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antoineroussel-archive · 5 years ago

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take you one day at a time - brock boeser

series: take you one day at a time

summary: Annie makes a promise to Bo that she won’t date any of his teammates. Brock makes it a difficult promise to keep.

warnings: this contains references to past domestic violence. It’s not graphic. ‘9 November′ is a conversation about one specific event and implications of more. 20 January, 21 January & 9 February all make reference to the ex-boyfriend after it’s revealed. This also heavily features Jake Virtanen. He is not an antagonist in this story; it was written well before any accusations were made public.

songs: partner in crime - ocean alley | golden - kingswood | mean it - lauv & LANY | forces - japanese wallpaper feat. airling | fallingforyou - the 1975

word count: 15,554

8 September

Annie looked up from her phone as the front door opened to see Bo and Holly walking inside carrying far more groceries than they needed for the two of them—far more even for three if they were feeling generous. She followed them into the kitchen and peeked into the bags that were left on the bench.

“We feeding a small army or something?”

“Brock & Petey are coming over for dinner,” Bo answered, helping Holly put things away as Annie sat down on a stool.

She looked down to what she was wearing and also remembered that she hadn’t washed her hair since she’d made the trip to Vancouver four days prior and groaned, “Do I need to dress up?”

“Uh, no? It’s Brock & Petey.”

“Prince Charming is coming for dinner; a decent person would wear something better than sweats.”

Bo rolled his eyes and pushed one of the bags towards her, “Brock will probably wear sweats.”

“I’ll be wearing the same thing as royalty? Oh, swoon,” she said, standing and throwing the back of her hand against her forehead dramatically before she took the bag of groceries and went about helping.

Though it had only been four days since her arrival, it was easy to fall into line with Bo and Holly’s routines. Mostly that meant keeping out of their way; but, if Annie was intending to stay for any extended period of time, she knew that she would have to re-learn to cohabit with her brother. And get used to living with her brother and his wife.

Gus was the easiest part of it all, though he was considerably smaller than the dogs they’d had growing up and was very good at getting under foot.

Annie had met Brock a few times over the time he’d been playing with Bo and she’d met Petey at Bo’s wedding over the summer. It was only a matter of time before they came over for dinner.

They sat down, later that evening, at the dining table—that Annie knew for a fact only got used for family and for when Bo thought Annie might say something to their parents about making guests eat on the couch in front of the TV. She wouldn’t tell their parents, but it was nice to think she had some power over him.

“What’re your plans for tomorrow, Annie?” Bo asked, in a way so pointed that he was only able to get away with it because he was family.

“Job hunting, I guess,” she said with a shrug, stabbing a carrot and bringing it to her mouth.

Brock nudged her with his elbow, “Putting roots down?”

She shrugged again and let her fork clatter against her plate. “I suppose.”

“What do you do?” Petey asked and Annie was more than happy to continue down that path of conversation. Especially if it meant that Bo was going to be less overt about her getting out of the house.

She’d barely seen the sun since she arrived.

She grinned across the table at Petey, pushed back the sleeves of her sweatshirt to reveal all she could of two full tattoo sleeves. She leaned forward, her elbows on the dining table. “Tattoos. Do you want one?”

Petey paled. She didn’t think it was possible with his already exceptionally pale skin. ‘Green’ might be a better descriptor.

“She’ll give you the ‘Bo Deal,’” Holly said.

“Five times the regular price,” Bo chipped in.

“Don’t be silly,” Annie objected. “Petey’s on his ELC: four times.”

“What about me?” Brock asked, putting on his most endearing face. “What would you charge me?”

Annie tilted her head, taking time to consider his question. The answer was easy: “Ten times. I know what you signed.”

He rolled his eyes but Petey found it highly amusing and his laughter was contagious around the table.

“You’re on dishes,” Bo said when they’d finished eating, stacking up his and Holly’s plates and putting them on top of Holly’s. “We cooked.”

Annie grumbled as she stood, but it was mostly for show; she would wash all the dishes in the world if it meant she didn’t have to cook a proper dinner for the rest of her life.

Everyone disappeared into the next room to watch some television—no doubt whichever hockey game was on. At least, Annie thought it was everyone. As she was turning back around in the kitchen to collect the rest of the dirty dishes, Brock was standing in the doorway, arms full of plates.

“Want some help?”

“If Bo knew that I said yes to having one of our guests help with me dishes, I think he’d ground me.”

“He can’t ground you.”

“I’m living in his house for free, he can kind of do whatever he wants,” she said, although she knew Bo would never.

Brock smiled, stepping forward with the plates and putting them with the other stack. He said, “What he doesn’t know won’t kill him, then. Why’d you make the move to Vancouver?”

“A few things: end of a relationship, needed to get out of small-town Rodney, needed to never live on another farm. Mostly I needed to not have everyone in town know everything about my life.”

“I’ve never done the small-town thing.”

“There were more people at your college than my town,” Annie said, though she didn’t have actual statistics on hand, “or like, any of the towns around mine. Combined.”

“What’s the rush in getting a job?”

Annie looked at him with raised eyebrows to ask incredulously, “Because I need money?”

“Bo won’t let anything happen to you.”

“I can’t freeload forever. Besides, Bo might be willing to pay for a lot of things but getting my roots touched up isn’t something I’m going to ask for.”

Brock’s eyes followed her hands as she raked her fingers through her hair, knowing all too well how desperate she needed help. The three inches of mousey brown was quite the contrast to the bright blue.

“I can lend you the money.”

Annie dropped a plate into the sink in shock and barely cared that it might have broken as she asked, “What now?”

“How much will it cost?”

Annie rolled her eyes and finally turned on the faucet to start rinsing the dishes. She said, uncomfortably, “More than I’m willing to tell you. Definitely more than I’m willing to borrow.”

“You’ve gotta look good if you’re going for job interviews—not that you don’t look good,” he said quickly. Annie smiled to herself. “I’m just saying, if you can make an appointment for the next day or two, I’ll chip in and you can pay me back.”

“That’s stupidly nice of you but no hairdresser will be able to fit me in for everything I need done on such short notice.”

“Jost’s girlfriend—a buddy of mine on the Avs—his girlfriend is a hairdresser around here. Let me make the call and—”

She turned her entire body to face him, in absolute disbelief.

“Why?”

“Why what?” He asked, looking up from his phone where he seemed to actually be making a call to Tyson Jost.

“Why would you help me out with this? You hardly know me.”

“I know Bo and I know that you two are basically the same person. I’d do it for him, so why wouldn’t I do it for you?”

Annie stood frozen, still in utter disbelief. Brock was being far more earnest than she could ever have imagined. He kept nodding down to his phone, as if all he needed to make the call was for her to say yes.

By the time Brock left that night, Annie had a hair appointment for Wednesday.

9 October

Requesting a night off two weeks after starting at a new job wasn’t ideal. She’d fully expected to be told that she had to work while everybody else went to the Canucks home opener—she got lucky, though.

Her time off had been as good as secured when she pulled the Horvat card and then Bo came in the weekend before to meet everyone. Just to make sure. Though Bo hadn’t confirmed it, Annie strongly suspected that he would be starting the game with a newly printed C on his chest. It was the only reason she could come up with for him to personally come to the tattoo parlour and make sure she was at the game.

And it became even more obvious when she and Holly were escorted down to the bench. Everyone—Bo, Holly, the entire team, and the Old Guard of the Vancouver Canucks —were excited, but they all seemed to know exactly what was going to happen while Annie stood there with shaking hands until the moment came.

Bo Horvat was officially the 14th Captain of the Vancouver Canucks.

Brock’s hand had settled confidently on Annie’s waist when he stood beside her and asked if she was joining them out for a drink to celebrate their 8-2 victory. Next to no thought went into it before she agreed and was shuffled into a car and pressed between him and Quinn in the backseat. Inarguably she was pressed closer to Brock, but that was far from unintentional.

When they made it out onto the streets of Yaletown, Brock never strayed too far from her. As they passed the line of people who were waiting to get in, Annie kept looking back over her shoulder to laugh at the glares she was getting. Brock’s arm never left her shoulder; he ignored everyone who wasn’t with their group. Only, he wasn’t ignoring anyone as much as he was caught up in the excitement of their first win for their new captain.

Somehow—minor miracle, bribery or perhaps some posturing—they were able to secure a few tables towards the back of the bar.

As Annie took a seat, she made sure to pull her seat up right beside Brock so that their legs were pressed together from hip to ankle. His arm was still wrapped securely around her shoulders even as they each had to lean and shout when they tried to have a conversation with anyone else.

Every time someone returned to the tables with a new drink, a new chant of ‘Bo! Bo! Bo!’ rang out; even other people in the bar joined in.

Getting to know everyone was easy—the team was young or, at the very least, young at heart—and having Brock, Bo, and Holly all willing to drag Annie into a conversation if she looked like she was missing some context meant that she was never lost.

The night was long, longer than she’d had in a long time, but she wasn’t drunk by any means. That might have been because she was drinking with her older brother, or maybe it was because she was trying not to embarrass herself in front of Brock. She just knew that when she went to the bathroom, there was no weird spinning sensation when she was sitting in the stall.

As she was making her way back to their tables, she ran into Bo and Holly, the latter of whom was tilting quite precariously.

“We’re gonna head off,” Bo said, Holly lightly protesting. “You coming?”

“I think I’m going to say. I’m making friends.”

“Don’t do anything stupid and call me if you need me.”

Annie shoved his shoulder at that, turning him around so that he would actually leave.

Brock wasn’t sitting at the table when Annie walked back over to the table. She put her hand on the back of Emma’s chair, leaning to grab some pretzels, and was promptly told that Brock was at the bar. She made a beeline for him.

Her hand met his shoulder, and she pressed her body against his back and asked him to get her a cocktail. Even after he’d ordered her drink, she stayed close to him and watched as her drink was made whilst enjoying the warmth of his body.

“Do you want to sit outside for a bit?” Brock asked, handing over her drink, and leading her away from the noise at the bar.

Pressing right up against him on one of the outside couches was a mindless decision. Brock made his hand at home on the top of Annie’s head, his fingernails scratching lightly against her perfectly recoloured roots. He put his beer down on the table in front of them and with his free hand, ran his fingers up her bare arm.

Annie shivered, her entire body shuddering at the gentleness of his fingers; at a touch she hadn’t felt in such a long time.

“What’s this tattoo mean?” Brock asked, poking just above her elbow.

She laughed, knowing that he was poking at the two-scoop, salted caramel waffle cone, “It means that I like ice cream.”

“Are they all just things you like?”

“Well, yeah, but this one’s for Bowie,” she said, moving her arm around to find the striped jumpsuit with no body and a face that was only identifiable by the lightning bolt across it and the spiky red hair.

Brock laughed—most people did when they noticed the hockey stick being held up by the ghost hands.

“And these are my parents.” She showed the bodiless wedding clothes and hair of her parents.

Further up her arm, on the back of her bicep, Brock found torn jeans and spiky hair—Joel, her high school boyfriend. She spoke fondly of him, no ill will, and how it was her first tattoo, and she didn’t, for a second, regret getting it.

“It was an important time in my life,” she explained. “We broke up because he went to college to play hockey and I continued my apprenticeship in Ontario.”

Brock’s lips pressed briefly to the shell of her ear. Annie moved even closer. Brock’s finger traced over her tattoos—the objects and the colour that filled in her sleeves. Her arms were easily manipulated as he inspected every inch of them.

Under her arm, the left one—the one that did not contain her family or Joel—Brock stumbled upon a blacked-out rectangle.

“You’ve covered this up,” he said, startling Annie at first with the tickle of his finger and then the realisation of what it had once been. “What is it?”

“A mood killer,” Annie said softly. “And a story for another day.”

Brock brushed his thumb over it once more. He pressed another kiss to the top of her head, sending a shiver right down to her toes and she sighed, letting herself relax right against him.

He asked her about the process of getting tattoos from the initial want and idea to the final decision. She laughed quietly. If he was someone who thought every tattoo had to be profound, then Annie was not the person to ask. She demonstrated as such by reminding him of the salted caramel ice cream cone and then by pointing him to the box of Thin Mints on her forearm.

Annie barely felt herself being moved; she was so relaxed and pliant. However, when Brock’s hand was lifting her chin and his mouth was on hers, she felt everything. All at once, Brock was touching and kissing her more gently than she could ever remember being kissed before. Even as she pushed up into the kiss, trying to angle her body so that she was seconds away from throwing her leg over his thighs, Brock was quick to slow it down.

A loud banging on the window behind them had Brock jumping back, his head hitting said window and eliciting a painful yelp. Annie wasn’t as shocked, but she was aware enough to glare at the faces of Jake Virtanen and Troy Stecher, both with shit eating grins. She banged back on the window as she watched Emma pull Stech away. Jake stood in place and pulled faces.

“We should probably get you home, anyway,” Brock said into her ear.

Annie recoiled, “Home? We’re not going back to my brother’s house to fuck. You live alone, we’re going there.” She stood up, taking both of his hands in hers and trying to force him to his feet.

“I’ll go there, and you’ll go to Bo’s,” he said easily, despite the confusion rising within Annie. “I want to do this right.”

She rolled her eyes and let go of his hands so that he fell back onto the couch. “Why’re you such a gentleman?” She asked, reaching out for his hands again. “I’m no lady.”

Once Brock was on his feet—smiling innocently—he dropped his head to kiss her again. Annie immediately lost all fight within her and held his hands against her chest. She tried to prolong the kiss as much as she could, reeling Brock back in whenever he tried to pull away, but eventually she begrudgingly let him lead her to say goodbye to the people who still remained inside.

As Annie was walking through Bo’s house, up the stairs and to her room she only swayed once or twice into the banister—not even because she’d been drinking but because mid-step she’d remember just what it felt like to have Brock kiss her; to have him want to woo her.

14 October

Having her parents around felt better than Annie had expected it to. She hadn’t cried when she’d left them for Vancouver even though she had no intention of returning to Rodney—they would come to Vancouver whenever they could to visit their Golden Boy after all. She loved them dearly but had always been an independent soul. Until her father hugged her tightly and told her how much he missed having her at home.

“Hi, I’m Bo. Your son. Who also doesn’t live at home,” Bo joked, noticing that Annie was on the brink of tears. Their mother instantly moved to fuss over him.

Brock and Petey arrived the next day for a free Thanksgiving dinner. They brought their appetites and their manners; much to the delight of Cindy and Tim who prided themselves on cooking an amazing Thanksgiving Dinner.

“My parents love you,” Annie said easily to Brock when they were alone in the kitchen. “Do you have that effect on everyone’s parents?”

Brock reached into the fridge, pulled out a beer and shrugged. “I don’t aim for it. Parents just like me.”

Annie cackled at the sincerity of his answer, and then even harder at the confused expression that settled over his face. “You aren’t real. You can’t be.”

“Is that a bad thing?”

“No, Brock,” she said softly. “It’s really not.”

Later, they ate. Annie tried desperately to avoid the hinting looks being given to her by both her mom and her dad—the hinting looks that clearly meant they wanted her to lock Brock down as soon as possible. That did mean she was talking a lot to Brock and fuelling the fire, unfortunately.

Annie was keeping Gus occupied and out of the kitchen after dinner, sitting in the living room and watching The Office. She hadn’t heard anyone come into the room; didn’t know she’d been joined until a heavy weight settled into the couch beside her and Brock laughed at a joke on the TV.

“I was being a nuisance,” Annie said slowly, exhausted from a long day of socialising and eating. “Why did you get kicked out?”

“I was standing around doing nothing. Bo just told me to sit down.”

“Lucky.”

Annie settled further down on the sofa, her hand never leaving Gus’ neck, and didn’t hesitate to get comfortable by pressing into Brock’s side and resting her head on his shoulder. He lifted his arm, rather unconsciously, and wrapped it around her shoulders before bending his arm so that he could massage the top of her head with his fingers.

It was heavenly.

So much so that Annie’s eyelids grew heavy. Nothing could wake her from her sleep, except for Brock trying to move off the couch slowly as he and Petey were leaving.

She melted back into the warmth of Brock’s arms easily as they said goodbye, feeling safe and sure thanks to the firm palm against her upper back.

Bo stopped her in her doorway as Annie was getting ready to get into bed and let sleep consume her again. She looked to him expectantly and patiently, dropping down onto her bed.

“Please don’t get with Brock.”

Annie frowned, her back straightening. She said lowly, “If you’re about to tell me not to date him because he’s a shit guy—I swear to god, Bowie, your ass is going to be on the line for not trying to do something about it.”

“Uh, no, that’s really not what this is about,” Bo said hurriedly. “You know I’d call him out on any BS.”

“Of course, I do,” Annie relented easily, her shoulders sagging. “I just can’t work out why else you’d be trying to tell me who to date. That’s not your usual M.O.”

“It’s my first year as captain,” Bo said, his face turning white. “I’m so scared I’m going to fuck this up and the idea of external factors making it even harder makes me want to puke. Just one season. Please.”

Annie frowned and wasted no time in standing and stepping forward to hug him tightly.

“Okay,” she whispered, igniting the pang in her chest. “Brock—the whole team—is off limits. I can do that.”

26 October

Halloween was Annie’s favourite time of the year. Partly because her creativity was able to run free; partly because she always knew someone who was throwing a party that she didn’t want to miss. And as she was heading to her first Team Party, she was able to go all out in her costume.

The train of her dress was in her hands as she, Bo and Holly ascended the stairs to the Tanevs’ house, and she was certain that she couldn’t move her face due to the amount of makeup she was wearing.

Almost the very second they entered the house, Annie felt Brock’s eyes on her, raking from her stiletto heels, up the high split in her dress.

Annie immediately found Jessica and turned so her back was to Brock.

“The Corpse fucking Bride,” Jessica exhaled dramatically as she made Annie do a spin. “Holy shit, girl. Your hair is just perfect for this.”

For close to an hour, Annie was shuffled between people who wanted to inspect her costume—the blue tint to her skin, the way the tint highlighted her tattoos, the perfectly tailored and tattered wedding dress, the makeup she’d spent hours on.

She was floating on air by the end of it.

All it took was one person—and she couldn’t even remember who—to say, “Luckily you’ve already got a ring or Prince Charming over there wouldn’t be wasting any time,” to come crashing down.

And then the floor fell out from underneath her when Brock stepped right into her space for a hug that she had to deftly avoid, even if she was screaming internally to let him.

“You’ll turn blue,” she explained when Brock looked hurt and confused.

“Right—you’re a hot commodity. You look amazing, Ann.”

If her face wasn’t blue, she would have turned bright red in that moment.

She asked, deflecting, “Did they come up with the group costume purely because of you?”

Around the room were men in assorted Shrek themed costumes, the inflatable ones were her favourite because she’d been able to hug Quinn and Thatch without worrying about transferring blue directly onto them—with the added bonus of course being that hugging inflatables was hilariously fun.

Brock was unimpressed, grumbling, “Unfortunately.”

“You pull it off well,” she assured him, quickly looking away as the corners of his mouth turned slightly upward.

As she started drinking, she was introduced to Emma and Micaela and welcomed warmly into their conversation. The relief was instant when they accepted her because more often than not, she was assumed to be standoffish just because of her hair and tattoos but she supposed that now she was out of her small town those things were hardly out of the ordinary.

It didn’t take much alcohol—which Emma and Micaela were more than happy to ply her with—for Annie to abandon all caution about her blue body paint, or about keeping her distance from Brock.

A small group of the younger guys and their partners had gathered in the backyard, and despite the raging bonfire, she found herself tucked under Brock’s arm. She crossed her right leg over her left and leaned into Brock enough that she could hook her right foot behind his calf.

His hand made its way to its favourite spot in her hair.

They were so close that she could hear every single inhale and exhale. It was enough to nearly lull her to sleep.

And then her brother’s voice carried across the yard.

She carefully extricated herself from Brock; slowly enough to not grab anyone’s attention. As she began to walk away, Brock caught her hand and quietly asked if she was okay. She squeezed his hand and nodded.

Bo was happy to accept her into the conversation he was having with Tanev and Markstrom, and she stood with them with a small, polite smile. It was difficult to not look back over her shoulder whenever she heard Brock’s voice, but she managed.

“Thanks for letting me come,” she said to Tanev, as the conversation lulled. Then she turned to Bo, “And thanks for not being too embarrassed to bring your baby sister.”

Bo laughed, his arm swinging over his shoulder so he could shake her, “This was a test. Had to make sure it wasn’t a fluke you didn’t embarrass me at the bar.”

“You know better than to tell me your biggest fears, Bowie,” Annie responded, threateningly, plastering an overly innocent smile on her face.

The three men laughed.

Annie was grateful for the space she’d found.

3 November

A solid knock on her bedroom door reverberated in her room just a few seconds before Bo opened it. Annie poked her head out from underneath her blanket to glare at him for daring to interrupt her attempt at sleep.

“Brock’s here.”

Annie’s eyes widened and her heart began to pound. “He’s what?”

“He’s carrying multiple shopping bags,” Bo continued.

“What did you tell him?”

“That was I was going to see if you were still awake.”

“Am I still awake?” She asked him, uncertain what the right response was given their little deal. Given that she’d purposely rejected Brock’s invite to a night of drinking with Petey and Jake because of said deal—in addition to the surprise of her period, but that was something she could typically manage on a night out.

“You’re an adult, Annie. I’ll tell him whatever you want me to tell him.”

It wasn’t often that Annie didn’t like her brother for being so trusting of her, for believing in her abilities to make her own choices. Sometimes, like that very moment, she wished he’d just tell her what she should be doing. He waited, though. He stood in her doorway, expressionless, and didn’t look like he intended to move until she made a decision.

She sat up in her bed, disappointed that her cocoon had been ruined, and said, “tell him he can come up.”

Bo nodded and left without any judgment on his face.

Annie was slow to stand and find a pair of shorts so she wouldn’t be caught in just her underwear and tank top, but she was back in bed before Brock was in her room.

“Hey,” he said softly, pity filling his voice when he saw how sad she looked once again curled up on her bed. “How’re you doin’?”

“Shit.”

The pity heightened as he stepped to the bed so that he could let her see what was inside the bags he was carrying.

“I bought ice cream but also Pepto-Bismol because I didn’t know what type of sick you were.”

“Did you buy out Rexall? This is a hell of a lot more than just ice cream and Pepto,” Annie said, taking note of the naproxen and decongestants. “It’s definitely take-naproxen-and-curl-into-a-ball time, though.”

He handed her the naproxen bottle and left the room to take the ice cream down to the freezer. He hadn’t been gone very long when Holly appeared in his place.

“Bo did this for me not long after we started dating.”

“I know,” Annie whispered, “I was with him at the pharmacy.”

Holly smiled sympathetically but didn’t say anything else for which Annie was thankful. She did stand in the doorway for moral support until Brock returned with two bowls of ice cream in hand and a hot water bottle tucked under his arm.

“I have it on good authority that these also help.”

Annie pulled back the covers on her bed, gesturing silently for Brock to join her. He put the bowls on the bedside table before he sat up in the bed with his back against the bed frame, but Annie was all about comfort and laid down on her side—the only position she found comfortable at that time—and placed the hot water bottle behind her back.

The relief was immediate, and she moaned and scooted towards Brock, resting her head on his thigh.

“You’re my hero, Brock Boeser. A real Prince Charming.”

As she began to fall asleep, Annie vaguely recalled taking hold of Brock’s arm and cuddling it to her chest.

There was a knock on the door, Annie couldn’t have begun to guess how much time had passed, and Annie was able to mutter a soft ‘come in’ despite being on the brink of sleep.

“I’m not here as Annie’s big brother,” Bo said. “But I am here as Brock’s captain: you have to go home, dude. We’ve got morning skate and a game tomorrow; if you sleep sitting up like that, we have no hope against Washington.”

Brock lifted his free arm, swearing when he saw the time on his watch. “I didn’t realise how late it got. I’ll just grab my stuff and get out of here.”

“Shoot me a text when you make it home,” Bo said as he left the room—the door was wide open as a sign that he was not kidding about Brock needing to leave.

Annie curled tighter around Brock’s arm in protest as he started to move.

“I really need to go, Ann. I’m sorry,” he apologised, brushing her hair off her face. “Captain Bo will kill me.”

She grumbled but let go of his arm, sitting up in her bed as he started to stand.

“Thank you for coming over. You’re probably the sweetest guy I’ve ever met.”

“You can’t have met very many guys then,” he joked, self-disparagingly.

“You’re a softie, Brock Boeser, and the world would be a better place if people were more like you.”

He didn’t respond, just tried to turn away as his cheeks reddened. He busied himself with collecting any garbage they’d accumulated.

She pushed up the strap of her camisole that had slipped down her arm and sighed, “I’m sorry for ruining your plans with the guys.”

“I’d rather be here with you.”

Her eyes fluttered shut and her heart constricted. She had no intention of opening them until after Brock was gone afraid that she might get out of the bed and do something silly like kiss him, which would be so far removed from what she was trying to achieve. However, she once again felt Brock brush the hair out of her face but this time it was followed by his lips pressing against her forehead and her eyes opened of their own accord.

“Please give me a chance, Ann,” he whispered, his breath fanning over her forehead as he pulled away.

Annie pulled the covers up over her chest to her chin as she watched him go.

9 November

Annie didn’t want to be heading to Brock’s house, but Jake’s texts were moving from passive aggressive to straight callouts after a month of her flaking on all of his invites. On all of Quinn and Petey’s invites, too.

Brock had stopped trying a few weeks ago.

“She is real!” Jake exclaimed, throwing open the door to Brock’s apartment. Annie flinched; his voice way too close to her ear as he hugged her.

“I wish you weren’t.”

They walked through to Brock’s living room where Quinn and Petey were stretched out on couches. Brock was nowhere to be seen.

“Why don’t you love us anymore?” Jake asked.

Annie rolled her eyes and said defensively, “Because you’re never here. I don’t have to wait around for Emma and Micaela to be free.” She watched Jake lean over the sink and recoiled. “They also don’t spit in sinks.”

She spotted a bean bag on the floor beside where Petey was sitting on the couch—a bean bag that had definitely just been vacated by Jake—and collapsed into it before pulling off her shoes so she could curl up comfortably. She shook Petey’s leg and quietly said hello.

The game playing on Brock’s overly large television was interrupted by the front door opening and the scurrying of dog’s feet was followed by Brock calling out, his voice drawing closer, “I swear to god I just saw Annie outside.”

Coolie raced directly for Annie, a new person for him to investigate. Underneath the boisterous dog, Annie was able to squeak out a ‘Surprise!’ as Brock froze, visibly shocked to see her.

“I guess I did see Annie outside. I didn’t expect you to come.”

“I know. I’ve been MIA. I’m really surprised you guys keep asking me.”

“You’re fun to have around when you do show up,” Petey said, causing Annie’s head to snap up to look at him.

“I’ll be better, I promise.”

Coolie eventually calmed down, settling in Annie’s lap, and wagging his tail as she scratched behind his ears. She was grateful for the distraction.

They welcomed her back into the group easily, even if Brock was being a little quieter when it came to her. He had no problem making his frustration at the game and the refs known, it was just when Annie would talk he’d close his mouth for a few minutes. Everyone noticed; Quinn gave him a kick in the thigh at one stage when it became overwhelmingly uncomfortable.

As the boys were leaving after the game, Jake sent her more than one concerned look and asked multiple times if she was sure she didn’t want a ride home. Annie assured him that she needed to talk to Brock.

Brock had moved outside by the time her conversation with Jake was done—he called a final goodbye through the open patio door. She joined him, curling her arms around her knees, and bringing them to her chest. Coolie settled at their feet.

“How’s your dad?” Annie asked, keeping her eyes focused on the lights of BC Place across the river.

“You don’t have to pretend to care,” Brock whispered. It wasn’t mean or aggressive, but it split Annie’s heart in two.

“I’m not pretending. That’s a horrible thing to pretend to care about,” Annie said. “I wouldn’t ask just to make small talk.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Annie quickly checked to see if he had turned to her but he, too, was staring at BC Place.

“He’s…” Brock said slowly. “Doing his best.”

She prodded him for more information and relaxed significantly when he parted with it. They hadn’t known each other very long before Annie made her promise, but in that six or so weeks, despite road trips and conflicting work schedules, she’d come to learn a lot about his family. Without even meeting them, she cared about them and their well-being.

A lot of it had to do with the lightness and joy in his voice when he was telling her stories about his summers or his childhood.

Silence settled over them, the lights of Vancouver distracting both of them. Annie was conflicted by how easy it was to just be with him.

“The tattoo was for my ex-boyfriend,” Annie breathed, deciding it was as good a time as any. “I don’t know how much Bo mentioned a guy named Sean?”

“Mostly just to the older guys?” Brock asked, uncertain. “He asked for advice a lot.”

“We broke up in August… except it wasn’t so much breaking up as it was me finally getting a restraining order.”

Brock tensed beside her and asked, “was he at the wedding?”

She laughed, though it was far from funny.

“You’d remember; it would have been a nightmare. Bo bought him an all-expenses paid trip to Cabo for him and a friend. I’ve never seen Bo lie as well as he did when he was telling Sean the best place available was only free the week of the wedding.” Annie paused before adding, “What Bowie doesn’t know is that Sean gave me Trich when he got back; but, because guys usually don’t get symptoms, it was obviously my fault and I couldn’t leave the house for two weeks because I couldn’t see out of my right eye.”

The silence that grew was no longer comfortable. Annie tore her eyes away from Vancouver to look at Brock and the tightness of his jaw.

“He hit you?” He asked through clenched teeth.

“I didn’t get a restraining order just because he gave me an STI,” she said, the joke in her voice only caused him to tense up more. “Told you it was a mood killer.”

“I didn’t know.”

Annie nudged his thigh with her knee. “You didn’t really know me until two months ago.”

“Was that the only time he hit you?”

“No. It wasn’t.

Brock moved around, dropping his arm over Annie’s shoulder. She leaned into him and sighed.

17 November

If it would stop raining for more than three seconds, Annie would have been much more willing to head out to Granville Market. She’d promised Emma that she would meet her for coffee, though, because even seeing her and Micaela had become difficult; so, she pulled on a cap and called an Uber.

Hanging out with everyone was getting progressively harder because they all seemed hell bent on talking to her about Brock. She supposed she understood; it was easy gossip.

She found a table inside, overlooking False Creek, and enjoyed the view even with the cloudy sky above.

Emma arrived, took one look at Annie and went straight to the counter to order their coffees. They both understood they’d be there for multiple drinks, so Annie was prepared to buy the next ones and some cakes.

“I’m surprised you aren’t working today,” Emma said, dropping down into the seat opposite Annie. “I feel like that’s all you do these days. Nights.”

Annie frowned. That wasn’t even a lie—even if she’d been purposely taking more shifts. She said, “I still owe Brock the money for getting my hair dyed.”

“He won’t ask for it,” Emma stated, certainty in her voice. “Don’t worry about it.”

“I’m not worried that he’s going to ask for it,” Annie sighed. “It’d be super shitty to take his money like that.”

“I don’t know, I just get the impression he’d buy you the moon if he could. Lavish you with presents.”

Annie let the words settle in her mind because it was a place she didn’t regularly let it go. It had to be deflected.

“Are you saying that Brock Boeser wants to be my Sugar Daddy?”

“No,” Emma said firmly. “I’m saying he wants to be your boyfriend and spoil you.”

Annie didn’t say a word, just levelled Emma with a glare and waited for their coffees to be delivered. It was a weird silence for more than a few minutes, but phones made those silences a lot easier to ignore. She used the time to Venmo Brock what she owed him.

Emma restarted the conversation before Annie had even finished the transaction, turning the topic to Phoebe, her Bernese Mountain Dog. Listening to that was not a hard ask.

By the time Annie stood up to buy their second drinks, the sky had cleared up and False Creek was as beautiful as ever. Annie enjoyed the rotating roster of the tattoo parlour because it meant she got to enjoy the midday sun—even if she did so from inside and behind glass.

They sat there for a couple of hours before Emma offered to drive Annie home. Brock’s car was on the street when Emma pulled up out the front of the Horvat house. Emma’s eyes lit up at the sight and her mouth opened to say something, but Annie was out of the car and slamming the door before she could hear.

“It’s just me!” Annie called as she walked inside.

“We’re in the kitchen, come say hi!” Bo called back.

Annie breathed deeply a few times to prepare herself, only her heart began to beat faster.

She waved as she walked in to see Brock and Bo sitting in the breakfast nook, huddled over what looked to be car brochures.

“Who’s getting what?” She asked, pulling an Audi pamphlet towards her and flicking through it so she didn’t have to make eye contact with Brock.

“Might be time for a bigger car,” Bo answered, “if we’re hoping to have kids soon.”

Annie hummed, having been privy to many conversations Bo and Holly had had about kids. She’d also unfortunately seen far too much skin on more than one occasion when they hadn’t quite made it to their bedroom.

“I hate how much of an adult you are.”

“Yeah, me too,” Bo agreed as he stood and swiped up some of the brochures. “I’m gonna go see what Holly thinks.”

He’d barely left the room before Brock spoke to Annie, softly saying, “You didn’t have to pay me back.”

Annie sat down opposite him, in the seat Bo had just left. He was so sincere in what he was saying, and she couldn’t help but remember what Emma said.

“I was always going to pay you back. I know money might not be a big deal to you anymore, but it is to me.”

“Which is why I think you should keep it. I can send it back to you.”

“I will keep sending it back to you. Just let me do this.”

She was so focused on his face that she wasn’t paying attention to his hand reaching out across the table until they were covering hers. His thumb brushing over the tattooed bushel of rain lilies on the back of her hand made her toes curl.

“Only if you don’t need it.”

“I promise.”

He smiled at her, making her already weak stomach flutter.

Bo and Holly walked into the kitchen; Annie only realised when Holly was nudging her into the next seat so she could sit down. Annie pulled her hand away from Brock’s, averting her eyes to the table and pretending that her cheeks weren’t flaming red.

She was stuck at the table for close to half an hour, trapped between Holly and the wall, using her phone as a distraction from the tension that had developed between her and Brock. Or the tension that had developed between her and Bo. Holly was the only one who seemed to actually want to determine what car to buy.

The very moment she was able to get out, she excused herself and disappeared to her bedroom. Mostly so that she could sit on her bed and ingrain the feeling of Brock’s thumb against her hand deep into her brain.

Bo appeared in her doorway, as he so regularly did, not long after Annie heard Brock leave. She smiled weakly.

“I shouldn’t have told you what to do,” he said solemnly as he nervously tapped the doorframe. “With Brock.”

Immediately Annie panicked. It was something she’d wanted to hear, sure, but she’d made a promise.

“Remember 2011? Lauren Shelby?”

Bo laughed at the memory, “Basketball captain, yeah.”

“I asked you not to date her,” Annie said slowly, purposefully. “And you didn’t. I owe you one.”

“I started dating Holly instead, you did me a pretty big solid.”

“Then the next guy I date will be my forever—that’s how it works, right? Like that Dane Cook movie.”

Bo’s tapping got louder momentarily before he gripped the doorframe. He said, “That’s a shit movie. You deserve a way better life than whatever happens in a Dane Cook movie.”

“It’s not a big deal,” she lied. Through her teeth. “Thank you, though.”

“I want you to be happy.”

“Then let me take a nap; I’ve got work later.”

He didn’t look even the slightest bit convinced, though he left like she’d asked. She curled into a ball on her bed and tried to wipe the memory of Brock she’d only just burned into her brain.

5 December

Annie agreed to go out with the boys because it was shaping up to be most of the team and not just Brock, Petey, Quinn and Jake. She’d done well at deflecting their invitations, again, but could tell they were getting suspicious and more frustrated; though she’d be surprised if Brock hadn’t shared at least some of the weirdness with them.

Holly had also promised to be the designated driver which meant Annie could get blind drunk without having to worry about hailing a taxi and becoming a public nuisance.

It also allowed for many buffers between her and Brock, even if they ended up facing one another across the table. Try as she might, Annie couldn’t stop looking for his reaction when she said anything vaguely funny or whenever somebody said something that was vaguely relevant to him. It wasn’t helping that everything that was vaguely relevant to Brock also seemed to be vaguely relevant to her.

After a couple of drinks, as Annie wandered back from the bathroom, she felt a tug on her arm just before she was spun around by a man with bright green hair and tattoos up his neck. She raised her eyebrow and tried to pull her arm back to her side. Unsuccessfully.

“Can I help you?”

The smirk that found its way onto his mouth made her skin crawl. Her heart began to thump loudly in her chest. It only got worse when he asked, “What’re you drinking?”

“Nothing you buy me,” she growled, pulling her arm more forcefully. His grip was just tight enough that her bicep when she finally got free.

She all but ran back to the table and frowned at Holly who was watching her knowingly.

“You aren’t going home with that guy?” Jake asked, leaning his elbows onto the table to see around Brock who was glaring at the ceiling.

Annie’s eyes fell shut for a brief moment as she tried to work out where the conversation would go. She said, “He’s not my type.”

“What’s your type then?”

“Not that,” she scoffed, taking Bo’s drink and claiming it as her own. “I’ve done tattooed guys with spacers and neon hair dye and they’re not worth it.”

“But that’s just you as a dude.”

“Yeah,” she nodded. “And who’d want to date me?”

Brock looked at her right as she finished speaking and looked ready to open his mouth and refute her until he was jostled by Jake leaning heavily back into his seat. His mouth snapped shut but his eyes never left Annie and the scowl on his face never shifted.

A conversation about tattoos picked up quickly and didn’t take very long to gain ground. Beside her, Jess Kohout was alternating between inspecting Annie’s tattoos and talking about what she was planning on getting next. Petey told everyone to not bother trying to get her to do them as she liked to charge according to their contracts; she scolded him for losing her easy money.

Annie lifted her glass to her mouth, sighing when she was met with nothing but ice against her lips. She pushed her chair back and walked over to Tanev, shaking him to get his attention.

“Tan, will you be my chaperone to the bar? I don’t trust that guy to not try it on again.”

“I’ll come,” Brock said, placing his hands on the table and pushing himself up. Annie was sure she had never seen him so irate.

“You’re not intimidating enough,” Annie said easily, avoiding looking at him and the busted lip that he’d gotten a few days earlier.

“I’ll come,” Bo said.

“You’re even less intimidating than Brock,” she said, knowing it was necessary to deflect that offer if she didn’t want people to think she was refusing Brock’s offer specifically.

“I’m going,” Chris said, lifting his glass and drinking the remaining half of his beer in one quick mouthful.

They were barely away from the table when Chris did a quick check over his shoulder. Annie followed his gaze, quickly turning back when it was clear he was looking at Brock and the frustration rising within.

“I think you broke Sunshine’s heart,” Chris said, throwing his arm over Annie’s as Tattoos-And-Spacers’ eyes tracked her across the bar.

“Beau Bennett’s here?” Annie asked coolly.

Chris laughed, his hand landing on Annie’s shoulder, “Message received loud and clear.”

She wasn’t absolutely certain what that message was; it meant that Chris was going to leave it be, though, so she wasn’t going to complain.

18 December

Annie had gone full festive for Christmas Skate—reindeer ears with bells and a Christmas sweater with an unholy amount of tinsel wrapped around it in no discernible pattern. She was very disappointed in Bo and Holly for thinking their red tops were enough.

“I’m just saying,” Annie said as they walked into the practice arena, “It’s Christmas and also the first Christmas in like five years that I’m actually getting to spend with you.”

“We’ll get dressed up for Christmas Day.”

“Yeah, alright, Mr Grinch. Remember there are kids here and you need all the help you can get.”

Holly’s hand covered Annie’s mouth, a clear instruction for her to keep it shut—very few people knew about the pregnancy and they wanted to keep it that way.

When Annie’s mouth was free, she made another jab at their lack of Christmas spirit before tightening her grip on her skates and sprinting towards the locker room so neither could retaliate.

Kids were running around—some wobbling on skates, others just trying to evade having skates put on—and she navigated through them towards Bo’s stall where she started working on the laces of her Converse.

“There’s more tinsel on you than there is on my tree,” Brock said, taking a seat in the stall beside her.

“You need to up your tree game, then. Clearly.” Annie turned to smile at him before she pulled one of her skates onto her lap and cursed as she tried to sort out the laces.

“I’ve got it,” Brock said, taking the sake from her before she could protest.

Seconds later, he was kneeling in front of her, helping her get her foot into the skate. She stared down at him, breathless. Before she could stop herself, she was brushing her thumb over his cheek. His cheeks tinted red, but just barely, and Annie bit into her own lip.

A loud raucous occurred when Bo stepped into the room, and Annie pulled her hand back to her lap and decided to follow Teddy Roussel as he ran around the room. She desperately attempted to avoid eye contact with Emma or Micaela. They were both delighted.

“Is that tight enough?”

Annie looked back at Brock, unable to stop herself from smiling. “Thank you.”

She looked away again as he pulled her other skate from the stall. She was certain she would kiss him if they made eye contact for more than two seconds.

Out on the ice, Annie wasn’t purposely trying to keep her distance from Brock—for the first time in a long time—but she was getting pulled in multiple directions by her friends and by the children who were all fascinated by her blue hair.

Brock also had his hands full with kids—literally. Tucker Pearson was cradled in his arms as he moved effortlessly across the ice. Annie could tell Brock was talking to the baby, evidently full and important conversations if Brock’s animated expressions were anything to go by.

A weight collided against her legs, making her teeter dramatically. When she was steady, she saw Teddy Roussel smiling up at her sheepishly.

“Bo said you used to play goalie. Would you be goalie for me?” Teddy asked.

“I’m sorry, bud. I don’t have any gear and I kind of like my teeth in my mouth.”

“I can keep the puck on the ice!”

“Oh, I know; I’ve been watching. I’m just thinking about me making a diving save and then BAM! I look like Tanev.” Noting the upset look on his face, Annie said, “If you can find me some gear that fits, we’ve got a game.”

His face lit up and he skated directly to his father.

Getting corralled to the photo area was delightful. Seeing that they’d enlisted a call up from Utica to be Santa wasn’t even half as amazing as seeing Quinn dressed up in an elf costume.

“I hope they’re paying you extra for this,” she said, flicking the end of his hat. The bell jingled.

“Danger money because they knew you were going to be here.”

Annie cackled gleefully.

After having her photo taken with Santa and Quinn the Elf, Annie stood by to watch Bo and Holly have theirs taken. Naturally, she was roped into a family photo.

What she didn’t think was at all natural, was the Social Media team’s insistence that she also get her photo taken with Brock. He did happen to walk in just as the family photos were finishing, and at least one person in charge of Social Media seemed to have some idea of whatever was going on between them—there had been a lot of people with cameras in the locker room earlier. Annie made sure to keep her hands in her lap and nowhere near Brock.

The photo had just been taken when Teddy came rushing in, shouting that they’d found goalie equipment for her. Brock and Holly were utterly confused, whereas Bo looked positively delighted by the idea of his sister getting dressed up in second-hand goalie pads.

He at least helped her get into them.

She’d pulled off her sweater, knowing that the chest plate would get caught all up in the tinsel, and put a practice jersey over the top, and then had Bo haul the leg pads over her jeans before she skated onto the ice in her poorly fitting helmet.

Micaela wolf-whistled loudly.

“I’ve never looked better!” Annie shouted. “You wish you looked this good!”

Teddy was ready at the blue line, skating towards her and shooting blocker side. It went right in. Annie quickly realised she was out of her depth.

It couldn’t have even been that long that had passed when Bo skated towards her, his smile still firmly etched.

“Was I this much of a sieve when we were kids?” She asked breathlessly, just as a shot slipped in five-hole.

“Yeah,” Bo said without hesitation. “Would have been harder if you weren’t in the net.”

Annie groaned as he skated behind the back of the net.

Brock replaced Bo, looking no less delighted.

“Are you letting him score?” Brock asked.

“I really wish I could say no. They’re going right into the net, though, so I won’t be too banged up.”

Seconds later a puck was shot right into her chest plate. She groaned again.

“You ready to call it a day?”

“It’s way more exhausting than I remember. I’m also sweating like mad.”

“Give me a minute.”

He skated straight to Rous, who nodded and moved to pull Teddy away. Annie was grateful and quickly left the ice while Teddy was still screaming his thanks.

Brock followed her into the locker room just as she collapsed into a stall and pulled the mask off her head and managed to pull the practice jersey off with quite a struggle.

“You look dead,” he laughed, flattening out her hair for her. Annie sighed and let her eyes fall shut.

“I remember that being a lot easier when I was eight.”

“I don’t think you’ll be getting any EBUG calls.”

Annie startled when Brock’s hands reached to her right side, shifting her arm out of the way so that he could undo the chest plate.

“I’m really gross, I can do this myself.”

“It’s fine. I’ve got it.”

Brock was gentle as he helped her remove the goalie pads--the chest plate first, followed by her skates and then some awkward shimmying to get the pants down her legs. She was certain that she stopped breathing.

He was staring up at her with such soft eyes, such earnest, that Annie wasn’t able to stop herself. A gentle fist caught the collar of his t-shirt, pulling his face closer to hers and she kissed him just as she’d been longing to do since the beginning of October. Even though Brock was hovering awkwardly in front of her, it didn’t stop him from holding the back of her head to bring her closer. Without breaking the kiss, Annie managed to get to her feet to make it easier on both of them and she melted into his body.

As he pulled away, slowly, painfully, she chased his lips.

“I’m falling in love with you.”

Annie froze at the words, only to pull apart from him so violently that she collided with the stall and delayed her attempted barefoot sprint from the room. In the middle of the locker room she left Brock alone to deal with the confession that had fallen from her own mouth.

20 January

The Instagram post wasn’t a surprise—Annie was the first person to know about the pregnancy and she had known for nearly two months. The real surprise was the panic that settled deep within her stomach. The panic that was entering every part of her psyche through even the smallest of entries.

Which is how she ended up at the door to Brock’s apartment—after an Uber ride she was never going to get five stars for—when she hadn’t seen him since she’d left him in the middle of the locker room.

“Uh… What’s wrong?”

If Annie hadn’t been bouncing up and down anxiously, with mascara running down her face she might have just thought he was very perceptive.

“Holly’s—she’s pregnant.”

“Yeah, I know, Annie. You know I know. Why would you come here just to tell me that?”

Annie became even bouncier. “Because I’m gonna have to go back to Ontario and I can’t go back to Ontario. I can’t—Sean’s in Ontario and—”

“What are you talking about?” Brock asked, his voice sounding somewhere between tired and concerned. Nothing was showing on his face. “Why do you have to go to Ontario?”

“They’re having a baby, Brock,” she stressed, because it should have been clear enough.

“Annie—I don’t understand what’s wrong.”

A woman appeared behind Brock whilst Annie was trying to control all the words and thoughts flying through her head. The woman put a hand on Brock’s arm and leaned in to ask him a question whilst staring curiously and worriedly at Annie.

“This is Bo’s sister. It’s fine, Rose.”

Rose relaxed considerably, the worry shifting quickly to concern. “Oh! Are you okay, honey?”

Annie’s eyes darted between them, though they didn’t have to move very far because Rose was still pressed up close against Brock.

“Yeah. I’m gonna go.”

Nothing else was said, Annie left far too quickly for a response. She had nowhere else she could really go without warning—though nowhere was going to be a worse idea than Brock’s, so, as she walked circles in the elevator, she ordered another Uber to take her to Petey’s.

Only, Brock was waiting for her when the elevator doors opened, huffing. The fire door slammed shut a second later.

“What do you want from me, Annie?” He asked hurriedly, stepping directly in front of her so that she couldn’t make another run for it. “I can’t keep doing this. You say you don’t want me, and I respect that—but getting upset because there’s someone else in my place? All the stuff that happened at the Christmas Skate? It’s killing me.”

“It’s killing me, too.”

He sighed, loudly, frustration oozing from every part of his body. “Then why?”

“I told Bo I would wait until after his first season as captain. One season before I put it at risk by getting too close to his team. I want to be with you so badly, Brock, but he’s my brother.”

Silence overcame them; it didn’t overcome the lobby to his apartment building. Annie jumped back when the elevator dinged, and the doors opened for a young family to walk out. Brock waved at them.

She was getting ready to walk away, her phone buzzing with a notification she assumed was to let her know her Uber was close, but Brock’s voice stopped her.

“Are you asking me to wait for you?”

“I’m not asking you for anything,” she assured him. “If I was going to ask you for something, I would have—I would have asked back in October.”

“Then what, Annie?”

“Then nothing. You go back to your girlfriend, and I go back home and start packing to move back to Ontario.”

“Annie—”

She was quick to cut him off, “What? It’ll be easier if I’m not here, anyway. I’ve gotta go.”

Most of Brock’s sentence came out muffled, except for two crystal clear words: ‘running away’.

21 January

Annie woke just before midday; her body clock having shifted to the late hours she was working as well as the fact that she’d left Petey’s sometime around 1am that morning with a lot of alcohol coursing through her veins. Despite his obvious confusion, he’d welcomed her inside and heard her worries about the baby.

Then he’d called Brock, because, surely, he was better suited to handle it, and Annie had promptly opened a bottle of vodka and poured it straight into her mouth.

Finding Bo waiting for her in the kitchen made her head pound even harder.

“I had some really strange conversations with Brock and Petey this morning,” he said, not even waiting until she’d turned on the Keurig. “About you showing up to their places crying hysterically about how we’re apparently going to send you back to Ontario when the baby comes?”

She didn’t even have the energy to be upset by the idea anymore. Her mind was defeated, and her voice showed it as she sighed, “I can’t go back to Rodney, Bo.”

The conversation seemed to die there, leaving the air tense and palpable. She sighed again. The K-cup process was at least enough of a distraction to her hungover brain that she didn’t have to think about how he was definitely waiting for her to finish.

As she sat down at the table, she stared down at her coffee and only looked away when she noticed the pen and notepad she’d left there after breakfast the day before. She reached out for the pen, her right hand still wrapped around her warm mug, and started to draw mindlessly while she waited for Bo to speak.

“I’m never going to make you go back there,” he assured her. “I’m not kicking you out. Besides, Holly’s already been talking about all the fun stuff you, her and the baby are going to do while I’m on road trips.”

She didn’t look up from her paper—Fin the Whale standing up on his tail fins was coming along nicely—as she asked softly, hopefully, “I can stay?”

“Yeah, Annie. I promise I’m never going to put you in a position where you have to be anywhere near Rodney. Or Sean.”

“I really thought I’d have to leave.”

Bo sighed, sounding pained, “Never. I told you that you could stay as long as you need or want.”

“Holly’s okay with that?”

“We talked about it years ago. We just needed to get you to come here.”

Annie ran over Fin one last time to ensure he was coloured in properly. She spun the paper around and pushed it to Bo, showing him a scratchy drawing of Fin the Whale with a hula hoop around his waist, one on each of his side fins and one balancing on his nose.

“You should get this tattooed on your back,” she said with a tired yet sincere smile.

“Only if you get yesterday’s cat tattooed on your neck,” he said instantly, flipping the page to the mangy cat she’d drawn with drool coming from its mouth.

“I’ve already got a spot for it here,” she said, pointing to a small blank spot above her right wrist.

He laughed, full bodied, and Annie was grateful that he was no longer looking at her with intense pity in his eyes.

“Did you know that Brock has a girlfriend?” She asked, false confidence taking over.

Bo sighed. All relief left his face.

“I don’t know if she’s his girlfriend,” he hesitated, “but I knew there was someone. How did you find out?”

Annie tapped the pen against the table and drank half her coffee in one mouthful. She explained, forcing herself not to choke on her words, “She was there when I went to see him. It sucked so bad, Bo.”

“I didn’t know if you’d want me to tell you.”

Annie hated the sadness in his eyes—the guilt she could see.

“It might have been less embarrassing if I hadn’t just shown up as a total mess, but it was going to be shit no matter how I found out.”

Bo apologised. Annie shook her head. Then she pushed Fin back at him and told him a full back tattoo was the best way to make it up to her.

“He’s not Sean, you know.”

“Obviously. Why would you even say that?”

“Because I told you that you didn’t have to wait and that I just wanted you to be happy and the opposite of that is happening.”

“I’m—” Annie sighed. “I’m dealing with it.”

27 January

It had taken a lot of convincing to get Annie to go out. Micaela insisted that everyone was going to be there so Annie had to be. She thought it was ridiculous for it to be such a big day, like they were reuniting after a long summer and not after the one-week All-Star Break—which most of them had spent with a teammate or two anyway.

Regardless, she ended up in the Pearsons’ backyard, with Tucker laying on her thighs, and definitely panicking that she was going to do something to hurt him. Her focus on him meant ignoring Brock and Rose was at least semi-possible.

She wasn’t even drinking because she couldn’t stay long before work beckoned. There was exactly one time she’d tattooed while drinking and it cost her out of pocket for the cover up. So, sober she was.

Huddled away in her corner, trying to remember nursery rhymes from her childhood, Annie thought she was going to be left alone until it was time to leave.

She thought wrong.

“It’s so good to properly meet you!” Rose was beaming enthusiastically as she sat down beside Annie. “The boys talk about you, like, all the time.”

“That’s because they’re all assholes,” Annie said, flashing a smile at Petey and Quinn who were none the wiser to the venom in her words.

“Hardly. They’ve been singing your praises for weeks.”

Annie focused back on Tucker so that Rose couldn’t see the blatant eye roll.

Rose didn’t move. She sat next to Annie and made occasional baby noises at Tucker but otherwise didn’t say a word. Annie twitched—and tried to disguise it as her shifting Tucker.

“How long have you and Brock been together?” She asked, partly to fill the silence and partly to know if it was any relation to what happened at the family skate.

“A couple weeks, I guess,” Rose shrugged. “I don’t think there’s an official date.”

“A couple weeks and you’re already invited to team stuff? Moving a bit fast, don’t you think?”

“Oh, I’ve known him for a while—basically since he got here? I was in university and we’ve been friends for years? We kind of started whatever this is,” she said, gesturing broadly in a fine demonstration of the vagueness that accompanied ‘this’, “a couple weeks ago.”

“Right,” Annie said tersely. “Well. Neat.”

“You don’t like me,” Rose stated, no question in her voice, yet she didn’t seem offended by the idea.

“I don’t know you,” Annie responded, perturbed by Rose’s casualness.

“You want Brock.”

“No. I don’t.”

Rose breathed out a laugh and stood up, simply saying, “Okay.”

Annie bounced Tucker gently, earning a baby giggle which alleviated the ache in her chest only somewhat. Rose and Brock’s laughs shattered that pretty effectively.

8 February

Maybe Annie had decided to go out that night because she’d heard Brock had fractured a rib during the game; that could never be proven, though. She wasn’t avoiding him.

She’d asked around at work for the grittiest dive bar in Vancouver and started getting ready while she waited for an answer. The February weather wasn’t ideal for such a low cut, sleeveless top but it wasn’t anything a leather jacket couldn’t fix—something she could take off to show the many hours of work that had gone into the art on her arms.

It wasn’t her smartest idea to go out without a friend, but she had a very clear plan that didn’t need any interference. In fact, she’d been sitting at the bar for ten minutes, barely having started her first drink when a man with a lip ring and a bright red Mohawk convinced her to join him and his friends at their table. So, she ordered a second drink to take with her.

Even though she was certain that he’d told her his name at some point, Annie had no idea what to call the man wrapped around her. The attention was wonderful. The neck tattoo he had peeking out of his shirt was mightily interesting.

Drink after drink, Annie kept up with him and his friends—she was smart enough to switch to beer after her first few... It didn’t stop her from getting drunk very quickly.

The exact time was lost on her, but Jake’s head appeared over a group of people Annie didn’t recognise and she waved at him across the bar.

“Doesn’t he play hockey?”

Annie rolled her eyes.

“Virtanen, right?” said someone else. Everyone craned their heads to get a look.

Again, Annie rolled her eyes.

The guy who was wrapped around her, leaned into her ear, and started telling her in great detail how much better he was going to be in bed than Virtanen.

“The only way you can know that is if you’ve fucked him, because I fucking haven’t.”

He didn’t let up, though. Her eyes were rolled so far back in her head that she could hardly see anything in front of her. It was far from the first time she’d had a man slurring useless and uninteresting dirty talk into her ear—it didn’t make it any less enjoyable.

As she finally tried to stand up, his arm snaked around her waist, pulling her forcefully into his lap.

“Where’re you going?”

“Bathroom. Maybe to say hi to my friend, I don’t know.”

It turned out to be the wrong thing to add.

She struggled against him, desperately trying to pull herself out of his grip. He continued to whisper heinous things into her ear.

Annie pulled a drink from the table, and, as she poured it behind her legs and onto his lap, said, “I hope you also like water sports.”

He released her instantly and started swearing at her aggressively, all pretence about taking her home was gone. As she scurried away, he seemed to get his wits back and grabbed her by the upper arm so tightly she was certain it would bruise.

“I fucking dare you,” someone growled over her head, and she looked back to see Jake staring daggers into the man’s head.

Annie’s arm was freed, and she immediately put herself behind Jake. They walked away, Jake constantly checking back over his shoulder, and Annie pulled them to the bathrooms and bounced up and down childishly when she saw the line to the ladies, complaining that she couldn’t wait that long.

Jake put one hand on her shoulder, and the other on the door to the men’s room. He pushed the door open, and guided Annie inside whilst doing his best to keep her shielded.

The wolf whistles were instantaneous, Annie felt herself readying to turn around and walk out, but Jake was opening a stall door and gesturing for her to go in.

The small stall started to spin around her, but she managed.

The men on the other side of the door, that Jake was holding closed with a hand on top, started up with some disgusting comments that were amazingly less disturbing than what was being whispered in her ear. She didn’t know exactly what Jake was doing but whatever it was had everyone else shutting their mouths.

Some of the looks they got from the line of queuing women were dangerous—there were sure to be rumours about Jake Virtanen pulling a woman into a bathroom stall, though Annie supposed that some of them were just jealous that she hadn’t had to wait in line.

Jake and Annie left the bar immediately after that, just in time to see the man being escorted out by security. He was being dragged and it didn’t look to be because he was resisting, he really just looked like he couldn’t stand up anymore.

Outside the bar was cold, normal for February Annie presumed, and she shivered and bit her cheek to stop her teeth from chattering. Jake was pressing his phone to his ear.

“Are you talking to Bo? I don’t want you to talk to Bo,” Annie slurred, reaching over to take Jake’s phone. She was easily deflected.

“I’m not talking to Bo.”

Annie huffed, leaning against the brick wall, and sliding to the ground despite Jake’s increasingly loud protests. He crouched down in front of her, speaking into his phone again.

She listened as best as she could, only able to decipher that he was trying to work out what he should do with her—Annie was quick to make it known that she did not want to go back to Bo and Holly in the state she was in. Jake sighed.

“You wanna come to mine?” He asked.

“I want to go to bed.”

“Okay,” he said into the phone. “Mine it is. Thanks, man. I’ll let you know.”

Jake narrated ordering an Uber in a sing-song voice that made Annie smile.

She shivered and moved to pull her jacket tighter around her body and looked up at Jake with a pout. She said, “I left my jacket inside.”

“Annie,” he groaned.

“I’m sorry,” she muttered. “It’s okay. It doesn’t matter.”

“Nah, come on, we’re going back in,” he said, hauling her back to her feet. “We just gotta be quick.”

People parted for them, Jake walking behind Annie as she led him to her jacket. Never had she felt so powerful—even if none of it was her own power. They marched right to the table, where Jake asked politely exactly once for a woman to remove Annie’s jacket before Annie took matters into her own hands and forcibly took it back, because it had been a Night and she was slowly losing her will to stay awake.

“You all fucking suck,” she said, pointing her finger and sweeping it over the remaining group—if it were something she was able to remember when sober, she would have realised that it was not very menacing at all.

9 February

The next morning wasn’t one Annie wanted to face. Her head pounded, her stomach churned, and she was in a bedroom she didn’t recognise wearing a very large shirt she hadn’t ever seen before.

Décor was non-existent so she wasn’t even able to piece anything together.

Her clothes were haphazardly folded at the end of the bed, another anomaly, so she changed back into them despite how horrible they smelled.

Leaving the bedroom was a relief; she was recognising some of the furnishings and by the time she reached the kitchen she’d worked out where she was. Even before she’d seen Jake closing the fridge door.

“You look like shit.”

“I feel it, too,” she mumbled through a dry mouth.

She sat in a bar stool at his island counter, took off her jacket and immediately rested her cheek on the cool stone bench top.

“I thought you didn’t do tattoos and spacers.”

“Huh?” Annie grunted, before remembering back to months prior. “Oh, I mean that’s not actually a rule. Tattoos or spacers or dyed hair don’t usually mean anything other than maybe I’ll have something in common with them. It was a self-deprecating joke; not a very good one.”

A plate of eggs and bacon was pushed towards her, the scraping against the table making her lift her head. It was pushed back immediately, as she gagged. Water was the only thing she could even think about stomaching.

“Rose went back to Calgary.”

“Okay?” Annie muttered, after taking a few seconds to recall who Rose was. On any other day she would have been delighted to hear such news.

Jake pulled out the bar stool beside her and moved the plate she’d rejected in front of him, next to the one he’d already prepared for himself.

“You’ve got him tied around your little finger and you don’t even know it.”

“It’s not… I know that it looks like I’m doing the wrong thing—maybe I am—but there’s so much going on.”

“He told me about the Bo-thing. I spoke to Bo about it—”

“It’s not any of your business,” she groaned as she sat up straight despite her pounding head. “He’s your friend, I get it, but I am too, right? And I made a promise, and maybe I made that promise because I needed to. For me. You can relay all of this back to Brock, and hopefully it’ll make sense to him, but Jake, you’ve gotta listen to me: I’m not trying to hurt him. A month before I landed here, I was in an awful relationship and it would have been even less fair if I’d asked Brock to fix me.”

“I didn’t know,” he said softly, and Annie was reminded about how much she hated that response. As if people expected to be able to look at her and see her past—if they expected her to part with the explicit details the day they met

She shrugged before laying her head back on the bench.

“Yeah, well.”

14 February – Dice & Ice

Annie hadn’t been going for anything in particular when she’d chosen the dress—it was a nice dress: gold, sequinned, long with a high slit up her left leg. She’d worried only for a second that it was too much and that the Canucks for Kids charity would not appreciate her tattoos being on show for the whole world to see; Bo and Holly had failed to calm her down but Micaela came in clutch. Annie already had her hair dyed jet black—partly for a change and partly to not earn the ire of the charity organisation or the Canucks head office—so Micaela was able to convince her she was fine.

“Holly’s way better suited to this than I am,” Annie said, looking around the room to see all the players in their suits and their partners dressed to the nines.

“You fit in great,” Bo assured her.

Annie rolled her eyes and sought out Emma and Stech the second she saw someone walking towards Bo.

Holly’s pregnancy decided to start causing problems only days before the event, so, between organising a dress and every beauty appointment under the sun, worrying had been far from Annie’s list of priorities. Until Brock walked into her line of sight and she stopped speaking mid-sentence.

She smiled at him—his eyes didn’t stop on her for even a second as he scanned the room.

“You’re worried that getting a cat is what?” Emma prompted. “Bad for Gus? The baby?”

“Uh… I don’t…” Annie swallowed the lump in her throat. “I can’t remember. Sorry.”

It didn’t take long for Emma to work out what had gotten Annie so worked up—she took hold of Annie’s hand and squeezed tight.

Emma and Micaela both knew. About the promise. About Sean. About the kiss. Annie had told them not long after Christmas skate because telling Bo didn’t feel like an option and she couldn’t make Holly keep that secret from her husband.

“I didn’t think you’d hate it this much,” Bo whispered as he moved to stand right beside her later in the evening.

“What’re you talking about?”

“You look upset,” he clarified.

“Yes, I’m upset! I look like this and the only person I want to look at me hasn’t even glanced my way all night.”

“Annie—”

“I ruined that myself,” she groaned, putting her face in her hands before throwing them into the air as a new thought came to her. “Fuck, and Jake’s probably told him all about that asshole I nearly went home with last week.”

“What asshole?” Bo asked, squaring his shoulders.

Annie tried to brush him off by saying casually, “Jake took care of it.”

He wasn’t having any of it.

“Are you okay?”

“What? Yeah. Fine. Like I said, Jake took care of it.”

“Do I need to know what Jake did?” Bo added firmly, “As his captain?”

“Nothing that’ll get him in trouble or anything. I don’t think the asshole will remember anything at all about that night. He literally blacked out as he was being escorted out of the bar, so.”

Bo didn’t look at all satisfied; he was definitely going to be confirming that with Jake. He started to walk away, only to turn around and sigh.

“I thought you were done getting yourself into sketchy situations.”

Annie huffed, “Nothing bad happened; Jake made the save.”

“I wish people stopped having to make the save.”

“So do I, but here we are,” she shrugged, her shoulders hiked right up to her ear so that she didn’t stamp her foot. “I just wanted a night out.”

“I know. And I trust you—”

“You don’t trust anyone else. Nothing to worry about, Bo. You can go find Jake now. I know you want to.”

Micaela found her just a little while later and pulled her into the crowd of people to get her to mingle. Lots of people were delighted to be meeting the captain’s sister—why? Annie had no idea—and more than a few were interested in her tattoos, especially after Micaela revealed that she worked as a tattoo artist. The handful of people who didn’t appreciate her tattoos were quiet about it, but some eye rolls and pursed lips were nothing Annie couldn’t handle. She won some money playing poker and immediately went back to her table to put it into the collection bucket.

“Jake spoke to me,” Brock said, startling Annie as he appeared by her side. “I told him to fight his own battles and keep his nose out of everyone else’s.”

“He means well,” she said sheepishly.

“He doesn’t have all the facts, though,” Brock smiled. “Do you want to come outside with me? There’s heaters.”

Annie blinked at him slowly, unable to fully comprehend what he was asking after he hadn’t looked at her all night. He stretched his hand out to her and it was on instinct that she reached out to hold it and let him lead her to the balcony.

The breeze was expectedly cold until they were stood directly in front of one of the large patio heaters. Brock didn’t let go of her hand. Annie’s lip began to quiver.

“I didn’t tell you about the promise because I didn’t want you to wait until the end of the season only for me to not be ready,” she said hurriedly, not wanting anything to get in the way. “I still don’t know if I’ll be ready.”

“You’re worth waiting for,” he said simply, accompanied by a gentle squeeze of her hand.

Annie breathed in deeply, holding it until her chest felt like it was going to explode. Brock didn’t stop looking at her, his eyes soft and patient.

“Are you saying that you’ll wait for me?”

“Yeah, Ann.”

She laughed derisively. “I’m still trying to work out how you’re real.”

Her hand dropped to her side, and she panicked for a brief second before Brock’s arm wrapped around her shoulders. She wrapped both her arms around his waist and smiled out over the view of Vancouver.

“I made some, um, decisions last week. I don’t even know if I need to tell you—”

“I know already. Nothing to tell, I promise.”

“Jake actually told you that part?” Annie questioned, incredulous. “Jesus.”

“He called me because he didn’t know what to do with you. Or he thought I might be a better person to make sure you were okay.”

“I wouldn’t want to deal with me when I’m like that, either.”

“Drunk? Piece of cake. I really didn’t think you’d want to see me.”

Annie held him tighter, trying to convey silently just how much she always wanted to see him because she knew she’d start crying if she opened her mouth. He seemed to understand, or understand enough, because he pressed a long kiss to the top of her head and his hand began to rub up and down her arm.

“For the record, tattoos and spacers? Very attractive.”

“Neon hair dye?” She asked quietly.

“For sure, but I’ve had a slight change of heart recently and might be favouring black right now.”

She smiled and buried her face into his chest.

“You look incredible tonight,” he added. “I’ve tried so hard to not stare at you; I got told off for ignoring someone when you walked in.”

“That’s kind of dumb.”

“Yeah,” he agreed, “but you’re the one who’s falling in love with me.”

Annie closed her eyes as her entire face grew hot, but she buried her face further into his chest.

4 April

Watching it unfold made Annie’s stomach drop, despite the excitement around her. Holly on her feet, her hands above her head clapping loudly. Emma and Micaela hooting and hollering.

Annie could only watch in abject horror as Brock initiated a fight with William Carrier.

Objectively she knew why he’d taken issue—nobody could deny that the Knights had been targeting Petey all game—but judging by the way Carrier was holding himself, he had a lot more experience than Brock.

“You’re not even a little bit impressed?” Holly asked as both Brock and Carrier were being escorted off the ice by referees. Her voice was nearly drowned out by the tapping of hockey sticks and the roaring crowd.

“I’m impressed it took him so long to go down,” Annie frowned.

Brock was out of sight and down the tunnel and no doubt moments away from being checked out by the trainers within seconds of the fight being broken up. She scooted to the edge of her seat, trying to convince herself that she had no business rushing down after him; it was a fight, after all, not a career-ending injury.

While Brock was still off the ice, Petey scored a goal to put the Canucks up 2-1, so at least the fight had done its job and ignited something in the team.

Brock returned to the bench 10 minutes of game time later, when there was less than four minutes left in the third. His face was blown up and broadcast on the screens for everyone to see—the bruise on his cheekbone already blooming. Annie rolled her eyes and shook her head as the home crowd were cheering appreciatively.

It was the most exciting thing to happen in the dying minutes; despite the Golden Knights pulling Lehner for the extra attacker, neither team was able to get even close to scoring and the game ended in a 2-1 victory for the Canucks.

The best way to close out the regular season.

As soon as they could, everyone in the family box made their way slowly down to the locker room. It was expected that between celebrating and the media that the boys would take longer than usual so there was no rush. On the leisurely walk down, Holly threw her arm around Annie’s shoulders and swayed side to side.

“So… it’s the end of the regular season,” she teased, her voice light.

“I know.”

“And…”

“And I still don’t know,” Annie admitted, not shy about it at all.

Holly shook her kindly, knowing all too well the thoughts that had been going through Annie’s head for the past few months.

The players emerged from the locker room slowly but surely, all boisterous and animated. Every time the locker room door opened, it was clear that they were happy to have won and the boisterous behaviour they brought out probably paled in comparison to what was happening inside.

Bo would be the last one out—he always was—which meant Holly would be hanging around long enough for Annie to see Brock. Which was simultaneously wonderful for the support and also awful because it guaranteed that nothing she did in that hallway would go unseen.

Though, there was next to nothing that would surprise anyone who had witnessed how close Brock and Annie had become since February.

She buried her face in her phone, only looking up to smile and congratulate the boys who got close enough as they walked by and once when Jake swiped her phone from her.

“Your boy will be out in a second,” Jake said, bonking her on the head with said phone. “Looks like he’s been in a fight.”

“I know,” Annie deadpanned. “His face was plastered across the arena.”

She took her phone back and wagged it in his face to get him to leave her be.

The door opened; the boys inside still incredibly loud despite there only being a handful left. Since she wasn’t focused on her phone; she saw that it was Brock just as Jake had promised. Annie grimaced immediately; it was impossible not to stare at his face.

Brock made his way over to her immediately, despite the unimpressed look she was certain was on her face.

“Why would you do that?” Annie asked in exasperation, stepping into Brock’s space and brushing her fingertips gently over his cheekbone.

“They were picking on Petey, what was I supposed to do?”

“Leave the fighting to someone who’s good at it?”

His hands settled on her hips, holding her gently enough that she could break away if she felt the need.

“Did I look good?”

“No,” she said with a shake of her head. “You looked ridiculous and I’m mad about it.”

Brock leant closer to her, to speak softly just to her. “I’m sorry. I won’t make a habit of it.”

Annie was watching his mouth as he spoke, and she moved her thumb from his cheekbone, pouting as he winced, to run it over his bottom lip. He froze in front of her, his fingers an even pressure on her hips.

“I’m so scared,” she revealed, her voice barely audible even to her own ears.

“I know,” he nodded. “You don’t need to be.”

Annie sighed, longingly, moving her thumb to his chin and rising up on her toes to press her lips against his so lightly that they barely even touched. They both stood in that same position for what felt like hours.

“Sorry,” Bo’s voice came out of nowhere—awkward and unsure. “Are you coming home with us?”

Annie buried her face into Brock’s neck. His hand moved to her back, holding her close.

She mumbled, her eyes falling shut, “I think I’m gonna go with Brock.”

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