Quite Contrary Pt 03

Author's Note:

Happy 2025, everyone! Thanks again to everyone who's provided feedback on the story so far. Knowing you're enjoying it is the best sort of fulfillment and motivation for me. Here's some nice, fresh escapism, be it from the world situation, the actual Boston Bruins' season that can be described as "meh" at best, or anything else you need to escape from.

***

Quite Contrary - Part 3

Jamie smiled to himself as he turned his car down a familiar tree-lined street. The branches of the maples and oaks along the sidewalks and in the front yards of the houses were mostly bare in the waning days of autumn, and memories of a childhood spent jumping in piles of leaves and having acorn-throwing battles with his fellow neighborhood kids filled his mind. It had been too long since he'd visited Newburyport, and he mentally chided himself as he pulled into his parents' driveway. He was looking forward to his brief Thanksgiving break despite the tickle he could feel in the back of his throat that tipped him off to a forthcoming cold.

As he walked up the path to his childhood home clutching the bottles of wine he'd brought, he smiled at the Bruins flag hanging proudly next to the front door. It had been a feature of the house since long before he'd joined the NHL, and he chuckled to himself as he considered how Mary might react to it.

Though only a month old, their relationship was going strong. They'd been on several more dates since they'd made things official, including a movie night at her apartment to watch

The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari

and (unintentionally) annoy her neighbors with their rather loud lovemaking. The middle-aged woman next door had given him the stink-eye when he'd left for practice the morning after, though her husband had shot him a sly wink instead.

Every new thing he learned about Mary made him like her even more. She was outgoing and seemed to make friends wherever she went. Her wit was captivating, and she seemed almost inspiringly comfortable with who she was as a person. He'd never seen her second-guess herself, which amazed him since he couldn't seem to let that particular habit go. She didn't need anyone else to validate her, and that self-assuredness was one of the sexiest things about her.

Jamie's attempts to ring his parents' doorbell were cut short as the door swung open and he was engulfed in a bone-crushing hug.

"Jamie!" a high-pitched voice squealed with delight. "I'm so happy to see you!"

"Hi, Mom," he managed to croak. For a tiny middle-aged woman, his mother was weirdly strong. She held him out in front of her and looked him up and down.

"Look at you, all handsome and grown up," she cooed.

"You saw me less than two months ago, Mom," he pointed out, unable to repress a smile. "I don't think I've grown since then."

She rolled her eyes. "You'll understand how I feel when you have children of your own someday. Come on in! Your sister's already here."

Putting the wine he'd brought down on the kitchen counter, Jamie joined the rest of his family in the living room and greeted them all warmly. He even managed to stomach a hug for his brother-in-law. The two of them had never quite gotten along, but Jamie tolerated Bruce since he treated his sister Whitney like a goddess.

"Season's going well so far," his father observed once everyone had settled back down into the McIvers' assortment of well-loved couches and armchairs. He'd been a passionate Bruins fan since before Jamie was born, and he never missed a game if he could help it. "I noticed your ice time has been increasing; you're second only to Saarinen most games."

Jamie shrugged. "They know I have the stamina and can handle more minutes." He smiled to himself as he thought back to Mary's assertion that the team was setting him up to be a franchise player. He certainly hoped she was right, but it was her confidence in his talent that brightened his mood.

"You're hiding something," Whitney declared. "I know that smile, and it only comes out when something good's happened and you're keeping it to yourself."

"Maybe you're hallucinating," he retorted.

She shook her head, sending her long dark curls flying as a knowing grin spread across her face. "Nope. You forget how perceptive I am, baby brother. Now spill the beans."

The rest of his family gazed at him expectantly.

Jamie sighed. He wasn't hiding his relationship with Mary by any means, but he would rather have brought it up on his own terms, preferably without Bruce present to avoid off-color commentary.

"Fine. I'm dating someone."

"That's wonderful, honey!" his mother chirped with delight. "What's her name?"

"Mary."

"Mary what?"

"Moreau."

"Are you going to give us more than one-word answers?"

"Probably not."

His mother rolled her eyes at that and he couldn't help but laugh. "That one was two words, Mom," he pointed out.

She smiled. "I know, sweetie. I promise I'm not trying to be nosy. I just want you to be happy."

"Thanks, Mom," he replied, relaxing a bit. "I am. She makes me happy."

"She have her own Thanksgiving plans, I take it?" his father asked.

Jamie nodded. "Yeah, she's up in Halifax visiting her family. Their Thanksgiving is in October, but she still has the time off from school."

Bruce raised an eyebrow. "School? You doing some cradle-robbing there, Jamie?"

Jamie bristled, thinking to himself that this was exactly why he didn't want his brother-in-law present when he discussed Mary. "She's a grad student, Bruce. She's only two years younger than I am."

"What's her field?" Whitney inquired.

"Education. She wants to teach high school English."

His mother beamed. "How lovely!"

"Halifax," his father repeated with interest. "She's Canadian?"

Jamie nodded. He saw the grin creeping across his father's face and knew exactly what the next question was going to be.

"What's her team?"

He shifted a bit uncomfortably. His family was so hockey-focused that he'd known the subject of Mary's fandom would come up eventually, but he was slightly irritated at having to address it right out of the gate.

"Um... Her family roots for Montreal."

Whitney raised an eyebrow. "Just her family?"

He sighed. "Fine, she does, too. Happy?"

His sister burst into nearly hysterical laughter. "You're dating a Habs fan.

You're

dating

a Habs fan

. Oh man, this is hilarious."

He rolled his eyes. "Gee thanks, sis. I'm

so glad

you're happy for me that I've found someone I like."

"She knows what you do for a living, right?" his father chuckled.

"Yes, Dad," he grumbled. "And she likes me anyway."

"So she says," Bruce scoffed.

Jamie glared at him.

"I think it's quite romantic, actually," his mother opined, laughter twinkling in the bright blue eyes her son had inherited. "Star-crossed lovers, just like Romeo and Juliet."

"They die at the end, Mom."

She shrugged. "You'll just have to be smarter than them, then, won't you? In all seriousness, honey, we're just happy that you're happy. That's all we want for you."

He smiled. "Whatever you say, Lady Montague."

By the time Thanksgiving dinner ended, Jamie had decided he'd had enough of other humans for the time being. It had been enjoyable to spend time with his family, but he needed to recharge his emotional batteries. He was also fairly certain that his sister had surreptitiously looked up quotes from

Romeo and Juliet

on her phone throughout the meal since she'd gone out of her way to sprinkle them into the conversation.

He loved Whitney to death and knew the feeling was mutual, but she really was a merciless tease sometimes.

Softly shutting the door behind him, he looked around his childhood bedroom and sighed contentedly before flopping onto the bed. His parents hadn't changed things at all - the bookshelves were still crammed with weighty tomes, the walls were still adorned with an odd assortment of band posters and Bruins memorabilia, and the top of his dresser still acted as a makeshift display table for his old trophies and other awards.

As he gazed at a framed photo of Bobby Orr's famous goal in the 1970 Stanley Cup Final, he wondered if Mary's room at her parents' house were similarly decorated with Habs paraphernalia. She'd flown up to Halifax only two days prior, but he would have been lying if he said he didn't already miss her. Her absence felt different from the times they'd been apart before when he'd travelled for games, though that may have been because he didn't have hockey to distract him.

Deciding Mary would be the exception to the break he was taking from other people, he pulled out his phone to text her:

JM:

Whatcha doin?

A few minutes later, he felt his phone buzz with her reply:

MM:

Nothing much, just relaxing. Why?

JM:

I just miss you.

MM:

I miss you, too. Up for a FaceTime?

His mood instantly lifted at that prospect. He texted a quick "

absolutely

" to her before initiating the video call.

"Happy Thanksgiving!" she answered brightly, her radiant smile illuminating his screen.

"Thanks, Mary," he replied. "How's your trip going?"

"Fairly uneventful, though it's been good to see everyone." She squinted at something in the background. "Is that a giant Bruins logo pillow behind you?"

He chuckled. "Yup. Got it as a Christmas gift from my grandma when I was a teenager."

"That's extremely on-brand for you," she laughed, and his smile grew at the twinkle in her grey eyes. "Are you calling me from your childhood bedroom by any chance?"

"Guilty as charged."

"I want the grand tour, mister. I need to see you in your natural habitat."

He smirked. "You gonna narrate it like a nature documentary?"

Clearing her throat, she adopted a surprisingly convincing British accent. "Here we see the rare

Homo Bostonius

in his den. He has adorned it with colorful objects in the hopes of attracting a mate."

"I feel like I've checked that box now," he laughed. "You also do a spooky good David Attenborough impression."

She gave a little bow. "Thank you, I try. Now show me around."

Chuckling, he reversed his camera to that it was pointing outward and hopped off of his bed. "Alright, um... this is my old dresser. It's got... trophies and stuff on it. Then there's a desk... some old hockey sticks leaning against the wall... bookshelves..."

That seemed to pique her interest. "Ooo, take me in closer on those. I'm curious what teenaged Jamie was reading back in the day."

He did as she requested, bringing his phone closer to the shelves so she could read the spines of the books.

"Hmm, I see a copy of the complete works of William Shakespeare there. Very sexy. And Ken Dryden's

The Game

? Definitely wasn't expecting that."

"He may have been your goalie, but his book is pretty much required reading for hockey players," Jamie pointed out.

"Fair enough," Mary acknowledged. "And I can see you more than make up for it with all the random Bruins stuff on your walls. You

would

have a framed photo of that Bobby Orr goal."

He smirked, even though he knew she couldn't see it. "Of course! Teenaged Jamie's taste in décor was impeccable."

"As was his taste in music," she replied with a grin. "At least based on those posters on your walls. I see Iron Maiden, of course... Led Zeppelin... early Metallica... ah, Anvil! Kudos for including some of my countrymen in there. Ice Nine Kills, now that's a nice deeper cut..."

Jamie reversed his phone's camera again and smiled at her. "They're from Boston and theme their songs to horror movies and books. Of

course

I listen to them."

She giggled at that. "I can't say I wasn't thinking about 'Bloodbath & Beyond' when we went to see

Nosferatu

since it's my favorite of their songs and is based on my favorite novel."

His grin turned rather flirtatious. "Fitting, since there's no bite as good as mine."

"Is my neck up next, Jamie?" she asked, raising an eyebrow playfully.

"Only if you want to come with me and taste immortality," he replied, lowering his voice to a mock sensual whisper. He decided he was infinitely better at flirting with song lyrics than he was when he had to come up with lines on his own.

Mary bit her lip enticingly before bursting into laughter. "I feel like this conversation needs the action subtitle 'flirts in metal.' It's working for me, though. We must be insufferable to people who don't like music and horror."

He couldn't help the grin that spread across his lips. He loved making her laugh. "I stopped trying to foist my tastes onto my teammates a long time ago. It's nice to have someone who shares them."

Her answering smile was full of affection, and he felt his heartrate increase. Every conversation he had with her made him more and more convinced that she was absolutely perfect for him, and he would have been lying if he claimed he wasn't the tiniest bit frightened by that. Acknowledging how much Mary was coming to mean to him would require opening himself up to vulnerability and the possibility of getting hurt, which had never been his strong suit. He was, at least, self-aware enough to understand what he was feeling and why.

Shaking the introspection from his mind, he flopped back down onto his bed. "So, this is the final stop on the room tour: my bed. This is where all the magic happens, and by 'magic' I mean sleeping."

"Maybe in the future we can make other kinds of magic happen there," Mary teased him, her eyes full of mischief that was seasoned liberally with desire. "Assuming your parents allow a Habs fan to enter their home, of course."

He chuckled warmly. "I told them about you today. Got a ton of

Romeo and Juliet

jokes in response."

"Same here," she told him. "Lady Capulet in particular laughed at me for a solid minute when I told her my boyfriend played for Boston. How are the Montagues reacting?"

"They

claim

they're just happy that I'm happy. And I am. Happy, I mean."

"I'm happy, too," she replied with the sweetest smile he'd ever seen. "I told my parents I wasn't about to make you deny your father and refuse your name, so to speak, since I like you the way you are."

Jamie's heart began to hammer uncontrollably against his ribcage. Somehow, hearing Mary affirm that she liked him for who he was in that most Mary-ish of ways - by quoting literature - had pushed the feelings growing inside him past the point where he could deny them.

He was falling in love with her.

Her concerned voice interrupted his realization. "Are you getting sick? You sound kind of sniffly."

He opened his mouth to respond, but a startlingly loud sneeze thundered forth instead.

"Bless you. I'll take that as a yes," she chuckled before sympathy took over her features. "I wish I could be there to take care of you. Tell you what - I get back to Boston on Saturday afternoon, and I can come by and make you some of my signature carrot ginger soup. I'm not gonna claim that it has magical curative powers or anything like that, but it's good comfort food."

Warmth filled his soul at her offer. "I'd like that."

She smiled. "I should let you get some rest. It's getting late and I'll end up talking to you all night if I'm not careful."

"Who says that's a bad thing?"

"Probably your team's doctor."

"True," he conceded. His brain was working overtime to prevent him from just blurting out that he loved her. He had no idea how she'd react, and he didn't want to say something that important over the phone for the first time. Instead, he settled for far less exciting parting words:

"Goodnight, Mary. I'll see you soon."

"Goodnight, Jamie," she replied. "Feel better."

***

"Are you sure you don't mind me tagging along?"

Jamie chuckled, squeezing Mary's hand as they approached a nondescript downtown Boston restaurant. "I'm pretty sure you'd literally kill me if I went to a dinner with Habs players and didn't bring you."

She took a moment to consider. "Nah. I'm not too keen on going to jail for homicide. And I like having you around too much."

"That's good, since I like

being

around," he quipped, though he knew that was a massive understatement. He more than liked being around Mary; he loved it. In the days between his realization at Thanksgiving and the Canadiens coming to town, he'd fully accepted that he was in love and had been trying to find the right time to tell her. They'd been together for a little more than a month, and he knew that might feel soon to her and didn't want to frighten her away by coming on too strong.

Niko and Kai were waiting just inside the restaurant door.

"Hey, guys," Mary greeted them cheerfully.

Kai smiled at her. "Glad you could join us for this little tradition we have, Mary."

"How exactly did it start?" she asked. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but I didn't exactly think it was standard practice in the league for players to have dinner with their archrivals the night before a game."

"Oh, it's definitely not," Jamie confirmed. "It was just a unique combination of circumstances that led us to start doing it with a few of the Habs a couple of years ago. Yammer and Niko played with Greg King in juniors back in the day, and Evan LaFleur played with me at BU, so it's nice to catch up with them. Sometimes they'll bring other guys along, too."

"It's a nice way of keeping the peace after that disaster of a line brawl two years ago," Niko added, his tone suggesting that the memory was actually a fond one for him despite his description of it. "Kind of like the 1914 Christmas Truce in World War I."

"I remember that brawl," Mary chuckled. "There was even a goalie fight. What started it all, anyway?"

"Declan Jensen being a douche," Jamie scoffed. Declan was the Habs' star right winger and had played for Boston College while Jamie was at BU. Jamie had always thought he was a cocky little shit, and playing in the NHL didn't seem to have broken him of that particular personality trait.

"Speak of the devil..." Kai murmured as a group of three men pulled open the restaurant door.

Jamie bit his tongue to keep from groaning as Greg and Evan approached with Declan in tow. He greeted his former college teammate with a hug, warmly shook Greg's hand, and finally pasted a smile on his face to shake Declan's.

Greg beamed as he hugged both Kai and Niko in turn. "It's so good to see you guys! I'm glad we've been able to keep this dinner tradition going."

"I hope you don't mind that we brought Dec along," Evan added. "He's rooming with me and I thought he'd enjoy the company."

"The more the merrier!" Niko assured him. "It's never a bad time to further the cause of inter-rivalry goodwill."

Declan nodded. "I appreciate that, man."

Noticing Mary's presence, Greg smiled broadly and extended his hand to her. "Hi, I'm Greg."

"Mary," she replied, shaking it. "Jamie's girlfriend."

Niko grinned. "Mary's actually a Habs fan," he informed the visitors.

Declan burst into incredulous laughter at that. "And you're dating

Jamie McIver

?"

Evan scowled at him. "C'mon, man, Mack's a standup guy."

"I'm sorry," Declan continued laughing. "I didn't mean any offense by that. You've just gotta admit it's pretty funny."

Before Jamie could formulate a sufficiently biting retort, most likely about Declan's cock size being the only real laughing matter, the restaurant's hostess beckoned for the group to follow her and led them to a large table. Much to Jamie's chagrin, Declan took a seat directly across from Mary. He could tell that she was doing her best to disguise the slightly star-struck look in her eyes, probably for his benefit, but it still bothered him.