[four]

Sorry, I kind of got really descriptive at the end, but when I read over it I couldn't decide what to take out, so I just left it all.. lol

Patrick's POV

I sit with the guys at the coffee shop, watching the two of them leave. I had watched them as they discussed the whole game issue, and judging by their body language, I think they are coming tonight, which is good for me.

The rest of the time with the guys, I chime in every now and then to the conversation, but my mind is still on Peydon.

I must have been day dreaming longer than I thought because everybody is now getting up to leave. I follow their lead, laughing at some of their stupidity as we walk through the door, only to be caught off guard by Shelby, who walks right through the pack of guys in front of me, not letting them intimidate her at all as she walks right up to me.

"We need to talk," she says while shoving me backwards a little bit. I look at the rest of the guys and they all have the same 'Oh shit..' look on their faces, but they all continue to stand there. She gives them an icy glare and then they all realize that she meant alone, and they all start moving at once in different directions, breaking up the pack just like that and leaving me to face her alone. I see Johnny give her a lingering stare, a smirk spreading on his face in approval before he follows everybody else. How hockey players can be afraid of someone as little as her I'll never know. At least I never thought I would, except until she turns her stare on me, then I find out real quickly.

Shelby walks back in the coffee shop, so I follow suit and head back inside too, finding her sitting at a table, her arms crossed, dead serious.

"I'm not going to beat around the bush here," she starts while shaking her head. "If you like Peydon at all, you'll leave her be."

"I don't see it that way," I argue, bracing myself for another icy glare, completely surprised when I don't see one.

"Patrick," she says while shaking her head once again. I'm slightly worried about her using my full name once again.. that didn't end well last time. "Peydon, she's been through a lot, don't you understand that? She doesn't need to be one of your games or a whole hockey teams for that matter."

"I'm not playing games," I say calmly while shrugging my shoulders. "And besides, it's just one hockey game. And, contrary to what you want to believe, not all hockey players are man whores."

"I never said you were. I suppose you aren't going to listen to my warning are you," she sighs, obviously frustrated. I just shake my head, knowing that I probably should, but I can't help but feel drawn to Peydon, and one crazy friend isn't going to change that. "Okay, well then will you at least listen to some advice?"

"You want to give me advice?" I ask, narrowing my eyes at her, completely shocked she's even offering.

"Proceed with caution. She just got out of a very rocky relationship, you saw the side effects not too long ago, and because of that she doesn't trust anybody easily," she starts while standing up and placing her hand on my shoulder. "I promise you, if you get demanding of her or move too quickly she will put up all defenses and run in the opposite direction," she finishes before walking away from me and through the door, leaving me still completely in shock that she just game me advice.

Peydon's POV

I stand in my closet, looking over the loads of clothes I have, not being able to choose what I want to wear. I know it's stupid.. I've been to tons of hockey games before. Okay, that's not exactly true. Not tons, but at last a handful or two, and I've always worn my jersey. Starring at it now, I can't decide if I should go for the average fan look, as if I could car less what I'm wearing and only worried about hockey, or if I should try the 'What... this old thing?' approach and wear something a little sexier, but not looking like it took me 4 hours to get ready instead. I really don't know why I'm even worrying about this so much. I've been to hockey games before, it's not that big of a deal. Except this time, it feels like it is..


I've never been specifically invited to a game before now. Especially by one of the players, and a cute one at that, even if it is in a childish sort of boyish way.


Sighing, I grab my jersey off of the hanger it was on and tug it over my head, deciding that it's what I've always worn, so why change it now. Plus, I haven't focused on just myself in the longest time, so I'm going to do this and other things like I use to do them before.. before Bryan. Now that I'm not as broken as before, albeit still broken somewhat, that's one of the things I'm promising to myself. From now on, I'm doing things for me, I'm doing things simply because I want to, and it will be enough and it will be a perfectly plausible reason. I'm not living for somebody else, and I'm definitely not going to try to measure up to any ones standards ever again. No, not anymore. That is just trapping yourself into a life nobody should ever have to live. And plus, I've been there before and I definitely don't want to go back to living like that, always afraid to voice my opinion, to make a mistake, of being in constant fear. No, I will never be ruled or dominated ever again.


Not all times were like that with Bryan though. In the beginning, we had our fair share of laughs and good times, its just that now, looking back on the whole situation from the outside I can see now that he was tricking and playing me all along because he needed to have someone he could boss around, so the only memories branded into my every thought now are the ones that kept me in constant fear of him, the ones that possibly hurt me beyond repair, the ones that still have me afraid today. A shiver goes through my body at the mere thought of some of those memories, of how I felt so inferior to him all the time, right up to the moment I packed my stuff and left, but even that got ugly.

All of these thoughts lead me back to one thing though.. the blond haired, blue eyed, overly confident hockey player that found me no more than two weeks after the worst of everything blew up. I can't shake the feeling that he was worried about me, or maybe he even pities me or feels sorry for me and that's why he's doing this. That's the idea I want and need.. I'm hoping, no praying he leaves me be. One person can only go through so much heart break and devastation, and I've had enough for a lifetime.

Finally deciding what to wear, I head into the bathroom to fix my hair and make up, a task that takes me about 10 minutes tops for both combined on a normal day, but even that is a difficult task for me today.

After finally being completely ready, I head off to meet Shelby down on the same corner we always meet. She moved out here to Chicago with me because she said she needed a new adventure, but truth be told, I know that she just wanted to look after me. She's always been so giving like that. I know that she had it great in Pittsburgh, the perfect business, the perfect house, the perfect boyfriend, and she gave all of that up and opted to start over with me. I don't think I'll ever be able to thank her enough, I definitely needed someone to keep an eye on me. Not even I could fool myself, I knew I wasn't in the best state mentally, but I still had to get out of that town, everything reminded me of him and what had happened.

"Come on girlfriend," Shelby greets me as she hands me over a cup of my favorite kind of coffee.

"What's this for?" I ask, taking it from her hands gratefully, taking a whiff of it like I normally do before taking the first sip, loving how its just the right temperature as it slides down my throat.

"It could be a long night," she says with a devilish grin that can only tell me she is up to no good.

[three]

I wasn't sure about this story to begin with, so thanks for the comments! Busy, busy day, so this is just a short update. I kinda left it at a cliffhanger, and didn't want to make you all wait too long.. ;-)

Peydon's POV

I see him walk through the door and recognize him immediately. I see him look over at his fellow teammates before walking up toward me and the counter. The first thought that runs through my mind is 'please don't let him recognize me'. I'm still bitter about all of the stuff that I've been through and still scared as hell, but I've jumped hurdles since the last time he saw me. I would love if anybody didn't remember me that way. I've never been that weak or fragile before, another couple of emotions you can add to the list that Bryan caused. Ugh, Bryan. Over time, the main feeling I've felt at the mention of his name as changed from afraid to disgust.


Not just disgusted with him, disgusted with all men in general. I swore them all off a couple of weeks ago, every tall, strong, determined, obsessive, and controlling man in the world is off my list. That has to cover all males, right? I look at him standing in front of me, taking him in. I look at the way his blond curly hair hangs down in his eyes a little, the way his blue eyes watch me the way I'm watching him, at the way his lips form this cute little smile, and then I look at the way his friends are waiting for him. Ugh, hockey players.. very male.


Shaking my head, it's then that I realize he's waiting for me to take his order.


"What can I get you?" I ask, faking the best friendly, hurt ridden smile I can muster and have been practicing for the past couple of weeks. The smile Shelby said was necessary, otherwise nobody would dare come into this coffee shop anymore and I would find myself unemployed.

"Just a bottle of water please," he says with that same smile.

"Coming right up," I respond with my fake smile. Any smile coming across my face anytime soon is definitely described as fake. Happy people smile, I'm not happy.


"You cut it," he says as I'm turning around. I stop dead in my tracks, praying he isn't referring to what I think he is.


"Hmm?" I ask, acting like I have no clue what he's talking about as I turn around to grab his bottle of water.

Patrick's POV

I can see how she freezes up at the mention of her hair. She didn't think I wouldn't remember her, did she?


"Your hair," I say while point to the blond hair that is just longer than to her shoulder. "You cut it."


"Oh, yeah," she replies simply, obviously trying to get rid of me. "Here you go. Water as requested." At the way she changes the subject so abruptly, it must still be a touchy issue..


"Thanks," I reply while handing her my money in return for the bottle. I turn to walk away, but decide that this is the only chance I could get, I need to make the most of it.


"Do you go on break soon?" I ask, hoping she does but hoping even more than she allows me to sit with her.


"Not for another hour or two," she replies after looking down at her watch.


"Hawks fan, right?" I ask with a smile, pointing to the t-shirt she has on with Sharps name and number on the back. She meekly nods her head as her cheeks flush red. "Busy tonight?" I ask, just as I see Shelby walk through the door and behind the counter to stand by Peydon, giving me the evil eye the whole time.


"She doesn't really go out," Shelby answers for her.


"You sure?" I ask, ignoring Shelby's icy glare as I continue to look at Peydon. "There's a game tonight, I could get you tickets." She looks over at Shelby and I can tell I have her hooked, can tell that she really wants to go, but I can also tell that she seems unsure. "It's Peydon, right?" I continue, but she just nods her head in response. "Well, if you all change you're mind, I'll leave two tickets for you." I finish before turning around and walking to sit with the guys.

Peydon's POV

Shelby and I watch him walk away in silence. I know we are both running the same thoughts and questions through our minds as we continue to watch him as he sits down, watch him as he messes around with the guys, and watch him and the rest of them as they all turn to look at us, no doubt talking about us as well.

"So do we go?" I ask, not taking my eyes off them for a second.

"We probably shouldn't," she answers with a sigh. "Wouldn't want to make someone think we want them around, right?" she continues while looking over at me.

"Good point," I agree while nodding my head, still starring intently at him as he continues to look at me, that shit eating grin on his face that almost makes me want to smile back. Almost. "So we don't go," I conclude while grabbing a towel and wiping down the counter again, going back to trying to look busy like I was doing earlier. I hear Shelby sigh, and I know that the issue is not done being discussed.

"It is a hawks game..." she says, running the whole situation through her mind again.

"We've never turned down tickets before..." I add, knowing its true, but oddly just wanting to go for some strange reason.

"And I'm sure superstar over there could give us good tickets.."

"Behind the bench or penalty box, no doubt.." I add, knowing once again that it's probably true. He definitely has everything handed to him, practically the whole city of Chicago eating out of the palm of his hand, why couldn't he get good tickets for us?

"Ugh," she sighs in frustration. "We really can't turn something like that down, can we?"

"No," I reply, the same frustration in my voice that was apparent in hers. "We can't," I add as she starts to make her way toward the door.

"Pick me up at 6," she concludes while leaving me alone to stare at him again. He's obviously watched our whole thought process, and I have no doubt he knows that we are indeed coming tonight. Oh boy, this should be interesting.

[two]

Patrick's POV

I sit in my stall after practice, finding my attention fading away from hockey and to the blond haired girl I met nearly two weeks ago now. I keep telling myself that her face will fade from my memories, that I won't catch myself dazed thinking about her, but the more I keep hoping that will happen the less likely it seems.

Even the guys have picked up on my lack of focus, which just tells me that I must really be out of it for them to notice. Don't get me wrong, the second I step out onto the ice it's all business, but the second I step off of it, it's as if I can't keep my mind from wandering or even pay attention enough to join in on all the pranks that go down in the locker room or any other time the guys are all together.

I can't think straight in general. Every thought leads to a vision of the last time I saw her, sitting on that stool starring into the mirror at her reflection, bruises on her face, which makes me wonder what was under the baggy clothing she was wearing. I can't even think about that without getting aggravated, which is weird since I don't even know her. I barely got her name but yet I find myself wanting to be protective and wanting very much to get my hands on the asshole that did that to her.

And I'm doing it again.. like what was that? I don't even know her.. for all I know she might have already moved on and found another guy. Or maybe she went back to him, but I can't think like that, because even the idea of such a thing has my skin crawling.

All of these thoughts running through my mind is exactly what is coaxing me to continue walking down the street toward the hair salon I was in what feels like yesterday. I walk inside, finding more people working today, more clients, and the same brunette standing behind the register. She looks at me, recognizing me again before smiling.

"And what can I do for you today, Pat?" she asks while putting away the paper work she had been previously preoccupied with.

"Um," I begin, but it's then that I realize I never learned her name. "I'm sorry, I never caught your name."

"Shelby," she answers over her shoulder, turning around briefly to smile at me.

"Well, Shelby, I was actually looking for the woman, Peydon I believe, that was in here--"

"Why?" she interrupts me, turning around to face me and walking over to me, standing very close to me while she continues to check my face for motif. I continue to stare back at her, wondering how she just went from extremely nice to on guard in a matter of seconds. She realizes I'm not going to say anything, so she continues. "Patrick," she begins, using my full name this time which I can only think isn't good, before she shifts her weight from one leg back to the other, wondering how she should word whatever she has to tell me. "Peydon, she's had a rough last couple of months."

"I know, which is exactly why I'm looking for her. I need to know if she's okay or not."

"She's not. But I don't think another man is what she needs to help fix things," she says bitterly, obviously thinking all men are the scum of the earth right about now.

"I don't want to fix things, I just want to know if she's alright, know the full story."

"Well she's not alright. You can leave now," she says while gesturing toward the door, getting madder as I just continue to stand there.

"If you could just tell me where to find her--"

"Just leave it alone. If you find her again, you do, but it wont be on my account," she interrupts once again. "It's for the best. Now, please leave," she asks once again, which I actually listen to this time. She's the only person I know that can get into contact with her, it's best to at least have her semi-on-my-side.

Peydon's POV

I take a rag and wipe down the counter in an attempt to keep my hands busy. I've been doing that a lot lately, doing just about anything to try and occupy my mind so my thoughts don't wander. Good things never happen when I get to thinking about things, images, feelings, and memories filling my mind that make me want to go run and hide in my apartment.

Except Shelby seems to think that that won't help anything, so here I am, working and paying bills like a normal person. Except I'm not. Normal people aren't scared to walk out to their car in fear of being found. Normal people don't sit in bed at night starring at the ceiling, scared that if they close their eyes they might see something they don't want to. Normal people aren't afraid to feel, one of the 5 senses I've tried to abandon sometime ago. No, none of that is normal.

But after weeks of doing things my way, hiding out in my apartment, Shelby insisted that I needed a change, that I need to enjoy my life while he's locked up, because not even that is a guarantee for that much longer.

So all of this leads me to where I am, standing behind a bar at a coffee shop, working my normal 12 hour shift, hoping it gives me enough to think about that my mind won't get the best of me, sitting here watching the crowd around me, just in case I spot that all too familiar face that haunts my every thought.

Actually today, there is a pretty good crowd around to watch. Hockey players. Granted they are extremely loud and I know it's more than frustrating the rest of the people in here, but not me. Standing here watching them mess around, having such a good time with each other reminds me of when I use to be so care free and had just as much fun. I can't believe how much he changed me.. Sighing to myself, I can't help but think that that all seems like such a long time ago.

Patrick's POV

After getting kicked out by Shelby, I climb back into my car to meet the guys. We all try to spend as much time together as possible, because it's suppose to help with team bonding. I really can't complain, I like the company. It gives me less time to think about her and what she's doing, how she's doing, or even how she's doing it.

Shaking my head, I enter the coffee shop, spotting the guys immediately. I acknowledge them before walking up to the counter, sighing and taking a deep breath of the regular coffee shop smell. The waitress turns around, and a smile crosses my face as I can't believe my luck...

[one]

Patrick's POV

I walk into a hair salon, just try to fit a hair cut into my busy schedule and can't help but be happy when I find it practically empty except for two ladies up by the cash register. The brunette smiles at me when I enter, most likely the owner while the blond looks up at me, acknowledging me but quickly turning back to humming whatever song she has playing, but not before I catch the glimmer of a black eye, albeit in a later form, probably already healing.

"Can I help you?" the brunette asks before looking over at her friend, I'm supposing, who is now flipping through a magazine. I can tell she's concerned about her for some reason.

"Do you have time to fit me in for a hair cut? I'm kind of in a hurry," I explain.

"Anything for you Mr. Kane," she says with a smile before walking past me and motioning me to follow her. Hockey fans... nice.

"You can call me Pat," I offer, looking over at her friend one more time before following her.

She gets started cutting my hair when the friend slinks over to where we are, sitting down on a stool next to me, but not close enough to touch. She looks in the mirror in front of us, lightly touching the bruising on her face while singing softly along to the song on the loud speakers.

(lyrics from Best Days Of Your Life by Kellie Pickler)
I heard you're gonna get married
have a nice little family
live out my dreams with someone knew
But I've been told that a cheater is always a cheater
But I've got my pride, she's got you.

"Peydon," the brunette snaps, "you aren't doing yourself any favors." She waits for a response, a rebuttal of some kind, but the blond just sits there looking in the mirror, twirling her long, wavy blond hair around her finger, cocking her head to the side as if she's highly considering something. "I'm sorry," the brunette continues, "she just broke up with her boyfriend." I'm about to reply when the blond interrupts me, finally speaking for the first time since I've been here.

"Fiance," she interjects before looking at me. "Don't ever cheat on your girlfriend, be man enough to tell her it's over," she instructs, looking me in the eye once before going back to twirling her hair around her finger.

"Did he do that to you?" I ask, wishing I hadn't immediately after it's came out of my mouth. She looks in the mirror, narrowing her eyes on the blue and purple area on her cheek around scratches, before she swallows and shakes her head yes and starts humming along to the music again.

"Don't mind her.."the brunette starts again, shaking her head before she's interrupted by the blond, or Peydon I suppose.

"I wanna cut it off," she says boldly before flipping her hair over her shoulder, catching the brunette completely off guard.

"Peydon, think rationally. You're hair is your pride and joy. Nobody has hair that blond and that pretty naturally," she says while shaking her head as if to imply that she won't do it.

"He liked it long," the blond answers while a look of defiance crosses her face. "I want it gone."

"Sweetheart, think about it," the brunette instructs before taking me back up the cash register where I pay. "She's not normally like this," the owner says before I turn to leave, but not before I look at the blond headed, somewhat lifeless girl that is still starring at her hair in the mirror. How a man could do that so a woman like that I'll never know how..

Info.

Alright, I'm changing things up.

This won't be about a Pittsburgh Penguin, shocker, right..? I know! This one is actually on request, so hopefully I do it justice. :-) The leading man will be Patrick Kane, and I can only bet this will be fun, because he is a complete dork! Ha, I <3 him though.

Expect the first update within the next couple of days. :-)