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spine-buster · 5 years

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Alone, Together | Chapter 28 | Morgan Rielly

A/N: I couldn’t bear to re-live too much of the playoffs so...yeah. This is the last chapter to deal with them. We are now moving on to the summer! Fun and interesting shenanigans ahead!

Lmao wow. So official with ur jacket in the wag group pic. Bet u begged the other wags for a jacket and to be in the pic.

You look really cute in your jacket! I think you’d look better if you were maybe Steph or Madison’s size though! Other than that, super cute!

OMG you are honestly the most desperate person in the city of Toronto

pls pls pls how can I become a wag

can u give Auston my number 416 555 0123

So…how’s Scotiabank treating you?

For the love of God, sign up for a yoga class girl. Pilates. Start jogging. Something. Nothing about your body is flattering. You can’t tell me Morgan likes all that flab. You were always a calf but you’ve been a cow since Christmas.

You want to make it seem like you’re ‘part of the group’ of WAGs but we can all tell you’re not. They include you to be nice but in reality, they probably don’t even speak to you outside of the arena. To think you are isolating Morgan from his friends and teammates – and for what? So you can have a WAG jacket one year? So you can flaunt in front of everyone? Morgan would be so much better off with someone who doesn’t leech off of him and who doesn’t reek of desperation.

***

Bee didn’t know how she survived all the way up to game six. It was a back and forth between the Leafs and the Bruins and she didn’t know how she was going to handle this game, with the Leafs being able to eliminate the Bruins if they won. The Leafs won game three, even though at 6:15pm that same Monday, it came down that Naz had been suspended for the rest of the series – however long that was. The boys were angry, but they tried not to let it show. That Wednesday, they lost 6-4. Morgan got two assists that night but they still couldn’t capitalize. In Boston for game five, the Leafs won 2-1, with Morgan getting another assist on Kappy’s goal. Now, with game six about to start, she was jittery. She even felt hot in the jacket but couldn’t bear to take it off.

She was praying for an Easter miracle.

Once everyone settled back into their seats after the singing of the anthems by Martina, her leg couldn’t stop bobbing up and down. It was Aryne who had to lay her hand on Bee’s thigh to get her to stop. “Are you nervous or something?” she asked sarcastically.

“How have you done this for almost ten years?” Bee asked. “I don’t know if I can handle it.”

“You’re going to be okay. You get used to it,” Aryne said. “Besides, this is actually only the fourth time John’s made the playoffs.”

“What? Really?”

Aryne nodded her head. “When we went to Sochi it was much more nerve-wracking. But that’s besides the point. You need to calm down.”

“So if they win this, they face the Columbus Blue Jackets, because the Blue Jackets swept the Tampa Bay Lightning,” Bee listed off, remembering the look of the bracket in her head.

“Exactly.”

“Could we beat the Blue Jackets? Like in a series?”

“In a heartbeat.”

Bee’s chest tightened. “So…like…we could really do this.”

Aryne nodded her head. “Really really. But we can’t think about that right now. We need to focus on beating the Bruins.”

Morgan opened the scoring. It happened about ten minutes into the first period, a one timer from the blue line thanks to Willy keeping it in the Bruins zone, and Bee erupted from her seat with the crowd to scream and cheer for him, even high-fiving a man and his son who were seated in front of her. She looked up at the jumbrotron to see him fist-bumping with the bench before they replayed the goal. Her heart fluttered in her chest knowing that he had opened the scoring in such a big game, motivating the rest of the team.

That didn’t last long though. Brad Marchand scored less than two minutes later, and another goal by Krug ended the first period. DeBrusk, still playing even though there were rumours that he had a concussion, scored in the second period. Auston scored in the third period and tried to rally the team to tie it. Late in the game, Morgan and Jake DeBrusk got into a little…scuffle on the ice, and DeBrusk pushed Morgan’s helmet off. There was an exchange of words, a little pushing and shoving, and Bee couldn’t bear it.

“PUNCH HIM IN THE FACE!” she screamed at the top of her lungs, surprising even herself at the ferocity and volume of her demand. She stood up in her seat to watch the aftermath and the replays on the jumbotron. Surely an opponent pulling off the helmet of another player would result in a penalty? “WHAT FUCKING BULLSHIT!” she screamed at the top of her lungs again.

“Bee, there are children present,” Aryne grabbed her hand.

“FUCK YOU DEBRUSK!” she shouted one more time before sitting down, huffing and puffing in anger as they showed a replay yet again. “I guess game two let us all know the Bruins can do whatever the fuck they want and get away with it!” she said loudly, but not as loud as before. She looked at Aryne. “Can you believe this?!”

“Yes Bee, it’s game six of the playoffs,” she giggled slightly. “This is the most I’ve seen you get riled up about hockey ever. I think Mo needs to start getting more physical more often,” she wiggled her eyebrows.

Bee snorted. If only Aryne knew. “I just…nobody’s allowed to touch him. Nobody. I’ll deal with them myself if I have to.”

Unfortunately, the Leafs couldn’t capitalize and Brad Marchand scored again. The final was 4-2. They’d be going back to Boston.

Another game 7.

Bee could see the looks on everyone’s faces as the buzzer rang to signal the end of the game. The girls who had been through this before – Alannah, Lucy, Madison, and others – were not smiling. At all. There was a look of worry mixed with dread on their faces. As fans filed out of the arena, the girls all sat in their places, staring at each other. Nobody got up – Bee didn’t think anyone had the strength to. There was always a lot of media after the games, anyway, so there was no point in leaving when the fans did.

Aryne, forever the optimist, saw the look on Bee’s face. “They can do this, Bee. I know they can,” she said. “We need to stay positive.”

“I know they can. The question is if they will,” Bee mused. “What if they get those awful referees from game two again?”

“They won’t. The NHL will never let them officiate another game again, they were so bad. We need to stay positive. They have all the tools they need. They can beat the Bruins.”

Bee wished she could be as positive.

***

Morgan wasn’t a man of many words when he came out of the locker room. He gave Bee a kiss and said goodbye to everyone before they descended down to the parking garage. Rocco and Clarette had invited them over for an Easter dinner, and that’s where they were supposed to be headed. But Bee could see the dejected look on Morgan’s face and the bags under his eyes. She knew he would probably rather just go home. She knew he was tired, aching, that he now had a flight to catch tomorrow to go into enemy territory.

As they got into the car, she looked over at him and put her hand over his. “I can call Clarette and tell her you’re tired if you want to go home,” Bee said softly. “They’ve been watching. They’ll understand.”

“Why would you do that?”

“Morgan, come on,” she said. “If you want to just go home we can go home. Or I can take the subway up myself and you can go and rest.”

“No no no,” he said, flipping over his hand to hold hers and bring it to his lips to kiss. “We promised them we’d be there for Easter dinner. Clarette’s probably made four different courses. We’re going. I’m okay.”

“Morgan.”

“Briony, I want to take my mind off of hockey right now,” he said, his voice sombre, firm, and resolved. “I want to be around family.”

She couldn’t protest. Not when she heard the tone of his voice, not as he cradled her hand in his against his chest, not as he looked at her with his blue eyes. She couldn’t do it. “Promise me you’ll tell me you want to go the second you want to? Don’t feel obligated to stay longer.”

“I will Bumblebee. I promise,” he said, kissing her hand one last time before pulling out of the parking spot.

When they arrived, it was Rocco who opened the door to greet them. “Mr. Goal Scorer tonight!” he beamed as he hugged Morgan. “Great goal tonight!”

“Thank you,” Morgan smiled.

“And you!” Rocco turned his attention to Bee. “That jacket looks great!” She spun around so he could see the giant Maple Leafs logo on the back and he oohed and awed at it. “Can I buy one too?”

Bee giggled as she showed him the ‘Rielly’ patch on her arm. “You have to start dating Morgan to get one.”

“He’s handsome. That could happen.”

They broke out into a fit of laughter as Sarah Jessica Barker came running towards them, bringing with her Angie, Mason, and Joshua. Morgan bent down to pet her and coo at her while Angie, Mason, and Josh looked on with amused expressions on their faces. “Sorry about the game,” Angie said as Sarah Jessica Barker had enough of Morgan and moved on to Bee.

“What are we having for dinner?” Morgan asked. His way of letting her know he didn’t want to talk about it. Angie got the hint. So did everyone else.

“We’re Italian. We have lamb on Easter,” Rocco informed him.

“We’re also French-Canadian,” Clarette piped up from the kitchen. Morgan couldn’t help but laugh. “We are also French-Canadian and have butter tarts to offset the Italian lamb.”

“That’s what I like to hear, Clarette! Dessert!” Morgan called out to her as she appeared from the kitchen. “I’m sorry we had to push this back so late because of me.”

“Late? What late? It’s barely 7. Italians have dinner at 9pm,” she said, side-eyeing her husband. “But everything is ready, so everyone should go sit at the table.”

***

pls tell ur boyfriend the next game is kind of important and if he could step it up that would be nice

lemme guess…ur going to boston on mo’s dime for game 7? U have a job yet u never work. So lazy.

No matter how hard you try you will never be as pretty as Steph or Cassie. Don’t know why you think you are. Don’t bother.

You know all the other girls are talking about you behind your back, right? Word on the street is you’re the most desperate social climber ever, and when the playoffs are over, you’ll be gone too. On to the next hockey player, slut.

***

Bee didn’t have anymore nail polish on. She had peeled off her shellac from sheer anxiety. Going into the second period, the Bruins were up 2-0, and then John had scored thanks to an assist from Tyler. Going into the third, it was 2-1. The boys could do this. They could do this. They could do this.

Bee decided against getting together with any of the girls. She was too nervous and she didn’t want any of them to see just how worried, panicky, and jumpy she was. She was alone in the apartment and, honestly, right now, she preferred it that way. She could yell at the TV without anyone looking at her. She could yell stupid stuff, stuff that probably didn’t even make sense, and nobody would say anything. She could cry in peace if she wanted to. She also knew that, regardless of the outcome, the boys would be on a flight after the game, coming home in the middle of the night. She wanted to be home for Morgan. Regardless of the outcome.

When the third period started Bee was optimistic. But less than three minutes in, Sean Kuraly scored. 3-1. The boys could still do this. They could come back.

Then Charlie Coyle scored near the end. 4-1. Bee’s chest tightened. That was what the score was during that awful game seven in 2013 before the Bruins came back. Maybe the boys could do the same, with much, much less time.

Patrice Bergeron. An empty-netter. 5-1. The Bruins fans went wild. A waterfall of tears streamed down Bee’s cheeks.

The Toronto Maple Leafs had been eliminated from the playoffs.

Despite her sadness and despite her pain, she kept the TV on. The stupid panellists with their stupid opinions provided background noise for her tears, but she didn’t listen to anything they had to say. Why would she when they were trashing Fred, saying he was incapable of being a “game seven goalie”, whatever the fuck that meant, when just two weeks earlier they were calling him the best goaltender in the world? Why would she when all they did was go over every single little thing the Leafs did wrong? Why would she listen to them completely tear apart and break down a team they all relied on for their hefty paycheques? She wasn’t stupid – she knew how sports media worked. She knew the Leafs provided rating and that their ratings were through the roof because of this – they’d probably be getting some nice bonus cheques. They were all feckless – all of them. They changed their opinions on the fly, whenever it suited them, whenever it got them more ratings and more viewers who ended up adopting their shit opinions. ‘Experts my ass’ Bee thought. Especially that Nik Kypreos guy. What an idiot.

And then Morgan appeared on the screen.

She wanted to scream. Were they actually interviewing him right now? Really?! Not even two minutes after the end of the game and they had paraded him out of the locker room into some hallway to answer asinine questions about another heartbreaking game seven? ‘LET THEM GRIEVE!’ she wanted to shout. ‘LET THEM FUCKING GRIEVE!’ But no. Apparently that was impossible. They wanted every sound bite they could get just so they could talk about it for fifteen minutes afterwards. Because they Leafs were money. That’s all they were to these people – sound bites and ratings and money. They weren’t just hockey players dejected after a loss; they weren’t men who put everything they had into the game, into the entire series, into the entire season; worse yet, they weren’t human beings with complex emotions who didn’t want microphones and cameras shoved in their faces as they dealt with the insurmountable fact that they had let an entire city down. Money.

She looked at him and how dejected he looked, how heavy his breathing was underneath all his gear. She wanted to shatter every plate in their kitchen against a wall in anger. When he was finally released and went back to the locker room, she shed more tears. God knows how many reporters would be waiting for them in there, too.

She just wanted him home. God, all she wanted was for him to come home.

***

When Bee heard the door unlock at almost 2am, she jumped off the couch but stood stoic in her place. She watched as Morgan pushed open the door, lugging himself into his apartment, letting the door close behind him. The first thing he looked for was her. She was all he wanted to see.

“Baby…” she mumbled, running over to him. “Baby, baby, come here.”

She grabbed on and attached herself to him like he was going to float away. He immediately wrapped his arms around her, burying his face into her neck. He lifted her up and she wrapped her legs around him tightly. Almost absent-mindedly, he walked them over to their bedroom before collapsing on the bed. He didn’t let go. She felt tears on her neck as they lay there, wrapped into each other, and she began running her fingers through his hair and playing with the tufts of hair at the base of his neck, knowing it was soothing for him. It was all she could do; all she knew she could do. There wasn’t anything she could say that would make him feel better. There were no words for this. No words besides “I love you,” which she whispered to him over and over again, for however long she needed to.

***

“We couldn’t do it.”

That’s what Morgan kept repeating.

“We couldn’t do it.”

Bee couldn’t rewrite history. “You couldn’t do it now. But you can and you will. One day.” It was all she could offer.

“We couldn’t do it.”

***

Bee had pre-emptively taken the day off. She didn’t need to worry about work and, quite frankly, didn’t exactly want to right now. She got a text from Mark early that morning. Tell Morgan we were rooting for him all the way. We’re proud of him. He’s one of the only guys who showed up to play the game the entire series.

Bee read the text out to him. He said nothing.

***

Bee only left the bed to make him breakfast – some Greek yogurt with an organic granola mix and some fresh raspberries and sliced bananas. When she brought it to him, still in bed, she saw he was in and out of sleep. She could only imagine he was trying to survive on his last legs of energy by this point. She placed the bowl on the side table before helping him out of his clothes so he could at least be comfortable in his sleep. He moved around absent-mindedly to help her, but she knew he wasn’t there. He probably thought he was hallucinating. When she was finished, she cupped his face in the palm of her hand gently. She’d put the granola mix in the fridge to eat later.

“Y’know what?” he mumbled out suddenly, barely audible or understandable through his fatigue, his eyes cracking open only slightly to look at her.

“What?”

“I wanna take care’f you.”

Bee didn’t understand what he meant. She thought for sure he was dreaming already and in some form of sleep paralysis or lucid dreaming. “What are you talking about?”

“I wanna give you s’much you c’n quit your job n’do s’mthin’ you really love. Cause I love you.”

Bee was completely still as the words escaped his mouth. Before she could come back to, or say anything, she heard his soft snores.

***

It was a few days until Morgan returned to his normal self. Well, semi-normal.

The locker clear out was scheduled for Saturday, April 27th, and because they were leeches who didn’t know when to stop sucking the life out of something, the media was expected there. Mike Babcock would hold a press conference. The summer rumour mill began of who was staying and who was not; who was going to earn these many millions here and who was going to earn those many millions somewhere else. Morgan spoke to the media, as he always did. Off-camera they asked about what he would get up to the entire summer over in Vancouver, since naturally he’d go home. ‘Lots of golfing, probably,’ he’d answered. ‘Dad’s birthday at the beginning of June. Long walks with Maggie where she gets to swim – she loved swimming. She’s queen of the ocean, too. Lots of poolside days. Good wine on the deck. Back to Toronto for the Pride Parade. Fishing trips too, as always. But mostly just stick around home.’

Of course Morgan would go home. He deserved more than anybody to go home to his family, to take in the fresh air of the B.C. coast and rejuvenate himself. He deserved to relax; to kick his feet up and sleep with Maggie in his lap; to take the boat out to Gibsons for oysters or to chase pods of whales again. He deserved to go fishing. Go golfing. Do anything he wanted to do. Isolate himself from the outside world, from hockey. Live through summer on his rules, how he wanted to.

She just wondered how their life in Toronto factored into that.

It was a long flight, from Toronto to Vancouver, and Morgan was meant to relax. She didn’t want him to feel obligated to do anything he didn’t want to do. They had events that they needed to attend together, sure – like Zach’s wedding at the end of June – but she wondered how all that would factor into him taking time for himself. She knew they would work it out, like they always did, but it was four months of summer that needed to be accounted for and planned. There was only so much time she could take off at work – they both knew that. So she’d have to stay in Toronto. She wondered if his schedule would be like how she assumed last summer’s was, when she met him. A bit of time here, a bit of time there, a bit of time anywhere he wanted to be.

When the locker clean out was all said and done, Bee and Morgan sat together in their apartment, her legs draped over his. It was all she thought about on the way home. Since the reporter had asked the question. “What are we going to do this summer?”

“Well, we have Zach’s wedding and--”

“You deserve to go home,” Bee blurted out. She was trying desperately not to let her tears fall. Being without him for long stretches of time was going to be hard – just like it was during the season – but he needed it more than anything. “You deserve to go home and relax for a bit. You’ve had a tough year outside of hockey, too.”

She watched as his brows furrowed at her words. “What was so tough outside of hockey?” he asked.

“Me. The break-in. My mom dying. You didn’t deserve to have to deal with that and--”

He cut her off by giving her a kiss. “Do you mean outside of hockey, when I met the love of my life?”

She couldn’t handle his words. The tears escaped her slowly, and immediately she wiped them away with the backs of her hands. Morgan leaned forward again, capturing her lips in another kiss, and soon, they couldn’t tear themselves away from each other. It was only when they had to break for air that he spoke again. “I am going to go home, Briony. But only for a bit. I’ll be back and forth, but it’ll be okay.”

“You need to take this time to relax,” she stressed, putting her hand on his chest. “You can’t go back and forth all the time. This is your time off.”

“I’ll be fine. It’s nothing that I’m not used to,” he said. “Besides, you know I can’t go too long without seeing you.”

She sighed again. “I can’t go too long without seeing you either. But your priority shouldn’t be me, your priority should be yourself.”

“Hey, you’re always my priority,” he said, grabbing hold on her hand on his chest. “You’re my home now too, Bumblebee. Don’t you ever forget it.”

She internalized his words as much as she could. You’re my home now too, Briony. She never thought she’d hear those words – that someone would consider her home. But of course Morgan did, and Morgan was the one to say it about her. And even though she knew that in her close future she’d be spending more time than she liked alone, she knew that once he came back to her, they’d go back to being themselves, together. “Let’s…let’s take out our calendars.”

“Bumblebee.”

“I want to see when you’ll be gone. I know you’re out in PEI with Dion an the Boys and Girls Club, and I know--”

“Bumblebee--”

“Please Morgan. Just take out your calendar. For me.”

He didn’t fight it. He moved to take his phone out of his pocket and he opened the calendar. “I’m going to see if I can catch a flight to Vancouver mid-week, okay? It can give us a couple of more days together,” he said. Bee nodded her head, cuddling more into him so she could lay her head on his chest, just below his shoulder. “We don’t have much in May. I know you have Alannah’s bachelorette party on the 11th but it’s not like I need to come to that. I can be back in town for the long weekend the following week and stay for a while. But then I want to be back home for dad’s birthday. I want to take him golfing. We always go golfing for his birthday.”

“Of course,” Bee said. She couldn’t help but smile slightly. “Back and forth, back and forth – it’s gonna be like hockey didn’t even stop.”

“What did I tell you?” he smirked, giving her a quick kiss. “I’m gonna miss your cooking.”

“I’m gonna miss you eating all my cooking,” she said. “The apartment is going to feel so empty with you gone.”

“You should get a gerbil.”

She snorted as he wiggled his eyebrows at her. “Don’t tempt me, Morgan Rielly. You’ll come back in May and this place will be a literal zoo.”

“If that’s what you want that’s fine by me,” he mumbled, leaning in to kiss her again, and again, and again. Eventually, he pulled her on to his lap and let his hands wander underneath her shirt. “I’m gonna miss this most,” he mumbled against her lips.

“Me too,” she agreed, her hands cupping his face so she could look at him. He had shaved off his playoff beard, and there was only stubble now. She ran her thumbs along his jawline. “Gonna miss waking up to those baby blues every morning.”

He gave her another kiss. “Gonna miss waking up with my face between your thighs.”

A smile broke out on her face. “You’re a perv.”

“Only for you.”

***

Tick tock tick tock…who is the next hockey player you’re gonna fuck for relevancy?

I bet ur gonna try to get with auston next. Or fred. You’re such a slut

Now is your chance to turn into a hot girl for hot girl summer. Join a gym ffs!!!!!!!!!!

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