Timeless - Connor Dewar

four - connor

TW: mentions of depression

Present day 

I'm proud of where I came from. It's not necessarily a sense of superiority—I don't think I'm better  than people who grew up in big cities—but more like I know I have experiences other people don't. As I looked around my new locker room at my new teammates, I often thought, This guy hasn't played pond hockey before.

Unbeknownst to me, many had. The Leafs were a melting pot, a blend of players from tiny hamlets and vast metropolises. But none had lived it quite like me. As a kid, the outdoor rink was my second home. Negative forty? No problem. I thrived in it.

Stretch, slice, stride, shoot. That was my ritual. Over and over. The puck ricocheted off the goalpost, sailing over the netting and into the eager hands of a young boy by the glass. I set up again. Stretch, slice, stride, shoot! This time, the puck slammed into the goalie's chest, a thunderous impact that made him double over.

My eyes widened. I hurried over, concern etched on my face. "Sorry, Joe, you okay?" I asked, patting the goalie's shoulder.

Joe straightened, a strained smile visible through his mask. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just caught me off guard," he replied, his eyes betraying a flicker of pain. "Do that to the other goalie for me, yeah?"

I laughed, relief flooding through me. "Will do," I promised, giving Joe a friendly shove before skating back to the blue line. I loved this game—the adrenaline rush, the thrill of each play. It was my dream come true.

Sure, Toronto was different from Minnesota. The bustling city, the traffic, the sheer scale of it all. But playing for a Canadian team? That elevated my dream to new heights. The horn buzzed, signaling the end of warmups. As I skated to the bench, I glanced at the jumbotron during a TV break.

The camera focused on a couple in one of the suites. A tall man twirled a petite, blonde woman, her face coming into view. My heart stopped.

"No way..." I mumbled, catching the attention of my teammate, Matthew. "You okay, Dewey?"

"Yeah... yeah. I'm fine," I replied, eyes glued to the screen. It couldn't be her. But the tightening in my chest told me otherwise. It was her. How could I forget the face of the girl I'd loved since childhood?

We'd drifted apart after graduation. I always told myself it was natural—we grew up, went different ways. But deep down, I knew it could have been different. If I'd handled things better, maybe...

I had lived a relatively normal life in Minnesota. Hockey, friends, countless girlfriends. None lasted long. I was often labeled as 'too clingy' or 'too overprotective.' And then there were the episodes where I'd withdraw completely, not wanting to talk or even get out of bed for weeks.

I had always been a little sad. Ever since I was a kid, I was always quiet, kept to myself. And no one batted an eye... until it wasn't just Connor being Connor anymore.

Depression. That's what they called it. When they told me, I laughed—it sounded absurd. I wasn't depressed, just... sleepy. Introverted. An overthinker. But I learned it wasn't normal. What I had been dealing with since the age of, maybe, sixteen, wasn't normal. It was a spectrum, and I was on it.

Seeing Mia now, here, rocked me. "Connor, what are you doing? Go! Line change!" Coach's voice snapped me out of my daze.

"Oh, shit, sorry," I muttered, leaping over the bench and into the game.

***

"Thanks, Mitchy, I'll see you tomorrow," I said, giving Mitch a friendly pat on the back as I left the locker room. I shoved my hands in the pockets of my dress pants, silently grumbling to myself as I walked to the elevator to go down to the player parking lot.

After that one instance at the beginning, the jumbotron never zoomed in on that suite again. I started to think it wasn't her after all. All I wanted to do was sleep. Take off this uncomfortable suit, lay down, and hopefully not wake up.

As the elevator dinged, signaling it was on the floor and ready to go down, I walked straight forward, unable to wait a second longer.

And then I walked straight into another person. "Sorry..." I murmured, adjusting myself before looking at the person I had just inconsiderately slammed into.

There she was.

It was Mia standing in front of me. Time seemed to freeze as my eyes locked onto hers. The same eyes I remembered from all those years ago, bright and curious, though now they held a depth and maturity that hadn't been there before.

"Connor." She said, her voice soft but deliberate. Amelia took a step back, making room for me to step into the elevator. I did so, looking right back into her eyes.

"Mia..." I breathed out her name, my heart pounding in my chest. It felt surreal, like a scene from one of those movies where the hero meets his long-lost love in the most unexpected place.

But this wasn't a movie.

"What... what are you doing here?" I finally managed to ask, my voice barely above a whisper. It was a genuine question, as this was an exclusive, player and staff-only area and elevator, but I also just couldn't believe she was here.

Amelia's lips curled into a small, almost sad smile. "I could ask you the same thing," she replied, her voice sounding exactly the same as I remembered from our younger days. She shifted her weight from one foot to the other, clearly as uneasy as I was. "But to answer your question, I booked a suite. I work with one of the sponsors now."

My mind raced. I had so many questions, so many things I wanted to say, but the words seemed stuck in my throat. "I... just got traded." I choked out, answering her earlier question.

Amelia nodded slowly, absorbing my words. The elevator doors closed, and we were alone in the small space, the hum of the machinery filling the silence. "I heard," she said quietly. "I-I mean, I saw..."

"Yeah." I replied, my voice strained. I wanted to say so much more, to ask her about her life, what had happened since we last saw each other, but the weight of the years apart seemed to press down on me.

The elevator descended in silence for a few moments before Amelia spoke again. "It's been a long time, hasn't it?"

I nodded, swallowing hard. "Yeah, it has. Too long." I paused for a second, taking in her appearance. She was wearing dress pants, much like me, but she had gone out for the game and paired it with a Matthews jersey. I went to look back into her eyes, and that's when I saw it.

"Who's the lucky guy?" I choked out, trying to laugh, but it just came out as an awkward, throaty sound as I looked at the ring on her finger. Amelia immediately rolled down the long sleeves of the jersey, hiding her hands.

Amelia's eyes darted to the floor, a faint blush creeping up her cheeks. "It's... um... complicated."

I took a deep breath, trying to steady myself. "I don't know what to say." I said simply, unable to find more words to describe the feeling.

"Connor... I..." She started, fidgeting with her hands nervously. "We grew up, right? Life doesn't wait for us to figure things out."

I looked down at her, my heart aching. "I get it, Mia. It's been a long time," I mumbled, the gravity of the situation weighing down on me. "Just... Are you happy?"

Seeing her again after all these years was really messing with me. I knew I'd be thinking about it all night and for a long time. But her being happy was truly all I cared about at the moment.

Amelia's gaze softened as she met my eyes. "I am," she replied softly. "I mean... complicated, like I said, but... happy."

My heart sank at her words, a mix of relief and sorrow washing over me. Relief that she was happy, but sorrow that it wasn't with me. I had always hoped, even throughout my numerous girlfriends and hookups, that maybe one day we would find our way back to each other. But seeing her now, with a ring on her finger, shattered that hope.

"I'm glad to hear that," I managed to say, though my voice was sad. "I really am."

Was I really happy to hear that though? I didn't know myself.

The elevator doors opened, signaling our arrival at the parking garage level. I stepped out, but before I could leave without a trace, Amelia spoke again.

"Connor, can we... talk?"