If I’m honest with myself, I think I did come over here looking for a way out. It wasn’t a plan or even a clear thought, but as soon as we started talking, I could see it was headed that way. And I just stood there and let it happen.
Having a sports psychiatrist has been a much-needed humbling experience. The first couple of sessions were just me talking. A lot. Explaining my version of my entire career up until now. The next two were this man pulling at threads with pointed questions. Getting me to unravel truths behind the highlights and lowlights of the last seven years since I was drafted.
Doctor Wayne never tells me anything. He leads me to my own conclusions. And I've come to admit to myself and accept, that being a Garrison in professional hockey means I don't have to worry about missed opportunities. Another one will always be handed to me. Like the Portland Riptide. I've come to swallow the uncomfortable truth that they only picked me up for my name. I'm still given more slack, status, and leeway because of my family's legacy than someone else might get, on and off the ice. Am I as talented as I think I am? Maybe not. So I have decided to work even harder. Not for anyone else but for myself.
But today, right this minute, it hits me that that whole mindset should also apply off the ice. I remember when I had that childhood crush on Mac and why I never did a thing about it. Because there were easier options. Girls who lived closer were showing blatant interest, and were much less of a challenge, with fewer obstacles. My whole life has been about the low-hanging fruit. Sad but true.
Letting Mac go now is the easy way out.
Do I like her? Yeah. A lot. More than I have ever liked a woman before. But she’s complicated now more than ever and I don’t do complicated because I don’t have to. So I stood there watching her draw her own conclusions, pleading with me to say or do something that didn’t lead to the end of this thing we’ve started. But… I didn’t. Until that moment when she made it official.
We end and Mac slams the door in my face and then… Well, fuck me if I don’t wake the hell up. I can’t possibly handle the idea of walking away from her. I pound on the door until my fist throbs. I will miss the plane, skip the road trip, whatever it takes to fix this. Not let it end. And then I remembered I’m six foot four, built like a brick shithouse, and that the landlord is my uncle. So I break the door down.
When I get to the top of the stairs, she’s slumped on the floor with her face in her hands, crying quietly. I drop to my knees in front of her. “I’m sorry. I panicked.”
“Leave me alone.”
“Mac. Mackenzie. Princess, please.”
I touch her wrists, wanting to pull her hands away but she yanks them from my grip. Her eyes are watering, and her cheeks are blotchy and wet. My heart splinters. I fucked this up big time. "You know why I dislike that stupid nickname? Because I'm the furthest thing from a princess, Conner. I'm a dead crackhead's orphaned daughter, who ate out of dumpsters and slept in doorways. I will always be that cynical, wounded, defensive kid to some degree, no matter how much therapy I do or how many degrees I get, or who I date. And I don't even want to change that. I am who I am because of what I've survived. But princesses, aren't made up of broken parts like me. So maybe this can never work. You're right."
“I never said that,” I interrupt, leaning forward on my knees and brushing my knuckles across her left cheek to wipe away a tear I don’t even think she knows has fallen. She jerks back from my touch. “This is working.”
“Boys like you aren’t meant for girls like me.”
“Boys like me?” I snort. Literally. “Boys like me aren’t good enough for girls like you, Mac. You’re right. You aren’t a princess. You’re a fucking warrior. I’m just a guy with a big name and a fragile ego. That’s why I don’t fight for things. Because I know deep down I don’t deserve them. And that includes you.”
She finally meets my eye, blinking as another fat tear slips free. This time when I reach up to wipe it away she lets me. “But damn do I want you. More than anything in my life right now, I want you. So please forgive me. Take me back and let’s just keep going no matter how complicated it gets.”
She sniffs. I gently cup her face in my hands and lean in. I kiss her softly, with all the feelings swirling inside of me, confusing and terrifying the hell out of me. And she slowly but surely kisses me back. “You can’t do things like that. Make me feel like I’m not worth it, Con. Because I will believe it.”
“I’m sorry.” My heart is still splintering in my chest. “I promise princess I will never do that again, not even for a second.”
“Can you stop with the nickname?”
“No. Because you keep calling me a prince,” I explain, my forehead pressing into hers as I brush her curls back. “And you’re mine baby. So that makes you a princess.”
“So… now what?”
“Well, I head back to Portland and catch our private plane to San Francisco,” I explain, hating that I can’t consummate this reconciliation the way I want to. “And I talk to your dad. And if he doesn’t throw me off the plane at forty-thousand feet, then I help win a couple hockey games and when I get back you let me spend the entire day in bed with you showing you how much I missed you, how sorry I am, and how much you mean to me.”
“You mean a lot to me too, Con,” she whispers.
I kiss her again and help her to her feet so I can wrap her in a hug. We stand there for minutes just holding each other. Maybe Alex won’t notice if I just don’t show up. Can I fake an injury or something? I don’t want to leave her.
“What the hell happened to the door?” a voice booms from downstairs.
“I’ll pay for it,” I call back as Tenley starts stomping up the stairs.
"Jesus, I thought I was going to find kidnappers or mafia henchmen or cartel leaders or something." Tenley stands in the entryway holding a hammer in one hand and a taser in the other. She takes in the sight of Mac all teary-eyed while wrapped up in my arms. "You need me to taze him, Mac? I'll do it."
“I’ll pass but thanks for the offer,” Mac replies and she shoots me a small smile. “I’ll take a raincheck though, in case I need you to taze him at a later date.”
I laugh. “You won’t princess. I promise.”
“Go catch that plane,” she tells me, kissing me softly but not so soft that Tenley doesn’t groan in protest.
“I’m going to miss you like crazy.”
“I’ll miss you too. Especially if my father tosses you out of the plane mid-flight,” she replies with a crooked grin.
“I’ll call you tonight,” I promise.
I pass Tenley and she points her taser at me. “I’m sending you the bill for the door.”
“Yeah. Yeah.”
I feel kind of wrecked as I climb into the driver’s seat and start my trip back to Portland. I don’t even care what happens next. If Alex is going to be pissed off at me about Mac or if the media turns it into some big deal that I’m dating the coach’s daughter or if the players balk about it because they think I’m getting preferential treatment. I realize now that I can handle anything. And some battles are worth it. Mac is worth it.