forever & always
Pairing: Wyatt Johnston x OC (f) | Word Count: 10.8K (oof!)
Summary: Falling in love with Wyatt was fast and easy. Promising forever and always is a whole different thing. Written for @wyattjohnston and @comphy-and-cozy’s Eras Tour Challenge—Thank you, Demi and C!
Warnings: Angst with a hopeful ending; Cursing and mild innuendos; Proposals and panic attacks; Set during the 2023-2024 Dallas Stars season; Barely proofread/edited... sorry!
*Posting this as I stream the Eras tour for the very. last. time. Author’s Note (From The Vault) at the end of the fic as well! :)
Isabelle Delos Santos was going to be late for her first day back at work. And she absolutely hated it.
It wasn’t even a good enough reason for a compelling story. No missed alarms, no cats stuck up in a tree, no elderly that needed help crossing the street. It was her upstairs neighbor’s pipe that did her in, deciding to leak and cause a steady drip of water through her bedroom ceiling on a random Tuesday morning.
A quick call to her building superintendent and last-minute inspection set Isabelle back a good 30 minutes, resulting in a rushed commute and mismatched socks. The boys were already on the ice when she finally arrived at the practice rink.
Sophia, long-time boss, brutally honest mentor, and all-weather friend, was seated by Tyler Seguin, recording some sound bites and laughing alongside the veteran. It was a sight Isabelle missed and it carried her feet even faster to them.
“Soph! Hi, I’m so—” Isabelle wasn’t even able to finish the apology she practiced in transit.
“Hi, you’re late, I’ve missed you, mic up Johnny, would you?” Sophia said under a breath as she removed the mic from Tyler, who scoffed and playfully rolled his eyes. “I’m sorry, you know how hectic first days can get. We’ll have to do the niceties later.”
“Good to have you back, Issy.” Tyler nodded at her, chewing his gum like a cow. “And Sophia, sweetheart, baby, love of my social media life, relax—it’s just the first day. Try not to kill any more interns.” He barely missed the playful punch from Sophia, skating away mischievously as he spread the news of Isabelle’s return.
“Glad to know he’s still the town crier,” Isabelle joked, giving Sophia a quick hug. “Sorry, who’s Johnny?”
Sophia pointed to a boy with floppy hair, the number 53 stitched on his sleeve. Isabelle seemed to have caught his eye as he was already looking back at her. He grinned at her and waved, Isabelle doing the same thing albeit shyly. “You haven’t met him yet, right?”
“Nope,” She jumped over the barricade and into the benches. Retrieving another mic from the gear bag and booting up her laptop, she allowed herself to make a playful comment. “Missed out on pretty boy with the Sabrina Carpenter bangs last season.”
“You think I’m pretty?”
Isabelle is startled by the appearance of said pretty boy, flushed from drills and a lopsided smile on his face. He was leaning against his stick, all boyish charm that Isabelle could tell would get her into trouble. “That’s what you’re holding on to? Not the Sabrina Carpenter bangs?”
“Yes ma’am,” Wyatt beamed as Isabelle huffed out a laugh, beckoning him to bend further down. When their faces were close enough, he muttered, “Hi, I’m Wyatt.”
“Hello Wyatt,” His blue eyes had a sparkle that made it difficult for Isabelle to focus on the task at hand. “There’s no need to call me ‘ma’am’, I think I’m just two years older than you.”
Wyatt focused on Isabelle as she worked on attaching the mic to his jersey. “Just trying to be polite is all.”
Isabelle tapped his chest twice, signaling him to skate further away so she could do some checks. “Now, if I can’t call you ma’am, what can I call you then?” His grin was smug.
“If I didn’t know any better,” Isabelle’s smirk matched his as she began fixing some settings on the laptop in front of her. She hit record before she boldly declared, “I’d say you’re trying to flirt with me on the job, Johnston.”
“What!” That caught Wyatt off guard, and stumbling slightly as he rushed back to the bench. “I didn’t— No— I mean, yes, I did, but wait— I—”
But Isabelle was already laughing, a well-loved, well-missed sound, and unfortunately all at Wyatt’s expense. Oddly enough, it didn’t bother him that much.
“Relax, pretty boy. I’m just messing with you.” Isabelle smiled coyly as she slid on the headphones, motioning to Wyatt to say something. It was his turn to start grinning.
“I accept your apology, but, and I mean this in the least flirtatious way possible, don’t you think I deserve to at least know your name if you’ll terrorize me for the rest of the season?”
Isabelle smirked at that and threw him a thumbs up, sound bites flowing accurately to her from the mic. “It’s Isabelle. Now, skate—and try not to say anything else stupid.”
—
Wyatt’s first mistake of the season was flirting with the apparently-not-new Social Media Admin.
His second mistake was asking Tyler Seguin about her.
“Save it kid,” Tyler let out a big enough laugh to attract the attention of the entire locker room. “I don’t think Isabelle’s looking to start anything right now.”
“Johnny wants to go for Issy?”
“She’s way out of your league, kid.”
“Get in line, Johnny!”
Wyatt groaned and tried his best not to bang his head repeatedly against his stall as his teammates poked and teased. Times like these he hated being the youngest in the room.
“She called me ‘pretty boy!’”
The laughter in the room got even louder, reaching the point wherein Jamie had to step in to diffuse the attention off of Wyatt, whose cheeks had reddened significantly.
“Okay, okay,” Tyler spoke in a more hushed manner. “Look, Johnny.” He paused thoughtfully, getting a good look at Wyatt. “Just get to know her first, alright? She’s a great girl, undeniably the best of us out here.”
“But?” Wyatt prompted after Tyler trailed off.
“But,” He began much more softly, choosing his next words carefully. “There’s a reason why she took your rookie season off.”
“She called me pretty—”
“Plus,” Tyler cut him off, eyebrows raised. “I think you both have bigger things you should be focusing on.”
Wyatt nodded solemnly at that as Tyler stood to take his leave, but not before patting Wyatt on the back. Wyatt too finished packing his gear and headed out the locker room only to run into Isabelle once again. He called her out from across the hallway, jogging over when she turned around, stopped, and waved.
“Hi, I’m really sorry about earlier. I didn’t mean to put you on the spot or anything.” Wyatt scratched the back of his head sheepishly, only noticing the push cart of equipment now.
“You’re good, no need to apologize. That was really on me.” Isabelle smiled, but it turned devilish quickly. “I meant what I said though.”
Wyatt jokingly huffed. “I know, I know. I have Sabrina Carpenter bangs.”
“No. I meant, compared to the other guys, you are a pretty boy.” She laughed when Wyatt’s jaw dropped and the tips of his ears went red.
“Hey now,” Wyatt tried to quickly recompose himself. “Now, that’s not fair. You don’t get to say flirty things like that when you literally called me out earlier—in front of your boss, no less!”
“We were working. Now, we’re just…” Isabelle trailed off, a glint in her eye. “Just two colleagues speaking after work.”
“Alright, if you say so, colleague.” Wyatt was smug. “What’s all this for?” He motioned to the equipment Isabelle was pushing down the hallway.
“Oh, they’re giving me my work from home set up back.” Wyatt beamed when Isabelle did, her face lighting up with excitement. “I’m so happy to have all my gear again.”
“Well, does my colleague need help transporting all of this?”
“That would be great, actually. Thank you,” Isabelle’s smile grew as she stepped aside to let Wyatt place his bag on the cart. If she watched his arms flex more intently, no one had to know. “Just to the entrance so I can book an Uber home.”
Wyatt paused to look at her, then at the push cart. There were two desktop monitors, a controller board looking thing, a couple of camera rigs and tripods, plus a brown box full of documents to top it all off. Wyatt knew that even he couldn’t handle this on his own. “You’re seriously planning to lug all of these in an Uber and most likely up to your apartment?”
It was Isabelle’s turn to feel embarrassed, a flush on her cheeks that Wyatt couldn’t help but find cute. “I was going to cross that bridge when I got there.”
“Dear colleague of mine, I don’t think it was a bridge you were going to cross. More like a very, very steep hill.” Wyatt laughed as he shook his head. “C’mon, let me give you a ride.”
“Oh you don’t have to, I wouldn’t want to impose.”
“Hey, my mom raised me right.” Wyatt flashed a boyish grin and started to walk with the cart, the flush on Isabelle’s cheeks only getting deeper. “What are colleagues for, right?”
—
Thank god for colleague Wyatt Johnston, Isabelle thought.
It took them three trips to and from Wyatt’s car to get all her equipment into her apartment, the last of which was the brown box full of documents Isabelle couldn’t imagine herself even lifting off the ground.
“I thought you guys were Digital, why do you have so much physical paperwork?” Wyatt huffed as he placed the box down on Isabelle’s kitchen countertop.
“Hm?” Isabelle replied distractedly from her room, rushing to tidy up as much as she could. While the place wasn’t spotless, she was thankful she had the foresight to keep her laundry last night.
“I said, why do you have so much paperwork for someone who works in Digital?”
“Oh,” Isabelle stared back at him, slightly dumbfounded by his question. “Stats, mostly. Files on you boys. Wyatt, sorry, do you mind moving that box in here? Just try to avoid the leak.”
“You have files on— holy shit, that’s a leak.”
Wyatt placed the box by Isabelle’s bed as he looked up, letting out a long whistle. Isabelle frowned beside him; the water dripped much faster than when she left it this morning. “D’you call your super about this?”
Isabelle nodded and moved to get another bucket from beneath her sink. “It’s the reason I was late this morning. He came over this morning and said he’ll check on my upstairs neighbor, then get back to me tomorrow.”
“It’s like it’s raining in your bedroom.”
“You’re not helping.”
“Sorry,” Wyatt’s look was apologetic as he rushed to take the nearly-full container from Isabelle, swapping it out with the empty one. “It’s a good thing you have an extra bucket then. Where do I throw this out?”
“Kitchen sink please, and sorry for all of this—you’re too pretty to be dumping gross water down my sink.”
Wyatt laughed loudly as he walked out her bedroom, the flirtatious banter turning comfortable and very much welcomed really quick. As he dumped the water down the sink, he couldn’t help but easily be distracted by the books that line her shelf. “Didn’t think you’d be a Lord of the Rings fan.”
“Alright, that’s enough getting to know you for one day.” Isabelle laughed, taking the bucket and playfully pushing Wyatt to her front door before he could inspect or touch any more of her stuff.
“I’ll see you at work tomorrow, colleague?”
“Goodbye, Wyatt Johnston.”
—
October was arguably the most exciting time for hockey, and while most looked forward to opening night, Isabelle looked forward to media day the most.
There was a sweet skip in her step as she raced down the hallway that morning, ordering interns around and coordinating with the different agencies. She was back in her element after a difficult year surrounded by people she loved, doing what she loved.
The first of many layouts involved celly shots of the boys out on the ice, and after much pleading and task trading with the rest of the media team, Isabelle found herself lacing her skates.
“Hey there, colleague. You going on the ice?” Just like the first day they met, Wyatt was leaned against the barricade, intrigued as he watched Isabelle strap the equipment securely on her person. The intricate process of buckling up and securing straps made him comment, “It’s pretty cool that you guys have your own gear too.”
“Yeah,” Isabelle looked up to find Wyatt’s genuine curiosity. It was endearing for her, to say the least. “I guess you’re right, pretty boy. Are you first?” She asked, standing up. The gear’s an added weight, one that’s familiar and comfortable, but Isabelle still couldn’t help but feel nervous as she shifted back and forth on her feet.
Wyatt picked up on this as he nodded, placing his arm out for her to take. She did so gratefully, grimacing as she lost her balance almost immediately after stepping on the ice.
“Whoa there, Bambi.” Wyatt laughed as he caught her, quick reflexes and impressive strength on display. Isabelle felt as if she were burning, the flush on her cheeks only growing deeper as her knee-jerk reaction was to grasp onto him tighter. Her apologies were doubling by the minute. “Are you good?”
“I’m okay, thank you.” She assured him when she finally regained her balance, righting herself up. “Just been a while, that’s all.”
Wyatt hummed in agreement. “So I’ve heard. Why did you skip a season?” He paused, before adding, “Only if you want to share, of course.”
They skated beside each other, getting a feel of the ice as the rest of the crew continued to set up. If anyone were to ask, she just prepped Wyatt on what to do and what was going to happen. And if anyone were to ask Wyatt, well, he wanted to get to know the pretty girl who called him pretty.
“This is embarrassing to admit but,” She trailed off.
“You really don’t have to tell me, I’m sorry if I’m over—”
“No, no; it’s okay, I’m well and truly over it.” Isabelle inhaled deeply. “I skipped a season because of a bad, uh, boyfriend.”
Wyatt cocked his head to the side, not fully understanding the reason for her embarrassment. Bad boyfriends were more common than not, and he was a big believer of mental health and emotional well-being.
“I, um, I worked with him.” She could feel him tense beside her, prompting to explain even further. “He’s not connected with the Stars at all, don’t worry, I knew him way before we both got into the hockey world. He was based here but got a job for the Oilers. Moved to Edmonton and all, expected me to just pick up and follow.”
“And you didn’t?” Wyatt wasn’t sure why he wanted to hear her confirm this but he just knew that he did.
“I almost did,” Isabelle admitted, slowing down as they approached the rest of the crew. “Ultimately I decided against it; Dallas is home.”
“Well, for whatever it’s worth, I’m sure it’s his loss.” Wyatt cleared his throat. “And at least I’m in the clear and can ask you out now.”
He caught Isabelle off guard with his statement and he knew she was flustered with the way she nearly fell on the ice a second time. He was quick to steady her again, thoroughly amused as he secured his hold on her. “You really are Bambi!”
“Shut up, Wyatt!”
“You’re welcome,” He grinned, bright eyed and full of trouble. “Bambi.”
Isabelle sighed in defeat, genuinely laughing as Wyatt’s eyebrows rose and fell suggestively. “That nickname is going to stick, isn’t it?”
“I think it’s just fair that I have a cute nickname for you too if you’re going to keep calling me ‘pretty boy.’”
“‘Colleague’ wasn’t doing it for you?” She asked teasingly.
Wyatt shook his head. He was beaming, confident as he claimed, “Not nearly as cute enough for you.”
—
Working with Wyatt Johnston was a breeze. He was polite and patient, made the crew laugh, and took direction well. He was curious too, inquisitive but respectful, asking questions about what device did what, what was it like in post-production, and the rest of the magic that happened behind the scenes. The thing the staff appreciated most though was he knew when to back off and let them focus on their work.
Media day was coming to an end when Wyatt found himself wandering into the Digital office. It wasn’t often that players dropped by out of nowhere and especially during the pre-season, leaving the media team curious and amused as they watched him make his way towards Isabelle.
“Wyatt?” She was pleasantly shocked to see him, thinking he headed home hours ago when he was finished. “What are you still doing here?”
He shrugged nonchalantly, like it was no big deal that he had been waiting nearly four hours just to try and ask Isabelle if he could drop her home like he did the first day they met. Too scared to admit that out loud, he settled on telling her about completing some admin work. Not a complete lie with the one piece of paper he had to pick up from a department on the topmost floor. It was something he could’ve done during practice the following day, but Isabelle didn’t have to know that.
“I, uh,” Curious eyes were on them so Wyatt leaned closer to Isabelle. “I know you’re still on the clock but I’m serious about wanting to ask you out. I,” He cleared his throat again, gathering more courage to continue. “I’ve already cleared it with Soph, and even Jamie, and they both said it was okay with them as long as it didn’t get in the middle of our jobs. Is that okay?”
Isabelle was pink in the cheeks with his admission and at the fact that he went to such great lengths to ensure that no rules were going to be broken. It was clear that he had truly thought this through and his persistence was something Isabelle admired, something she missed from guys, even.
Wyatt had a smile on, the same one she saw when she first met him, wolfish, charming, and colored with tempered hope. So she threw caution to the wind and nodded bashfully, eyes crinkling and nose scrunching as she laughed at Wyatt when he repeated the celebration he did for the cameras, albeit smaller and reserved just for Isabelle.
He reached out to squeeze her hand, a silent understanding and reminder that they needed to be careful and that they needed to keep it low key. But both were determined to at the very least try and see what this could possibly be, to have each other in some capacity.
“Do you get off soon?”
Isabelle took a quick glance at the clock, reluctantly letting go of Wyatt and nodding. “I can actually head out, let me just save this.”
They ignored the hushed whispers around them as they walked out of the rink, Wyatt focused on not reaching out for her hand again. Instead he settled on offering to carry her bags as they walked to his car, brushing her off when she tried to open the door for herself too.
Wyatt was a gentleman through and through, walking her up to her apartment and only waiting by her door. Hands in his pockets, he watched fondly as she headed in to drop her things, smiling sheepishly as she quickly ran back out to place a gentle kiss on his cheek and invite him over for dinner that Friday.
Dinner that Friday went as great as great first dates go, though Wyatt insisted that they couldn’t truly consider it as their official first one as he wasn’t able to pay. Isabelle rolled her eyes at that but agreed, and later found herself on their official first date that very Sunday, with the second, third, and fourth soon right after.
The season started and so did their relationship, hushed and quiet but still just as big and bright when it was just the two of them. It was getting harder to keep the longing glances at bay, sneaked kisses before they parted ways in the morning not nearly enough anymore when the other was merely a few meters away. Though they were much more careful and intentional during game days, Wyatt’s resolve was quickly fading.
It was the home opener and the entire arena was pumped, players, staff, and fans alike. Sophia and Isabelle had their hands full, running around with all sorts of gear on them, directing interns while smiling sweetly at upper management.
Wyatt thought he was being subtle watching her move around the stands, a wistful look in his eye that Joel Pavelski could clock from across the ice. He nearly knocked Wyatt over with how distracted he was, grinning widely at the younger boy’s shock.
“Johnny,” Joel admonished half-heartedly. “A girl can either be a good motivator or a very bad distraction. You better make it the former.”
“Pavs, what?” Wyatt stuttered in response, an awkward laugh escaping him. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You’re not as slick as you think you are, kid.” Joel nudged him playfully, before skating away, leaving Wyatt dumbfounded. Though Joel’s words rang in his head, Isabelle’s presence by the bench quickly caught his attention. She had sat down by the bench by herself, laptop on the barricade, typing away furiously. He skated over as calmly as he could, ignoring the looks of the boys who were doing their stretches.
“Hi,” Wyatt plopped beside her, trying his best to act neutral. He thought there was too much space between them, and he held onto his stick tighter to prevent himself from doing something about it. “I think Pavs knows about us.”
Isabelle’s brow furrowed, not paying much attention to the boy beside her. Not skipping a beat, she replied nonchalantly. “Of course he knows about us, you live with him.”
That got Wyatt to laugh, bright and bashful, causing Isabelle to look up and smile back at him too. The air around them was electric, and they were pretty sure it wasn’t because of the energy of the arena.
“Are you guys ready for opening night?”
She hummed in agreement, looking back at her screen, finishing up the tweet she was composing. “What do you think?” She asked, unsure, turning her laptop to Wyatt.
He quickly glanced at the screen, removed his glove, and published the post. Isabelle gasped, shocked and slightly panicked, immediately re-reading the tweet and sighing with relief when all looked okay.
“You’re cute when you’re flustered,” Wyatt couldn’t help but comment, smiling cheekily. “I’d kiss you right now, but I think I’m already in hot water.”
Right as Isabelle got ready to tell him off, Wyatt was saved by the Stars’ equipment manager, calling him and the rest of the boys to triple check their gear.
Isabelle took that as her cue to leave and vacate the bench, finding a very intrigued Sophia behind her.
“I think we can make ‘social media assistant Wyatt Johnston’ a thing.”
—
Just as Sophia called it, social media assistant Wyatt Johnston was a hit. The fans were eating the content up, finding it endearing that the youngest on the roster had a penchant for social media—though it may have been more accurate to say that he had a penchant for the social media admin.
It did, however, confirm Wyatt and Isabelle’s relationship to the rest of the organization, much to the delight of the Stars boys. While it made Isabelle’s job harder with all the kindergarten sandbox teasing (“Johnny and Issy, sitting in a tree!”), Wyatt's unnecessary protectiveness, not-so-sneaky kisses, and sweet attention made up for it tenfold.
The night the Stars clinched the Playoffs, Isabelle was taking photographs of the boys in the locker room. It was Jake Oettinger being interviewed, Isabelle’s lenses focused on his shirtless figure.
“Damn Bambi—didn’t take you to be a pervert.” Confused, Isabelle pulls back from the viewfinder to her grinning boyfriend. “Otter’s naked and you’re taking photos of him?”
“Being surrounded by half naked men day in and day out does not make me a pervert, pretty boy.” She replied with a small smile on her face, going back to taking photos without missing a beat. “Desensitized, sure, but not necessarily perverted. Are you jealous, Johnston?”
“Don’t call me that.” Wyatt huffed much to Isabelle’s amusement, clearly not liking what she was insinuating. His hands curled around her elbow, getting her attention again and pulling her away again from the camera. “Could I try?”
There was a beat of hesitation before Isabelle removed the lanyard from her neck. “Geez pretty boy, no need to be jealous. Here,” She gently placed the camera in his hands. “Please be caref—Wyatt!”
Isabelle’s panicked noise caught the attention of Jake, who chuckled mid-interview and in turn directed the attention of the rest of the media to her and Wyatt.
Her flushed face paired with Wyatt’s polite, apologetic demeanor got the third party media teams looking back and forth between them, and they were thankful Jake was able to easily capture their attention once again.
When the focus was no longer on them, Wyatt reassured her. “Relax, I got this.” He took over her photography duties, Isabelle watching him intently.
Despite not having the camera secured to his person, Wyatt was careful and delicate with the way he took photos. He was beaming by the time he finished, proudly showing the display screen to Isabelle.
They’re seated shoulder to shoulder in his stall, a little cramped but not wanting it any other way.
“S’not bad, pretty boy.” Isabelle muttered as she went through the photographs. “Try these settings next time.” She moved closer into Wyatt’s space mindlessly, something he absolutely went giddy for as it allowed for him to wrap his arms around her.
Cozied up and faces closer than ever, it was no other than Jamie Benn’s cough that got them to pull apart.
Isabelle nearly hit her head on Wyatt’s stall with how quickly she stood, mousey and burning as she nodded when Jamie said she was being called by Sophia at the office.
“Okay, cap. Thank you,” She stuttered, adding a soft and embarrassed, “and sorry,” before scurrying away. She did turn back though to wave and smile sheepishly at Wyatt, serving as a reminder as well of the plans they’ve made for that night.
Wyatt thought he was off the hook until Jamie sat in the stall next to him. He tensed but waited for his captain to speak before jumping to conclusions.
“Look, Johnny, I don’t like to meddle in your personal lives, you know that.” Jamie cleared his throat, waving to some of the guys who were headed home. “And Isabelle’s been good for you. Your game’s never been better.”
Wyatt flushed at that but still remained quiet.
“But that girl’s about to receive some news, good news, and I don’t want it to affect your game.”
He looked to his captain then as he felt his heart race, nervousness lacing his tone when he asked. “Do you know what the news is?”
Jamie offered Wyatt a smile. “Head to her office, kid, and find out for yourself.”
—
“They want to take you on away games for the Playoffs.”
Isabelle was thankful she was seated because she nearly fainted when she heard those words. Miserably failing at trying to keep cool, she opened and closed her mouth like a fish out of water. “You’re serious, Soph? This would be a terrible, cruel joke if it was one.”
Sophia laughed and made her way around the desk to hug a crying Isabelle. She knew this was what she had been working towards the past year, and there was an immense sense of pride that she reached her goal after everything she’s been through.
“Congratulations, Is. You absolutely deserve it.”
That made Isabelle cry even harder, laughing in between sobs as she explained that she thought she was going to be fired after all the PDA she and Wyatt have been doing. “He’s a pretty boy, Soph! A pretty boy that flirts with me! I can’t just not flirt back!”
“I’m pretty sure you’re doing more than just flirting.”
“Sophia!” Isabelle admonished, though the smile on her face said that she felt otherwise.
“Look, Isabelle.” Sophia’s tone went serious as she handed a tissue to Isabelle, whose attempts to calm down were much appreciated. “It’s going to be a long Playoffs, and you’re going to have to put your personal lives second when you’re on the job. Badly put, you can’t be a distraction. That’s why management called me and Jamie in to confirm that this was the right move.”
Isabelle nodded. She knew that, and so did Wyatt. It was something they both agreed on even before things got too deep, something they reminded each other off when things got too much in work settings.
She’s somber when she shakes Sophia’s hand with a promise that she won’t let her or the rest of the team down.
“I’m counting on that.” Sophia said, grinning as she spotted Wyatt by the door, anxious and frazzled. “Hey Johnny, come here real quick.”
Wyatt’s shocked to be called in but follows anyway, his steps picking up when he sees Isabelle’s tear-stricken face. She’s smiling though, Wyatt thought. It can’t be too bad, he hoped.
Sophia fixed Wyatt with a knowing look, taking a deep breath before she explained. “Your girl is coming with us on roadies and you both need to be on your best behavior. Prioritize your jobs, minimize the public display of affection, and, for the love of god, no hanky-panky on enemy territory or the team plane.”
Isabelle was absolutely mortified, but Wyatt was grinning from ear to ear, amused by the apparent ground rules and simply relieved that the good news was, indeed, good news.
“Yes ma’am. No hanky-panky.”
—
“What’re you doing?” Isabelle muttered, still sleep mussed and eyes closed. She could feel rather than see or hear Wyatt laugh behind her, his arms wound tightly around her torso as he continued trailing kisses down her neck and to the part of her shoulder not covered by her shirt.
“Trying to start the hanky-panky before we can’t hanky nor panky anymore.”
That got a giggle from Isabelle, a soft sound that made Wyatt smile harder.
“I’m unfortunately all out hanky’d and panky’d, pretty boy.” Isabelle turned to face Wyatt, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear and cupping his cheek. He pouted playfully at that before kissing her palm, a sight that made Isabelle’s stomach flip and reconsider.
But the soft but consistent pitter-patter of her ever present ceiling leak pulled her back to reality, a soft sigh leaving her lips as she moved to stand.
Wyatt groans in disapproval, pulling her back to him.
“Wy, come on,” She protested, though with not much effort. “Playoffs literally start in a week and I won’t have time to get that damn leak fixed. It’s been six months and they still can’t seem to find the cause.”
He nuzzled further into her neck, eliciting a squeal from Isabelle. “Wyatt Henry Johnston.”
“That’s hot, Bambi, say my full name again.”
Isabelle whacked him on the arm for that, laughter filling the room with light just as much as the morning sun.
“But seriously,” Wyatt reassured her, taking her leg and wrapping it around his waist, pulling her even closer. Isabelle went freely, closing her eyes and listening to him. “We can get it fixed after the season. Besides, think of it as ambient rain noise. Lulled me to sleep last night and everything.”
All Isabelle could do was throw her head back in laughter and kiss her boy silly.
—
To say that the Playoffs were long was an understatement. The Stars maxed out all seven games against Vegas, and there was still a possibility of reaching Game 7 in the second round versus Colorado, especially with how they’ve managed to reach a double overtime.
While she was happy Wyatt was playing well, excellent even, Isabelle felt like she had lived a thousand lives since they’ve started.
“Just fucking score already,” Isabelle grumbled under her breath as she took pictures, thinking about how tired the boys, especially Jake, must be. They’ve been playing for over two hours now, and being on enemy ice made matters worse.
The crowd was getting restless and all Stars staff were ordered to stay by the bench or near security as much as possible. It was a good thing Isabelle knew how to follow instructions before no sooner than she complained, Matt Duchene was able to get the puck into the net.
The Dallas Stars were headed to the Western Conference Finals.
—
Being away from home didn’t make the celebrations any less sweet. The team was boisterous, rowdier than ever, water and god knows what liquid spraying everyone from head to toe.
When media was cleared to go in, the boys, while calmer, were still buzzing, cheering and pulling the rest of the Stars staff into hugs and doling out high fives.
Isabelle and Sophia entered, phones and cameras held up to capture the unadulterated happiness that radiated from the team. Even Coach DeBoer, who Isabelle still can’t look in the eye after he caught her and Wyatt making out post-practice, smiled fondly at the camera and offered her a high five after.
She scanned the room to get more footage, ducking to avoid flying towels and protect her gear, eventually finding a beaming Wyatt seated at his stall. It was as if he had been waiting for her to find him, his face full of pride, warmth, and absolute joy.
Isabelle focused her camera on him then, snapping away as she teased from behind the lens. “Congratulations, pretty boy.” Wyatt smirked at that, heartbeat picking up again as he heard the sticky, fond affection in her voice she reserved just for him. “You just defeated the past two Stanley Cup Champions, and are headed to the Western Conference Final. How does it feel?”
Wyatt felt like he was on cloud nine. He felt like he was on top of the world, that anything was possible, that his childhood dream was closer than ever. That he was so lucky to be here.
He could’ve said all of those media trained answers and more to the camera, but instead all he did was stand up, fast and abrupt enough that it startled Isabelle. He steadied her with soft but sure hands, waiting patiently as she put away her gear flustered, an airy laugh escaping him as he muttered the nickname she always seemed to live up to. She blushed harder at that, returning his laughter with one that was just as bright. There was a twinkle in his eye, mischievous and inviting, as he cupped her cheeks.
And then Wyatt Johnston kissed her squarely on the mouth.
It was by no means their first kiss, but Isabelle felt like she was in a montage; a rose-filtered, slow motion, gold rush kind of scene where the two leads finally fall for each other.
She couldn’t help but smile into it when she remembered where they were, attempts to pull away squashed by Wyatt who only pulled her closer, swallowing her growing laughter and placing gentle kisses along her jaw.
He looked her dead in the eye and whispered something, hushed but sure, only for her to hear. “I love you.”
There was no time for them to say anything else as the room had finally caught on to their moment. A very excited Tyler Seguin held Wyatt, shaking the younger boy like a toy, while Sophia took Isabelle’s gear away much to her confusion. When Sophia gave the all clear, Tyler shoved Wyatt back to Isabelle, instinctively wrapping his arms around her. Knowing what would come next, Wyatt, smiling as bright as the sun, was only barely able to warn Isabelle to close her eyes before a cooler filled with cold water was dumped on them.
—
“I think I’m going to die of hypothermia.”
“Don’t be dramatic,” Tyler grumbled the same time Wyatt suggested, “Here, I’ll warm you up.”
“Gross, kid.”
“Get your head out of the gutter, Seguin.” Wyatt retaliated without any heat, wrapping another towel around Isabelle.
“Still gross, kid.” Tyler reiterated jokingly. He paused for a beat, turned to Isabelle and instructed: “But you should warm him up after that game he just played.”
“Seggy!”
—
It was ultimately back to business as soon as they landed in Dallas. Though on one of their last night's off, Wyatt found himself walking to Isabelle’s apartment, a bunch of flowers in hand.
Before he could even knock, Isabelle’s door abruptly swung open, trash bag in hand and startling Wyatt in the process.
"Wyatt?" She looked at him quizzically, eyes darting between him and the most beautiful bouquet in his hands. "Sorry, did we have plans?" Isabelle fidgetted a bit, trying to subtly fix her hair and whatever house clothes she mindlessly threw on this morning.
Wyatt laughed, shaking his head. "No, I wanted to surprise you, but it looks like you ended up surprising me."
“Sorry,” She said bashfully, pushing the door wide open for him. “Settle in, I’ll just take my trash out.”
“Let’s trade.” He countered, holding out the flowers for her. “You put these in a vase and I’ll drop this down the chute.”
Now it was Isabelle’s turn to laugh but she agreed anyway, taking the arrangement of vibrant daisies, gerberas, and peonies. She admired the bouquet, delicately tracing the flowers and appreciating how much thought Wyatt put into it. He got her her favorites—all of them.
He too couldn’t help but grin as he returned, watching Isabelle casually leaning against her doorway, fawning over her flowers in her boxers and an oversized Stars shirt, one that Wyatt realized was his, the 53 stitched on the sleeve making him smile even brighter.
“So,” Wyatt cleared his throat to catch Isabelle’s attention. Her lips are twisted into one of the biggest smiles he had ever seen on her, his stomach doing a flip when he realized he’s the reason. “Can I come in, or do I have to pine for you from afar?” He teased, looking at her with such fondness.
Her laugh was bold and bright as she beckoned him in. “I’d like to see you pine and grovel, pretty boy.”
As he locked the door behind them, Wyatt placed his hands on her hips and pressed a quick peck to her cheek from behind. “Hi, Bambi.”
It was a bashful greeting, giddy and shy and still on the high of what happened in Colorado. One Isabelle couldn’t help but smile over as she busied herself with fixing her flowers.
“So what brings you here? Don’t tell me you’ve got a second job as a flower delivery boy.”
Wyatt grinned behind her back, leaning against her counter and crossing his arms over his chest like some James Dean daydream. “Nah, I just wanted to hang out with the pretty girl that lives here and bring her some flowers. Maybe kiss her silly.” He paused before adding, “If she’ll let me.”
Laughing came easy for Isabelle when she was around Wyatt, and this was more proof. She felt like a little school girl, blushing and staring at him in disbelief. “Could've already kissed the pretty girl at the door, pretty boy.”
It was Wyatt’s turn to laugh. “Can the pretty boy try again?”
“The pretty boy may.”
He kissed her then, pulling away quickly only to come back for a second one and a third. On his fourth try, Wyatt pressed his lips to hers a bit longer, causing Isabelle to giggle into the kiss. "Wyatt," she whispered breathily. “Slow down, pretty boy.”
Wyatt playfully frowned at that, still moving to bring her back to him, but she was quick to pull away and rest her forehead against his instead. "Thank you for the flowers, Wy."
"You're welcome," Wyatt leaned in to kiss her once more, and this time Isabelle let him, honestly missing the feeling of his lips already. The urgency lacking from their earlier kisses wasn’t absent this time around as Wyatt took control of it, slipping his tongue into Isabelle’s mouth and pulling a soft moan from her lips.
She ran her fingers through his hair, playing with the strands that were peeking beneath his cap. Isabelle was the first to break the kiss again, with Wyatt chasing her lips a bit before hesitantly backing up. He settled instead for placing tiny kisses along her jawline, making her giggle.
“I have one more surprise,” Wyatt murmured as he pulled a small, delicate blue box from his jacket. He didn’t miss the way Isabelle tensed, immediately explaining, “It’s not a ring.”
Isabelle visibly sagged in relief, eyes still wide as she looked between him and the jewelry box. Wyatt mumbled a soft, “Open it,” as he placed the box into her hands.
Inside the box was an expensive-looking gold chain with two pendants: the letter I and a tiny, gold circle with the number 53 carved into it. She carefully pulled the delicate necklace out, admiring it in the low light. “Wyatt, I—”
“S’real pretty, isn’t it?” A lopsided smile graced Wyatt’s face, looking more at Isabelle than the necklace.
She smiled sheepishly back at him, quietly thanking him again for such a beautiful gift. Wyatt placed a chaste kiss on her temple. “The only thing you should be thanking me for is the fact that I did not choose a ‘W’ for that pendant,” He was smug as he explained, excited to reach the punchline of his joke. “I’m pretty sure the ‘Wisabelle’ jokes would never end."
It was a half-hearted smile that appeared on her face, one Wyatt found odd as he was so sure that would’ve gotten her to laugh. He backed away for a moment, rubbing her arm gently. “You don’t like it?”
“No, no,” Isabelle told him immediately “I really like it, Wyatt. It’s beautiful.” She trailed off, inspecting the piece of jewelry better. The necklace was so simple it was stunning, but as Isabelle ran her fingers across the charms she felt something else written on the back of the round pendant.
Isabelle flipped it over, tensing as her smile dropped. She smiled again just as quickly, as if remembering that Wyatt was still looking at her.
“You don’t have to—”
“Forever and always, huh?” She cut him off with a mirthless chuckle, completely missing the way Wyatt deflated. “That’s a lot to promise to someone you’ve known for just a little over half a year, don’t you think?”
He was stunned by her remark, but Wyatt was still holding onto that small glimmer of hope that she meant no malice by it. His heart started racing and suddenly he couldn’t seem to breathe. The steady tap, tap, tap of Isabelle’s bedroom leak louder than ever.
“But really, thank you, Wyatt.” Isabelle said genuinely though albeit curtly, the want to change topics evident in her voice, ultimately fueling Wyatt’s spiral. When she moved to kiss Wyatt in thanks, his knee-jerk reaction was to turn his head and offer his cheek instead. Confused and hurt, Isabelle called out his name, though it came out more like a question.
“Sorry, I—” Wyatt shook his head, willing himself to breathe and not jump to conclusions. But the steely look on Isabelle’s face told Wyatt otherwise though, and doubt, fear, and hurt reared their ugly heads, clouding his judgment.
Everything was happening too fast, too soon. He couldn’t promise forever and always to Isabelle, he couldn’t even get himself to help fix her leak. He was still too young and had his whole life, his whole career ahead of him. The necklace was a stupid gift.
“I have to head home, we have early practice tomorrow.”
She called out for him again, explaining that it was still early and they still had time. All he did was kiss her cheek and said distractedly. “I think we should get your leak fixed.”
“Wyatt, what?” Isabelle stood there even more dazed, unsure of what was truly happening. “I thought you said we’d focus on it after the season,” She rambled, looking behind her quickly before suddenly remembering what was more important. And that something important was already halfway out the door.
“Wait, Wyatt, I’m sorry, please let me explain—”
Wyatt waved her off, leaving hastily with a promise of, “I’ll call you tomorrow.”
He never did.
—
When the Western Conference Finals games started and Isabelle still heard nothing from Wyatt, she threw herself into work. She chalked it up to him wanting to be more focused, but it was starting to get miserably pathetic when all her messages remained unanswered and he hadn’t seen her in days.
Sophia thought enough was enough when she found Isabelle staring at her phone the morning of Game 2.
“Hey,” Isabelle is startled despite Sophia’s gentle demeanor. “Are you okay? You’ve been staring at your phone for over ten minutes.”
“I’m working.”
Sophia frowned, trying again. “Has Wyatt called?”
“I’m working,” Isabelle repeated sharply, before pressing the palms of her hands to her eyes and shaking her head. “No, sorry. I’m staring at the phone because I’m waiting to hear back from my super about my stupid leak. I haven’t been able to sleep well because of it.” She paused, “And the loss.”
“Right,” Sophia replied sympathetically, dropping the discussion and leaving Isabelle alone to her work.
Wyatt wasn’t faring any better, either. Everyone could see that something was off, that something had happened between the two. He avoided the offices and hallways Isabelle worked in often, rushing off the ice and out of the rink before anyone could even speak to him. He suddenly became a ticking time bomb, a complete opposite of the soft, smiley kid everyone had come to love.
There were clear changes in Wyatt’s game too, most especially during practices when Isabelle was by the rink. He was missing passes, shooting pucks harder at Jake than necessary, playing more aggressive than he usually did.
His frustration reached an all time high the last practice the team had before heading off to Edmonton. After a particularly bad play, he broke his stick and walked off the ice following Coach DeBoer’s orders, Joel Pavelski right on his heels.
“Do we have a problem, Johnny?”
“No,” Wyatt counted to five before he turned around to face Joel and continued. “No, I’m fine.”
“I don’t think you are, Johnny.” Joel replied without a second thought. “And it’s okay that you haven’t scored—”
“It’s not that!” Wyatt yelled, surprising both Joel and himself. “Sorry,” He backtracked calmly. Joel was on high alert, noticing the little things that alarmed him that they were headed toward a panic attack: shortness of breath, trembling hands, cold sweats.
“Johnny,” Joel called out as calmly as he could. “What happened?”
“I think I fucked it up with Isabelle.” It shocked Wyatt how quickly he gave in.
“Okay, sit down for me, will you?” Joel had to push Wyatt to the floor when he didn’t follow, immediately taking Wyatt’s visor off and moving to ease him out of his gear. “Johnny, I need you to breathe—”
“No, Pavs, you don’t fucking get it. She hasn’t gotten her leak fixed because I told her it could wait until after the season. It shouldn’t have to wait!”
“Look, kid, I don’t care if I get it or not, or if her fucking leak isn’t fixed yet.” Joel looked Wyatt straight in the eye. “All I care about right now is you taking deep breaths. Now, tell me five things you can see.”
Wyatt rattled off items like one does with a checklist, the last catching Joel off guard. “I see Isabelle.”
“What? Oh sweet jesus,” Joel exclaimed as fathers often do. Isabelle is shocked at the scene before her, unmoving and unsure of what to do. She had followed Wyatt out just like Joel, but it had taken her a longer time to get through the tunnels. “Now’s not the time, Isabelle.”
Isabelle pointedly chose to ignore Joel and with fear lacing her voice asked instead, “Pavs, is he okay?”
“He will be, but I need you to go,” Joel sighed, trying his best to remain calm. Wyatt, slouched on the floor, was just staring blankly back at Isabelle, surly and without the warmth he usually holds for her. His blue eyes had lost their sparkle, and he was breathing heavily, as if carrying the weight of the world.
“Isabelle, go.” Joel repeated more sternly and that got her out of her trance. “Now.”
Isabelle nodded and scurried off, heading to the Digital office instead of back to the practice rink. Dread filled her quickly as she realized that she may have actually broken Wyatt Johnston.
—
The rest of the day went terrible for Isabelle, guilt eating her up to the point that she filed a request to stay in Dallas for the remaining Playoff games. Sophia understood and approved it immediately, sad and disappointed. “I hope you two get to fix it, I truly do.”
“I don’t know, Soph.” Isabelle replied honestly. “Everything’s so incredibly wrong right now, but I hope not flying out to Edmonton will help.”
“You’re not coming with us to Edmonton?”
Both girls tensed upon hearing Wyatt’s voice, Isabelle close to tears when she realized that those were the first words he’d spoken to her in over a week.
Isabelle cleared her throat, shaking her head. “No, I’m staying behind for the rest of the finals.”
Wyatt scoffed, malice coloring his voice as he accused. “I thought you said you were over that Edmonton ex-boyfriend.”
Isabelle’s lips parted, hurt gracing her features, tears escaping from her lash line. The Wyatt in front of her was so different from the Wyatt she first met, a mere shell of a youthful boy that once was. He was stoic and broody, hardened eyes and jaw perpetually clenched.
“You’re overstepping, Johnston. You don’t know what you’re saying.” Sophia stepped in, fixing Wyatt with a look that immediately shut him up. She was about to continue telling him off when Isabelle pulled on her hand, asking her to stop.
“Is?” Sophia questioned, but all Isabelle wanted was to talk to Wyatt on her own. Sophia agreed, but not without reminding Wyatt that she was just waiting on the other side of the door.
Once they were alone, Wyatt hung his head low, shoved his hands in his pockets, and waited for an explosion from Isabelle that never came.
“Wyatt,” Isabelle’s voice was small, smaller than Wyatt had ever heard, catching him off guard. “Can we please talk?”
Wyatt frowned, gaze still fixated on the ground. He was no longer in the mood to talk. He initially wanted to, but after hearing Isabelle forgo the chance to go with them to Edmonton, all he wanted to do was go home and sulk.
When Wyatt refused to budge, speak, or move, Isabelle continued. “Look, I know you’re avoiding me and I kind of have an idea of what I did wrong but— Wyatt Johnston, would you please look at me?” Isabelle was pleading now, something she vowed she’d never do again after what had happened. Yet here she was again, pleading to a boy who seemed to have just changed his mind overnight. It broke Wyatt’s heart to hear her like this, but he also had to keep his walls up and all emotions in check if he and the Stars were to make it to the Stanley Cup Finals. “Bambi—” He muttered quietly, finally looking up to meet her eyes.
“Please don’t call me that,” She cut him off softly, hurt evident in her voice.
Wyatt let out a sigh, one that stung both of them with the weight of everything left unsaid. He ran his hand down his face, tired and burnt out and wishing for the Universe to finally cut him some slack. “Can it wait until after the season? Please? I just— I just really need to get through this week, with a hundred percent of myself dedicated to the team and the team alone.” She was taken aback at how serious Wyatt was but nodded anyway, reminding herself of the promise they made to each other before they even started dating: If they were to try, work had to come first.
Before she could get another word out, Wyatt bent down to place a quick kiss on her cheek then walked away.
—
Isabelle spent the next two days in bed, replaying everything that had happened the past few weeks. The pitter-patter of her ceiling leak was mocking her now, reminding her of all the moments she had shared with Wyatt tangled in her sheets. The stolen kisses, exchanged promises, hushed I love you’s—did Wyatt not mean any of it?
She called in sick for Games 3 and 4 as well, laughing humorlessly at how Wyatt ended up scoring goals during both games.
Maybe she did make the right decision to stay behind.
It was a terrible thought, one that led her to spiral, feeling so low she started to feel nothing at all.
—
Isabelle was on autopilot for the rest of the season, happy that there was no time for fun and games during crunch time. It was a well-practised exercise: shoot, edit, repeat. Sophia even assigned her to the media box for all home games as well, and for that she was grateful. Isabelle kept her head low and focused, just like the rest of the team.
Wyatt did eventually make it to the end of the week, collecting a few goals here and there but unfortunately not the golden ticket needed to head to the Stanley Cup Finals.
As soon as the final buzzer went off in Edmonton and the boys shook their opponent’s hands, they skated off the ice and into the locker room to wallow.
Edmonton was cold, but it was even colder and more depressing with how callous the media had conducted their post-game interviews. Wyatt knew Isabelle wouldn’t be there, but he still took his chances and scanned through the somber faces of the media team. All he saw was Sophia’s disappointed face and he knew what he had to do.
The flight home from Edmonton was quiet, void of the usual chatter present even after hard losses. Everyone was itching to get back to Dallas, back home to their families. Despite Coach DeBoer’s kind words for the season that was, a loss this close was ultimately heartbreaking—with Pavs’ looming retirement only making matters worse.
Wyatt’s grip on the wheel was tense, heart racing as he drove towards Isabelle’s. Her spare key weighed heavy in his pocket, but he didn’t allow himself to overthink it as he made his way up the familiar hallway and through her bedroom door.
What he didn’t account for however was the leak that still hadn’t been fixed. He crashed loudly into the bucket she had left to catch the dripping water.
“What the fuck?!” Isabelle jolted awake, grabbing a book and clutching her blanket to cover her up. She visibly relaxed when she realized it’s Wyatt, but still kept her guard up. “Wyatt, what are you doing here?”
“Shit, Isabelle,” The way he said her name was poignant, laced with everything he wished he could say. It was painful for Isabelle too, realizing that that was the first time he’s said her first name in what could possibly be months. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.” He paused, beginning to ramble. “And about the bucket. I’m sorry, I just— I didn’t know where to go and—”
Isabelle flicked her bedside lamp open, the bright light hindering Wyatt from continuing. She got a better glimpse of Wyatt then, tired and defeated in his wrinkled suit, small cut on his face and eyes rimmed red.
Once his eyes had adjusted to the brightness and saw her clearly for the first time, Wyatt proceeded to ramble on. “No, that’s a lie. I knew I wanted to go straight home to you.” He moved forward toward her but abruptly stopped, as if realizing what he was doing. “Look, I— I know we need to talk about a lot of things, but right now I just really need you, okay?”
“Oh, Wyatt,” Isabelle finally muttered softly, nodding and pushing the covers off of her to stand. Wyatt let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding, eyes softening and tears gathering by his lash line when he realized Isabelle was once again in one of his shirts, the same one she wore the last time he was here. “I’m so, so sorry. I’ll run you a bath and clean this up, okay? I think I still have some of your clothes here.”
Isabelle moved quickly, carefully evading Wyatt’s touches as she drew him a bath and placed some clothes on top of the toilet set. “I’m just outside, okay? I’ll clean and wait for you.”
He merely nodded as she placed a soft kiss to his check, stroking the spot on his cheek gently, a small smile forming on his face as he kissed the palm of her hand.
By the time Isabelle had cleaned up the mess Wyatt accidentally made, he was fresh out of the shower, smelling like her vanilla shampoo. He looked soft too, still tired but a little more like himself. Isabelle felt a pang in her chest, a sudden wave of sadness for everything that had happened: the season, their relationship, the way things panned out. How were they going to fix this?
“Leak’s still there, huh,” Wyatt broke Isabelle’s thoughts, earning a humourless laugh from her.
“There are so many things that need to be fixed here,” She motioned between the two of them, “And yet you want to talk about how we have to fix my fucking leak?”
Wyatt tensed, but he didn’t want to fight. Not anymore. “I’m sorry.”
It was those two words that broke the dam for Isabelle. Tears flowed steadily now, vision blurry as she made her way to sit beside Wyatt. “What the fuck are we doing, Wyatt?”
He cautiously placed his arm around her, pulling her closer when she didn’t push him away. He let her cry, held her close to his chest as he moved to rest against her headboard.
“I’m sorry,” Wyatt repeated, cradling her head and rubbing his hand up and down her back. “I shouldn’t have ignored you, nor should I have mentioned your ex. I was a complete and utter ass but,” He trailed off, hoping that he was right in bringing up his next point. “I need you to know you really fucking hurt me that night.”
Isabelle could only cry harder, painful, heaving sobs wracking through her as Wyatt held her tighter. “I know, Wyatt.” She mumbled into his chest. “I know I did and I regret ever saying anything—But you didn’t even let me explain.”
“You said ‘forever and always’ was a lot to promise to someone you’ve only known for just six months.” He mumbled, remembering that night allowed some anger to slowly bubble within him.
“It is!” She yelled, pushing herself off of Wyatt and sitting up abruptly. There was so much hurt swimming in her eyes that it scared Wyatt, but she regained her composure before continuing. “It is a lot, Wyatt, especially when someone I’ve known for nearly half my life promised me the same thing then seemingly forgot everything in just two weeks.”
Wyatt is stunned into silence. He had no idea about Isabelle’s past, and it was only now that he was realizing that maybe Isabelle had bigger scars than she was letting on.
“Did you know I was engaged?” She revealed quietly. She sneaked a glance at her left hand, her ring finger empty yet heavy. “My ex-boyfriend, the one who moved to Edmonton, proposed to me two years ago. He had forever and always engraved onto the engagement ring, then cheated on me just two weeks after. I also found out he was cheating on me for the majority of our relationship too. That’s why I skipped your rookie year.”
“So, I’m sorry if I was out of line, that I said something way too honest. I just wish they didn’t make you run and hide, Wyatt. I just wish you asked and let me explain instead of shutting me out and hiding behind hockey.” There was an angry kind of sadness that began to simmer within Isabelle as she took a deep breath to gather enough grace and courage to continue.
“You know, I used to think you were the bravest person on the roster. You feel absolutely no pressure playing in front of thousands of fans, supporting the team and being there for them where and when it matters, scoring all those goals like it’s nothing, all those crucial moments…” She trailed off, willing her voice not to break. “I thought I knew you for a minute, now I’m not so sure because when a girl you supposedly love tells you something honest, that’s when you run and hide like a scared little boy? That’s not the Wyatt I know or love.”
Wyatt was at a loss for words, feeling lower than low and regretting everything he did since he left her the necklace. He also couldn’t explain the past two weeks apart from the fact that fear and hurt were the main drivers of his decision making, something he was and would never be proud of.
There were so many things he wanted to say, so many things he wanted to explicitly apologize for, but all he could process and respond with was, “You love me?”
Isabelle deflated and looked at him incredulously though it lacked the heat she had earlier. “Back up, pretty boy, did you forget everything?”
“Bambi,” He smiled softly at her, starting to feel like he was getting her back. “I really am sorry.” Wyatt urged her to come closer to him, and when she followed he pulled her onto his lap. Their muscle memory kicked in as she laced her arms around his neck to play at the longer strands of hair by his nape and he drew comforting circles on her upper thigh.
They sat in silence, the steady rain-like sound of the leak the only noise in the room, sounding as if it was building up to something big.
Isabelle inhaled deeply. “There’s a lot we need to work on Wyatt, we both do, and I don’t think sorry should be enough for either of us right now. It’s a start, but it shouldn’t be enough.”
Wyatt nodded in agreement. “I can’t shut you out like that again, even during crucial times for the team. I know we said that work should come first, but I really didn’t like it.” He scrunched his nose as he brushed her hair away from her face, lowering his hand to grasp her neck as if trying to reacquaint himself with Isabelle’s features.
It’s then that he realized she was still wearing the necklace. Lips parted, he looked up to her to find her smiling fondly at him. She pulled out the necklace with the stupid pendant that started this all.
“I just got really scared with these words, Wyatt.” She was fiddling with the circular charm, tracing both his number and those words he promised her.
“I’m not like him,” Wyatt reassured, holding onto her tighter. “I am not him.”
Isabelle took a good look at Wyatt. He was genuine, that much she could tell, the warmth in his eyes back and burning brighter for her more than ever. His touch was warm too, comforting and reassuring but still not enough to completely erase the fear and doubt that not only he, but all the boys she had loved before, had already planted.
“I know you aren’t but,” Isabelle choked out a humorless laugh. “You told me you loved me, were you just kidding?”
“No, no. Of course not.” Wyatt answered almost immediately. Sure and honest, he added. “And I still love you, you have to know that.”
Isabelle hummed in agreement. She did, but she wasn’t ready to admit that out loud just yet.
“Look, Wyatt. It’s late, let’s continue talking tomorrow, alright?”
There was a beat of silence before Wyatt nodded and replied, the pitter-patter starting to be comfortable again, lulling Isabelle to sleep as she lay down and got comfortable on Wyatt’s chest.
“Good night, Isabelle. I’ll get that leak fixed for you tomorrow, too.”
~
Author’s Note: Hi hockeyblr, how I’ve missed you! I wouldn’t say that I’m completely back from the dead but it was so, so nice to fall down the rabbit hole again. Again, huge thank you to Demi and C for putting the Eras Tour Challenge together. Hockey was a bright spot for me during the pandemic, and I could say the same of Taylor Swift and her music; but she has been lifting me up and telling my and my friends’ stories since we were 15. Her storytelling prowess is like no other, and as my friends and I like to joke, she is the ultimate fanfic writer.
Now, a little insight into this fic. Fearless is my album—it is the album that got me to be a Taylor Swift fan, the album I grew up to. Two of my surprise songs were from Fearless, and I nearly passed out Tokyo N4 when I thought I was going to get my all-time favorite Taylor song, The Way I Loved You. I guess I didn’t get it because my friends would have had to wheel me out of the stadium. Basically what I’m rambling about is that I am a Fearless girlie through and through, and finding out from Demi that I got Forever & Always… It was just the motivation I needed to finish this, and well, look at how nearly 11k worth of words came out of it.
I’ve been holding on to a concept of Wyatt Johnston x Dallas Stars Admin (“Starsmin”) following some of their posts last year (See: 1, 2) and I’m so, so happy I was able to bring it to life through the challenge. In my head, starsmin is the only one to get Wyatt to do anything for the camera (Remember his Buddy the Elf video? Boy is whipped if you ask me!), and she absolutely milks it. I’d like to believe they’re still together now, especially with how Wyatt still seems to be the star (hehe) of Dallas’ accounts. I have so many ideas for this universe, not only because, again, Wyatt is such a prominent character on the Stars’ social media, but also because Robo and Matt Dumba are on the Stars, too! Isabelle, my lovely OC, is of Filipino heritage, so having Robo and Dumba as her kuyas or older brothers is something I’d love to explore as well, but we’ll see.
TLDR; I miss hockey, I love Taylor Swift (most especially Fearless), and I hope to be back. Thank you for reading!
