“I’ll be right back,” I say to Veronica as I gently push her off and rise from the couch.
“Okay,” she replies.
At Janelle’s door, I hesitate. I don’t see any light coming from under it—she could be sound asleep. I’d hate to wake her.
But then again, if I died in my sleep, would she know how I felt about her?
I rap my knuckles lightly on the door and hear her say, “Come in.”
I open the door and her bedside light flips on. Janelle leans up on an elbow. She’s not squinting and doesn’t seem groggy, so I assume she must’ve just gotten into bed.
“What’s up?” she asks.
Only about a million things to tell her but we don’t have all night, so I tell her the two most important.
“I wanted you to know, I’m grateful that you’re with me, not only because it removed you from a bad situation, but because you enrich and fulfill my life. You being here has made me happier than I could have possibly known.”
Janelle blushes, but she smiles. “Thanks. I feel the same.”
“I love you.” That was the second thing I needed to say before she went to bed, and I vow I won’t forget it again.
“I love you too,” she replies.
“Okay.” I hesitate, now feeling awkward. “Well, good night.”
“Good night,” she says, and the light flips off. I back out of her room and shut the door.
I’m not completely satisfied, though, with letting this long night end on that note. More needs to be done.
In the living room, I find Veronica perched on the edge of the couch, surfing her phone. Her head lifts as she hears me enter.
“Everything okay?” she asks.
“Yeah,” I reply, moving back to my place beside her. She places her phone on the coffee table and tries to snuggle back into my side, but I take her arm to hold her in place with a shake of my head. I need her looking at me. “I love you.”
Veronica’s body jolts, but she doesn’t pull away. Her mouth parts in surprise.
“I don’t want to miss an opportunity to tell you, because we don’t know that tomorrow is guaranteed. I don’t ever want you guessing how I feel. I want you to always be secure in knowing my heart belongs to you and no one else.”
“Oh, wow,” she whispers, eyes turning limpid as my words sink in.
“I know we’ve only known each other a few months, and I don’t know if there’s a time period or a protocol of when you release those words to someone because I’ve got no fucking experience. There’s only one woman in my life who gets those words, and that’s Janelle. But I knew when you placed yourself in harm’s way to protect her that you were the one I’d been waiting for. I just don’t know if it’s weird I’m telling you this.”
“I don’t think there’s a rule book,” she murmurs with a soft smile. I’m encouraged she’s smiling.
“I just know it in my heart,” I explain. “I didn’t know there was even room in my heart for this, but you made it so. And once I opened it and let you in, there’s only one thing left to do, and it’s to make sure you know every day of your life that is where you shall reside forever.”
“Jesus, Riggs.” Her eyes fill with tears, and she blinks them away. “How did you go from asshole two months ago to the most romantic man in the world? You should patent those words and sell them. Total panty-melters.”
I snort as I put a hand behind her neck to squeeze. “I see I’ve shocked you.”
She nods. “A good shock. And I’m glad you’re the one who had the guts to initiate this conversation. Because I love you too. I think I’ve been afraid to share it, because you never know how the other person will feel.”
“Except we just watched an unimaginable catastrophe happen tonight, and it puts things in perspective.”
“I hate that it happened, but yes,” she concludes sadly. “It does make you realize you need to cherish the good things in your life. It makes me realize, I need to let you know that I feel the same way about you. Even in the face of all this tragedy tonight, I still have an excitement… wanting to see where this journey takes us. I know it will only be to good places.”
“The best,” I reply. I pull her in and kiss her softly.
Places I’d never even dreamed of before. Places that, now that I’ve imagined them, I’m never going to let go.
Read chapter one of
Baden
Pittsburgh Titans
by Sawyer Bennett
CHAPTER ONE
Baden
Two memorial services back-to-back.
Yesterday, I eulogized my best friend, Wes, as his parents sat in the front row of their family’s church in Montreal. It’s the same church me and my family attended as I was growing up.
It’s how I first met Wes. We were friends from the start, long before either of us knew we’d love hockey or even be good at it. Only three months apart in age, he was the man I went to for advice on everything.
I was the man he came to for the same.
And now he’s gone, and I’m shattered.
I’m sitting in the Titans’ hockey arena for a collective memorial for all the people lost in the plane crash. The organization wanted something for the public as the massive outpouring of shock and grief was crippling to many of the fans. Season ticket holders got seats, and the remainder were opened up for a lottery.
The arena—also used for the city’s professional basketball team—was free of ice today. Upon the court flooring, rows of chairs seated family members and friends of the victims. I was afforded one of those chairs and was representing the Hollyfield family. Wes’s parents didn’t have it in them to come to this service, having just buried him yesterday.
I wish I hadn’t come.
Every person who has had a turn at the podium is like driving a knife deeper into the wound. No one can stand up there and put a positive spin on things the way you might at the memorial service for a single individual.
In that instance, it would be perfectly acceptable to say, “He’s in a better place,” or “Time will ease the pain.”
But fuck… when you have dozens of people obliterated from the face of the earth, it makes every new, sad speech about it feel like torture.
Forty-one people died when that plane crashed, and it wasn’t instantaneous for some of them. It was a horrific crash upon touchdown where the plane cartwheeled before breaking apart and catching fire.
If a plane drops out of the sky, you can guarantee death happens in a millisecond and is painless as the aircraft hits with the force of a bomb.
This plane did not fall from the sky. Some of those passengers suffered before dying.
But they all died.
Two pilots, three flight attendants, five coaches, twenty players, six player support staff, a general manager, a co-owner, a hockey operations analyst, and the director of team services.
The Pittsburgh Titans were no more.
Before the service concludes, I decide to make an early departure. I have no desire to stand around and talk to people. Many players from the league are here, a moratorium on all games in effect until day after tomorrow as a league-wide mourning period.