Coach Steele shakes his head. “Something’s up with the guy,” he mutters. “Not sure if he’s getting laid or if it’s ‘cause his daughter’s back in his life.”
And I know it’s the latter.
It’s always Brianna. She’s the spark. Makes people better without even trying. Makes them softer. Happier. More honest. It’s what she does. She gets under your skin and stays there, rewiring things without you realizing. And it’s written all over Caleb’s face just how much she’s changed him.
I try to bite back the smirk tugging at my mouth, but it wins. I shake my head, push to my feet, and follow the rest of the guys out onto the ice. And what ends up following that riveting pep talk and ass handing is the best second and third periods of my entire career.
Over ten saves. Not a single shot gets past me. My defense steps up like we’ve finally synced into the same rhythm. Offense? Unstoppable. Puck control. Precision passes. Smart plays.
It’s beautiful for us. It’s humiliating for the away team. If it were me, I’d be calling my agent and asking for a trade by Monday. But we’re alive out there and when I hear the whole stadium chanting my last name after another good save, I know it isn’t just me who’s seeing how well we’re playing together.
By the time I’m stepping off the ice, sweat cooling on my skin, adrenaline still running hot in my blood, all I can think about is her.Them.How it felt to have both my girls watching from the stands. How right it felt to have their eyes watching me.
After a shower and a quick media hit where I’m asked multiple questions about my transfer to theMayhemand whether I think my contract will be renewed at the end of the three years, I start scanning the hallway, looking for a flash of bright red hair. A familiar curvy shape, anything to tell me Bri’s coming to the team dinner too. But it’s Sawyer I notice first standing with Boone and Rosie near the front of the facility.
Rosie’s smiling, bouncing their little baby boy in her arms. She’s glowing, and I’m happy for my brother. He retired from the Mayhem a year ago and is now a stay-at-home dad. He’s living his dream life with his dream family.
“Hey Spirit,” I murmur as I crouch and pull Sawyer in for a hug.
She squeezes me tight. “Okay, so youcrushedit, dad.”
I grin, bumping her knuckles. “You think?”
“Totally. Hey, is it cool if I go home with Aunt Rosie and Uncle Boone tonight? They said I can sleep over with the new puppy.”
I glance at them, and they nod without hesitation.
“We’ll drop her off in the morning,” Boone says, hand resting gently on Rosie’s lower back with an easy grin. “Thought you might be busy celebrating tonight.” He shoots me a wink that I try to ignore. Thankfully, Sawyer doesn’t notice.
“But what about the dog? He’s still crate training.”
Boone shrugs. “He’ll be fine.”
“Alright, that’d be a huge help. Mandatory team dinner after this.”
Sawyer perks up. “Dad, Bri was so cool today. She showed me all her therapist tools, and she let me help wrap someone’s ankle with real tape. Her job is seriously the coolest.”
I laugh and ruffle her hair. “Maybe you’ll be a PT like her someday too.”
“You think?”
“If you want it. You can do anything.”
She beams, eyes wide with possibility. “Then me and Bri can work together.”
My heart squeezes. “Alright, love you, kiddo. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
She nods and dashes off with Rosie and Boone, already halfway into her next adventure, and I turn to go findmy other girl.
I wander through the halls of theMayhemfacility, checking empty rooms and the usual spots where Bri stores equipment and treats players. The therapy suite. Locker hallway. Upstairs viewing deck. No sign of her.?
Then I double back and make my way toward Caleb’s office—the one place I didn’t think to check first. The hallway up at the owner’s suite is quieter, just the low hum of overhead lights and the muffled buzz of post-game cleanup. The floor smells like it’sjust been cleaned and trophies and plaques from theMayhem’spast season wins adorn the walls. I can’t wait for my first season with the Mayhem to be memorialized here.
I glance up, and that's when I see her. Through the floor-to-ceiling glass, she's standing in the middle of her dad's office, her red hair a wild tangle around her shoulders as she talks animatedly with him. She's glowing.
It doesn't matter how many times I see her. Across a room. Walking toward me. Curled up beside me in bed. She still steals the air from my lungs the same way she did the first night I saw her in that dark bar.
I should probably look away. Instead, I find myself watching. And by the time I realize I can hear them through the office door hanging slightly ajar, it's already too late.
