Harmony woke alone the next morning. The smell of coffee wafting up to greet her. Peter had left the bedroom door open, and the scent of breakfast was near to assaulting her nose as well. She made her way into the bathroom, grabbing her purse off the chair in the corner of the room that she had tossed it on that night, and pulled out her little travel supplies making quick use of them and dressing just as fast.
Peter was at the stove, he smiled as she came into view. “Morning,” he said, turning back to expertly flip a pancake.
“Mmm…smells good,” Harmony commented, taking a seat at the breakfast bar.
Peter slid a cup of coffee in her direction, “Breakfast in a couple of minutes.”
She nodded, put some cream and sugar in her mug, then taking a sip reached for the paper that sat on the counter. Flipping through the first couple of pages, Harmony thought to herself how wonderful this was. Sitting here with Peter, enjoying coffee and reading the paper as he cooked her breakfast. It was all so... domestic. She smiled, full of love and warmth.
And then her world crashed down around her.
Harmony made a little choking sound as she stared down at the paper in horror.
“What it is?” Peter asked, coming around the counter to her.
“What is this Peter?” She demanded, flinching when he tried to touch her.
Peter looked down at the paper, where her finger pointed to the article in question, and closed his eyes. A sigh escaped him.
“So it's true?” She accused, standing and pushing away from the counter, backing out of Peter's reach as his hands came towards her. “This is what you've been hiding from me? Isn't it?”
“Yes. I mean no.” Peter shook his head violently. The smell of burning pancakes reaching them. “Is not true Harmony,” he said, rushing back around the counter and turning off the stove. “I never touch that girl.”
Harmony was already grabbing for her purse, ready to bolt for the door. Sadie whined from the couch in the living room, obviously sensing the tension between them.
“It is not true.” he said again, walking around the counter to her once more.
Harmony backed up a step. “Don't touch me,” she warned.
Peter stopped, dropping his hands and looking at her with a sullen expression. His eyes pleading, begging her to believe him. “Harmony.”
She shook her head, “I can't believe this....I…I trusted you!” she spat, taking another step towards the door.
“Please. Do not go. Let me to explain.” He begged, a hand reaching out as though she were still right in front of him, though she felt more like miles away.
“Explain? How could you possibly explain this Peter? You lied to me.”
“I did not lie.” he corrected, his voice hitching up a notch. “I only say I could not tell you. This is a matter for the police.”
“A matter for the police.” she let his words roll around in her mind for a minute. “Well,” she said, her tone dark and angry. “Looks like the police aren't doing their job are they?”
Peter was shocked, taken aback by her statement, the coldness of her voice. “You believe this?” He said, reaching for the paper and shaking it in her face. “You would assume this is true? With no even talking to me? No giving me the chance to defend myself?”
Harmony shook her head, close to tears now. “I don't know what to believe Peter!” she shouted, reaching for the door knob. “Just leave me alone. I need to think.”
Throwing the paper on the floor, Peter grabbed a hold of the door before she could slam it shut, following her outside.
Harmony whirled on him then, “I mean it.” she yelled, “stay away from me.”
Peter stopped, frozen by the heat in her eyes, there was such anger there, and so much pain as well. “Harmony,” he said, his voice a near whisper.
“No.,” she said sternly, “I can't do this right now. I need time. So please...” her voice dropped, the anger subsided, replaced by what he was sure was a subtle defeated feeling, what he felt himself. “Just give me some time.”
Peter stood there long after she was gone. He watched her car disappear from view, then shoulders slumped, he walked back inside. Peter threw the food he had been preparing in the garbage, his stomach too twisted in knots to even contemplate eating, and washed the coffee down the drain.
Then he walked into the living room, snatching up the paper, his anger returning as he sat down on the couch and read through the article. Sadie, crawled over to him, placing her head in his lap and whining until he reached down and put a hand on her head.
Sighing, he scratched behind the dog’s ears, whispered to her in Russian, telling her all would be okay. But he was lying. He didn't know if anything would ever be okay again.
Harmony snagged the paper up from her front stoop, storming into the house and slamming the door behind her. She tried to remain angry, hoping to keep her desperation at bay. She felt like she'd taken a blow to the heart, and she was slowly bleeding, waiting for the injury to put her out of her misery.
“Slashers star Defensemen being investigated for sexual assault.” That's what the headline had read. Her stomach dropped a second time as she re-read it, going into the article below. The writer was vague, didn't give too much detail. Said the sheriff’s department would neither confirm or deny, but that a confidential source had come forward, and without naming the girl, or the location of the incident went on to say that the encounter happened one night at a bar, after the young lady had asked for an autograph and had been invited back to the player’s house, only to be accosted in an alleyway.
It didn't sound like something Peter would do. But with all these different emotions roiling within her, she had a hard time sorting through all of them. The detective's questions coming back to haunt her. How did he seem? Was he dressed weird? She thought back to the night in question, reliving all the details, right down to their passionate almost-love-making on the couch.
Peter had seemed fine. If he'd had any sort of “encounter” with a fan, she had seen no indication of it. As for how he had been dressed, he'd just taken a shower, his wet hair making that perfectly obvious. But why? Was it as this article had said? Had he needed to shower because he was covered in filth after attacking a young woman in the alley behind some bar?
She didn't want to believe it. How could she? She'd been with Peter that night, and though beer had most certainly been on his breath, he was far from drunk. And he was gentle with her. Throughout their feverish kissing and fondling of each other, Peter was ever so gentle with her. Wouldn't someone who had just assaulted a girl and gotten caught in the act have been a little rougher? Careless even in her handling?
Peter hadn't seemed troubled to her in any way though. That's what bugged her the most. She felt like she knew Peter by now. He was a pretty easy going guy, but was absolutely shy around women. She was sure that had been no act. Harmony herself was more prone to going after guys like herself, outgoing and sure of themselves, perhaps bordering on arrogant. It was Peter's accent and his eyes that had caught her attention, and his smile that had sealed the deal.
She probably wouldn't have been able to get beyond his bashfulness otherwise. So how was it that a man like Peter, one whom followed rather than led in matters of physical need, could have been capable of attempting to rape someone? Oh sure, he was physically capable, Peter was an athlete after all, his body honed to perfection, but he lacked an immoral compass. Didn't he?
Besides all that, Peter had been raised around women, a doting mother, two sisters, he practically swam in women up to his eyeballs as a youth. How does someone like that turn into a rapist? No. It just didn't make any sense. But here it was, right in front of her face, someone was accusing Peter of trying to rape her. In a dirty alley no less.
Hadn't he all but made love to her on the couch? And what about the beach? Peter was nothing if not adventurous once you got past his hesitancy and made the first move. Had that been the case here? Did this girl make a move on Peter, and he was unable to control himself? Perhaps taking things too far?
Harmony shook her head. That's not how Peter was. She was almost positive that had she at any point told Peter to stop, he would have. But Peter cares about you. Maybe he's different with other women? She brushed off that thought as well. Peter Petrovic wasn't two people, and he damn sure wasn't an actor.
He was genuine in everything he did and said. No way was he capable of being a cold-hearted rapist one minute and a tender lover the next.
Then why don't you believe him?
The question hovered around her, and she didn't have an answer. Had her past so colored her perception, that she couldn't, no, wouldn't give Peter the benefit of the doubt now?
Peter still hadn't moved from his spot on the couch. Slunk down into the cushions, he patted Sadie absently while she slept. He didn't know what to do. Didn't know what to think, or how he should feel. He was so far out of his depth here that all he could do was sit and stare. He picked a spot on the wall and bore a hole in it with his eyes, hoping the earth would open up and swallow him whole.
He ignored the knock at the door a little while later, hadn't even considered that it might be Harmony come to her senses and ready to talk. Peter was utterly and hopelessly depressed by that point. Sadie became alert though, rushing at the door and barking madly. After another brief knock, a key slid into the lock and the doorknob turned.
“That fucking bitch!” Andre yelled, letting himself in. “Peter you here?” he called, petting Sadie and pushing past her advances. Andre entered the living room, took one look at Peter and swore again. “I can't believe that little fucking slut did this! Are you alright man?” he asked, his mood shifting as he took in Peter's look of despair.
Peter shrugged, his voice failing him as he looked imploringly into the eyes of his one true ally.
“Shit.” Andre groaned, rubbing the back of his neck and crouching down in front of Peter. “Tell me what to do Peter. Do you want me to kill her? I can have it arranged.”
One side of Peter's mouth quirked into a smile, Andre always did know just what to say. He shook his head. “Harmony was here this morning,” he said, looking past Andre to the spot on the wall again, his heart sinking as her name fell thickly off his tongue.
Pushing at Sadie again as she attacked his face vigorously with her tongue, Andre stood, running a hand through his hair. “God, I'm so sorry Pete,” he said, looking around now, taking note of the attempted breakfast, the spilled coffee near the sink, the burnt pancakes lying in the open trash can and the newspaper strewn all over the floor and sofa. He could only guess what had happened, and his heart ached for Peter. What it must have been like for Harmony to find out this way.
“What have you to be sorry for?” Peter asked, his voice cracking as he tried to sound brave. It was easy to see how much he was hurting though. For such a big guy to look that way, defeated and fragile, more pale than usual, it was just too much.
“Damn it,” Andre swore again. “There's gotta be something we can do! She can't get away with this.”
“But she has.”
“Only if you let her.”
“And what would you have me do? Am I to call the papers and tell them is all a lie? Bettman would have me suspended in heartbeat.”
He was right. Andre hadn't thought of that. This was bad, for sure, and it was going to go national by the end of the day, Andre was surprised there weren't reporters crawling all over the place already, but if Peter did anything to call attention to himself, got in the way of the investigation, Bettman would surely make an example out of him.
“I just don't like this Pete,” he grumbled. “Hell, look at you!” Andre pointed a finger at him, his heart breaking as Peter's frown darkened. “Have you at least called Jean yet? What about your parents?”
Peter looked up at him in shock. “My parents? You think I would want to talk to them about this? My Matz would be on next flight here. Net. I must deal with this myself. I will call Jean later.”
Sighing, Andre slumped down on the couch beside him, Sadie at his feet, her doggy breath hot on his hands as she pressed her head into his palms to be petted. “So what, we just sit here then?”
“Da,” Peter said with a faint smile, trust Andre to stay and wallow in his misery with him. “We sit.”
Andre had ordered a pizza for lunch, and by one o'clock that afternoon, the story was all over the local news, reporters camped out in front of his townhouse, hoping for a glimpse of him, or a comment for their news segment.
Peter put in a call to his Lawyer, who was more than a little upset by the news, and already preparing countermeasures, getting everything ready for a press conference. She told him she'd send someone out to clear the reporters if he wanted her to, but Peter shrugged it off.
His conversation with Jean was a little more comforting.
Able to communicate to her in Russian, it was easier to voice his concerns, and Jean did her best to reassure him. Bettman was aware of the latest, and Peter would still meet with him and the rest of the Slashers organization tomorrow, where an interview would take place, and then a press conference had been scheduled.
Peter's Lawyer would be standing by to field questions after Bettman and Peter each made statements, Jean was writing one up for him as they spoke. Bless her heart. She was always so good to him.
As of right now, there was no mention of a suspension or trade of any kind involving Peter. Though rumors would be abounding in the next several days. Peter had just signed a lofty contract with a no movement clause, but it wouldn't stop people from speculating whether or not the Slashers would ship him out along with his bad press.
The Slashers were an upscale organization after all, and other than a few tabloid articles written about Donovan and his fictitiously cheating ways, there had never been an ounce of bad press in their direction. But now they would be shrouded it in. Peter was supposed to be going home at the end of the week. Sharing the Stanley Cup with his friends and family, what would he do now?
Peter had been told not to leave town, at least for the time being, and training camp wasn't too far away at this point, even if he put off his week with the cup until later, he'd never have enough time to go home and enjoy it. And his parents, he'd have to tell them the truth at some point. They were going to wonder why he wasn't coming home next week.
What could he possibly say to his mother that would convince her not to come rushing over here? Surely she was going to want to protect him like the mother hen she was. This was going to break her heart. She'd believe him of course, but thinking of her baby, in such pain, she wasn't going to like having to remain in Russia while he dealt with this.
But he would deal with this. And he'd find a way to get Harmony back too.
Harmony couldn't help herself.
Despite her feelings about what was going on, despite not having talked things out with Peter, who had called several times now since the news had broken yesterday, she flipped on the evening news and watched the most horrific press conference she had ever seen.
Gary Bettman, the NHL commissioner with his brown close-cropped hair that was graying at the temples, though was more than likely a dye job to begin with, but hey at least he still had a full head of hair! sat before the camera, all business in his fancy suit as he addressed the media. His blue eyes roamed the crowd, pinning the reporters with a stern gaze.
“We are taking this latest accusation with the utmost seriousness,” he assured the press, who pelted him left and right with questions.
'Would Peter be suspended? Was the NHL doing their own investigation? Could they confirm or deny the reports and accusations?' He handled them all with practiced ease.
“Until such time,” he began, waiting for the people around him to quiet down. “The NHL will honor the legal system and allow them to do their jobs. And until such time that Mr. Petrovic is arrested or charged with a crime, he will likewise be permitted to do his.”
The media went into an uproar at this, all but calling for the commissioner’s head. It was as if no one was willing to give Peter the benefit of the doubt. In the eyes of public opinion, he'd been found guilty and they wanted him sentenced. It made Harmony mad, furious even. Despite her own feelings on the matter, and her lack of conviction of Peter's innocence, didn't he deserve his own due process?
“Mr. Petrovic.” Bettman continued, “will not be suspended and will be allowed to participate in training camp as normal until and unless the police have decided that a crime has been committed. I thank you for your time,” he said, adding a “no further comment please.” before turning the microphone over to a handsome older woman with short gray hair and a motherly gesture about her.
“Good afternoon ladies and gentlemen, members of the press,” she said, commanding the attention of the room. “As PR director of the Savannah Slashers organization, it is my duty to inform you that Mr. Petrovic has indeed agreed to be present for questions today.”
Harmony's mouth went slack. What? Peter was going to openly face the press? Was he crazy? Harmony had expected Bettman to take the stand, had even figured they'd all hear from Peter's lawyer who was said to be standing by, but she'd had no indication that Peter was going to speak out on his own behalf!
Glued to the TV now Harmony listened as the woman, who called herself Jean, continued.
“I ask that in respect for the legal process, once Mr. Petrovic has given his statement, you keep all questions limited to hockey and the upcoming season. Thank you.” Jean nodded in a direction off camera, then took a seat to the right of the microphone.
Peter walked in then, and aside from the frown on his face, and the cold despair in his eyes, he looked absolutely fabulous in his designer suit and tie. Peter took a seat next to Jean, who leaned over and whispered something to him in Russian just loud enough for the mic to pick up the foreign dialect, Peter nodded, and faced the crowd, a piece of paper in his hand.
Looking out at the press, he said “good afternoon.” His normally loud baritone only an octave or two above a whisper, he unfolded the paper in his hands then, reading it word for word. “In respect for our law enforcement officials, I will not discuss the details of this case. I have faith in our legal system and I am confident that when the facts come to light, I will be absolved of any wrongdoing. Thank you.”
Jean leaned over then, “Mr. Petrovic will begin taking questions now.” she said, laying a hand on Peter's shoulder.
The reporters started hounding him immediately, and Harmony wanted nothing more than to march in there and let them have a piece of her mind. Hadn't they been told not to ask about the case? Not that they listened, one question after the next was hurled at him, and though they may have asked it in a way that didn't feel threatening, it always came back to the case.
Jean however, sitting beside him, spoke to him each time a question was asked. Harmony assumed she was translating it all into Russian so as there would be no doubt, because when Peter spoke, he was clear in his answers, and despite the way his jaw was starting to clench, he held his anger at bay with an amazing amount of control.
Harmony knew she could never have done that. Which was one more reason why she wanted to believe Peter. He had such control of himself, no way would he have lost that strong willed composure with a fan. She was beginning to think he had never even had any interaction at all with the girl.
Peter concluded the interview, turning it over to his coach, who handled the same questions with his own steely reserve and Harmony turned off the TV. Poor Peter, she thought to herself. She should have been there for him. How much easier would it have been if he'd had her support?
God, she was such a fool.
“You did great out there,” Jean said, patting Peter on the back. “If you need anything, you let me know. Okay?”
He nodded. Thank god for Jean. Peter didn't know where he'd be without her. She had literally held his hand the entire time, had even been there with him this morning when he'd called and talked to his parents. And what a conversation that had been! He'd had to force his mother into promising she wouldn't be on the next flight out.
He didn't want her here; she didn't need to deal with this. Hadn't this brought enough shame on his family already? He certainly didn't need the press dragging them through the mud with him.
Peter only hoped, now that he had said his peace, and let the public know that he was innocent that things would settle down. That people would wait for all the facts before condemning him, an innocent man.
Pipe dreams of course.