It was years before Fran saw Taylor again. Not long after he left town, Sally had a job offer in Detroit. She didn�t want to take it, it was the same kind of job and the same amount of pay, just somewhere else in the country. Fran pressured her to take it, and it wasn�t long before the two of them were on a plane to Detroit.
After her grueling attempt to adjust to having people not know who she was, Fran found another home in a local high school hockey team. It wasn�t long before she took over the team, and became a legend. After graduating high school with many friends and a high grade point average, the NHL was pounding on her door.
Not having a female player in a long time, and not seeing a player this wonderful�male or female�Fran was the first pick in the NHL draft to the Detroit Red Wings. How fortunate that she didn�t have to move.
Now Fran is left wing for the national hockey league, with a signed four year contract. Her style and her ability became notorious throughout the nation, and parts of Canada. She�d won respect from everyone, and more from her teammates. Her rough style was not expected from her flawless looks, and her temper was common to the referees. It was common that she was dismissed from the game from roughing, fighting, and misconduct. But all the same, she brought the Detroit Red Wings from their two-year slum to one of the greatest teams in the league.
At 21 years of age, Frances Marie Carlston is the highest paid athlete in the United States. And she couldn�t be happier.
Well, maybe she could.
"See you next season, Fran," a teammate commented. She waved and continued to pack her things. She had two hours before her flight back to Detroit boarded and she was fearing she�d miss it. A broad smile kept on her face. Wasn�t everyday a person got to hold the Stanley Cup in her hands while being lifted up by her teammates. She took her bag and flung it over her shoulder, looking around the locker room.
Fran�s smile shined and she walked out of the locker room. A pile of fans were waiting outside and clapped as she walked out. Happy children and smiling adults waited for her. "Why hello," she said, taking a gold pen out of her pocket. She took a puck from a smiling child�s hands. "What�s your name?" she asked the little girl, writing her name and number from the puck. The little girl was too shy to say anything. "Did ya catch this one tonight?" The girl nodded. She handed the puck back to the girl and pinched her nose. The girl smiled and ran off.
It was a good half an hour before Fran began to run out of people. She�d carried a small conversation with everyone. There was only three people left. A father with his little boy, and a distant man, watching with a smile on his face. The little boy ran up to Fran and held up a puck. "I caught it, all by myself!" he said.
"Oh really?" Fran asked, taking it from him. "You�re a lucky boy, now aren�t you?" He nodded. "What�s your name, kid?"
"Jack." She smiled and signed her name. Fran handed the kid his prized piece of hard, frozen rubber. "Thanks."
"You�re very welcome, Jack. Bye now." The young boy ran off to his father and they left. Fran turned to a man standing in the corner. "Do you want an autograph or something?"
"I�d rather have a nice conversation, Frenchie." Her eyes widened and her mouth dropped. A pain in her heart that had been long forgotten suddenly sprung up again. And she forgot how much it hurt her. A sob welled in her throat. She put her hand over her mouth and turned away. He walked over and stopped behind her.
"Taylor," she whispered. She realized she was showing her weakness and covered it up. "Taylor, just go away." His hand gripped hers, and gently turned her around. She looked over him. His eyes were the same, still as beautiful as they had ever been. His face had aged from a cute young boy to an attractive man. He cut his hair, much to her surprise, to a length that would suit someone his age. You�re making him sound old. For God�s sake he�s only 21
Fran mentally slapped herself for falling for him again.
"Will you let me take you out or will you just slap me and run off?" he asked. She shook her head, releasing his hand.
"I�m sorry. I have a plane to catch, and I�m late enough already. I�m going back to Detroit. Don�t try to track me down, I�m still deciding if I can trust you." She looked over him once more before walking off. A cab was waiting for her at the road. She opened the door and stepped in. "Sorry about the delay."
"It�s alright, ma�am. Anything for the greatest player in the NHL." Fran laughed and told him where to go. She gazed out the window as the car began to move. An unnoticed tear ran down her face as she thought of Taylor. Her heart ached for a touch, a smile. She still felt his hand in hers. Dammit, why did I let him go? Her heart spoke the reason.
You don�t want to get hurt again, her heart said.
But I still love him.
You don�t want to get hurt again, her heart repeated.
Fran let her gaze run to the stars. It was quite clear that night. The stars. Her and Taylor used to gaze at the stars. But back then there was trust. Back then she completely knew him. Her heart sank, causing a look of pain run over her face. Maybe she didn�t know him as well as she thought.
"Ma�am, we�re here. Have a good flight." Fran looked over to the driver and smiled. She passed a bill in his direction, tipping him more than she should, and got out of the car. Finally, she was going home. No worries about Taylor, no season to fuss about, no annoying teammates. Finally, a break.
Fran barely noticed walking through the airport to her designated gate. She barely noticed waiting for the boarding call. She barely noticed getting up and handing the stewardess her ticket. She didn�t notice the man following her to her seat. Fran sat down and opened the window shade, gazing out and into the night.
The plane ascended into the air, the engine almost lulling her into a deep sleep. She struggled to keep her eyes open, just for a while. They�d serve dinner later into the flight and she was starving. She sat up, trying to stay awake, in the process, smacking the person next to her.
"Oh, I�m sorry�" she paused. "Goddammit Taylor why are you here?" He put up his hands in a defense.
"Hey I�m just on a flight, they put me next to you. It�s not my fault that you�re stuck with me for four hours." She looked over the man that she spent a long period of her life being with and getting over. She hated seeing him again, but for some reason she wanted to just kiss him and get it all over with. But she couldn�t do that, not just yet.
"I knew I should of got that private jet," she said, at rested her head against the window. She didn�t want to talk to him, but she was still in love with him. She didn�t want to see him, the old him. She didn�t know this Jordan Taylor Hanson. For some reason she didn�t want to.
"I miss you, Frenchie," he said, taking her hand again. She looked over at him and his hopeful blue eyes. Her eyes drifted to their hands. He was holding onto her for dear life.
"I missed you. I thought I knew you, I thought I loved you, but right now all I know is that you caused more pain than I could have ever imagined. I�m still trying to figure out why." She turned away, back towards the window.
"I wish I could tell you, but I don�t know why."
"You wish you could tell me? Taylor, you went out with someone else, and you don�t know why? What did I do wrong that drove you to someone else? What did I do that wasn�t enough?"
"You did nothing wrong. It wasn�t you. You�re perfect and well, I�m not." She let go of his hand and put her face in it. She leaned forward and put her head against the seat, trying hard not to scream. "I�ve never seen you like this before, stop beating yourself up, Frenchie."
"Don�t talk to me, Taylor. Don�t look at me, don�t touch me. Go home and leave me alone."
"I�m afraid I can�t do that." She looked up to see a stewardess a row ahead, offering drinks. When she got to her row, Fran smiled at her.
"Do you happen to have anything with alcohol?" Fran asked. The stewardess gave her a glass and a few small bottles of mixed alcohol. "Thank you." Fran poured one into the glass and took a drink. Taylor watched, a hint of a smile on his face.
"I never pictured you as much of a drinker."
"Well you�re driving it into me." Fran took another drink and looked out the window. Her best friend of God knows how many years (she�d stop keeping track when they parted) was sitting next to her, asking for forgiveness and wanting to mend their relationship. She had to be cold, she just had to be. She�d loved him for so long, why couldn�t she just forget old times and love him now.
"Frenchie, it�s a couple hours to Detroit, will you be looking out the window the entire time?" Taylor asked. She glanced down at her glass and swirled around the clear liquid before raising it to her lips. He grabbed it from her and put it on the tray. "Talk, or you�ll just get drunk and say things you�ll regret."
"Taylor, there�s nothing that I could ever say to you and regret. I mean what I say and I�d never be able to go back on that. You know I�ve always been like that."
"How bout when you told me you loved me?"
"I was na�ve and stupid then; I thought I�d have you forever. But I�d never take it back." She sighed and glanced at him, then back to the drink she was again swirling around. "I should of known better. I should have known that I could never have you again once you chose that life." She raised the glass to her lips, then mumbled, "That life corrupted you." She took a long sip.
"Well you can have me now," Taylor gently said, as if he�d never heard her comment. She looked over at him, trying to smile but not getting very far. She wanted him back, more than she had wanted that Stanley Cup, but she had other things on her mind.
"I�ll have to find out what my life is going to be like when I get home. My bud Austin, you remember him, the one from Tulsa, he won�t like it. He knows how much I complain about you."
"Austin?" Taylor asked. "Austin who almost ruined your career, Austin?" Fran nodded. "What the hell are you doing with him now?"
"I met up with him a few years ago, we were both in the minor leagues then, fresh outta school. We dated for a little while, but now we�re just friends. We share an apartment in downtown, cause I haven�t had the time to get myself a house that I�ve been wanting for me and mom. She�s been sick, and she refuses to tell me what with, and she�s in the hospital off and on. I got her a nurse to take care of her, but I really just want to get a house and take care of her myself, during my off time. She doesn�t like it when I leave because she�s fearing she�s going to end up leaving me the way my father did�"
"But I don�t think it�s going to happen if she�s sick, French."
"Well not like the same way of death, but I was at a game when he died. She�s afraid that I�ll be at a game when she passes." She ran her hands over her face and through her hair. "She�s not even 40, Taylor." Taylor�s eyes widened in remembrance. Her mother had been young when Fran was born. When Fran was ten her father died, and he was only 27 at the time. And it killed a large part of her, she toughened in return. She�d always been tough, but she�d been more of a girl then. When her father died she refused to show any kind of pain, in any way. That was when she stopped crying altogether and lost all will to be happy. When Taylor came along and the two became close was when she loosened on her sour mood.
"I remember before we got close, you were such a bitch." Fran smiled broadly, but quickly tried to hide it. "I saw that, Frenchie. Don�t hide it, I make you smile." Her smile faded, as she looked over him. His broad smile had resembled hers. She didn�t want to smile, it was just a sign that she was still comfortable around him. Maybe she was, but then again maybe she wasn�t. She didn�t know what to think anymore.
"Frenchie, why are you doing this to yourself?" She looked away. "I�m just trying to start over. I�m begging for forgiveness and I can see it in your eyes that you want to. Why don�t you just let it go?"
"Taylor I don�t know what to think about you anymore. I completely lost all trust in you�don�t think I can give it back so easily. I love you, I really and truly love you but you�re going to have to understand that this takes time and you walking back into my life brought back a ton of shit that I can�t handle."
"If you can handle Colorado�s three man defense tonight and win that Stanley Cup, then I think you can handle this." Fran smiled again, realizing that Taylor still supported her dream in every way, shape and form. "You have no idea how happy I am for you. Just to see you hold your dream in your hands�it was the best thing in the world."
"I�m surprised you still remember my dream."
"How could I forget? You only told me every day. �Taylor, my dream is to win the Stanley Cup.� I got tired of it after a while, Frenchie." She kept her smile, not afraid of it anymore. "Now that you have your dream, what are you going to do now?"
"Wait to win it next year." He rolled his eyes, sitting back. "Well, to tell you the truth, my new goal is to learn to forgive and forget. Maybe there�s still a spark left."
"I hope so, or I just went completely out of my way for nothing." Fran looked at him, wide-eyed. "You have no idea how long it took me to convince that guy over there to let me sit here." Her mouth dropped and she looked at him, pointedly. "Hey at least I told you! I could of just stuck with my story about me being put here. I spent a lot of money on my ticket so you should be happy I love you this much."
"Taylor, you are the biggest idiot�"
"I am not!" She smacked him in the arm. "Okay, you can stop doing that, Frenchie. I�m going to go home with a bruise like I do everyday because of you. I�m surprised you haven�t done any permanent damage." He looked at his arm, inspecting it for injury.
"I�m sorry if I�m strong. I�ll always be strong and you know that. So don�t get me mad." Taylor�s eyes lit up with remembrance.
"That reminds me. When you smacked me I had a bruise on my face for three weeks. You�re lucky make-up artists have a lot of crap to cover that." Fran shrugged, trying her best to forget why she smacked him. It wasn�t happening. She couldn�t forget what he did to her and what hell she went through. She remembered the looks on her old teammates� faces when she told them she was moving to Detroit. She never was able to tell them why she wanted to move. Just to see Tyler look at her blankly like that, not knowing what to say, it killed her inside. She remembered crying in front of all of them, even thought she didn�t want to. "Frenchie?"
"Hmm?"
"Stop torturing yourself." She sighed and leaned back against the seat. As much as she wanted to, to stop torturing herself was something she felt she didn�t deserve. Her eyes looked to Taylor. Her Taylor. He was just as handsome as before and if possible, he was even more. One look at his eyes reminded her how much she�d loved them. They were just so blue, it amazed her. She�d fallen in love with those eyes, she�d trusted those eyes. Now�now things were different and she couldn�t bring them back. "I said stop it, dammit."
"It�s not going to happen, Taylor."