Chapter 6

The Pollard house was pretty much decluttered, so Wilson didn't have much of a reason to be stopping by as often as he had, other than bringing Jan her vanilla milkshake from Johnny C's Diner.

Nan was still mostly giving him the cold shoulder and that was frustrating, reminding him how much injury he had caused over the years which left him feeling guilty and depressed.

"I don't suppose there's anything I can say to you or do for you to make amends, is there?" Wilson asked, once again finding himself in the kitchen with Nan while Jan rested in the living room and Cory was up in his room.

"No," Nan said purposefully as she loaded the dishwasher, Wilson once again seated on one of the counter stools.

"We have a lot in common," he reminded her.

She laughed in response. "We have nothing in common."

"We both enjoyed some international success in our fields and we both had our careers end suddenly," Wilson told her. "And now we find ourselves in situations we may not have seen ourselves in a few years ago."

"Where did you see yourself?" Nan asked. "You said yourself that you were a borderline player."

"I was hoping to coach somewhere," Wilson revealed. "But no opportunities came my way, so here I am, back home, in the family supply business."

"I've had everything taken from me," Nan said bitterly. "And my mother's illness only makes it all the more traumatic and difficult."

"It's good that you're here," Wilson told her.

"It's not where I saw myself a few years ago," Nan admitted, finally starting the dishwasher and taking a seat on a stool on the other side of the counter from Wilson.

"What about doing some ice-skating coaching over at the Greenville rink?" Wilson suggested. "You'd be great."

"It's too painful," Nan said. "Both physically and emotionally."

"Playing in the men's over 30 league at least keeps me living the dream," Wilson reasoned.

"Or are you just fooling yourself?" Nan wondered. "Unable to let go?"

"Have you let go?" Wilson asked.

She let out a sigh. "Skating was supposed to take me away from all this. Hometown life. My parent's divorce. My father's drinking. I could have gone to college. I should have gone to college. Now I'm left with nothing but broken dreams, estranged from a man who's a drunk like my father."

"And a son who loves you and a mom who needs you," Wilson reminded her.

"You're much less bitter than I am," Nan noted.

"When I went neck first into the boards, I lay on the ice temporarily paralyzed," Wilson revealed. "I was thinking what if I turn out like Travis Roy, the Boston University hockey player who was paralyzed from the neck down in his first ever game. My life literally flashed before my eyes and I prayed to God that I'd be okay, and I am – I got my feeling back after a few minutes even with the neck injury – and I'm forever grateful for being spared from a true tragedy."

Nan didn't say anything as Wilson hopped off the stool.

"Maybe it could be better," Wilson said. "For both of us." He paused. "But it could be a whole lot worse too," he reminded her before heading for the living room to say goodnight to Jan.

The following Saturday, Wilson answered the doorbell, and he was surprised to see Nan standing on the breezeway, dressed in a pink nylon warm up jogging suit.

"Are you lost?" He asked.

"Very funny," she grumbled, looking at him gawking at her. "Are you going to invite me in?"

Wilson stepped back and motioned for Nan to enter.

"So, this is the former Jones place," she said, glancing around. "I'd never been inside before."

"I don't think anybody had," Wilson remarked, giving her a brief tour of the interior. "Shelia helped with some of the furnishings and decorating," he said.

"I should give her a call," Nan realized. "Anyway, Butch came down from Maine to give me a break," Nan informed him. "Cory's with my father, so I went and got my hair and nails done."

Wilson saw that her hair was fluffy and down on her shoulders. "Looks nice," he said.

"Now I have nowhere to go, nothing to do, nobody to see," she sighed. "I have no friends around here anymore."

"I'm your friend," Wilson offered.

Nan rolled her eyes and took a seat on the couch. "How far have I sunken that you're the only one I can hang out with?"

Wilson grinned as he took a seat in one of the armchairs. "Thanks for stopping by," he said with sincerity.

"I must really be bored," she said, shaking her head.

"You want to go to a movie?"

"No, I'm still recognized more than I want when I'm out in public," she said. "I have to have Fontaine's deliver door dash now just so I don't have to deal with skating fans."

"A walk?"

"My ankle hurts if I walk too far."

"A drive?"

"No, I've already seen it all."

"Well, I'm not sure what else is left," Wilson said. "Something on the Streaming?"

"I watch enough of that at home with my mother," Nan remarked.

"Oh," Wilson said. "I have Ice Castles on DVD."

"I thought you'd have Slapshot."

"That too," Wilson grinned. "But Ice Castles is about us."

"No it's not," Nan insisted.

"Lynn Holly Johnson is a beautiful talented ice skater and Robby Benson is a jealous hockey player," Wilson reminded her.

"I didn't go blind in an accident," Nan countered.

"But you were hurt and couldn't skate anymore," Wilson pointed out. "I would have stood at your side on the rose covered rink while you took in the applause."

Nan gave him a look of disbelief.

He stared at her for a long moment. "Why exactly are you here, Nan?"

"I really don't know," she confessed, looking and sounding confused, but she was staring into his eyes, and her lips were slightly spread apart. "I guess I'm lonely," she said after a pause. "I barely leave the house. Mom has no energy for extended conversation. Cory's a kid. I have no life. Caretaking is hard. The cleaning, the cooking, everything."

"But I'm your nemesis," Wilson remarked. "Why would you come here?"

Nan's eyes watered up, but she didn't say anything. Wilson moved from his chair to sit beside her on the couch, patting her on the leg.

"It's going to be okay," he told her. "You're doing the best you can under the circumstances. I know I'm not your favorite."

Suddenly, Nan reached her arms out and pulled on Wilson's neck to bring him close to her face. "Please shut up," she ordered, tilting her head and leaning into him until her lips were just inches from his.

A surprised Wilson saw the lonely, pained look in Nan's eyes and, without thinking about it, he pressed his lips against hers. Nan let out a nearly inaudible moan as they kissed, her soft moist lips wetting his.

Wilson was struck at how much of an amazing kisser Nan was, slow and passionate, desperate and needy, but then she suddenly pulled away.

"I can't believe we just did that," Nan said.

"Me either," Wilson said truthfully.

"Do you really care about me?" She asked.

"Yes."

"I don't know what to do," She nervously admitted. "I'm not sure why I'm here."

"Do you want to show me your tattoos?"

"I don't have any tattoos," she replied. "Do you want to show me your snake?"

"Only if you'll skate with me," Wilson replied.

Later, cuddled naked under the covers together – as unlikely and unbelievable as that felt for both of them – Nan looked into Wilson's eyes with fascinated admiration.

"You're such a compassionate, sensitive, giving lover," she said. "Thank you, it was just what I needed."

"It's just what I needed too," Wilson told her. "Do you forgive me?"

"I do," Nan replied.

"Does this mean I'm your favorite now?" Wilson asked hopefully.

"Don't tell Rosa," Nan told him, leaning in to kiss him.