*Sorry for the lack of updates, its been crazy with the holiday's and getting a couple minutes to do some writing, so please bare with me! hope you enjoy and if i don't get another update up before Christmas, hope you all have a great holiday, whichever one it is you celebrate!

Chapter 38

"So? How is he?" I hear my mom ask, as I lie on the couch in the family room at the Lemieux's.

"He really isn't doing very well. He'd never let you see it but… no, not well at all…" Nathalie explains quietly.

"What do you think –" She begins again and my irritation rises.

"I'm right here mom! If you have a question, ask me to my face!" I yell over at where they are standing. I hate knowing that people are talking about me like I am some kind of invalid. I'm fine. I sit up on the couch and look over at where they are standing in the kitchen.

I watch them exchange concerned looks and want to scream at the top of my lungs. I am fucking fine! I am pissed off and a bit tired but I am fine! I don't know how many times I am going to have to answer the same damn question. I'm a professional hockey player, of course I am sore. Of course I am tired. Of course I have bruises in all shades of the rainbow. I have since I was five years old. None of this is anything new.

"Oh stop it! I didn't see you there!" Mom snaps back.

"Really? Then why were you whispering?" How stupid does she think I am? I know they are talking about me behind my back…

"Sidney, I think you should go talk to your sister…" My mother suggests. She might as well have just punched me in the face. It would feel better then going to talk to Taylor.

"She hates me."

"She doesn't hate you," Nathalie steps in, offering a much calmer tone. "She just doesn't understand what's going on."

"Well I don't know how to explain it to her," I offer honestly.

"You could start by explaining it to us," Nathalie shrugs and gives me a sympathetic look. The truth is that I would probably try and explain it to Nathalie. She is usually someone I can talk to. But with my mother standing right there, her hands on her hips, lips pursed – yeah, it's making me really wanna open up.

"She said she was coming and she didn't come. There is not much more to explain." I am tired of feeling like an idiot. I am tired of getting let down. I feel like a five year old kid, promised something from his deadbeat dad that never comes.

"Her flight was cancelled – " Nathalie shakes her head.

"Was it? That's awfully convenient…" I snap.

"So now you are blaming the weather on her?" My mom snaps back at me. I don't need my mother siding with that bitch right now.

"I offered her a private plane, I was going to charter her one. She would have been here earlier but she said no. Maybe she didn't want to come. Maybe she just found another way out. Maybe she's just been jerking me around this whole fucking time! Maybe she had no intention of coming at all! Did you consider that?" I have.

"You are just talking ridiculous now!" My mom shakes her head and I can tell by the look on Nathalie's face that she thinks I've gone off the deep end too. Well I haven't. Maybe I'm finally seeing clearly!

I am done talking to them. I am done talking to everyone! Fuck them! I stomp down the hall and out to my car. The sunlight hits my face and I almost pass out from the blinding light. Holy crap, it's bright out. I hope I have sunglasses in my glove compartment or I am going to end up with another killer headache.

-.-

"I have a flight tomorrow morning to Toronto, I'll try and get a connection or maybe I'll rent a car and just drive down… or maybe I'll just meet you in Montreal, after the Tampa game?"

"Don't."

"Pardon?"

"I said don't. Don't bother."

"Sid, I –"

"I don't want you here."

"Sid, I said I was sorry… there was nothing I could have done. Believe me I tried!"

"I don't believe you. I don't believe a god-damn thing you say! If you wanted to be here so bad, you wouldn't have fucking left! So don't you give me that! Don't you dare!"

"Sid!"

"I have shit to do, so if we are done here…"

"Are…are we done here?"

"Yeah, yeah I think we are…"

"Umm… okay then… I guess goodbye then?"

"There is nothing good about this..."

-.-

I don't normally don't do this but I just need to take my mind off of things. I need some good old fashioned stress relief. I need my neck to relax, the blood pressure to stop pounding in my ears and what better way to do that then this?

I listen and let out a deep breath, as the metal on metal sound of my zipper being pulled down seems to echo in my hotel room and I feel the blonde's cold hands wrap around my dick, pulling it out from beneath the thin material holding it down. It's not exactly at full mast, as the girl in front of me doesn't exactly do it for me but I had heard some of the guys talking about her from the last trip to Tampa – apparently she is one of the best. I'm sure she'll get the job done.

I lean back on my elbows and let me head roll back, closing my eyes as I feel her drag her tongue up the underside of my cock before lowering her mouth down over the length of my shaft. Her fingers roll my balls gently but firmly – like a pro. I try and turn my mind off and just focus on the effort the girl is putting forward. She's not bad, that's for sure. I'm not exactly a blow job connoisseur but I know what feels good. She's got a good mix of motions, pressure, suction, switchin' it up, just when I think I am about to blow. It's nice.

Now she's getting serious, really givin' her. Her cheeks must be getting tired. Fair enough. She's earned her puck bunny status. I let myself relax and give in to the pressure building in my pelvis, feeling the release pending. I give her a little tap as a warning but like the pro she clearly is, she doesn't let go and lets me blow my load right down her throat. She pulls her mouth away, takes a deep gulp, licks her lips and smiles up at me. At least it saves me the cleanup.

She stands up in front of me and starts running her fingers throw my hair. Well this is awkward. I hope she knows that this is as far as it's going, I have no interest in anything more then a blowjob and need to get some sleep. I watch her bite down on her lower lip, as she wiggles herself between my thighs. Fuck. How do I politely say, "thanks for sucking my dick, but it's time to go now"?

I can do this. It can't be that hard. Max does it all the time.

She bends down and tries to press her lips to mine and I have to quickly turn my head before she makes contact. I know where her lips have been. That's nasty.

"What's the matter baby?" She purrs, running her tongue down the side of my ear, then nibbles my ear lobe.

"I've really got to get to sleep," I explain, hoping she gets the point.

"I can help make you tired…" She giggles, reaching down and running her hand over my still semi-erect penis.

"I'm actually already pretty tired but, um, thanks…"

"Okay, maybe next time?"

"Yeah, maybe… I'll keep that in mind…" I stand up and tuck myself back into my pants. She gathers her purse, digging inside for some gum and lip gloss. I walk over to the door and release the lock, stepping out of the way as she squeezes past me, rubbing herself against me one last time.

"Goodnight," I offer, pulling the door open as she presses a wet, sticky kiss to my cheek. She steps into the hall and marches past a small group of the guys – Pascal, Fluery, Brooksy, Johnny. Great. The last guys I want to see this. If it had been Max, Bennie and Staalze, they would be high-fiving me. But no…cue the lecture in three, two, one…

"Dude? I thought you and Bree were…" Pascal is the first to start the conversation, as I turn and head back into my room. They all follow. I can practically feel the disdain as they shovel into the room. A part of me debates opening the mini-bar.

"Were what?" I snap and watch the shocked expressions. "She left me. That's what we are."

"I thought she was coming back? I thought you had talked things out…" Flower adds. I can't blame him. That was probably the last update I gave him. We haven't really talked since before the Classic. I've been busy licking my wounds. We all have.

"Nope," I shrug.

"Ooohhh -kaaaay…" Pascal nods slowly, trying to understand what he clearly can't. He's happily married with a family of beautiful babies. Cheryl-lyn would never abandon him like this. "You might need to elaborate a bit here… help us understand more…"

"What's to understand? She fucking left me. It's pretty clear to me."

"I don't get it man. A couple days ago you were thrilled that she was coming home…"

"But she didn't, did she?" I offer dryly.

"No, I guess not…"

-.-

"Hey man, how's your head? You took another good hit out there," Goose asks, giving me a shove towards my locker, as I strip out of my gear. I trip, totally off balance and have to brace myself on the wall. I almost wipe out totally, because the wall seems a lot closer in my mind then it actually is and it throws me off. Kinda like trying to take another step when there isn't another stair. It's just a weird feeling.

"I'm fine." I assure him, shrugging it off. He's like the thousandth guy to ask me that in the last four days. How many times do I have to say it?

"The plane for Montreal leaves at 11:30, it's 9:30 now, let's be there on time. And Sid, the doctor wants to see you before we leave, give you a quick once over," Dan barks his orders and everyone nods, except me. I am so tired of doctors asking me how I am. I am fucking fine. I just need an aspirin, a bag of ice and a good night sleep. A good night sleep is unlikely but I'll settle for the first two. I don't need to be coddled, just left the hell alone.

-.-

"Whoa! I didn't know I was going to have company on this flight…" Cookie looks over at me, as I enter the small charter plane and throw my bag down on the front chair.

"Yeah well, Burkie thought it would be better if I came home and saw him instead of relying on all these other team doctor's," I explain.

"What's the problem?" He asks concerned. It's the same look I got from the guys when I told them I was going home. It's never a good thing to watch a teammate head out, never mind after the hits I've taken. I tried to assure them that I was fine, that it was just precautionary but I don't think anyone believed me.

"Just some neck pain…"

"You got whiplash from the Hedman hit?" Cookie asks.

"I dunno. Maybe. Something like that…" Or maybe something more. I heard the doctor's in Tampa throwing around some big words, none of them sounded like whiplash but I was hurting pretty bad at the time, not really listening, so who knows?

"Hmmm…" Cooke nods understandingly. He's been around long enough to have seen it all and to know that talking about the problem doesn't help. We take our seats and the pilot comes on to tell us to put our seat belts on and prepare for take off. I look over and see Matt squeezing the handle a little tighter then normal. Some guys are afraid of flying but Cookie isn't one of them.

"Hey, sorry to hear about your wife bud…" I offer, trying to distract him.

"It is what it is," Cookie turns his head and looks out the window, a vacant expression on his face.

"I hope she's feeling better soon."

"Yeah, me too but whatcha gonna do right? Just hope for the best," he gives a little shrug but I know it can't be that easy for him.

"If you need anything, anything at all – " I offer, not just cause I should and it's the right thing to do but because I really mean it. I know that Cookie and I haven't exactly seen eye to eye lately and I pretty much hate the things he has said about Bree but I would never wish a man's family any trouble.

"Thanks man, that means a lot," He looks over at me and nods. "Wanna play cards or something? I could use the distraction…"

"I would but, I've got a pretty killer headache," I shake my head. I can barely focus to read a text message or email, I certainly don't need the humiliation of losing a game of Go-Fish.

"Sure, no problem. Headache from girl problems?" He asks with a smile and a light hearted chuckle.

I laugh. "Yeah, something like that…" Matt Cooke is the last person I want to share my problems with and he knows it.

"I know Michelle feels really bad about all that… it all seems so silly now," Matt shakes his head seriously.

"All what?" I ask.

"You know the… 'friendly welcome'…"

"What are you talking about man?"

"You don't know?"

"No. Know what?" I ask again. Matt chews his bottom lip like he doesn't know if he should continue or shut the hell up.

"Some of the girls, they weren't too nice to Bree…"

I listen as Matt explains some of the shit she dealt with. I had no idea things were so bad. I had heard that Bree was dealing with some problems but she never told me. I asked her. I told her she could tell me. She made the decision not to. That's not my fault.

"Was the paint on the car, Michelle?" I ask, clenching my fists.

"No. I asked her. She said she didn't know who did that. She said not even she would go that far. That was brutal," Matt shakes his head. I just nod. It was brutal. I was pissed. That car and the ensuing paint job wasn't exactly cheap. And now the damn thing is just sitting in the driveway. What a waste.

"I'm sorry about all of it, man. Really, I am," Matt assures me.

"Yeah me too. It's in the past though, so, don't worry about it," I offer. The last thing he needs to worry about with a sick wife is this petty bullshit.

"When you talk to her, let her know that hey? She seems like a really great girl. Perfect for you, really," he adds.

"Yeah well, we, ah, kinda broke up, so… guess not."

"Sorry man, I had no idea," He looks at me as shocked as the rest of the guys were when I broke the news. "I knew she was away but I just thought - "

"It doesn't matter. Plenty of fish in the sea right?" I brush away his pity. That is the last thing I need.

"Right but…"

"Why don't you shuffle and we can play a couple rounds?" I point at the deck of cards in front of him, cutting him off. I'm tired of talking. Cooke was right, it is what it is.