Chapter 19

“Thanks.” It was obviously not the reaction the Pens net minder is expecting as he looks up at Sid with wide eyes. “I’m glad it’s out there, we got past it. Everything’s fine. But that’s probably what you were going for so, thanks,” Sid repeats, reaching out to put his hand on his friend’s shoulder but the usually affable Frenchman bats his hand away. 

“Ce qui est grand pour toi,” MAF glares darkly at Sid who stares back, open mouthed with shock. He’d been expecting an admonition of some kind, certainly, but he’d also expected his friend to be happy that he and Fern were working things out. This hostile reaction was not something he has bargained on. 

“My father came by, fucked things up, as usual” he began, hoping to deflect some of his friend’s open hostility towards their favourite target, towards the man who leeches off his every paycheck and lives vicariously through them all. 

“Yeah, that’s awful, to have someone care about your future,” Marc grumbles, looking down at his pads, focusing on the buckles. Sid stares at him, now both worried and curious as to the goalie’s mood. 

“Don’t press it,” Pascal suggests from nearby but it isn’t advice that he takes. 

“I thought you’d be happy that I’m trying. You told me to try, so that’s what I’m doing,” he points out, mostly to Marc but with a sideways glance at Dupers who only rolls his big eyes in response. “Okay so you guys all got that she’s a good person right away and it took me a while to catch on. Sorry,” he snaps, shaking his head. “Excuuuuuse me if I’m a little more paranoid than the rest of you.” 

“Fine, if you’ve really figured it out, we’re glad for you,” Pascal declares, getting to his feet and offering his gloved hand for a fist bump. “Good for you.” Feeling like this is what he’d expected, Sid squares his shoulders and turns back to Flower, who has finished buckling his pads but is still sitting with his head down, refusing to look up Sid, even when he knocks the goalie’s pads with his stick. 

“Que veux-tu me dire? Me veux-tu dire que je suis content pour toi?” Flower grumbles, looking up at him through his long, stick straight hair. “Qui ne vas pas arriver donc que je vous suggère de s’en remettre.” Sid blinks, clearly taken aback by the vehemence in his friend’s voice and at the sharp look the goalie gives him before he reaches for his shoulder pads, a clear act of dismissal that suggests that this conversation is over.

But then Sidney isn’t one to give up that easily. 

“What’s your fucking problem?” he growls, leaning in and staring directly into Marc’s brown eyes. Marc is a lover, not a fighter and he looks away, refusing to meet Sid’s furious gaze, though his delicate jaw remains clenched and now his hands fist on his knees.

“You,” he replies simply. Sid stares at him for a long moment and then tilts his head to the side and regards the slim young man as if he is a complete and utter stranger. 

“Me? Are you still giving me shit about how this went down? Mister holier than thou? Are you still fucking lording it over me like fucking Tanger over there?” he asks, his own free hand curling into a fist that he knows that he will not use. 

“No I’m not fucking lording...fuck you don’t get it. It’s all so fucking easy for you. Tout ce que tu veux, tu obtenes. Everything falls in your fucking lap. You don’t even want this and you know...tu sais que je fais, que nous volouns cette chose.” Sidney stands, staring into his friend’s incensed gaze and is struck dumb.

Of course, he thinks, seeing the bright red spots of fury in Flower’ cheeks, the sparks in his eyes. It’s all completely clear to him now. 

“You thought if I didn’t come around to the idea...you thought she’d maybe hand my son over to you,” he says quietly, a strange sour feeling in his stomach making his mouth dry at the thought. Not of Vero and Marc raising a child because he knows both of them would be amazing, kind and patient parents. It is just the idea of their raising his child that makes his stomach churn uncomfortably. 

“Non,” Marc replies immediately but something passes quickly behind his dark eyes and he lets out a long sigh. “Oui, perhaps, but not really, not Vero anyway,” he mumbles, all of the fight having left his gaze, his always pale complexion turning a waxy pallor as he drops his head into his hands. “Il n’est pas juste.” 

Sid has no argument for the unjustness that MAF is feeling so all he can do is stand silently while the goalie fights to regain his composure in the charged silence that the room has fallen into. All of the other players are trying to get into their equipment and out of the room as quickly as possible without making eye contact with either their captain or their goaltender. It doesn’t take long before they are the last two in the room. 

“You will be a great father someday,” Sid says quietly, lowering himself onto the bench beside Flower who is now studying the carpet between his skates, his hair still hanging in his eyes. He makes a sound in his throat that is purely Francaphone and Sid knows from hearing that sound coming from a number of his teammates that it is as much a curse as the f-bomb itself. “We’ll make a deal with TK and Jordy, the next girl one of them knocks up, we’ll flash some cash at her.” Flower looks up at him through his hair and gives him a weary smile. “I’m sorry Flower, but it is kinda your fault I’m falling for her.” 

“Are you?” MAF asks quietly. Pursing his lips to stop from grinning which doesn’t seem appropriate considering his friend’s current mood, Sid nods.

“Like I said, it’s taken me a while to see it but...yeah. I mean, I told my old man to shove it this morning so...I guess you could say she’s growing on me.” 

“Hurt her...or the baby and I’ll kill you,” Marc says softly. 

“Yeah, I know,” Sid replies with a smirk, digging an elbow into the slight goalie’s ribs. 

 

“Don’t forget it,” Marc emphasizes with a smile that tells Sid he has earned a reprieve, for now.

________________________________________________________________________

“You’re getting huge,” Vero exclaims, planting her hands on either side of Fern’s belly and grinning as if she’s been handed a prize.

“I know and I have to pee all the time and I am sooo tired,” she explains with a sigh even as she smiles down at her protruding stomach. 

“It’ll all be worth it,” Vero says emphatically. Fern shrugs, neither agreeing nor disagreeing. “I hear the big grumpy bear paid you a visit today,” Vero adds in a whisper, slipping her arm companionably into Fern’s and leading her to the seats at the front of the box. She looks down at the men circling the ice in warm up. They look tiny from this height but she can pick him out by his stride. 

“I always had this idea of his father being the prototypical overbearing stage father,” Fern begins without taking her eyes from the ice, “but I had no idea he would be so mean.” 

“I think he’s bitter,” Vero agreed, leaning over the edge to better keep an eye on her own man. “I think Sidney told Marc that Troy thinks that he owes him a living for quitting hockey because of Trina got pregnant.”

“I thought he just wasn’t good enough,” Fern points out. Vero glances over her shoulder presumably to see who is close by and might overhear their conversation. “I mean wasn’t he drafted the same year as Roy?”

“Maybe he doesn’t want to see it that way,” Vero offers quietly, “you know how fragile men’s egos can be.” The corner of Fern’s mouth turns up in a cynical smile.

“That was exactly the feeling I got from him,” she says through clenched teeth, “that he didn’t want his son getting trapped by some...slut.” The word tastes as vile on her tongue as it was hard to hear that morning. Fern makes a face and turns away from the ice. 

“You can’t think that Sid feels that way?” Vero whispers. Fern shrugs a single shoulder as she raises her gaze to meet her friends’. 

“I know it’s what everyone is afraid of, his friends, his parents...probably Mario and every single member of the staff of this place,” she sighs, sweeping her eyes around the arena. “I know that if I wasn’t the one up the duff I’d hate the girl that trapped him. I’d assume the worst. Why shouldn’t everyone hate me?” she asks, feeling beaten, her shoulders drooping.

“But you’re not. I know you’re not,” Vero insists, grabbing both of Fern’s hands in her own and squeezing them until Fern looks up at her. “You know what I think? I think you care about him so much that you’re willing to do something crazy like deny this bébé is his and you had better not, do you hear me? Don’t you let his dad or anyone bully you, écoutez moi? You stand up for yourself.” 

“Easy for you to say,” Fern says quietly, sending her friend a smile that is not ungrateful but does show how tired she is. “Look at you. You’re so pretty and you have Marc,” she adds in a low whisper. 

“Oui, but I don’t have un bébé sur le chemin. Now that is something I think earns you some negotiating room, tu ne crois pas?” It is hard not to smile in the face of such an earnest argument but Fern only sighs and shrugs her shoulders. “And besides, I think he is beginning to like the idea, hmm? Being un père” 

“Yes,” she sighs and looks over her shoulder towards where he is heading off the ice, “but is that enough?” 

“Of course it is,” Vero says lightly and Fern turns a grateful smile towards the pretty brunette.

“But it’s not, that’s just it,” she sighs and then wraps her hands protectively around her stomach. “He’s a business and I’m a bad investment and if he was the only shareholder, maybe...maybe he could buy in and somehow...,” her voice trails off as she shrugs because there is no use allowing herself to think about what ifs. “But he’s not. He doesn’t get the only vote and you know what? I don’t think I’d vote for me either.” 

“I’m glad to hear that,” a voice that makes her cringe, that makes each and every hair on her body stand up on end, fills the room that is just beginning to fill with family members and friends and the sort of happy buzz that had been surrounding them goes silent as Troy emerges, his massive chest puffed out, his shrewd eyes focused on her alone. “It’s good to know that you know that,” he continues, looking pleased. “So now I’d like to ask, what will it take to get you to leave hmmm? How much do you want?” 

“Don’t,” Vero hisses, grabbing for her hand even while Fern sadly smiles and shakes her head. 

“I don’t want anything, for myself,” she adds carefully, looking up at the big man with the superior look on his face. “But for my son,” she adds glancing down at her stomach and then back up at him with a more determined look on her face, “we can talk.” 

___________________________________________________________________

“Look at him,” TK mumbles, “like he doesn’t know we lost,” he added, hurling a wad of stick tape in Sid’s direction. Sid easily deflects it. He knows that he should feel bad, after all, he’s just sleep walked through an entire game, but then his mind is already on other things.

“I think I’m going to ask to ask to meet her parents. I think that’s the right thing to do,” he says to no one in particular, and anyone who is listening.

“Jesus Creature, if I was her dad I’d whip your ass for knocking up my daughter. I’m not sure that’s a good plan,” Brooks laughs as he passes. 

“Brooksy’s got a point,” Dupers nods, sitting back in his stall, down to his under-armour and winces as he rolls one shoulder. “You’re used to being the ideal date that any parent would be glad to have their daughter bring home but in this case...I’m not sure I’d welcome you with open arms.” 

“Well I’d rather do it now than bumping into them at the hospital the day he’s born,” he shrugs and then grins very suddenly at the idea of the birth, of being there when his son his born. 

“Wow, you’re officially scaring me now,” TK smirks across at him. “Next you’re gonna tell us that you’re gonna ask her old man if you can marry her while you’re there.”

“Don’t worry Kennedy I’m not ready to jump off that cliff yet,” he promises sincerely. 

“Oh yeah, that’ll make her old man even happier with you. How do you do sir, I knocked up your daughter and I’m not gonna marry her. Yeah, you’ll be a hit alright,” Cookie chuckles and reaches down to muss Sid’s hair as he passes by. 

“Yeah Creature you better  hope her dad isn’t anything like Cookie or you’ll be out for another six months with two broken knee caps,” Johnny calls from his corner and then ducks when Cooker whips his towel at him. 

“Well he won’t have to worry about that because he won’t be meeting her folks.” The room falls quiet and every head turns towards the source of the booming voice. He searches his father’s expression and feels a knot begin to form in the pit of his stomach. Troy looks smug and when he’d left him that morning his father had looked anything but smug. 

“What have you done?” he asks quietly. He can hear his teammates shuffling uneasily around him. It’s not the first time his father has made a scene in the room and he assumes it will not be the last. That does not mean he has to like it but it also doesn’t mean he is willing to wait until they are alone before he finds out exactly why his father is looking like the cat that ate the canary. 

“Solved your problem for you,” Troy says in the kind of syrupy voice that suggests he’s proud of himself but that he knows his son is going to be less than happy with him. 

“I don’t have a problem, right now,” Sid says slowly as he gets to his feet. On skates he can be eye to eye with his father. 

“No, you’re right, you don’t now, because she’s gone.” Sid blinks. 

“Gone? What do you mean, gone?” he asks between clenched teeth.

“I mean she’s gone, for good. She’s seen the light, or the colour of your money, taken the payout I offered her and she’s on her way out of the city. You don’t have to worry about her anymore.” He says it like it’s a good thing, a thing that should be celebrated. He says it like he’s done something good, something he should be congratulated for. 

There is a ringing in Sid’s ears and a veil of red slides down over his eyes. 

“I’ll fucking kill you,” he growls, his hands lifting to grab hold of the collar of his father’s shirt, twisting it in his fingers until he can feel his father’s wind pipe against the back of his fist. 

“No,” Troy smiles, but there is a menace behind it and his eyes glow like he’s actually enjoying this, “you’ll thank me. I just saved your life.” He tries to speak, tries to say that all Troy’s done is ruin his life but all that comes out is a feral growl as he twists his hand, tightening the noose. 

“This isn’t going to solve it.” Predictably it’s Duper whose hands pull him back, stop him from choking his father out. “C’mon, let’s get dressed. Maybe we can catch her. She’s not going to leave without her stuff.” 

_______________________________________________________________________

“Don’t do this, please.” Vero tries one more time as Fern slides her suitcase out of the back of the big black SUV. 

“You heard the man, the only other option I have is to hand over my child. My child,” she says, checking the ticket she’d printed off before zipping up her purse. 

“Sid would never let him do that,” Vero insists but some of the fervour has gone out of her voice.

“Maybe not now but…c’mon, he’s not in love with me and his dad’s right, he’s never going to be. Some other girl is going to come along and he’s still going to want his son and she’ll be the stay at home mom and he has all the money…what chance do I have against that?” she smiles in what she hopes is a brave sort of way. She’s been doing her best not to cry, not in front of Vero and definitely not in front of Troy. “I’ve been kidding myself, he has no real feelings for me V. I mean, he said I’m okay, not that I’m pretty or beautiful. I’m okay and that’s all I’m ever going to be to him.”

“You don’t’ know that for sure,” Vero says quietly. “People in arranged marriages can fall in love after awhile.” It’s an attempt at encouragement but not even a good one but it makes Fern smile. 

“My parents never lied to me, never told me I was going to meet prince charming and become a princess, not like you. I was raised to be practical and this is me being practical. This is me saving myself from heartbreak. Now give me a hug,” she says softly, putting herself into the slim brunette’s arms and hugging her as close as her swollen belly would allow. 

“Take care of yourself okay?” Vero whispers

“I will,” Fern promises before she releases her and turns to get her bag.

“You have our number. If you need anything, anything, you call and me and Marc will be there,” she adds seriously. 

“Thanks,” Fern smiles, knowing that she won’t do anything of the sort, “but V…please, even if he begs….”

“Your secret’s safe with me,” Vero sighs, pursing he lips and turning an imaginary key in front of them before tossing it over her shoulder.