heard being the one in your mind, practically screaming mindless and senseless theories at you whilst Tyson laid peacefully next to you.

***

The rest of the day seemed to go by like someone had held in a fast-forward button: nothing but a blur of light and colours or a cacophony of sound. You knew nothing extensively productive had been done; mostly just relaxing by the beach and pool respectively, trying to recuperate the energy everyone had burnt and spent yesterday.

And naturally, after a full day of lounging around, you’d all pretty much agreed dinner out was the best way to go: you’d yet to go to a local restaurant, and no one could really be bothered actually cooking after the barbeque yesterday (there was also the washing up, and absolutely no one was willing to stick their hands in a scalding tub of water in this hot weather).

It took about ten minutes to decide on which restaurant to choose that’d cater to everyone’s tastes, and you were pretty glad at how it had turned out. The place wasn’t too busy, and by the time you’d all sat down at the table and already managed to work your way through two rounds of drinks, the role of ordering the next round had miraculously fallen to you.

It was how you found yourself leaning against a sticky bartop, forearms aching slightly at the pressure of leaning against the wood. The drinks you’d had so far hadn’t kicked in yet or provided you with some relief to get away from Tyson’s burning gaze and dim the sharp awareness you seemed to have developed in the last twenty-four hours, but even so, you didn’t notice the figure next to you until he’d shuffled close enough for you to smell his cologne and feel the material of his shirt against your bare upper arm.

“Woah.” You muttered, taking a sidestep to avoid getting shoved into.

Luckily, the guy didn’t follow your movements, but when you turned to see what had happened, he was wearing a friendly smile and holding his hand out for you to shake – not only was it a little creepy, probably trouble, but it was entirely inconvenient considering the fact that you could still feel Tyson’s searing stare on you from the other side of the room.

Your skin prickled with it, and you felt kind of glad you’d been told to get the next round because at least it was an excuse to get some fresh air without feeling so on edge all the time (and it wasn’t even like Tyson had done anything – that was all you, which made it all the more difficult to deal with).

“Sorry, I tried getting your attention but I don’t think you heard me.” The man explained politely, his hand still suspended between you both, “I’m Jamie.”

You tilted your head, taking him in. There was something about him that was vaguely familiar, like you’d either met him before or he just had one of those annoying faces that reminded you of someone you couldn’t put your finger on; he had thick blonde hair that curled under his ears and seemed to fall in layers on the top of his head, and very clear sea-green eyes. There was a rugged handsomeness about him, and whilst you pasted a polite smile on your face, you shook his hand.

And almost as soon as you made the move to do so, his face seemed to crumple as his brows furrowed and his lips parted – all attempts at possibly flirting flying right out of his head.

“Do I know you?”

“Have we met before?”

You spoke at the same time, both now wearing equal expressions of confusion, and unable to help laughing a little awkwardly, minds racing.

You introduced yourself, wondering if your name might ring a bell, but he shook his head, the creases on his forehead deepening.

“Nothing.” He said, “I do know you, though.”

It was a blunt thing to say to a stranger, and if it weren’t for the way your brain seemed to also be spinning you’d have probably run the opposite way, but you felt glued to the spot. It was like your brain wouldn’t let you move until you figured out just what significance Jamie had in your life.

“Where did you grow up?” He asked, tapping his fingers against the bartop, his eyes momentarily leaving you to flicker to the front of the line.

No one had budged: there was only one bartender, and apparently everyone ahead of you in the queue had also been designated to buy the next round and was ordering drinks for their groups, because each person was taking a while to be served.

“Minnesota.” You answered, “You?”

This was fucking weird.

“Fort Mac. College?”

“Penn State.”

“UBC.” He sighed, scratching the scruff on his chin and letting out a sound that was somewhere between a frustrated huff and a psychotic cackle.

It made you smile a little.

“Where do you live now, if you don’t mind me asking?” You asked, raising a brow.

He could be a friend’s ex? Or an old work colleague? A family friend? A neighbour?

Jamie swung his gaze back to you, and there was a flicker of something that seemed to click in your mind. A fragment of a memory – it was a split second of a frame of something, but the face in it was younger: his cheeks were a little fuller and he didn’t have any facial hair.

But before you could grasp onto it, the flicker of recognition seemed to dissipate completely, leaving you just as clueless as before.

“Fuck.” You groaned, “I thought I had it, then.”

Jamie laughed, it was a deep, gravelly sound that seemed to resonate in your bones, and from where you’d put your hand against your head in frustration, you turned to him.

He was actually quite pretty for a man. It was a realisation, sure, but with that also came the knowledge that when you thought that thought, you felt…nothing. There was nothing.

Oh no.

You swallowed, risking a glance back at your table to see Tyson chatting to Toni about something, and almost instantly the symptoms seemed to kick in: your hands got clammy and your pulse picked up. Your eyes caught Mat over all the customers, and he flashed a concerned thumbs up, clearly hinting at Jamie, and you offered a smile, repeating his action, before turning back to the man at hand.

You must really like Tyson.

Like a lot.

You cleared your throat, trying to distract yourself from the way your thoughts seemed to take a spiral down and remove you from your present being, but before you could even conjure up something to say, Jamie had gasped – as far as a man of his stature could do such a thing.

“I know.” He stuttered, pointing a finger at you with a wild look in his eyes, “I live in Vancouver right now, but you live in Buffalo, right?” He asked, talking quickly as though he was afraid he’d lose his train of thought mid sentence.

All you could do was nod.

“We met before at a hockey game in Vancouver, it was against Buffalo, and you were in the drinks line with a friend and you guys overheard me tell my buddy about something–”

Tyson felt off – only he knew the sole reason for the off-feeling and also knew what the off-feeling was: it didn’t take much guessing or analysing on his behalf. All he had to do was sneak a glance at you out of the corner of his eye (Toni was still talking to him, but every so often he felt like his eyes were just pulled in your general vicinity), and the reason for the prickle of his jealousy was staring right back at him.

There was a guy talking to you. Tyson wouldn’t have minded at all if it didn’t look like you two knew each other, or the fact that as the line grew shorter your conversation seemed to get more animated. You’d been laughing, the guy had been laughing, and Tyson wasn’t unaware of the fact that he was attractive.

No, that was a fact he was painfully aware of.

And he knew the whole jealous thing wasn’t necessarily a possessive spirit, because instead of feeling the need to walk over and interrupt, all he felt was a vague swell of panic that had been slowly building under his sternum and had spread out across his ribs. He felt his heart rate pick up and his mind disconnect itself from Toni’s conversation (she wa a little tipsier than everyone else, and Mat was involved in the conversation too, so he assumed Toni wouldn’t be able to pick up on his lack of presence), and he had to swallow the rising lump in his throat.

He’d never been affected by you like that before, and a part of him knew it was because whenever you two would see each other outside of hockey fixtures, it’d just be the two of you, which meant he was blissfully unaware of other people’s intentions with you. In fact, when he thought about it, he didn’t think he could ever remember feeling threatened by someone else that could hurt his chances with you – although at the time he hadn’t had any kind of hope that you’d reciprocated his buried feelings, so things were a little different.

Even so, he still wasn’t sure about how you felt, and he was far too much of a chicken to outright ask you.

Something drove against his shin under the table, pulling him out of his thoughts. He turned straight to Mat, who was shooting him a pointed glare and subtly nodding his head in Toni’s direction and Tyson had the horrid feeling as though he’d just been caught ignoring her.

He cleared his throat, turning to Toni with an apologetic smile, “Sorry, what were you saying?”

Toni took a sip of her drink, trying to hide the knowing smile on her face. Tyson might have unintentionally not heard what she’d said, but one glance at his eyeline gave her all the answers she could ever need, and for that, she rather found Tyson getting distracted amusing (even if she repeatedly said his name to get his attention – Tyson could do little wrong in her eyes, ever).

“I was asking if you had any ideas on what we could do tomorrow?” Toni repeated gently.

Tomorrow, tomorrow, tomorrow. Tyson was thinking, but his mind was blank. All he could picture was the word and Toni’s face as she waited patiently for an answer.

He cleared his throat, “I don’t know, what’re you guys thinking?”

“We were thinking we all do our own thing and then have a movie night?” Mat proposed, shrugging as he kept one arm over the back of your empty chair. And like there was some magnetic pull towards you, Tyson flickered his attention over to you.

He wished he hadn’t.

The guy was scribbling something down on a piece of paper, and you took it from him with a smile.

Tyson ducked his head, staring into the bottom of his empty beer glass, a little despondent, “Yeah, that sounds fine by me.” He mumbled, completely missing the shared look between Mat and Toni.

“You okay, Tys?” Mat asked, and though he was somewhat amused by his friend’s lovesick symptoms, he was equally as concerned for his quietness. Tyson wasn’t usually so silent; most of the time he was always engaged in some kind of enthusiastic conversation – and it was pretty rare that he wasn’t smiling.

He just nodded, changing the subject, “Why don’t you guys use those spa vouchers we got you for tomorrow?”

“Oh,” Toni hummed, looking at Mat, “That sounds like a nice idea.”

“Yeah, we can do that.” Mat agreed.

“Sorry it took so long, the queue was pretty slow.” You retook your seat, the previous conversation coming to an abrupt end – causing you to raise a curious brow.

Your eyes swept right over Mat and Toni, both of whom eagerly took their drinks off the tray muttering their thank you’s, and came to rest on Tyson. He took his drink all the same, but there was a weight and heaviness on his face – it looked like concentration with the way his mouth had twisted to one side, but he hadn’t even acknowledged your presence.

“Is everything okay?” You directed the question to the group, but your eyes slipped unintentionally to Tyson, who shrugged.

“Yeah, we were just talking about tomorrow. Mat and I are gonna use those spa vouchers you got us.” Toni explained, and you nodded.

“Sounds like a plan.”

And with that, the conversation started flowing again – but your attention was still somewhat tied to Tyson, who still hadn’t said anything.

You tried to get his attention by sneaking unsubtle glances at him in the hopes he’d look back, but it worked to no avail.

“I need the bathroom.” He excused himself quickly, not making eye contact with anyone at the table before he’d turned on his heel to make his way to the bathroom. There was a patterned divider screen paving the short corridor before his figure completely disappeared from view as the door shut behind him.

When you turned back to Toni and Mat, the question of whether he was alright or not died on your tongue at the way they were both looking at you.

“What?” You questioned, your hand immediately going to rest against the cool glass of your drink.

They were both looking at you with identical expressions of something on their faces, but you couldn’t quite place the meaning of it.

It was Mat who took the liberty of answering your question, “He saw you talking to that guy at the bar.”

Oh.

“So?”

Toni laughed softly, “So he got jealous.”

You felt yourself pull a face at her words, almost scoffing in disbelief, but no words came to mind.

“You two did look pretty cosy.” Toni continued, arching a brow in your direction as she elegantly took a sip of wine, peering at you over the top of her glass.

“We weren’t flirting.” You excused, shaking your head as your eyes went back to the divider near the bathroom.

“Josty didn’t know that.” Mat said, “But he did see you guys laughing–”

“And he saw the piece of paper he gave you.”

“There was a piece of paper?” Mat’s eyes widened, before he winced, “Ouch.”

You sighed, rolling your eyes, “His name is Jamie and we met a few months ago at a Buffalo-Vancouver game and he gave me his number, yeah, but it was because he mentioned his company had a position in his Buffalo office–”

“He offered you a job?” Mat tilted his head in your direction, shock clearly written across his features.

You shook your head, “He told me about a job; it pays better than my current one and it doesn’t involve a fifty-minute commute. I think I’d be pretty crazy not to consider it.”

They were both silent.

“So he really wasn’t flirting?” Mat double-checked, and you sighed, a little frustrated.

“He tried to, but I told him I wasn’t interested.”

“Why?” Toni shot back, interest in her eyes.

You huffed, and maybe if you weren’t already a little tipsy, you’d have said something about not knowing why, but the alcohol currently in your system as well as the sips you’d taken from your new round made you a little less self-conscious of being honest…at least to a certain extent, “Because he’s not my type.” You shrugged.

“And your type is what, exactly?”

And then you went silent. The hand clasped around your glass seemed to react before you could register what you were doing, but you raised the glass and took a mouthful.

Mat, however, seemed to have the opposite reaction. He slumped comfortably in his chair, a lazy smirk on his lips, “Your type is Tyson.”

And if you were being honest, the thing that stung you most wasn’t necessarily the truth: that perhaps the pinnacle of ‘your type’ was Tyson after all, but the fact that other people had caught on. You weren’t entirely aware your recent not-so-subtle crush on Tyson had been obvious – mostly considering it was a realisation that you’d come to within the last few days.

“Come on, you guys have liked each other for months–”

What. The. Fuck.

“What the fuck.” You breathed, unable to help the comment slip out of your mouth in shock, “No.”

Mat frowned, his brows knitting together as he shook his head in your direction, an adamant expression on his face as he seeked out Toni for reassurance, “Yes.”

You inhaled sharply, hand now pressed against the table, “No, I didn’t figure that out until literally two days ago. I’m only now realising that I’ve been crushing on him this entire time. Some fucking denial…”

Once more, a shroud of silence seemed to envelope the entire table. Mat remained frozen, crazy eyes fixated on you (not that you blamed him, you weren’t entirely sure you weren’t making this entire conversation up in your own head at this point), and Toni’s mouth had dropped in shock.

Then, something seemed to crawl across your skin. It was a prickle of foreboding, something that could have been easily mistaken for anxiety had you not had the displeasure of experiencing said emotion firsthad, but this kind was unfamiliar.

Again, like your body was trying to tell you something, your eyes circled back to the divide near the bathroom.

Something sour immediately seemed to collect in your stomach, and you swallowed harshly, tearing your eyes away from the scene with a curl of displeasure fogging your brain, “Looks like you were wrong on his behalf, though.”

In his defence, Tyson was ambushed. He was wholly and honestly ambushed right from the second he stepped out of the bathroom door. He hadn’t seen it coming; though who could? She’d been blocking his path back to the table completely and he couldn’t even say he’d ever seen her before, and the second she introduced herself with that sultry smile he knew what was about to happen. It was something that had happened numerous times before, and not something he could say was exactly convenient in that exact moment – especially if you were to look straight over, because from your seat he knew you had a pretty solid view of the doors, kind of like how he’d had a pretty solid view of the bar not even ten minutes ago.

Perhaps it was karma. Maybe it was a coincidence. Or maybe it was an opportunity to get back at you, to see just how you’d act when he sat back down at the table. If you were completely normal, he’d know for certain you weren’t even the slightest bit interested, but if you weren’t? Well, he’d definitely take note and then have to ask Mat how to proceed because he wasn’t that good at stuff like that.

Though, he tended to be good at it when you were involved, but that was riding on a major ‘if’.

It was why he (rather cruelly) entertained himself in the conversation with the lady clearly waiting for him. She was bold, he’d give her that, but she wasn’t you – could never be you.

“Are you liking Martha’s so far?” She asked, tilting her head seductively in his direction, and Tyson physically restrained himself from sneaking a glance in your direction.

“Yeah, it’s pretty incredible. Good views, and all. What about you, you having fun?” He couldn’t ever say he was good at talking to people he didn’t know, because if he did he was sure he’d be branded some kind of world-class liar, but he attempted it, at least for appearance’s sake.

“I mean,” She laughed, placing an unwanted hand on his bicep that he’d luckily kept covered with a blazer, “I could be having more fun, if you get my drift.” She raised an eyebrow, and to be polite, Tyson shuffled out of her grip subtly, and although she dropped her hand, the smirk on her face remained pretty steady.

He laughed a little awkwardly, something between a grimace and a smile on his face, “I do, but I’m taken.” He lied easily, this time momentarily making direct eye contact with you for a brief second. He couldn’t decide if his heart simply stuttered or actually stopped beating, but he swore when you looked away he’d never felt so aware of what he was doing.

He was being a dick just to get a reaction out of you.

“Oh.” The girl’s expression dropped and she took a respectful step back, “I apologise.”

“No need, I...” Tyson shrugged, trailing off pathetically.

Then she turned around, clearly able to focus on exactly who had stolen his attention for that brief moment, and when she looked back at Tyson there was a gleam of understanding on her face, “She’s beautiful.”

“I know.” There wasn’t even a debate about it, the words had just flown so freely out of his mouth that he couldn’t ever really imagine saying anything with such confidence in his entire life.

The girl flashed a soft smile, the kind that had Tyson wondering if she ever really had the true intention of really flirting with him, and simply wandered into the ladies bathroom next to him.

He remained rooted to the spot, his mind reeling. Really, he was flattered, but other women flirting with him had never felt so uncomfortable. He felt the awkward desire to apologise to you for some reason; it wasn’t as though there was anything tying him to you on any kind of level. There’d only been a few moments but not enough for him to hate it when it wasn’t you flirting with him. Surely?

He cleared his throat, hand over his chest as he looked up. Straight in your direction. The food had arrived, the plate in his empty place steaming, but it was the look on your face that had him moving. You’d bitten the inside of your cheek and there was a thoughtful, vacant look in your eyes – something was up.

Only, when he’d returned to his seat, you ignored his questioning glance and instead offered a tight, clearly irritated smile.

And something dropped in his stomach: it felt an awful lot like guilt.

***

Somewhere along the lines it was decided a walk back to the house would be a good way to end the night. Mat and Toni were walking ahead of you and Tyson, hands intertwined and hushed conversation flowing easily. It couldn't have been more opposite than yours and Tyson’s current situation.

There was at least an arm’s length between you both, and neither of you had spoken a single word since the restaurant.

It was awkward.

He had still given you his jacket, though – but even that went without words other than your concerned glance to his bare arms (he shrugged), and a muttered thank you.

You wanted to ask if he was okay, there was just something nagging you in the back of your mind, but you pushed it down. It wasn’t even fair of you to be a little pissed at him, but you were. In fact, you were more pissed at yourself. Perhaps if it hadn’t looked as though you were flirting with Jamie, Tyson wouldn’t have flirted with the gorgeous girl outside the bathroom.

Then again, you had learnt a lesson from tonight, so you’d chosen to take that presumption with a pinch of salt, because if you didn’t, you’d be a whole hypocrite.

You just needed a breather, and the only way you could process everything in your head and everything your body was telling you about the man next to you, was to process it in silence. In your own head and on your own terms.

Hopefully the processing wouldn’t last too long, though.

“Excuse me.” You stopped, twirling around at the sound of a soft, delicate voice. Your arms immediately uncrossed from against your chest, coming to rest at your sides as you flashed a polite smile at the elderly couple that had stopped you.

Your eyes automatically flickered down to their chained arms, and that slow sense of panic from yesterday began to tease at your insides again.

“Is everything alright?” You asked.

The sound of footsteps getting closer registered somewhere in the back of your mind, and your skin seemed to erupt in goosebumps when a subconscious part of your mind registered it was Tyson that had pressed himself closer to you. Again, he wasn’t touching you, but you could still feel his presence and warmth.

You’d never really been this in-tune with him before.

The man smiled back up at you, and you ignored the way his wife’s curious eyes slipped to Tyson behind you, “It is, but we’re just a little bit lost, and we were wondering if you could point us in the right direction?”

You nodded instantly, automatically turning to Tyson, who’d already read your mind and was pulling up maps on his phone, “Where do you need to be?”

The man – Eric – answered, and you nodded in understanding, curling your head to look down at Tyson’s phone. You felt your heart start to race at the closeness: he was still standing a little behind you, but he’d placed his phone in a position you could also see his screen, so all you had to do was turn your head a little to the right, his curls ticking the top of your head.

Neither one of you made a move to inch away.

“I’m really sorry if I’m overstepping here, but you two make a lovely couple.” The lady – Freda – said a little sheepishly.

The breath in your chest seemed to still, and you felt your mouth form a shape, but no sound came out. Luckily, Tyson seemed to take the lead, his media training and prep for keeping a straight face and calm demeanour (all of which you were failing ridiculously in) being used to–

“Thank you.”

You inhaled sharply, head snapping back to him in surprise. Of all things you’d expected him to say, a simple thank you was most definitely not on the cards – at all. In fact, you’d fully prepared for him to shoot it down with a smile, but here he was, accepting it with a smile.

And you misjudged exactly where he was, because in all the heart-stopping seconds you’d just experienced, it hadn’t even occurred to you that he’d also turned to face the couple. So when you turned back to him, chest aching with something that had recently come into fruition, you turned into him.

The proximity of your faces was so close that even with a small breath you could feel it fan across your cheeks. His nudged your cheek, and almost as though it was rehearsed, both of your gazes instantly went to the other’s mouth.

Before flicking back up to the eyes, and when you did, something seemed to crack. Or click. You couldn’t quite determine which, but there was a heavy vulnerability written there clear as day: he was just as taken aback by the sudden closeness as you were, though he seemed to have mastered the ability to hide the rest of his emotions pretty well.

As for you, you were sure he could see just about everything on your face.

Before the moment could be ruined, you took one daring look back at his lips, suddenly struck with the strength of the magnetism between you both. You felt compelled to kiss him then. The thought had the corner of your mouth twitching up fractionally and your breath hitching in your chest, because that idea wasn’t at all as petrifying as you thought it would be.

You wanted to kiss Tyson in a way that if you did, it’d just screw you both up.

He must have been on a similar wavelength, however, because his cheeks seemed to colour and his tongue darted out to wet his lips, almost testing you, a hungry glint in his eyes.

And then it was over as quickly as it had happened.

The couple got their directions and you and Tyson all but speed-walked home in the exact same situation as before the interruption: maintaining a safe distance and in an awkward silence, though this time for a slightly different reason.

“I’m going to bed.” You announced immediately after walking through the front door, needing to sit in silence in the dark for a while longer.

Tyson.

Your brain just seemed to scream his name, and although you knew exactly what it meant, it didn’t mean you weren’t a little intimidated by the prospect of it. Only, when he came upstairs twenty-minutes later, you were laid on your side facing the window, and he didn’t bother to be quiet, probably assuming you weren’t asleep anyway, and threw a piece of screwed up paper onto your bedside table with an audible, resigned sigh.

You felt him hesitate, and you cracked your eyes open a little to see him with his hands over his face before they fell down to his sides in resignation. There was a hardness to his jaw and he looked…devastated.

It wasn’t until he’d gone into the bathroom that you unfurled the piece of paper, nerves haywire at what exactly could have caused such a dramatic change in demeanour.

Fuck.

Jamie’s number.

You placed the paper back where he put it, anxiety crushing through your system when there was a muted sigh from inside the bathroom, followed by a muffled bang.

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

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comphy-and-cozy · 8 months

Note

🦋anddd could i request prompt 45 with tyson jost as a blurb?? can’t wait for these!!

xoxo love you @fallinallincurls

Prompt: #45 "I'm marrying that sweet son of a bitch."

Pairing: Tyson Jost x Reader

Word Count: ~530

Warnings: Alcohol use and chaos

This is inspired entirely by that video of Mel yelling at Gabe for being an idiot before their wedding (if anyone has it pls send me the link bc I looked for it forever but couldn't find it)

It's a perfect July day. The sun is out, with not a cloud in the sky. Music plays through the speakers, some kind of backyard-BBQ-easy-listening playlist on Spotify that keeps the mood light, fun, ready for a party. Well, an even bigger party than the one you’re at—this is like the pre-party to the pre-party.

You’re getting married this weekend, and to accommodate your friends and family who have traveled from far away to be here for you, your fiancé reserved a large (read: huge) Airbnb for everyone to gather. One thing turned into another, and somehow it’s become the pre-game for the welcome dinner, taking place later tonight. Your entire wedding party is here, along with a few scattered members of each of your families, milling about in the pool, playing cornhole, catching up with one another after a summer apart.

But by the looks of it, and judging by the overflowing bin of empty seltzer cans and beer bottles, this gang might not be making it to the welcome dinner tonight. Barzy, Dante, Kacey, and Jesse are engaged in an intense chicken match, sloshing water across Gabe, who’s shouting complaints about messing up his hair. Beside them, JT’s shirt is off, his shoulders fried, and you’re about to yell at him to put on some sunscreen because the best man can't look like a lobster on the wedding day, when you catch sight of a curly head darting around, zooming by on a children’s tricycle—where did that even come from?

“Tyson, I swear to God, if you break your face, I’m going to kill you,” you shout at him, immediately envisioning him falling over, scraping up his handsome face the before the wedding, leaving your poor photographer to frantically photoshop out the inevitably gruesome skid mark on his face.

But he’s not listening, his eyes set on the ramp that Nate is standing proudly beside. “Babe, watch this!”

You watch in horror as he pedals his legs faster, zooming up the ramp and launching off of it before Nate is tossing a beer at him. Tyson catches it in mid-air, pouring only a small stream into his mouth before he’s flying into the water, the splash sending water whooshing over the edge of the pool. He surfaces a few moments later, shaking the water out of his curls amid loud guffaws and cheers from his mates, shouting, “Tyson! Tyson! Tyson!”

Shaking your head, you laugh, amused at his stupidity, and thankful his little stunt didn't end in a disaster. But then, a moment later, you feel a pair of strong arms lifting you up off the ground and you’re shrieking, arms flailing around. The flash of red hair is the last thing you see before they release you and you’re falling, soon crashing into the water yourself, submerged beneath the rippling pool.

When you rise to the surface, it’s your name that everyone’s chanting, and soon enough, Tyson’s swimming toward you to lift you up in his arms and plant a wet, sloppy kiss on your lips.

Pure happiness and mirth fills your soul, smiling so hard your cheeks hurt, and you can’t help it when you exclaim, “I’m marrying this sweet son of a bitch!”

#tyson jost blurb #tyson jost fic #nhl imagine #hockey fic #tyson jost imagine #c's 1k celly #fallinallincurls #asks

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nhl-stories · 1 year

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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buttercupjosh · 5 months

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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ilyasorokinn · 1 year

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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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jostystyles · 1 year

Text

cooler | tj

a/n: this is my entry for @antoineroussel 's winter fic exchange! demi, thanks for putting this together as always!! this fic was written for @butgilinsky <3 I hope you enjoy it dear!! special thanks to @comphy-and-cozy for letting me brain rot about my tyson jost = nick miller agenda, and @suitandtys for the title. divider graphics are by @firefly-graphics . this fic is inspired by nick and jess's first kiss in new girl. i hope you enjoy <3

warnings: fluff, alcohol, use of she/her pronouns. mat barzal is an instigator.

word count: 2.8k

The All-Star Weekend, for a certain group of guys, meant the ability to show off their skills for the game they love, and praise for being considered the best of the best. But for the rest of them, it meant something else.

Freedom & Relaxation.

Of course, the way the free time was being spent varied from player to player. Some guys returned home to spend time with their kids and families, some took weekend trips, and some just stayed put.

But for Tyson Jost, Mat Barzal, and Dante Fabbro, it meant a reunion. Typically, they only saw each other during the season when they played each other respectfully, and in the summer when they trained together amongst other things. This break, though, they’d be traveling to Cancun for a weekend getaway with some of their friends from back home. Though they all hailed from different hometowns, they had a pretty tight knit group that tried to see each other as much as possible. So when the group chat collectively agreed everyone would be free for a trip, it was decided. This was going to be a trip to remember.

“Wait, why the fuck do I need my passport?” Mat exclaimed inquisitively, his voice echoing through the speakers of the FaceTime call.

Abruptly pausing her packing, (Y/N) turned to grab her phone off the bed. “What? Mat, where the hell do you think Cancun is?”

“Uh. Florida.” He said, like she had asked him the stupidest question in the world.

“Jesus fuck, Mat, it’s in Mexico. Are you kidding me? Your plane ticket literally says you’re flying into Mexico.”

As if his mind had just been completely blown, which it had in a way, Mat’s expression turned to one of total shock. “Wow. That makes a lot of sense, actually.”

(Y/N) shook her head with a sigh, wondering how he has managed to make it this far. Out of all her close friends, Mat was the one she’d known the longest. The two of them had grown up on the same street, their families becoming friends over the years. Despite the jokes from everyone, they’d actually defied the odds to show that boys and girls can be just friends as they’d formed such a tight bond throughout their lives and consider each other like siblings.

Naturally, they had the same friends. Enter Dante, who came into the picture when he and Mat started playing hockey together. Over the years, the three of them grew closer and other friends came and went, but as they got older, a group solidified. As they became teenagers, Tyson became a part of that group. (Y/N) still remembers the day she first met him.

Her family was the last to arrive at the Fabbro’s lake house, as usual. This had been a tradition for the past few years, and she usually anticipated it each time. But for some reason she was nervous. She was 14 now, and things were changing. She was no longer the nerdy little girl that hung out with the hockey boys, physically at least. The thought of being in a bathing suit around a bunch of rowdy boys made her feel awkward and uncomfortable. She reminded herself it was just Mat and Dante, her two idiot best friends who would make fun of her for the color of the swimsuit, not how she looked in it. Shaking it off, she grabbed her suitcase and wandered through the cabin to the room she shared with Dante’s sisters. Tossing the bag on the bed, she quickly grabbed her book to head down to the water. (Y/N) closed the door behind her and turned around to walk away, only to take a few steps and collide with something bare and warm. She fell to the ground, letting out an “Oof.”

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry I wasn’t looking where I was going are you ok?” A voice rambled on.

“Yeah, no problem ‘m good, I-” (Y/N) replied, her voice faltering as she looked up. Her eyes were met with the softest brown ones, flashing at her with a look of concern. She felt the blood rush to her cheeks.

“Here, let me help you up. I’m Tyson, um, Tyson Jost. Mat and Dante’s friend from hockey.” The boy said, reaching down to help her up.

“I’m (Y/N). Also Mat and Dante’s friend, but um. Not from hockey.” She said, eliciting a laugh from Tyson.

He stuck his hand out before saying, “Well, here’s to hoping we become each other’s friend too.”

Shaking his hand, (Y/N) shook her head with a shy smile. A part of her knew her life would never be the same now that he was in it.

“...when Tyson gets in?”

The sound of Mat’s voice brought her back to reality. “Hm?” She replied. Rolling his eyes, Mat spoke with a teasing tone.

“I knew that saying his name would get your attention. Do you know when Tyson gets in?”

“You’re a dick. He gets in around the same time as you so I’d try and get to the house together. Gabe, Alicia, Jay and I will already be there.”

“Fer sure. You think this’ll be the trip you finally admit you’re in love with each other?”

(Y/N) shot him a glare. “I will hang up on you right now Mathew. Tyson is not in love with me.”

“You didn’t deny you’re in love with him though.”

Caught off guard, she stumbled over her words. Mat let out a laugh, saying, “(Y/N/N) you realize I know you better than anyone right? You aren’t fooling anyone. Except Tys. He’s definitely oblivious.”

“I will literally skin you alive and slice your achilles tendon if you say anything to him on this trip.”

“Love you too.”

If there was anything Tyson needed right now, it was a gigantic margarita on the beach. The past year of his life had been a bit insane, and he was in desperate need of a vacation. He’d missed his friends, too. They didn’t get to see each other that often now that they were older, and cherished times like this. His flight had landed from Buffalo a few minutes ago, and he was waiting at the baggage claim to grab his luggage. Scrolling through instagram to pass time, he felt a hand clap on his shoulder and whipped his head around.

“Oh hell yeah. Missed you brother, what’s up!” He said, turning to embrace Mat in a hug.

“Missed you too bud. You ready for the best weekend of your life? C’mon. Car’s here.”

“Jesus Christ, Leesh. I can’t believe your boss let you have his fucking house for the weekend. This place is insane.” (Y/N) exclaimed, taking in the sights that laid before her. Alicia’s boss had graciously let her utilize his beach mansion for the weekend as a thanks for her hard work at her company.

“Eh, perks of being fucking good at what I do.” Alicia said, taking a swig of moscato straight from the bottle. “Who wants a cocktail?”

“I sure do. Tequila sunrise, light on the sunrise, heavy on the tequila.” A voice cried out, followed by a huff of laughter.

Turning around, (Y/N)’s confusion turned into a smile. “Barzy, you’re not even through the door and you’re already asking for a drink? Why am I surprised?”

“You shouldn’t be. I love day drinking.” Mat stated, hugging her. “Watch out. Your boyfriend's right behind me.” He whispered in her ear, earning him a knee to his nether regions.

Pushing him away, (Y/N) turned towards the guy she’d been waiting far too long to see.

Tyson stood there, a small smile on his face. After the hell he’d been through the past 10 months, he still managed to smile. That was one of her favorite things about him. His brown eyes looked soft, and duller than usual, and she couldn’t tell if it was from the flight.

“C’mere you big oaf. I missed you, Tys.”

He hugged her for a bit longer than he intended. There was just something comforting about being in his best friend's arms again.

“Ok, if you two love birds are going to keep hugging, we’re going to get this party started. Drinking games start now.” Dante said, shoving two solo cups full of something their way.

Grabbing the cups, Tyson passed one to (Y/N). “Good to see you too, Big D. Lead the way.”

“I missed you, you know.” Tyson said, swinging his and (Y/N)’s entwined hands back and forth.

“I missed you too. Least we’re in the same state now though, right?”

“6 hours is still too far.”

(Y/N) chuckled. “Well, at least I’m a train ride away instead of a plane.”

As they approached the patio, the party was already in full swing. Music was blasting, Mat was already trying to get Jay down from her place on top of the table, and Gabe and Alicia were mixing drinks like nobody's business.

Tyson shook his head. “Somebodies gonna fucking die here.”

“Either that, or we’re spending a night in a Mexican jail.” (Y/N) replied. The night was just about to begin.

To say everyone was fucked up would be putting it lightly. The drinks had been flowing consistently all evening, and it was approaching midnight. The gang had made their way inside for a game of who knows what. At this point, it was just a bunch of drunk people shouting things. Mat and Jay were sharing a bottle of wine, discussing God knows what under the dining room table. Gabe was shirtless, but wearing his swimsuit and dress socks. Tyson had somehow acquired a trench coat he found in one of the bedroom closets, and (Y/N) sported her bikini top and a bright pink tutu from god knows where.

“Guys, I think we need to call it a night. We’re gonna be so hungover tomorrow and it’s only the first day.”

“NO!” Alicia cried. “Don’t be a party pooper. You were out the latest in college.”

“We aren't in college anymore. I’m tired, Leesh.” (Y/N) wailed, resting her head dramatically on Tyson’s shoulder.

“Boring. Who wants to play another game?” Alicia shouted, gaining the attention of the whole house.

“How about good old fashioned, 7 minutes in heaven?” Jay chimed in, waggling her eyebrows mischievously.

“OOOh, nice one Jay. I’m in. Who votes Josty and (Y/N)?”

The room erupted in cheers, aside from (Y/N) and Tyson.

“Hold on, don’t we get a say in this?” Tyson retorted.

“Nope. Behind the iron curtain you go!” Alicia demanded, ushering them to the kitchen, where she then rolled the door that separated the two spaces shut.

A chant of “Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!” began amongst the other friends, as Tyson protested.

“Open the door! This isn’t funny guys.”

The chants continued, and (Y/N) sucked in a sharp breath at Tyson’s seeming wish to be left out. Would it really be that bad to him if they kissed?

After a moment, (Y/N) spoke up. “Ok, we kissed! Sent you a picture!”

From the other side of the door, Dante looked at the picture, which was of (Y/N) and Tyson with their lips pursed, angled at each others cheeks. “That is not a kiss! C’mon, Inspector Gadget, inspect those tonsils!”

Barzy chimed in, saying, “Yeah! C’mon, Josty. Just give (Y/N) a tender, sensual, kiss, and we’ll let you right out.”

“Mat, shut up!” (Y/N) cried, knowing full well he was having a field day with this.

Tyson was desperately trying to pry the door open, but was unsuccessful. His heart was beating out of his chest. This was not how he wanted this to go.

Leaning against the counter, (Y/N) pondered, “What’s the big deal? Let’s just suck it up and french a little.” That was the tequila talking.

Tyson shot his head up at her. “Ok, fine. But don't say ‘suck it up and french a little’.”

“Ok, fine, let’s do this.”

They walked towards each other, stopping when they were in close proximity. (Y/N) could feel her heart beating a mile a minute. Tyson’s hands reached out to settle on her forearms. She could see the sparkle in his brown eyes that wasn’t there before. Later, she’d come to know, that spark only existed for her.

“Let’s just do it.” Tyson said, his voice quivering slightly.

“Let’s do it.” (Y/N) echoed. “Do it.”

“Fine.”

“I’m doing it.”

“Fine, then do it.”

“Are you a tounger?”

“Tyson, what the hell.”

“Well, I don’t wanna put my tongue in your mouth if you don’t like it!”

(Y/N) sighed, laughing at her best friend. “Just kiss me!”

Tyson was freaking out. “OK, alright, great. That’s what I’m gonna do.” He grabbed her face, his fingers gracing her soft (Y/H/C) ever so lightly. “Ready?”

“Yeah.” (Y/N) replied, quietly.

Tyson closed his eyes, leaning in. (Y/N) pulled her head away, saying, “I’m sorry, you can’t do that!”

“What did I do?” Tyson asked, eyebrows furrowed.

“Your face!”

“My face?”

“You can’t do that with your face.”

Tyson burst into laughter, (Y/N) soon following him. They stopped, glancing at each other for a brief moment. Tyson thought she was the prettiest girl in the world. He always had, ever since they met 10 years ago. Just as he was about to speak up, a banging ensued on the wall.

“Yo, I don’t hear any talking, so ya’ll better be smooching!” Dante screeched.

“Yeah, yeah, we’re getting to it.” Tyson said, not breaking eye contact with (Y/N).

The chants of “Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!” picked back up again.

“Ok Tyson, come on. Just kiss me.” (Y/N) said, frustrated.

“No, I’m not gonna kiss you.”

“Kiss me!”

“(Y/N), stop!” Tyson said harshly.

“God, Jost, just kiss me already!”

“No, not like this!” he almost shouted.

(Y/N)’s face turned to one of confusion. “What? What does that mean?”

Tyson took a step back, his face turning red. “No I didn’t mean… Nothing, I just. I didn’t mean it like that. I just, we can’t. That’s not, you know, like,” He was full on word vomiting, “Do you know like, it’s very, like, you don’t, that’s not what it…”

(Y/N) tilted her head, a small smile on her face. Before she could say anything, the door swung open, revealing Jay, with an insane look on her face.

“Ok, times up! Mat and I’s turn.”

Tyson was gone faster than (Y/N) could see, leaving her with nothing but a sobered up head full of confusion, and a heavy heart.

Everyone had since retreated to their rooms for the night, except for Jay and Mat who were probably still making out in the kitchen like they usually do when they’re drunk. Her door slightly ajar, (Y/N) saw a quick shadow while she was brushing her hair.

“Hey!” she cried out. Tyson stopped in his own doorway, turning around to see (Y/N) in hers. She stood there in her silk nightgown, bare faced, with the look of concern painted across her face that she often gave him.

“You ok, Tys?” She asked softly, stepping out into the hallway just a bit.

“Yeah, Im good. Just needed to sober up a bit, so I went and sat down by the beach.”

“Oh. Ok. Listen, about earlier. I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable. I was just messing around, feeding off our idiot friends.” (Y/N) apologized.

“S’ Ok, (Y/N/N). It was just a game. I still think you’re cool.”

“I think you’re cooler. Night, Tyson.” She replied with a smile.

“G’night, (Y/N).”

Just as she turned to go inside her room, something shifted within Tyson. Like he wasn’t even thinking, he reached out and grabbed her arm, pulling her flush to him. Before either of them could speak, he pressed his lips onto hers, encapsulating them into a passionate kiss. His arms moved to her lower back, hugging her so forcefully as if it were to be the last time. (Y/N)’s arms were wrapped around his neck, tugging at the tufts of curls that lay at the back of his head. Their lips moved in harmony, Tyson kissing her again and again each time with more push than the last. They finally broke apart, foreheads pressed together and breathing heavily.

Tyson kissed her once more, than again, and again. He finally looked at her, his finger under her chin forcing her to look at him.

She was staring at him, her big beautiful (Y/E/C) that he loved so dearly, begging him to say something.

“I meant something like that.” Tyson told her, before dropping his hands from her figure and retreating into his room, and shutting the door.

(Y/N) stood there, in complete and utter shock. She brought her hand up to touch her lips, and let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding.

Tyson Jost was going to be the death of her, and she’d been hoping to see the Grim Reaper for quite a while.

tags: @comphyjost @tinyhockey @2manytabsopen @laurenairay @fallinallincurls @ilyasorokinn @lt-natrace

#emmie writes #winter fic exchange '23 #i hope you like it:)#tyson jost #tyson jost imagine #tyson jost x reader #nhl imagine #hockey imagine #nhl fic #hockey fic #buffalo sabres

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barzysunflower · 10 months

Note

not sure if you’re still taking summer vacation requests… but…

I’m in my Tyson Jost era. I’m thinking coastal California road trip or scenic Canadian road trip - no plans, no reservations just pure vanilla cream cold brew, pop punk singalongs, ukulele duets, the open road, beautiful scenery and friends to lovers.

that’s all! 💕

thank you!! love love love josty and I really like this one so I hope you do too!!

word count: 1.3k

come along the world trip

📍banff, canada with tyson jost

You had been on the road with your best friend Tyson for a few days now. Your ultimate goal was to end up in Banff, but your trip to get there was very spontaneous and you were just going to see what happened. After the crazy few months Tyson had, being traded from the Avalanche then seeing them win the cup without him just a few months later then being traded again a short time after that, he was exhausted and just happy to be at home to spend some time with you and his family.

But sitting at home in your small home town soon proved to be a bit boring. Tyson packet up his car, drove to your place, made you pack a bag and off you went. "Banff." Was all he said when you asked where he was planning to go. "Let's just see what happens."

While the drive from St. Albert (I hope that's still where his family lives lol) to Banff technically was only about a four hour drive, you had been on the road for days. He drove you to the Rocky Mountains and that's where you planned on making your way down to Banff. You stopped frequently to go hiking and explore the little mountain towns and then crashed in a nearest hotel for the night or once you had even spent the night in the car. Not the most comfortable night, but definitely the most fun. He had brought his ukulele and you spent a long time coming up with your own songs. It was an especially intimate night you shared, one that really brought all of your feelings for him to the surface. But not wanting to ruin the moment, you kept your mouth shut like you had been doing for the last few years.

Since he didn't live close to you for most of the year and you were only able to visit him every so often you were fine managing your feelings towards him, but every time you saw him, especially now sitting in such tight quarters, they just floated right back up to the surface.

"Alright, next stop: Banff." You had a relaxing morning in the mountains. A nice breakfast with a view, then explored the surroundings a bit more while your laundry was being washed. This hotel thankfully had a few washers and driers, because you had already run out of clean clothes since you didn't expect to be gone so long. But neither of you minded. With the clothes dry, you packed up again and left for your final destination. Not before stopping for your favorite vanilla cream cold brews that had been an every day staple on this trip.

"There! I saw the lake!" You opened your window all the way to see better, but the lake had already disappeared behind a mountain. But the glimpse you got was absolutely stunning. Everything around here was. Tyson grinned back at you, equally excited to see the famous lake with its quaint little town.

On the way, you had booked a small and overpriced Airbnb, but that was the only thing available so you took it. You got settled there, but immediately left again to go on another little hike. You stopped at a grocery store for sandwiches and snacks and off you went again. Keeping up with Tyson was usually difficult, but since he was tired from the season, you had no trouble staying beside him.

"I think I wanna move here," you said, taking a bit of your sandwich, when you paused to take a break. You had stopped at a spot that gave you a perfect overview of the lake below you surrounded by mountains and trees.

"It is beautiful here," he agreed. "I'm surprised you haven't complained yet. I've never seen you so active."

"Hey!" You punched him lightly in the arm. You were both laughing. You paused for a moment, then spoke again. "I'm just happy to spend time with you."

"Me too," he said wrapping an arm around you and pulling you close. He kissed the top of your head, like he always did, and even though your heart ached for him, you knew he didn't mean it that way. You pulled away quickly, taking another bite of your food to distract yourself. "I am happy you're here. I really needed this."

You nodded, understanding where he was coming from. "You're happy there though, right?"

"Yeah, I'm happy there." He brushed his curls out of his face. "Wish you were there though."

"Doesn't everybody?" You tried to joke, but it probably didn't come off like you intended. For how long have you wished you lived closer to him? Lived with him.

You both laughed awkwardly, as you could feel the mood change. Then you jumped up and started packing your food away. "Uhm. Let's keep going."

He did the same and followed your steps closely. But you didn't get very far before you felt his big hand wrap around your forearm and spin you around. You landed right on his chest and before you knew it his lips were on yours.

Frozen, you didn't react while his lips were still touching yours. Oh god. He was kissing you. He was kissing you.

"Sorry, I–" Tyson pulled away embarrassed, but your hands quickly grabbed his cheeks and pulled him back in. "... been meaning to do that for a while."

You smiled and kissed him over and over again until your sweet pecks turned into more. He had you pressed against a boulder and his hands firmly on yours hips as he explored your mouth. Gently, but so passionately you thought you were about to sink into the ground.

Breathlessly, you broke the kiss after a while, but his forehead still leaned against yours as you stood there in silence. In the distance there were sounds of a waterfall, birds, sounds of the forest, and people approaching, but you couldn't hear any of it. You were in a bubble of realization of what just happened, but no regret. Far from that. His gaze was full of love and happiness, which you returned, and although you thought it was impossible, you loved those soft eyes of his even more now.

"Tys," you whispered softly, tilting your head back to feel his lips again. He brushed them with his, gently teasing you.

"I don't know what happened, but after you visited me last time, something changed. I don't know but I realized how much I loved you and how deep down I always have. I was kind of scared to say something, but god, (y/n) when you say these things to me, I–"

"Now you know how I've felt these past few years."

"I'm sorry. I never meant to put you through that." He kissed you. And again. And a third time. "Can you forgive me for my brain just lacking?"

You nodded before he even finished asking his question. You wanted him and never once blamed him for anything. Desperately, you went in for another kiss with your arms wrapped around his neck.

"Wow, hold up," Tyson pulled back before your lips made contact. "I realized I just told you that I loved you. Isn't that a bit too soon?"

"No." You managed to pull him back in. "Tys, I've loved you all the time I've known you. You have no idea what you're doing to me right now, telling me that. Now would you please just kiss me! I've been waiting for this for years!"

"Yea, Ma'am," he whispered with a chuckle and finally age you that kiss you'd been waiting for.

#tyson jost #travel with me summer 23 #tyson jost fic #nhl fics #nhl imagine #nhl blurb #buffalo sabres #tyson jost imagine #mat barzal #hockey fics

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mikkomacko · 1 year

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A/n: There's not nearly enough dad Josty content on this app so here's this little piece. No idea what to name it but I hope y'all enjoy it!

Pairing: Tyson Jost x female reader

Warnings: none (mentions of the tr*de but other than that it's just fluff )

Tyson's flight arrives late. The first cold front of the season has moved in over the weekend, settled over Minnesota and casted everything in a bitter chill. The storm isn't bad enough to delay the flight but just enough to slow them down. The estimated arrival of 7 p.m. had fallen back to closer to midnight and any hope he had of spending time with his family tonight flew out the window. He knows the schedule, has it memorized and saved in his phone just in case. Bedtime was 8:30 sometimes 9 if the baby slept a lot that day. He missed that window by about three hours and has a feeling he'll be coming home to a dark, slumbering house tonight.

Even so he was anxious to get home, barely mumbling goodbyes to Duhaime and Boldy as he was gathering his suitcase and duffle before beelining towards his car. He's barely thrown on his seatbelt and turned on the heater before he's pulling out of his spot and hitting the mostly empty highway, beginning the unbearably long journey home (it's really not that far of a drive, maybe 30 minutes with traffic, but tonight it feels like he was moving at a snail's pace). His eye catches the car seat in the rearview mirror and he glances back behind his passenger seat to see the stuffed moose she loves laying on the seat. Pressing a little harder on the gas, he attempts to distract himself with the radio, finding the Christmas station and turning up the volume until it'll all he can hear. Halloween has just barely crept by and you may tease him for how quickly he moves into Christmas mode but he doesn't care. American Thanksgiving isn't something he really cares about (and really no one should care about it in the way they do) so he's unashamed in his holiday spirit.

He's only registered about a song and a half in his brain before he's pulling into the parking garage of the building, gaze searching the concrete complex for your vehicle. He finds it immediately, the faded Avs sticker on the back window sticking out like a sore thumb, and his parking spot empty besides yours.

Tyson wastes no time in pulling into the spot and shutting the engine off. He ignores the bags in the back as he collects his wallet and keys, hastily climbing out of the vehicle and beelining for the elevator. He barely has the sense to lock the car over his shoulder as he impatiently taps at the up button. And he's just as impatient when the doors open, Tyson stepping in and immediately pressing the button for the penthouse.

Counting the dinging floors in his head, Tyson taps the toe of his shoe as the elevator climbs up and up, bringing him to you. When the doors finally open he's greeted with the dark green front door of your place, welcome mat beckoning him closer.

"You decorated." He murmurs into your lips, smiling.

"Yeah. Figured you'd like it."

He nods and momentarily kisses you again. "I do. Know I love Christmas."

"Considerate it a gift for that fight of yours."

He pulls back to get a better look at your face, notices the teasing smile on your lips and quirks a curious eyebrow.

"Ya liked that, eh?"

You bite your bottom lip and giggle quietly, dropping your hands to rest on his shoulders. "Loved it. You should fight assholes more often."

He laughs then too, but shrugs as if it were no big deal. "Making the world a better place for my daughter one Blackhawk at a time."

Just as he expected, you laugh a bit louder at that and he finds himself reaching up to caress your smiling face for just a moment.

"Edmonton next maybe?"

He wants to laugh at your rebuttal but his loyalty to his childhood team weighs heavier so he pouts instead and joking whines, "Hey...."

You cut him off with a kiss to his cheek, stroking the side of his neck lovingly and watching the way his eyes flutter shut for a beat. As soon as he meets your gaze again, you nudge your head towards the other side of the couch.

"Your muse is patiently awaiting her glove dropping daddy."

Tyson perks up even more at that, already looking over your shoulder to the playpen he had set up before he left. "She's up?"

"No," You say sweetly, running your thumb over his jaw, before stepping back and removing your hands from him "but you can wake her if you promise to get her back to sleep."

He doesn't hesitate to nudge you to the side so he can cut across the living room, stepping over the extra Christmas blankets and pillows you've left on the floor. He reaches the play pen, a smile taking over his face as he peers down at his sleeping baby. She's bundled in the sleep sack Tyson's mom gifted them, the fabric fisted in one of her tiny hands while she drools on the other.

He almost feels bad for wanting to wake her, to see those big brown eyes she'd stolen from him and kiss the little button nose that matches yours, but it's been so long since he's seen her and he thinks he's starting to forgot what it felt like to have her curled into his chest. Eager but gentle, Tyson reaches down and slips a hand under her bottom and head, carefully bringing her up into his arms.

"Hi sweet girl," he whispers, wincing when her face scrunches up for a moment. He's waiting for a cry to erupt from her but she just settles into the crook of his elbow, nosing her face into the fabric of his sweatshirt. "Oh look at you."

He turns to find you admiring them with a watery smile, eyes shining in the twinkling Christmas lights with tears you've had a hard time stopping ever since you were pregnant. Despite how emotional you've become, he doesn't worry because he can read it all over your face that they're happy tears, probably even relieved tears. He knew how nervous you were for his first long road trip, the both of you so used to being side-by-side and he's sure that the weight he felt lift off of him earlier has now left you too.

"Come here," he murmurs to you, outstretching his left arm and wiggling his fingers. You let him pull you into his chest too, wrapping your arms tightly around his waist and laying your head on his shoulder. Like the baby girl snoring in his arm, you burrow into his sweater, your nose slipping under the bunched fabric of his hood. He can't help but smile.

"You did it babe," he soothes, tickling his fingers down your spine. "This parenting thing is working out pretty good, eh?"

He feels you nod, pulling you in tighter just to remind you that he's always got you, and you return the sentiment by slipping your fingers under his hoodie and shirt, warm fingers ghosting over the soft skin of his back.

"Its good to know we can survive your away games," you whisper, titling your head down to admire your daughter. "but we prefer when you're here."

He laughs a bit, feels his chest swell up with pride and somehow pulls you even closer when you look up and steal a kiss from his lips.

Tyson hums his agreement. "Me too baby. Missed my girls so much."

He's lost in you for a moment or two, taking in the warmth of your gaze and the smell of your honey perfume. You've got purple bags under your eyes, you're smile lazy at the corners but even when the obvious exhaustion on your features you look happy and he can't think of a better look on you. He likes when you're happy, in general, but especially when you're with him.

Leaning in, Tyson butts his nose against yours before pressing a delicate kiss to your cheekbone. That smile he loves so much grows, you're eyes fluttering shut and he inches closer to your lips-

A tiny hands tugs at the string in his hoodie, yanking until the collar tightens uncomfortably around his neck and his hood sits at an awkward angle on his shoulders. You laugh softly as a loud cry breaks out, demanding his attention, and he reluctantly let's you take a step back.

"Oh no dad," you tease, poking at his side "someone's not happy with you."

He huffs out a laugh, moving the baby so she's sitting up against his shoulder. Patting at her back, Tyson begins to walk her in circles around the living room as you disappear into the kitchen. Her cries quickly quiet to sniffles, little hiccups echoing in his ear and he presses a kiss to the side of her head, smiling at how soft her thin brown hair is and how long it's gotten in his short time away.

"Don't be mad at me sweetheart," he pleads "I just missed you so much."

She turns to him, entrapped by the sound of his voice. Her cheeks and nose are red and moist, mouth puckered into a frown but those big brown eyes look at him with awe, the way they always have. From the moment she was born she knew his voice, familiar with it after countless nights of him telling her silly little stories and game summaries through whatever oversized t-shirt you'd stolen from him as a substitute for your maternity clothes. He smiles at her, hooks the sleeve of his hoodie over his fingers and wipes away the mess of tears and dribble on her little face.

"There she is!" He coos, booping her nose "ya miss me too, eh? Watch my games with momma? Bet you helped her put up all these lights too huh?"

She kicks her legs into his side, the frown on her face melting away as she hangs on his every word. Afraid she'll begin wailing again if he stops, Tyson keeps babbling nonsense to her.

"The boys kept asking for you. Want me to take you practice in a couple days but I don't think I want to share my special girl. Plus momma won't let you wear Minny colors and they'll try and put you in a jersey I just know it-"

"You keep my baby far away from Dewey and those other crazies," you say upon returning to the living room, a bottle of warmed breast milk in hand "They're gonna try and convince her Marcus is the moose and I won't have that."

Tyson laughs, knowing if he really wanted to take her to practice you'd allow it and you'd even let her wear the #10 onesie Jared had gifted her after the trade. As if agreeing with you, she babbles happily and he wonders if she's just excited to see her baba or if she recognizes the nickname of her favorite uncle Mikko.

You hand him the bottle, kissing his cheek and then hers before returning to sorting through Christmas boxes. Tyson settles into the empty spot on the couch, cradling her in the crook of his elbow again.

"Ladies sticking together I see," he tells her, chuckling when he brings the bottle to her lips and she eagerly grabs at it. She hasn't quite got the hang of holding it herself, but she loves fidgeting with his fingers as he feeds her, stroking over his knuckles and pinching at the back of his hand.

"That's good," he continues "Momma needs all the backup she can get. Me and your uncles are a bit of a handful."

He looks up when you laugh, watching you work to untangle a ball of multicolored lights. "A bit? I'm just thankful I'm not surrounded by another boy."

He grins. "Yet."

You raise an eyebrow at him, lips pursed in amusement for a second before shrugging. "No boys yet."

"But soon," he presses "right?"

He adjusts his grip on the bottle, still grinning innocently as you roll your eyes but nod.

"Soon."

He waits a beat, let's your attention go back to the mess of lights in your lap before continuing.

"Like tomorrow maybe?"

"Don't push it Jost." You warn.

"What if I put it on my Christmas list?"

"You're a grown man and a father, you don't get a Christmas list."

"Fine. For my winter solstice wish then."

He chuckles at the look on your face, a bit annoyed but more amused.

"Keep bugging and it'll get left off your birthday list too Tyson."

He pouts dramatically, waits for you to peer up at him through your eyelashes before flashing his best puppy dog eyes at you. You drop your left eye into a wink, teasingly and he feels heat rush to his cheeks.

God he's glad to be home.

#tyson jost imagine #tyson jost x reader #tyson jost #josty baby #dad! Tyson Jost #fluff #nhl #nhl imagine

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blueskrugs · 1 year

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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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laurenairay · 9 months

Text

The slightest chance love might exist - T. Jost

Summary: Chloe is more nervous that she cares to admit when it’s time to meet Tyson’s family.

Words: 3.2k

Warnings: anxiety, mentions of past cheating, some bad language

A/N: again it’s been a while since I’ve written for Chloe and Tyson – but every time I do, I’m drawn back into how much I love their story. And we get a little more of a hint about Chloe’s past relationship here!

Series masterlist (if you want to sign up for the tag list, it’s in the above masterlist link!)

Title: Standing outside the fire, by Garth Brooks

“So, Chloe…”

“Well this is ominous,” she cut in dryly, raising a sharp eyebrow.

Tyson flushed heavily, huffing out a laugh, but she wasn’t going to apologise for interrupting. She’d been chopping vegetables for a stew – it was her turn to host and cook dinner – when Tyson started awkwardly hovering next to her, fingers picking at his nails in a way that silently showed her he had a lot on his mind. Chloe may only have known him for 9 weeks, and only been his girlfriend for one of those, but she knew him well enough to notice when he had something on his mind.

“I have to tell you something. Don’t get mad,” he said hesitantly.

I have to tell you something.

Don’t get mad.

That choice of words made her put down the knife she was holding next to the raw carrots, resting her hands flat on the counter to hide how they were trembling ever so slightly. He was not off to a great start. It didn’t help that this wasn’t the first boyfriend to say something like this to her.

I have to tell you something.

Don’t get mad.

The last time she heard those words, her two-year relationship ended. Her last relationship. Years ago, sure, but the words haunted her all the same. She never thought she’d hear them from Tyson. Surely he couldn’t have…

“What did you do?” she asked quietly.

She didn’t know if it was the question or her tone of voice, but his face immediately shifted into confusion, only making her swallow heavily.

“Was there someone else?” she asked, not daring to look at him.

She couldn’t. She couldn’t look at him. Couldn’t bear the thought of Tyson, sweet Tyson, being with someone else. But if that was her reality, she needed to know.

“What?” he choked.

“I mean we’ve only been together for a week, right? I promise not to get mad,” she said, forcing out a small sad smile.

Tyson seemed to freeze for a moment before groaned, closing his eyes briefly, but what confused her was the way his fists clenched.

“I swear to god, if I ever meet your ex-boyfriend, I’m going to punch him right in the throat,” he said darkly, eyes opening to stare at her.

What?

“Chloe, baby,” he said, shaking his head at her frown, “There isn’t anyone else. There hasn’t been anyone else. What I was trying to say is that my mom and my sister are coming down next weekend to stay for the first week of playoffs, and I lost track of time until my mom literally just texted me.”

Oh. Oh fuck.

“Shit, Tyson, I’m sorry,” she groaned.

Of all the things she could’ve accused him of. She should’ve trusted that he wasn’t like her ex. She should’ve known. How could she have-

“Woah, hey, take a deep breath for me.”

His soft voice broke her out of her spiralling thoughts, hands gently resting on her shoulders to ground her, and when her foggy mind cleared enough for her to take a shaky breath, her eyes stung with tears at the worried look on his face.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have accused you of cheating on me,” she managed to choke out, trying to keep her composure.

“Chloe, the only thing wrong with what you did was that you were resigned to it, not angry. You have nothing to say sorry for, okay?” he said sadly.

“I just…I…”

She trailed off, breaking away from his gentle hold to run a shaky hand through her hair. After all these years, a stupid simple sentence was enough to break her strictly-regulated poise. How pathetic was that? What was wrong with her?

“I’m not mad. I’m not even remotely annoyed. I’m just worried about you,” Tyson murmured.

“Brilliant,” she muttered, looking away from him as her eyes stung again with embarrassed tears.

A few beats of silence, before Tyson sighed.

“What can I do?” he asked.

She dared to look back at him, swallowing heavily at the soft expression he wore, eyes wide and honest and sad. If nothing else, that only filled her with more shame. Why did she have to jump to conclusions? How could she have possibly thought that Tyson would cheat on her?

“Rewind the last five minutes?” she suggested, attempting to smile.

Tyson’s genuine sweet smile in response settled a little anxiety in her chest, even more so as he shook his head.

“I’m sorry that you were ever made to feel this way. And I am sorry for the stupid way I started this conversation. Your shitty ex is not going to ruin this evening though, okay?” Tyson said softly.

Oh this sweet sweet boy. She sure as hell didn’t deserve him.

“Isn’t it already ruined?” she said quietly.

“Not as far as I’m concerned. We’ve still got a stew to finish and I want to tell you more about my family,” Tyson said, shaking his head.

Chloe huffed out a laugh, trying desperately to blink away her ridiculous tears. “Alright. If you’re sure.”

He just smiled even wider, finally earning a small smile from her in response. She would do better. She would have to do better. There was no way she wanted Tyson to ever see her that shaken up again.

Chloe spent the following week feeling like her intestines were in knots, the anxiety over meeting the two most important women in Tyson’s life building and building each day that passed. It didn’t help that her stupid assumptions, her insecurities, still played on her mind. She knew enough to call it trauma, even if she didn’t like thinking about the fact that her ex had so deeply affected her, but she also knew that she couldn’t let it continue to affect her relationship with Tyson. What they had between them…it was good. It was so good.

She still didn’t know what she’d done to deserve him.

Still, by the time Saturday came, the 30th of April, her nerves hadn’t dissipated. Tyson had tried his best to reassure her that everything would be fine, he also had playoffs to prepare for (starting on Monday 2nd May) as well as preparing for his family to visit. Chloe tried to help where she could, but there was honestly only so much she could do and still maintain her sanity.

Her ex had already known all of her family. She didn’t have any precedent to compare meeting Tyson’s mom and sister to.

At the very least, Chloe had decided to give Tyson a little space on the day that his mom and sister arrived. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to meet them – despite her internal worries – but she also knew how much he missed them. And she could only guess how much they missed him too. Instead, she suggested that she would come over for dinner. It was intimate enough to be special but still casual enough not to cause pressure.

She knew her limits, and Tyson respected them in turn.

That didn’t mean she hadn’t fretted about what to wear or bring with her or even how to greet them. All of this was so out of her comfort zone it wasn’t even funny, and if he was anyone else she would’ve absolutely cancelled or maybe even ghosted. But considering that it was Tyson…she couldn’t do that to him. And if she was being honest with herself, there was a part of her that didn’t want to end everything with him just because of this. He wanted her to meet his family – it was important to him to intertwine their lives.

That had to mean something, right?

To ease her nerves, Chloe decided on a plain black velvet dress – it was scoop-necked with long flowing sleeves and floated down to her knees, and while it may not have been anything exciting, it was comfortable and it looked good enough to make her look like she was making a little effort without trying too hard. Pairing her pin-straight white blonde hair with her usual silver jewellery for all her piercings, her usual smoky eye make-up and some simple black sneakers, she toned down her typical red lips for a grey-tinted lipgloss, giving herself enough confidence in her own appearance to leave the apartment on time.

On the drive to Tyson’s apartment, she also picked up a bottle of wine. It was the right thing to do, bringing something with her, right? She honestly had no idea what the appropriate etiquette was for meeting someone’s family, especially at the partner’s home, but she figured that wine was always a safe bet, and even though she wouldn’t be drinking because she was driving, maybe his mom would at least appreciate it? It was a long shot, she knew that much, but it felt wrong to turn up without something. She at least had to decide on something to stop herself overthinking, so a bottle of nice white chardonnay would have to do.

As for greeting them, Tyson took care of that himself.

“Chloe, baby, I’m glad you made it!”

Tyson’s happy declaration and following slow but firm kiss, as soon as he opened the door to her, took her by surprise.

“Let her breathe, dumbass.”

She winced slightly at the snicker sounding behind Tyson, pulling back quickly. Had she already made a bad impression? Fuck, what would they even think of her, kissing him without saying hello to them?

“As always Kace, you have impeccable timing.” Tyson huffed, wiping the lipgloss trace off his lips with a thumb.

There was something in the teasing tone of his voice that allowed Chloe to breathe a little. Okay, maybe not so bad so far. Breathe. She needed to just breathe.

“Guys, this is my girlfriend Chloe,” Tyson said, smiling between the two groups, “And Chloe, this is my mom and my sister Kacey.”

“Please, call me Laura,” his mom quickly said, smiling warmly.

So that was where Tyson got his smile from.

“It’s nice to meet you both. I’ve heard a lot about you,” Chloe said, as friendly as her nerves would allow her, hoping her smile wasn’t as awkward as she felt.

“Tyson hasn’t shut up about you at all. I love the vamp look,” Kacey grinned.

What?

Tyson grimaced as Chloe froze, but Kacey either didn’t notice or chose to barrel on through.

“Total boss ass bitch vibes. How did you get someone this hot to agree to date you, Tys?” Kacey finished, turning her head to send her brother an innocent smile.

Oh. Oh. Vamp look was a compliment. Alright, she could take that, especially if Kacey thought it was hot.

“I don’t know how, I ask myself that every day,” Tyson said simply, as he smiled down at her.

Ridiculous. But still…if he was being genuine, then so could she.

“You were sweet and endearing,” Chloe said, shrugging, “You weren’t scared of me even though I intimidated you, and I liked your smile.”

Tyson immediately flushed a deep red, Kacey hooting with laugh as their mom cooed, clutching her hands to her chest. Chloe just smiled to herself, glad to be able to speak the truth without it costing her any pride. It was the principle of the thing.

“You two are so sweet!”

Sweet. Hah. That was a first.

But Tyson just grinned at her, nudging her with his hip, so Chloe nudged him back. She could do this. She could so do this.

The four of them walked into the apartment properly, Tyson locking the front door before resting a hand on the small of Chloe’s back, the casual touch setting her butterflies going crazy. Just this little sign of gentle open affection in front of his family was overwhelming – she had no idea how she was going to cope for the rest of the evening.

“I didn’t know what we were doing about dinner, but I bought some wine for us anyway,” Chloe said, once they’d reached the kitchen.

“Chlo,” Tyson murmured softly, almost like a coo, making her shift uncomfortably.

“Oh Chloe that’s so sweet of you! I think we were going to just order in some food, so no-one had to be stuck cooking, but we can definitely put this in the fridge to chill for when it arrives?” his mom suggested.

All praise Laura Jost.

“That sounds good to me,” Chloe nodded, passing the wine over, “Thank you.”

“Someone has to be helpful, if Tys is going to be useless,” Kacey grinned.

“Rude,” he muttered, cheeks flaring with blush.

“Accurate,” Kacey snorted.

This dynamic explained a lot about how he reacted to her, it really did. It was kind of reassuring to see, if she was being honest, that she wasn’t a complete anomaly in his life.

It didn’t take long for them to order a multitude of dishes from Chloe and Tyson’s favourite Thai place, and by the time the four of them were sitting on the sofa with drinks while they waited for the food to arrive, Chloe’s nerves had melted away. His mom and sister were so genuinely friendly, asking her questions about herself and her life and how the two of them had met, all the while not pressuring or interrogating her in any way. It was easy to see how much they loved Tyson, and how much he loved them, and she felt almost honoured that she got to be apart of this moment. The more she got to know them, the more she appreciated Tyson for setting up the whole evening, knowing in her heart that she had been right to trust her instincts not to just run away.

She was meant to be here, right here, with Tyson and his family. And she was excited to explore what the feeling meant, even as much as it scared her.

Eventually, their dinner arrived, and they all moved to the dining table to eat, Chloe just staying silent with a pleased smile as Laura took the seat next to her, forcing Tyson to sit opposite with a surprised but pleased smile of his own. That was a good sign, right? The food was incredible as always, each of them trying a little bit of everything, reaching across each other to pick at the dishes, passing other dishes across each other, and talking and laughing above it all. It was all a bit of controlled chaos, if she had to put it into words, but it felt so natural and warm and welcoming, and Chloe couldn’t remember the last time she felt so comfortable around new people.

Probably when she’d first met Tyson 10 weeks ago.

All too soon it was time for Chloe to leave though. Tyson had tried to insist that it was fine if she stayed over that night, that his mom and sister wouldn’t care, but she refused, knowing that he had so little time with them during the season. It was important that they spent family time together, just the three of them, and to be honest the whole evening had been overwhelming enough, even if it had been positive.

Besides, she would see them for every game they were here – his mom and Kacey had made her promise. That was mind-blowing enough. What she had done to deserve them immediately warming to her, wanting to spend time with her, accepting her and Tyson…well, she had no idea.

But she did like it. She could admit that much.

“Let’s trade numbers! I’ll trade stories of Tys as a dumb kid for stories of him as a dumb kind-of-adult,” Kacey grinned.

“Hey!” Tyson protested.

Chloe just grinned. “Deal.”

“Hey!” he repeated, hands on hips.

Chloe couldn’t help but laugh herself as Kacey cackled, handing over her phone while Kacey gave her hers. This…was the last thing she was expecting. To have his mom and sister accept her so easily? No strings? Just like that?

Then again, considering how easy-going, and sweet, and accepting Tyson was, it shouldn’t really be a surprise that he learned it from two amazing women.

“There, done,” Kacey said, beaming as she handed her phone over.

The Best Jost (🔥💃🏻😎)

Chloe snickered at the name alongside the flame, dancing girl, and sunglasses face emojis, as Tyson looked over her shoulder, pouting at what he saw, quickly typing in her own number.

Chloe (🧛🏼‍♀️💋🖤)

Kacey grinned as she read her phone entry, laughing at the vampire, red kiss, and black heart emojis. It was good to have an in joke, right?

“Call me when you get home?” Tyson asked, taking her hands in his.

So affectionate and sweet in front of his family? It was almost too much. Especially as his mom sighed happily.

“I will?” she offered, trying not to be too awkward.

Tyson just grinned, almost as if he could read her thoughts. Well damn.

“I’ll walk you out to your car,” he said simply.

With a final round of hugs and promises to send lipstick recommendations, Chloe and Tyson left his apartment, Tyson threading his fingers through hers without hesitation. Mortifyingly, Chloe found herself blushing, blatant on her pale face, but Tyson either didn’t notice or politely didn’t mention it.

“So that went well,” Tyson said, smiling sweetly.

Chloe let out a sigh of relief. “It did, right?”

“I told you that you had nothing to worry about,” he grinned.

She immediately frowned. “They’re important to you, Tys. It was a legitimate concern.”

“To you maybe – but I knew as soon as they saw how much you adore me…”

Chloe’s scowl at his teasing words sent him cackling as they walked into the elevator, a family trait she’d noticed multiple times tonight.

“…and how much I completely adore you, that everything would be fine. They’re pretty protective of me, so I know that they like you already. Otherwise my mom wouldn’t have sat next to you while we were eating and Kacey definitely wouldn’t have given you her phone number.”

Well when he put it that way. Still, the little hesitant voice in the back of her head needed to be certain.

“Are you sure?” she asked hesitantly.

“Chlo, baby, I’m 100% positive. They think you’re amazing, just like I do.”

Damn her blushing cheeks.

“Okay I’m done,” she huffed.

Tyson just laughed, leaning down to kiss her softly. Chloe couldn’t help but sigh into his kiss, responding slowly and intently, only pulling away as the elevator slowed to a stop. Tyson just stared at her, a little misty-eyed and stunned, Chloe laughing softly as she tugged him gently out after her.

“Are you sure you don’t want to stay over?” he asked wistfully, guiding her to a stop and taking both hands in his.

“I’m sure. Enjoy your family time, okay? I’ll see you on Monday,” she said firmly.

As much as she wanted to absolutely go back upstairs with him, tonight was not the night.

“See you. And text me when you get home safe, don’t forget,” he said firmly.

“You’re ridiculous, Tyson Jost,” she said dryly.

Sweet, but ridiculous all the same.

He smiled that winning smile at her, giving her butterflies she was more than happy to deny existence of. “Only about you, Chloe Duncan.”

Taglist: @starshine-hockey-girl @youngbeezer @fiveholegoal @senditcolton @corneliaskates @fallinallincurls @typical-simplelove @redpool

#my writing #tyson jost fic #there's a chance series #tyson jost x chloe #tyson jost x oc #tyson jost fanfic #tyson jost imagine #hockey fic #hockey fanfic #nhl fic #nhl fanfic

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ohmyeyesmyeyes · 4 months

Text

'MARTHA'S IS PRETTY ROMANTIC' MASTERLIST - t. jost

summary: 2 best friends on vacation to martha's vineyard...they might kiss (they will).

warnings: swearing, self-doubt, confused feelings, mat + fictional gf (toni) meddling

PROLOGUE (15/12/23)

the sabres host an end-of-season meal and tyson's not himself; some good-natured concern for a friend goes a long way...to martha's vineyard.

CHAPTER ONE - COMPLICATED? (23/12/23)

the vacation at martha's kicks off in full swing, but one comment that apparently came from tyson's mouth not only sends your mind spinning, but throws your entire focus out of whack (+neon dinosaur undies)

CHAPTER TWO: JEALOUSY, JEALOUSY (18/01/24)

a lot can happen over two days, but the stand-out event just had to be that time you went to that restaurant and discovered that you didn't really enjoy seeing tyson flirt with other people. also: who the fuck is jamie?

CHAPTER THREE: THE HEART WANTS WHAT THE HEART WANTS (6/3/24)

“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.”

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

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wyattjohnston · 6 months

Note

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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comphy-and-cozy · 2 years

Text

Third Time’s the Charm - Tyson Jost

Pairing: Tyson Jost x plus sized!Reader (f)

Summary: Tyson Jost has been your best friend since you were kids. After a drunken hookup, you thought you’d lost him forever - that is, until he gets traded to the Minnesota Wild, conveniently the city in which you now reside. Will the former flame return when you reunite, or has the time changed everything forever?

Word Count: 11.1K

Author’s Note: I wrote this for @jostystyles for @antoineroussel's Summer Fic Exchange! I had an absolute blast writing this, and I tried to factor in as many of Emmie’s requests as I could (including several appropriately-placed Harry mentions, of course). Hope you enjoy, and happy belated birthday, sweetness! Also huge s/o to Demi for beta reading and daydreaming over Tys with me. ☺️🖤

Warnings: Smut (18+ ONLY) and angst (but a happy ending I promise). Alcohol use/mention and drunk hookup reference, language, plus sized body insecurity/themes, mutual pining, mentions of The Trade, oral sex (m + f receiving), protected sex, (1) overused trope, and multiple Harry Styles references.

Masterlist

Part 1: The Reunion

It was like any other Tuesday when you got the news, scrolling Twitter on your lunch break when a headline caught your eye.

BREAKING: TYSON JOST TRADED TO WILD BY AVALANCHE FOR NICO STURM

The name struck you, familiar and foreign all at once. You hadn’t seen him in years, and outside of the occasional birthday text or Instagram message, you hardly spoke to him, either. But here he was, apparently moving to Minnesota all the same.

When you were kids, you were inseparable. On your first day of kindergarten, you had burst into tears immediately upon walking into the school. A small, dark haired boy with curly hair walked right up to you, gave you a hug, and took your hand, leading you to your classroom with a smile. That boy was Tyson Jost. You hadn’t known it yet, but he would soon become your first — and best — friend.

He was your first kiss on the playground in the 3rd grade, blushing in the alcove of the slide on the jungle gym. A girl in your class dared you to do it, and you were determined, marching right up to him and kissing him on the mouth, before sticking your tongue out at him and sliding down the spiral slide.

In middle school, you went to your first dance with another boy, but ended the night in tears and outside on the swings with Tyson when you caught your date kissing someone else. The next dance, you went with Tyson platonically, awkwardly swaying while his hands rested firmly on your upper hip, looking anywhere but in your eyes.

When he moved away to British Columbia to go to the hockey academy, you’d cried for a week, the loss insurmountable to your teenage self. Despite being hours away from your best friend, you’d talked every night on the phone, trying to act like nothing had changed, keeping each other abreast of the updates in your day.

But, over time, those phone calls became less frequent, and the updates became more vague. Tyson got busier with travel and was being seriously scouted, and you were involved with your own studies and extracurriculars. Tyson was never gone completely, though – you worked part time at the concession stand of the local hockey rink, and every dark haired boy that ordered chicken fingers had him dancing across your mind, wondering what he was doing, fingers twitching to send him a text.

Things changed even more once he got drafted to the Avalanche. Despite the distance that had grown between you through the years, disappointing but understood by both of you as part of life, you still made the invite list for his first NHL game, sitting with his mom and sister in the stands. In celebration of the thrilling shootout win, you later ended the night tangled with Tyson in the sheets, a drunken and awkwardly not-that-awkward hook up that transformed your relationship forever.

Since that night, you hadn’t spoken. You’d slipped out of the bed and disappeared too early for him to wake up and put the pieces together, and the lack of phone call, text, pigeon carrier confirmed your beliefs that it was a stupid, terrible mistake that cost the both of you a best friend.

You hadn’t seen him since that night either, only the occasional update on his Facebook or Instagram, but you knew he was looking good – better than you ever remember him looking, the professional training certainly doing excellent things for his physique. You’d never really processed that night with him, having never really looked at him like that, because he was just… Tyson. Not NHL player Tyson Jost, not playboy extraordinaire, just Tyson, your friend.

And that’s what he was when you sent him a text, the ‘would love to catch up over lunch!’ masking the apprehension in the thumb that hovered over the send button for longer than you’d care to admit. Was he still just Tyson? Had his years in the NHL, making millionaire money, traveling all across the globe changed him from that curly-headed little boy you’d met all those years ago? Did the night between the sheets, whispers of his name falling from your lips while his hands danced over your body, change who he was to you?

Tyson got the text as he was scrolling through Instagram, searching his recent following for some new Minnesota prospects, replacing the slew of Denver girls he could hit up when he needed a night horizontal. Blonde, brunette, redhead, curvy, thin, busty — he didn’t discriminate.

He was 3 months deep in a girl’s feed, a blonde with the middle name ‘Rose’, when his eyes flicked up to the top of his screen, blinking a moment to register the name he was no longer accustomed to seeing texts from. Immediately, he abandoned whatshername to read the message you’d sent him, eyebrows raised in pleasant surprise at the lunch invitation.

Truthfully, he’d completely forgotten that you were in Minnesota — working in Minneapolis, if he remembered correctly from a Facebook post months ago. He was delighted to hear from you, pushing away the pang of guilt he always felt whenever you crossed his mind; he regretted the way that he’d let you slip away and out of his life. He hadn’t meant to; you were never meant to be the kind of friend that turned into a childhood best friend, but life had happened and before he knew it, that’s what you had become.

He’d be lying if he said that night didn’t still cross his mind, never speaking of it aloud. He remembered waking up alone, the faded smell of your perfume still lingering on the pillow beside him. No note, no text, no nothing — just gone, vanished from your life like it never happened. He assumed you’d left with regret in your heart, the forbidden act between two friends an invisible line crossed in thousands of ways, so he never reached out. Never called, never said anything, just letting the memory fade.

Setting up lunch was easy, a few friendly texts exchanged before deciding on a time and place. New to the city, he followed your suggestion and said he’d show up wherever you told him to. When the day came, you were almost embarrassed at the anxiety that bubbled inside of you, the kind of anticipation that made you change your shirt three separate times to make sure you exuded the right amount of not-trying-too-hard-but-still-cute-enough-that-you-know-I’ve-got-my-shit-together. Fortunately, Tyson’s easygoing nature made the initial greeting more natural than if you had led it, not knowing if a hug was inappropriate after all of the years of half-assed birthday texts and the unspoken elephant in the room. He’d scooped you up into his arms before you’d barely managed to get a “hey” out, and you immediately took comfort in his proximity.

The warm up was a bit uncomfortable, despite the all-too-easy softball questions that came with a reunion like this, the how have you been?s, how’s your mom?s, what are you doing for work now?s. Deep down, you both knew that you shouldn’t have to be answering these questions, that it felt counterintuitive with someone who once knew you inside and out. Still, you answered them in stride, giving him the updates he needed and easily making the transition to his very recent move to Minnesota and, simultaneously, his farewell to Denver.

When he told you about JT, you were surprised that there was no inkling of jealousy, rather, comfort knowing that he’d found someone else to take your place, to be that anchor for him in the new phase of his life — and certainly, you thought, someone that would never cross the physical line you had, betraying the friendship you’d built over many years in the course of one drunken night. It was not, and would never be, a competition, and you harbored no resentment at how things had turned out. You couldn’t help but wonder what JT was like — did he have the same sense of humor as you? What was their favorite thing to do together? Were you friends with the same Tyson?

With each laugh, each new quality revealed, you felt the invisible barrier between you breaking down slowly, still seeing flashes of the same Tyson you once confided in for everything, comforted to know that not everything had changed. All of it was surface conversation, though, and you both knew it. It was a strange feeling, to be sitting in front of someone so familiar, yet so foreign at the same time, like riding a bike and remembering how to steer, pedal, and balance all at once, before the muscle memory kicks in.

“D’you remember that time that you fell in the frozen pond by your house?” he asked, out of the blue, as you were taking a sip of your water.

Boom. There went the barrier, the remaining fragments tumbling down into a heap on the table, shattered in an instant.

“Oh my god, that was so terrifying!” you exclaimed, shaking your head at the memory. “I thought I was going to drown right then and there. It was so cold, and I freaked out. And then when we got back to my house and I was shivering and soaked, you told my mom —“

“—it’s all in the past, Miss Lynn!” he finished, causing you to double over, nodding as you laughed.

“To this day, whenever that comes up, my mom still says that you saved my life. You were the one who told me not to panic and to swim slowly,” you said once the giggles had subsided.

“Yeah, I never got a Boy Scout badge for that one,” he grinned.

The memories came out naturally, laughing jovially as you recalled each one with fondness and the fair share of giggles, the nostalgia what you needed to solidify the reconnection. Before you knew it, you realized you’d been there for three hours — five years of silence vanished just like that in the course of one afternoon.

“I’m really glad you called. It’s so good to see you, Kiwi,” he said as you stood in the parking lot beside your car, squeezing you tightly in his arms.

Kiwi. That silly little nickname he’d given you in elementary school because you’d worn a green shirt with brown pants. Somehow, it stuck, and you became Kiwi.

The flashes of the Tyson you knew were there, peeking through the private jets and flashing lights of his career that made him feel so distant, separating your lifestyles with an extra comma and several additional 0’s. As you drove home, his voice echoing in your mind, you asked yourself, were things similar enough? Even if he was the same Tyson, were you still the same Kiwi?

Part 2: The Rekindling

From the moment he got that text from you, Tyson swore all of his problems dissipated. It was cheesy and he hated it, but he had a literal pep in his step ever since he got back from lunch. He was playing more confidently, producing more than he had in Colorado, and while he knew that realistically, it was probably due in part to the change of scenery and the subconscious desire to prove himself, he couldn’t help but attribute it to you.

After that day at the cafe, he’d solidified a spot in your life, at the front of the table, almost like he’d never left, like he’d just been away at summer camp for a few weeks. You found yourself spending much of your free time with him, at his place or yours, or out showing him the Twin Cities like a proper tour guide. Despite the drastic changes in your lives, it was all too easy to fall back into your old routine, muscle memory kicking in after shaking the rust off and doing a few practice loops.

Things were different, though, slight shifts in the dynamic from all those years ago; it was only natural, given the growth you’d both gone through, physically, mentally, emotionally. You were older, more stable, and more mature. You noticed that he’d begun to fill the gaps in your life that would normally be filled by a romantic partner, if you’d had one — the go-to person to invite to the new restaurant you wanted to try, binge-watching your new favorite Netflix show, sending regular text updates about your day. Sure, you had other friends, and so did he, but it was clear from day 1 that you were each other’s first choice, maybe in more ways than one.

As the weeks turned into months, the regular season waning into the playoff preparations, you found yourself longing to be with him more, dreading the away games and extended time apart as he spent more time training, practicing, working out. You told yourself it was just that you’d spent so much time drifting apart and that it was refreshing, rejuvenating to have your closest friend back, a different kind of happy with him back in your life, not willing to even consider the other explanation.

The way he looked at you was different, too, though you did your best to ignore it. He was more affectionate, even cuddly, brushing your arm when he walked past, thigh bumping against yours when he sat next to you on the couch, arms squeezing you tighter when he hugged you goodbye — which was apparently something you did now, despite never having done it before. There was a light in his eye that you hadn’t noticed before, assuming it was a detail you’d forgotten about him in the years you’d grown apart, but it quickly became one of your favorite parts of him, the warmth in his smile and the affection in his eyes a place of comfort you’d missed out on.

And, you’d be lying if you said you didn’t notice the benefit of his profession and his extra time in the gym — praising the warm weather, you looked forward to spending time outside with him, eyes running appreciatively over the cut of his arms and the stretch of fabric over his muscled chest. If he noticed, he didn’t say anything, though you did your best to hide behind the shade of your sunglasses — except for the one time you’d walked into his apartment when he was in just a towel, and you’d both stuttered uncomfortably before he ran back into his room to change. (You’d dreamt about his toned six-pack and the drip of the water down his hardened chest for days after.)

He’d introduced you to some of his teammates, vaguely, never really giving you a label — just Y/N — but then, what was the label even supposed to be? Childhood best friend who I reconnected with and is now my best friend again? Former best friend who I drunkenly fucked one night and never spoke to again, but am now speaking to again?

Yeah, you thought, maybe it was best to avoid the labels for now. And maybe there was something more going on than just friendship. But that was another conversation for another time.

When the Wild were disappointingly eliminated from the playoffs, Tyson’s summer break began earlier than expected, and he was quick to invite you on a trip to Denver. He still had his brand deal with Coors Light, and they’d asked him to attend an Avs watch party at Coors Field. It worked out well, since he was already planning on going to cheer on the boys, his connection with the team never fading despite the disappointing departure a few months prior.

It was natural, just like old times; you’d brought the other to dances, proms, parties, when there was no romantic partner of the month. This was really no different, except for the fact that he was now a professional athlete paid millions to schmooze with the fans and stakeholders, the events much more lavish than a homecoming in your middle school gym. In the past, there had never been any question that it was never a date, but now, you weren’t so sure.

When you got to the hotel to check in, the front desk agent had blushed profusely when he gave his name, eyes looking a little too wide and lips a little too pouty for your liking. He’d smiled warmly while you bristled beside him, absolutely no reason to be feeling this contempt toward the kind woman who was simply doing her job.

She didn’t have to put her hand on his, though, when she’d paused her typing to say in a far-from-professional seductive tone, “You were my favorite Av.”

So maybe you felt a little surge of pride at the way her face fell, glossed lips breaking her smile, when she looked at the reservation. Her eyes flicked to you, having already dismissed you in favor of speaking only to Tyson, then turned her attention back to him.

“Mr. Jost, I’m sorry, but it looks like you only have one room on your reservation.”

“Yes, that’s correct,” he replied, and you felt the sinful pride welling up in your gut as she nodded curtly.

“I see,” she said curtly, eyes glancing back to you yet again, not doing much of anything to hide her own contempt. “Unfortunately, it looks like the double rooms are all booked up because of the Finals. All I have left is the king suite.”

You saw the flush on Tyson’s cheeks before feeling the heat rise oin your own, eyes snapping to his.

“Oh, uh —”

“Are you — ?”

“I mean, yeah, it’s fine —”

“I can take the couch,” you said, trying your hardest not to notice the way his cheeks had grown a really delightful shade of pink.

“I’d be happy to have the pullout couch arranged for you,” she offered, voice back to warm, clearly pleased that you were at least having some sort of conflict about sharing a bed, the glaring red alarm light above you signaling that you were not, as she had assumed, a girlfriend or romantic partner.

“No, Kiwi, I’m not letting you do that,” he said firmly, much to Front Desk Girl’s visible disappointment. “The King is fine. It’ll be just like our old sleepovers, yeah?”

You nodded in agreement, and Tyson turned back to the girl to complete the check in, her face back to a mild scowl. Glancing down to hide the smirk on your face, you bit back a comment that her makeup would be ruined at the rate her facial expressions switched from one to the other so rapidly.

Once she handed Tyson the keys, you offered a sweet smile before turning to follow him to the elevator, unable to prevent the satisfaction that settled over you. The room, of course, was wonderful, offering a beautiful view of the city and the snow-covered mountains in the distance, though the awkwardness had seeped in as soon as he’d unlocked the door, the large bed sitting very loudly in the center of the ornate room, a glaring beacon to your past.

You cleared your throat and brushed past it, shoving the discomfort to the side and ignoring it. If you didn’t think about it, it would go away, right?

Tyson’s eyes fell to your wrist as you accepted the extra room key from him, slipping it in the pocket of your purse. “What’s that?”

Smiling, you turned and offered your wrist, showing off your new — old — hardware: a braided bracelet, several shades of blue thread woven together in a simple pattern and tied neatly.

“Is that — ?”

“Yup,” you nodded, touching the bracelet unconsciously. “I meant to tell you that I found it in my closet the other day.”

“I can’t believe you still have it,” he laughed, shaking his head. “I made that for you… God, how long ago was that? It was at that one camp, and I think I was like, nine? Ten?”

“That was the worst summer of my life,” you sighed dramatically. “You were gone for so long and I had nothing to do except hang out with Lizzie Sherman.”

His eyebrows raised in understanding, placing his hand over his heart. “I’m sorry for putting you through that, Kiwi, truly. I solemnly swear that I will never do it again.”

Rolling your eyes, you shook your head before setting your bag on the luggage rack in the closet.

“You wanna get dinner? My favorite diner is just a few blocks down the street. They have the world’s best pancakes.”

“Tyson, it’s like, 8pm Minnesota time.”

“So? There is literally never a bad time for breakfast food.”

So, a few minutes later, you found yourself seated in an old school diner, straight out of any New York City movie. It was relatively quiet, only a few tables occupied when you arrived, and he’d told you it was Denver’s best kept secret.

“Whoa, now, look who the cat dragged in,” the waitress said as she approached the table. “Tyson Jost, in the flesh.”

“Hey, Carol, good to see you,” he greeted with a grin. She was older, old enough to be his mother, voice raspy no doubt from years of cigarette smoke, with a warm, welcoming smile, laugh lines etched into her face.

“What brings you back? Can’t be a coincidence that you’re here the day before Game 1.”

“Showing Y/N here around the old stomping grounds,” he explained with a gesture to you. “But you know I can’t miss the boys’ first game.”

“Knew you couldn’t stay away for too long,” she tutted, then turned to you. “This boy single handedly kept us in business during the pandemic.”

You laughed, “That doesn’t surprise me one bit. He’s been raving about this place for weeks.”

“Y’know I’ve got a soft spot for ya, Josty,” she winked.

“You’re always my favorite girl,” he replied flirtatiously, nudging your foot under the table as if to say, Nah, you know you are.

“I’m flattered, but I don’t think your girlfriend here appreciates that too much,” she said, and you felt that familiarly uncomfortable heat flood your cheeks at her comment. It was playful, harmless, but your eyes snapped to Tyson’s as he smiled and made the joke, “You always knew you weren’t the only girl for me.”

You tried to hide the way your eyes wanted to bulge out of your head at his words, innocent enough, but shocking nonetheless. Maybe it wasn’t worth correcting, an honest and casual mistake given the circumstances — but how could you just ignore the smile on his face as he said it? There was an ease of his voice, the pride in his body language, like he’d been saying it all his life.

Carol winked at you, lucky girl uttered in that matronly way, before pulling out her notepad and pen, the moment floating away in an instant. “What can I get for you guys?”

“Coffee, please,” he ordered. “We’ll split the pancakes. And, Carol, you’re the only one I trust to get this exactly right. We’ll also have a plate of hashbrowns, with one sunny side up egg on them.”

Carol nodded and you smiled at the gleam in his eye as he flashed you a grin. It had been a tradition when you were kids — to share a plate of pancakes, doused in maple syrup, along with hashbrown and egg yolks, after every sleepover. At one point, when Tyson hit puberty and began demolishing plates of food to keep up with his growing body, your dad and his mom began buying bags of frozen hashbrowns in bulk to keep up.

“Are you even allowed to eat pancakes and potatoes?” you asked, eyebrow raised, once Carol had turned to put your order in.

“We’ll count it as my cheat meal,” he shrugged. “This is more than worth it.”

Your heart warmed at the implication, and before you could comment, he was off, launched into a story about JT and the time their coach made them skate laps when he found out they’d competed — and won — in a pancake challenge at this very restaurant.

It wasn’t long before Carol was delivering your food to your table, balancing several plates expertly on her arms. The smell of freshly cooked pancakes and fried potatoes filled your nose, and Tyson thanked her before sending you a grin. “Smells like heaven, doesn’t it?”

“I never doubted your taste buds for a second.”

As you watched him ceremoniously crack the yellow yolk on the crisp hashbrowns, the liquid oozing over the potatoes, you thought to yourself how natural it all felt. Sitting here, with him, like no time had passed, like nothing had ever happened between you, just sitting and enjoying a plate of pancakes with your friend. It was so simple, so seamless, so easy with him, even amidst the road bumps.

If this was a movie, you thought, this would be the exact moment where the main character realizes she’s in love with him.

It had never really been a thought before, all of the comments from your families growing up about how you’d end up marrying one another shrugged off, laughed away with a teasing gross and a grin. But losing him, and having him come back to you, when both of you had least expected it — you couldn’t deny it certainly had fate written all over it, the serendipity of it all almost too strong to ignore.

And then there was the question — were you in love with him?

*****************

When you got back to the hotel after dinner — breakfast? — you both slipped into more comfortable clothes, and, when you couldn’t stop yawning, you knew it was time for bed. Tyson followed you into the spacious bathroom as you began to get ready for bed; he set his small travel bag for toiletries on the counter beside you while you were brushing your teeth.

“Hyaluronic acid? Seriously, Tys?” you asked, holding up the dropper bottle he’d set down.

“What? My skin is really dry, okay?” He snatched the bottle back, unscrewing it to drop some of the liquid on his hands before rubbing it into his skin. “The girl at Ulta told me I should buy it.” “Girls do like a man who has a skincare routine,” you mused.

“Thank you,” he said, puffing his chest out proudly. “I’ll have you know that I have excellent personal hygiene.”

Your eyebrows raised, biting back any snarky reply, choosing instead to nod sarcastically. “Uh huh.”

Soon enough, you were crawling into bed, the crisp white sheets rustling beneath your body. It wasn’t until you laid your head against the pillow that you realized Tyson would be joining you soon, right next to you, in the bed. The silent implications, unspoken words from years ago swirled in your head, and you did your best to push them away.

When he settled in under the sheets, you were grateful for the large bed, allowing you the extra space between your bodies, not even able to feel his body heat. The timidness had returned, plopping itself in the gap between you, and you swore you could feel a physical, but invisible barrier sharing the covers with you. It was fine, you told yourself, totally normal, not weird at all. Plenty of people shared beds with their friends on trips.

But not everyone had slept with that friend 5 years ago and never talked about it since.

“I’m not gonna bite, you know.”

Called out.

“I know,” you replied, doing your best to hide the nerves in your voice. “I just… don’t usually sleep in a bed with other people.”

“It’s just me. Just like old times, except now I have bulging muscles that you have to watch out for.”

You snorted, grateful for the way he was able to seamlessly ease the tension with his corny jokes, and you smiled when he nudged your leg with his knee.

“Goodnight, Tyson.”

“Goodnight, Kiwi.”

*****************

Fortunately, the awkwardness of waking up beside him was staved, for he’d woken up early to run in the hotel gym, allowing you time to shower and get ready for the day, thankful for the privacy. His ‘getting ready’ routine was short, and soon enough, you were taking coffees to go to the park after a quick breakfast. It was a beautiful day, and conversation was easy and casual as you strolled together, excitement buzzing in the air of the city in anticipation for game 1 of the Finals.

Lunch was one of his favorite sandwich shops, followed by some sightseeing — he was pleased to have swapped roles, being in the position of tour guide and leading you through the city that he knew like the back of his hand.

You returned back to the hotel to get ready for the event, and then the game. Tyson had already texted with JT and made arrangements to stop by after the game to say hello to the boys, and while you weren’t nervous, you did want to make a good first impression. It was a summer event, so you opted to wear your old Avalanche Jost jersey — bought in advance of the one game you’d attended five years ago — paired with shorts to help keep you cool in the warm Denver air.

Tyson, while he couldn’t directly wear an Avs logo, ensured that his flannel had navy and burgundy woven into the fabric as his subtle nod to his former team. You couldn’t help but let your eyes trail appreciatively over him, his gray t-shirt fitting him in all the right places, wild curls tamed neatly with some gel. He cleaned up nice, even when going to an event hosted by a beer company.

You slipped on your shoes, before smoothing out your jersey and grabbing your purse.

“Ready?”

“Ready.”

Tyson opened the door for you, then trailed behind you as you walked down the hall to the elevators. You could feel the heat of his eyes on you, almost enough to make you uncomfortable had it been anyone else.

“You look really… good,” he said. “That jersey looks really good on you.”

“You sound surprised.”

His eyes went wide, cheeks tinging pink as he stuttered, “No, I’m not – you just – I just – ah, shit –”

“Just fucking with you,” you grinned. “You look nice, too, Tys.”

His glare was adorably bashful, leading you to the elevator in order to meet your Uber driver in the lobby.

The event went smoothly, easy enough to stand beside Tyson while he cracked jokes and shared stories with the fans. It was fun to see him interacting with them, always so jovial and friendly despite being traded several months prior. That had always been something you’d loved about him; being able to strike up a conversation with anyone and end it as if he’d known them his whole life. Really, when you thought about it, it shouldn’t have been a surprise as to why you’d reconnected with him so easily.

Watching the game surrounded by fans was an equally thrilling experience, the cheers erupting with each hit, each save, each goal. Tyson was elated, and honestly, so were you, despite the fact that the only reason you’d had any loyalty to the team was the man standing beside you.

After the game, Tyson was buzzing, eager to meet up with the guys. He took you through a “secret” route to get into the arena while avoiding the mass hoards of cheering, hollering fans, elated by the overtime victory. He walked with familiarity through the doors, leading you through the halls outside of the locker rooms, waiting for his friends to emerge.

He’d begun to show you some of the pieces on the wall, explaining some of the history of the team as you saw the murals of Joe Sakic and Peter Forsberg lifting the Cup over their heads.

“God, you need a fuckin’ haircut, bud,” said a voice from behind you.

Your heart warmed as you saw Tyson’s eyes light up, grinning like a fool as he turned at the sound of the voice, as familiar to him as his own name.

“Looks like you lost your trimmers too, ya mountain man. Your playoff beard looks like shit,” he shot back with a smile, approaching his best friend, large arms engulfing the other in a hug. When he pulled away, he turned to you expectantly and set his hand on the back of your arm.

“JT, this is Y/N. Y/N, JT.”

You offered a smile, sticking out your hand and shrieking in surprise when the redhead pushed your hand away and moved in for a bear hug.

“It’s so nice to meet you, Y/N. Thanks for putting up with this shithead,” he said, grinning.

“Someone’s got to, am I right?” you were quick to crack back, earning a laugh from JT. Tyson held his hands up, as if he was only then beginning to realize the consequences of having his two best friends here to roast him at the same time.

“Jost, you didn’t tell me you had pretty friends at home,” JT said smoothly, and your cheeks felt hot, not used to the public compliment. “Maybe I would’ve come visit sooner if I knew.”

Tyson gave him a shove. “She’s off limits, pal. Don’t even think about it.”

The redhead’s eyebrow raised, sending you a glance like he knew the internal conflict that was brewing inside you, could see the tension mounting between the two of you despite your best efforts to keep it under wraps. It was a bit unsettling, and you wanted to tell him that just because he was Tyson’s best friend didn’t mean that he could read your mind, too.

If he could, he didn’t say anything, smoothly changing the subject to ask about the flight and your activities in the city thus far. The conversation was easy, and you could certainly see how Tyson had fallen into him in your absence.

More and more of the guys began to pile out of the room, greeting Tyson with enthusiasm. Some of them greeted you cordially, and others followed JT’s path and simply scooped you up for a hug. Soon enough, the wives, girlfriends, and others flooded the hall until it was full of people, celebrating Avs getting one win closer to the Stanley Cup.

You found yourself chatting with two girls, one of whom was Mel Landeskog, and the other you hadn’t quite caught the name of or who she was with. Mel was warm, a greeting you like an old friend that she’d known for years.

“I’m so glad you were able to come out,” she said. “I know how much it means to the guys to have Tyson here.”

“It’s been so great to see the way the city’s welcomed him back,” you replied. “You can tell this really is home for him.”

Mel smiled, nodding with agreement, but was quickly called away by EJ asking her to wrangle in her husband. The dynamic shifted as you tried to make small talk with the other girl, offering a friendly smile that was half-assedly returned.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name?”

“I’m Susie.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Susie. I’m Y/N.”

“Are you Josty’s girlfriend?” she asked, the words so blunt you blinked in surprise.

Cheeks warming, you stuttered, “Oh, uh, no. Just a friend.”

Susie hummed, her eyes scanning over Tyson’s figure a few feet away. Part of you wanted to smack her to stop her from ogling him, but considering you were just a friend, you resisted the urge to start a fight.

“You just don’t look like his type, is all,” she said, glancing back. You felt your heart sink at her words, the silent implication all but screaming in your ears. She didn’t say it, didn’t have to, but you knew exactly what she meant: Not pretty enough to be his type, not skinny enough to be his type.

Offering another smile, you excused yourself to find a restroom. You walked away quickly, seeking either the bathroom or just privacy, whichever you could find first. Ducking behind a wall, you closed your eyes, tears hot as they brimmed above your lashes, blinking quickly to avoid letting them spill onto your face.

It was nothing new, nothing you hadn’t heard before, and you knew better than to put any stock in it, especially being around the crowd of pretty, but stereotypical, athlete girlfriends. But that didn’t make it any easier to hear, especially not when comparing you to Tyson — your Tyson. They didn’t understand, no one understood, the history and strength of your relationship, both before and after the unintentional hiatus. Everyone just assumed that Tyson — handsome, fit, rich — could never associate with a fat girl.

With a forlorn sigh, you heaved yourself up and began an actual search for a bathroom to pop into. A few winding corners later, you found one, locking the door behind you. You gathered a wad of toilet paper to dab at your eyes, careful to avoid smudging your mascara. As you exited the stall, your eyes dragged up to see themselves in the reflection of the mirror, unable to avoid the way they inevitably slid over your figure. The jersey, while covering your body, couldn’t hide the size of your arms, the width of your torso, the shape of your belly.

It had taken a long time, with many tears and countless hours of therapy, but you’d finally reached a point where you were happy, or at least content, with your body, no longer hating what you saw in the mirror. But the thoughts echoing in your head were far from kind, unable to prevent the comparisons and harmful words.

Summoning your therapist’s voice in your head, you allowed yourself a few moments to hype yourself back up, if only to gather the energy to return to the crowd of people outside. The weight in your throat dissipated, and you took another deep breath before stepping back out and finding the group again, Susie and everyone else clueless to your brief detour.

“Hey, you,” Tyson greeted, walking up to you and bumping your hips with his. “Was just looking for you. I think the guys are gonna go out for a celebratory drink — you wanna go?”

Hoping he couldn’t see the glassiness of your eyes, you glanced around before saying, “I think I’m just going to head in early.”

Tyson’s face fell. “Is everything okay?”

“I’m fine, just tired from the travel. I’ll see you back at the hotel later.”

“I can come with you —“

“No, Tys, you should go celebrate with them. You deserve to,” you urged, smiling to show him you were okay.

He frowned, but nodded, quickly taking out his phone to order you an Uber back and ignoring your protests that you could, in fact, afford a ride back to the hotel.

*****************

Instead of going to your room, though, you found your feet walking toward the hotel bar, taking a seat on the plush barstool. Maybe it felt a little cliche, a little too ‘main character’ for your liking, but you thought you could use the liquid blanket to help you forget the way those words stung just a little too much.

“Give me something old,” you said when the bartender approached, setting a napkin in front of you. “And red.”

He nodded, and soon you were presented with a glass of Pinot Noir, a 1982 something-or-other. With a wry smile, you lifted the glass in a mock toast to him, pushing away the voice in your head that told you to savor the nice wine and taking a much larger than necessary gulp.

One glass turned into three, time blurred as the wine got sweeter with each sip. You didn’t know how much time had passed, but you found yourself hurtling back to the present, conscious, with brown curls tickling your forehead. As reality trickled back into your hazy brain, you realized you were on your back in bed, having the life kissed out of you by your best friend. You didn’t remember how you’d gotten there, only focused on the way his hand felt against your breast, kneading it through the cotton of the t-shirt you were wearing — when did you change?

Tyson tasted like beer, his tongue pressed against yours in a familiar moment. His hands felt sinful, hot, dragging along your skin, drawing soft sighs from your throat.

“Tys,” you breathed, mouth hot against his, words unable to form past the sigh of his name. “Tys.”

He hummed, hearing you but not hearing you, mouth trailing back to your jaw. The work of his lips on your skin had your brain in a haze far more powerful than the wine, all coherent thoughts leading back to one thing: Tyson.

The smallest sober sliver of yourself that was left was screaming at you, fighting desperately against the drunk desire that was all too easy to give in to, to keep kissing him and feeling his heat against yours.

“Tys, stop,” you said again, sobriety flitting into your consciousness. “We can’t.”

Whether it was your words or your tone that reached his brain, you weren’t sure, but he ceased his mouth’s onslaught in an instant. You watched him blink, as if he, too, was flying back to reality, the lustful, drunken haze bursting above you. He pulled away, sitting back on his legs as he ran a hand over his face. “Fuck.”

The absence of his body caused you to shiver despite the heat of your skin. Your legs were still spread, wide, accompanying his form still sat between your thighs, and your cheeks burned from feeling so exposed. Dread filled your heart as you watched him slide off the bed, muttering an apology, head hung in shame while he shuffled to the couch.

Part of you wanted to call out to him, to apologize — for what exactly, you weren’t sure — but your brain finally spoke louder as you bit your tongue, letting it wait until morning, knowing the situation needed a sober mind. You listened to him shifting on the couch, tugging a spare blanket over him with a sigh.

It was thoughts of Tyson’s lips that filled your mind as you drifted off to sleep, finally succumbing to the haze the wine was calling you to.

Part 3: The Romance

The brightness of the sun stirred you from your sleep. Head pounding, you blinked a few times, the processing time it took to get your bearings extremely delayed, soaked with too much Pinot Noir and the subtle taste of Coors Light. Blurs of the night before flitted through your mind like a slideshow, flashing images of the hotel bar, of brown curls and stolen sighs.

Your legs stretched, and all at once you registered the large bed, the space beside you, and in an instant the feeling of Tyson’s lips on yours came rushing back to you. With a groan, you scrubbed your hand over your face, rolling to your side to heave yourself up.

Tyson sat on the loveseat, not looking much better than you felt, a disposable cup in his hand. He offered a solemn smile, then nodded to the coffee table in front of him, an additional cup waiting for you.

“Morning,” he greeted.

“Hi,” you replied, feeling extremely exposed in your t-shirt and sleep shorts. Your feet slid along the marble floor, cold against your skin, as you shuffled to your bag to tug on a sweatshirt. Though you blamed your slow movements on the ache of your head, you’d be lying if you weren’t doing everything you could to delay the impending conversation that lied ahead, daunting, intimidating, staring back at you on the other side of the room.

You made your way back to the couch, the space beside Tyson burning your skin as you sat down, maximizing the distance between you two as much as possible on the small sofa.

“Thanks for the coffee,” you broke the silence, shifting uncomfortably as you took a sip. “God, I feel like shit.”

Tyson let out a snort in agreement, handing you the small bottle of Advil from his bag.

“Yeah. I pay for it more now than I did back then,” he said, taking a slurp of his own. His eyes flicked to yours, the elephant in the room glaring, screeching loud, unavoidable no matter how much you’d rather curl back up in the king bed and bury your head under the duvet.

You met his eyes, painstaking, and you could see it in them, dying to come out into the world.

“Y/N, I —“

“Tyson, please don’t.”

“No, Y/N, we need to talk about this,” he started, slowly, firm but not cross.

Your eyes broke from his, unable to hold his gaze anymore, looking down at your lap. He was quiet, waiting for you to speak, to give him permission to continue.

“We were drunk, Tyson. Shit happens. We’ll shake it off,” you dismissed it, a weak attempt to make the discomfort vanish.

“That’s what I said five years ago, too,” he said, and your heart leapt into your throat at his words, eyes shooting to meet his. It was the first time either of you had acknowledged It out loud, to each other or to anyone else.

You swallowed thickly, taking a beat before responding. “It was a mistake, Tyson. You regret it, I regret it. It happened, and we moved on —”

“I don’t regret it.”

His words interrupted you, your eyes shooting up to him at his statement. settled in the silence, your eyes shooting up to him at his statement. He what?

Tyson paused for another moment. “Well, I didn’t.”

Oh. The words struck your heart, shattering it instantly, as if confirming what you both feared and knew to be true.

“No, wait, let me rephrase that,” he said quickly, realizing his mistake. “I don’t regret sleeping with you. I regret what happened after, and letting you walk away without talking to you about it.”

The words it’s too late, it doesn’t matter rang through your head, heavy on your tongue in a way that made you want to spit them out.

“I don’t regret it,” he repeated again, as if to solidify his feelings and make sure you understood. Then he asked in a timid voice, as if he was afraid to hear the answer, “Why do you regret it?”

“It’s not that easy of an answer.”

“It can’t be that complicated,” he shot back, unable to keep the sarcasm out of his tone.

“Tyson, I’m not –”

“You’re not what, Y/N?” he cut you off, eyes blazing with concern despite the frustration in his voice.

“I don’t belong here, Tyson.”

“What does that mean?”

“This,” you gestured to your surroundings, the expensive suite a contrast to your apartment and old sweatshirt that had brought you comfort since high school. “Here. With you. I don’t belong here. Not when I look like this.”

Tyson’s eyes fell, softening as each of your words struck him like broken glass. The words that his brain managed to conjure — none of them were enough, could ever be enough, to tell you how laughably and incredibly wrong you were.

“I regret it because guys like you don’t end up with girls like me.”

“That’s not true,” he finally said softly, kicking himself for not being able to come up with anything more eloquent.

“It is,” you replied. “You’re a professional athlete now, Tyson. You should be dating models, blonde size zero’s. Not me. Look at every single one of your teammates’ wives and girlfriends. None of them look like me.”

Tyson’s mouth opened, like he was ready to blurt out his next sentence, but paused, closing it.

‘It was fun, but really all sleeping with you did was show me a sliver of a life that I can’t have.”

“Y/N.” His voice was soft, trying to connect with you, to bring you back to the moment. Something about the way your name sounded coming out of his mouth made the burn in your throat even stronger, tears welling in your eyes as you blinked, looking away to avoid his sight.

“I liked you then, before any of that — any of this — mattered,” he began, hand running through his messy, untamed curls. “I know that doesn’t take away from any of the feelings that you’ve felt and the experiences that you’ve had, and I know that I will never be able to fully understand, but fuck, Y/N, I care about you so much, and I…”

His voice trailed off, eyes off in the distance like he was searching for the words. You watched him, waiting patiently for him to finish, trying your best to not prepare your response before he had even completed his thought.

“I know that I’m on the TV sometimes, and I make a lot of money, but that doesn’t mean that I’m different. Deep down, inside, away from the cameras and the crowd, I’m the same Tyson I always was, always have been. The same one who made you this bracelet at camp,” he said softly, reaching out to pull at the braided strings on your wrist. The touch tingled your skin, and you did your best to ignore it. “I’m still the guy who played with your Barbies and made them fall in love with Batman.”

Your lips curled into a small smile at the memory, and he matched it before continuing. “I just want – need you to know that I’ve never, ever been bothered by your size. I look at you and see you. My best friend. The girl who was there by my side for everything. No matter what number is on the scale, or what size jeans you wear, or what you decided to eat that day. Not then, not now.”

Your heart swelled in your chest, and you almost didn’t want to believe him, but for the deep sincerity in his voice and the honesty in his pleading eyes.

“You said that guys like me don’t end up with girls like you,” he said, reaching forward to tentatively take your hand in his. When you didn’t pull away, he gave you a squeeze that encouraged your eyes to flick up to his. “But there’s never been someone who’s so perfect for me.”

“Tyson…”

“Please let me finish,” was his response, and it wasn’t harsh, but gentle, more of a plea, like he would die if he couldn’t get the words out.

“I’ve felt this way forever, about you. I felt it that night, and the morning after, and every morning since. But I didn’t realize what it was until you came back into my life. And now that you’re here, I can’t let you leave again.”

Your heart thumped in your chest, barely processing the words coming out of his mouth before he was speaking again.

“I love you, Y/N.”

The air in your throat felt tight, like you were suddenly engulfed in a tidal wave of emotion. Though you knew what he said, the weight of his words were still light, not sinking in, the true force of them waiting to crash onto you at any moment. He knew, understood without words, and took his hand back and sipped his coffee to allow you some space.

“Tyson, I —“ you began, then stopped, words once again failing you, only this time it was because of something else his lips were doing.

“You don’t have to say it back, now, or ever,” he said quickly. “I just… Needed you to know. I’ve always loved you.”

Hot tears trickled down your cheeks when you blinked, sniffling as you looked up at him. It was, with no contest, the sweetest thing anyone had ever said to you. You supposed you shouldn’t be surprised; you’d never felt as seen or as heard as you did with Tyson, even when you were doing your best to hide beneath the smile you offered to the world outside.

“The last few months with you have been… wonderful, and confusing,” you continued, throat constricted as you tried your best to quell the tears, tried to put your feelings into somewhat coherent words. “I’ve been spending this entire time trying to figure out what it is I’m feeling.”

He nodded, letting you know that he was following, his body completely engaged with you and your words.

“I think —I think that I might… feel… the same,” you picked your words carefully, that big, terrifying L-word far too heavy to throw out like that. “I’m still working that out for sure.”

Tyson smiled, pleased with even the possibility that you might love him too. His expression shifted as he swallowed, suddenly looking nervous.

“Could I kiss you?”

Your heart did a triple-axel backflip at the question, and you realized you were nodding as if he might never ask again, uncertain about the future but knowing in the moment that you desperately wanted his lips on yours.

They were warm, soft, just enough weight behind the kiss that you could feel his yearning without feeling forceful or aggressive. It was sweet, years of pining built up into one moment.

“I’ve always liked doing that.”

“Yeah? Is that why it’s happened twice now when you’re drunk?”

“You wanna see what happens when I’m not?”

With one sentence, the dynamic of the room shifted, suddenly feeling like it was at least ten degrees hotter. The implication of his words had warmth spreading through your body, the sweatshirt you had on quickly too much.

He was hesitant, though, waiting for your approval. Tyson felt your pause, and added, “It’s okay if you don’t. I’m not going anywhere, not unless you tell me to fuck off. But, you know what they say, third time’s the charm.”

You smiled, appreciative of his humor as he grinned, clearly impressed with himself. In the back of your head, you heard a quiet voice mutter, Fuck around and find out.

“And for what it’s worth, I think you’re incredibly fucking sexy.”

Before you could think twice, you were lunging forward to throw your arms around him and kiss him. If he was taken aback, he recovered quickly, moving to wrap his arms around you as he kissed you back with enthusiasm. Your back hit the soft velvet of the sofa, giving him more leverage to kiss you harder, his tongue finding the seam of your mouth.

The irony of making out with him again, mere hours after your recent run-in, was not lost on you, but you couldn’t quite bring yourself to care. This time was different, sober consent all too clear, and you could feel everything.

The pile of clothes on the floor grew, cotton flung without a second thought as you undressed each other, slowly, carefully. Instinctively, you were tempted to cover your body with your arms, but Tyson had other plans, pulling your hands away from your stomach as he delivered kisses against your skin. You shivered at the feeling, his lips tracing constellations along your chest, over your belly, onto your hips.

“Fuckin’ love your hips,” he murmured, voice muffled by your skin, and you giggled at the way his low tone vibrated against you. His hands followed suit, slow and careful, like they were handling a priceless piece of art — and to him, they were.

Tyson’s mouth trailed over your waist, kissing and sucking marks on his journey between your thighs. His breath was hot against the cotton of your underwear, damp with anticipation as he glanced up at you, searching for any sign of protest. When he was met with none, he allowed his finger to drag up the seam, thumb rubbing gently over your clit through the material.

A moan escaped your lips, encouraging him to continue. He moved forward to kiss the fabric, inhaling your scent and letting out a groan.

“Please, Kiwi,” he murmured against your core. “Please let me eat you out. God, I’m begging you.”

His earnest desire had you nodding so fast you thought your head might fall off, butterflies erupting in your belly when his fingers dug into the waistband of your panties, tugging them over your hips and down your thighs. He didn’t give you any time to be shy, quickly pulling apart your legs to reveal your aching center, wet with need.

Licking his lips, Tyson hummed before pressing kisses against each of your inner thighs, tickling you slightly with the action, poor excuse for a playoff beard scratching the sensitive skin. He licked his way toward your lower lips, kissing them the way he’d kissed your mouth last night. Another deep groan left his throat when he tasted you, quick to delve his tongue inside of you.

Your hands flew to tangle themselves in his curls, his tongue working magic along your sodden slit, teasing you artfully. When his fingers joined his tongue, parting your folds and slipping into your heat, you let out a sigh of his name, pleasure hazing your vision and sending warm fuzzies to your belly.

“Jesus, you taste like fuckin’ heaven,” he moaned against you, pumping his fingers slowly when he realized that doing so produced more of your juices, lapping it up like the syrup from the pancakes you’d eaten the day before.

You couldn’t even reply, words a distant memory with the way he worked his digits inside of you, finding the spot to make you see stars. He grinned against you when he hit it, feeling the way you tightened around his fingers, and set off on his mission to show you just how bad he wanted you. His tongue continued its assault on your clit, flicking and circling in perfect harmony with the movement of his fingers, steady and consistent.

“Tys —“

Your climax hit you suddenly, a long cry of his name called out into the room while your back arched, fingers tugging tightly onto his hair. Tyson was careful to continue his movements exactly the same to draw out your pleasure as long as possible, only stopping when your hand gently pushed his head away. Short puffs of breath left you, panting, and he was smug as he pulled away to grin at you.

“Was that good, or —?”

Resisting the urge to smack him upside the head, you pulled him up toward you to kiss him. He quickly forgot his snark, distracted by your lips and the way your hand was crawling its way between your bodies, palming the hardening bulge in his boxers.

“Fuck,” he choked out, twitching against your hand.

“Take me to bed, Tyson,” you instructed him, words breathed against his mouth softly, a prayer rather than a command.

He moved so quickly that you almost laughed, if not for the shriek that left you as he picked you up, bridal style, crossing the short distance back to the large bed.

“Shall we continue last night’s activities?” he teased, waggling his eyebrows as he laid you back onto the mattress, settling himself between your legs to kiss you again.

“Tys,” you said between kisses. “I wanted to —“

“I know, baby, but look at you. Fuck, I’ve gotta have you,” he interrupted. You could practically feel the desperation in his voice, and you certainly could feel his desperation between your thighs.

A shiver ran up your spine at his words, and you were rendered speechless when he reached his arms behind his head to tug his shirt off his shoulders, in that hot way that boys do. It was your turn to groan at the sight, his toned core muscles flexing in the morning light.

“You like what y’see?” he smirked. “Know you liked that preview that day at my apartment, huh?”

“Shut up,” you shot back, silencing him by reaching for his erection again, this time allowing your hand to slip beneath the waistband of his boxers, wrapping your fist around him. “You gonna take these off so you can use it, or what?”

Tyson couldn’t remove the offending garment fast enough, fumbling over himself to shove the boxers down his legs, tossing them behind him hurriedly. It was your turn to smirk, admiring the sight of him completely nude in front of you as you leaned forward to stroke him. You watched goosebumps rise on his arms as you pressed your lips to the head of his dick, breath hot on the sensitive flesh.

“Kiwi —”

“Just a taste,” you pleaded, looking up at him with wide eyes, lips puckered against his leaking tip.

He let out a strangled groan, along with a string of curse words, which was all you needed as permission to take him into your mouth. You let your tongue swirl along his length, tasting him, savoring the weight of him and the saltiness of his precum.

Head bobbing, your mouth moved up and down, lips wrapped around the girth of him. With a glance up, you saw his eyes squeezed shut, lip tugged between his teeth as he indulged in the feeling of your hot mouth.

You made it a competition with yourself, see how many delicious moans and groans you could pull from his lips with the work of your own, as you let your mouth learn each inch of him, skin soft on your tongue. Bringing your hand up to the base, you gripped tightly and stroked him, working conjointly with your mouth.

“Baby, baby, you gotta — fuck, Kiwi, you gotta stop,” he panted, hand moving to your jaw to pull you off of him. “M’not gonna last if you keep — fuck.”

You smiled, pleased with your ability to render him a stuttering fool, though it quickly faltered when he gently pressed you onto your back. He kissed you again, stealing the breath from your lungs, as his hand cupped your jaw, slowing the moment down again. His cock bobbed between your thighs, wet with your saliva and bumping against the slickness of your folds, and you whined at the feeling.

When he tore himself away from you, running to retrieve a condom from his bag, you raised an eyebrow at him as he climbed back onto the bed. “You came prepared, huh?”

“What? No! No — I mean, I hoped, maybe… I thought, just in case—“ he stuttered, bashfully looking at you as his cheeks flushed.

You rolled your eyes with a giggle, letting him know you weren’t upset with a nudge against his thigh with your knee. He looked relieved, then remembered he was supposed to be doing something with the foil packet in his hand, ripping it open and working the latex over his aching cock.

He shifted, positioning himself at your opening, then paused to look at you, eyes connecting with yours in a glance, wordless yet saying everything he needed to say. You nodded, a soft please dying on your lips when he let the tip bump against your clit.

Slowly, Tyson pushed into you, taking his time and savoring the way you gripped him, pulling him in in more ways than one. His arms landed on either side of your head, and he pressed his forehead against you as he allowed you both a moment to adjust to the sensation, simply content to just be connected.

Tyson’s hand moved to yours, entwining your fingers together as he began to move, your legs finding their place wrapped around his hips as he pushed into you. He pressed kisses against your lips and on your cheeks, showering you with affection as he took his time to find his rhythm.

He remained slow and steady, keeping his thrusts firm and forceful, allowing you to feel each inch of him as he moved inside you. You could feel his hot breath against your face, whispering declarations of love against your skin.

Tyson poured every emotion from the last five years into you, kissing away all of the unspoken words and forgotten memories, vanished with each pump of his hips. This wasn’t a mistake, though, if you thought about it, neither of the past times had been a mistake, either.

It didn’t take long for your high to build, cresting with a cry of his name. He wasn’t far behind you, eyes holding with yours as he, too, reached his peak with a Kiwi whispered against your lips. When his hips stilled against you, he stayed for a moment, enjoying the feeling of being so connected with you, body and soul.

You couldn’t help the smile on your face, even when he pulled out with a sigh, tying off the condom and tossing it in the direction of the bathroom. He couldn’t bother to stand up, not willing to be parted with you for a second, instead pulling you into his arms as he caught his breath.

“You’re telling me that’s what we’ve been missing out on this whole time?”

With a snort, you said, “You kind of lived across the country until just now, Tys.”

“Still,” he wrapped an arm over your shoulders, “I’m kinda pissed it took us this long.”

You hummed, silently agreeing with him. Now that you’d taken the plunge, you couldn’t remember what you were so hesitant for in the first place, life before today a distant memory.

“Will you go on a date with me? A real one, with dinner and flowers, when we get home?”

“It’s a little late for that,” you laughed, gesturing to the flimsy sheet covering your naked body.

“I guess we’ve done everything out of order,” he chuckled, “but first dates are important.”

“Okay,” you smiled and nodded. “A date. Pick me up at 6. And you better hold the door open for me.”

“Yes ma’am.”

A comfortable silence fell over you as you enjoyed the peace of the moment, cuddled into his body and in the warmth of his strong arms. You listened to the steady beat of his heart while his fingers drew lazy circles into your shoulder blade, content to never leave the bed for the rest of your life.

“Tyson?”

“Hm?”

“I love you, too.”

He broke into a grin, looking down at you to see it in your eyes before he leaned forward to kiss you. You kissed back, pouring all of the love that had been bottled up in your heart for him over the last two decades into him, hoping he knew.

By the look on his face when he pulled away, he did.

“So I guess the third time is the charm, then, huh?”

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