He grins over his shoulder. “Don’t worry. I will.”
“Don’t embarrass me at my game tomorrow!” I shout at him, finishing off the last bite of cake and already missing it. And Bri.
He chuckles. “Wouldn’t dream of it. Maybe Bri will let me hang with her. I think we’ll get along well.”
I fucking hate the way that sounds.
Chapter 15 – Seth
Game night.?
These are the moments I live for when all the work, hours, and sweat finally get to mean something on the ice. My brothers have always been the performers, the ones who love the spotlight, but I’ve never cared much for the attention that comes with being a public figure, or the loss of privacy.
Still, there’s something to be said about the roar of a crowd, seeing your name and number on their backs, knowing you’re bringing people joy.
Maybe it matters more to me now because for years cynicism’s been my default. Outside of hockey and Sawyer, happiness has been hard for me to find and keep. Off the ice, I get stuck in my head. In the mistakes and the way that I’ve let people down. But on the ice, none of that follows me. On the ice, I’m just Seth Tremblay, star goaltender. And here, I don’t let anyone down.
I glide to the crease, knees bending as I settle into my position. My skates bite into the ice. The sound is familiar and comforting. I track the puck as one of the guys on my team fires a shot from the blue line for his warmup. It’s an easy save and one that I hope isn’t his full potential, or we’re going to be in trouble on opening night. My glove snaps it up clean. If only they all came that easily during play time.
My reflexes feel sharper today. Eyes are locked in, and I know I’m ready for my Mayhem debut. I may have taken a little time off to move my family across the country, but I’ve been keeping up with my fitness, taking practices seriously, and I’m determined to show my new team my worth. As a goalie, it’s the ultimate showdown for me. Practice is one thing, but in a real-life situation when the puck’s coming at your face like a torpedo, it’s a test of pressure and whether I’ll fold.
I won’t.
I drop to my knees, sliding side to side to open my hips, testing my lateral movement and feeling the pull in hamstring that’s still healing. The muscle tugs slightly, but it’s nothing I can’t work through tonight. I shift back up to my stance, tracking the next puck that’s sent right towards me, staying low and ready. My blocker deflects the shot, sending the black disc to the corner.
First game with the new team. I'm ready. I have to be. But my mind isn't entirely on the ice. It never is, not completely, not since Sawyer's mom died and I became the only thing standing between her and the rest of the world. That weight doesn't leave when I lace up. It just gets quieter. Manageable. Most days.
Not today.
Today is her first volleyball game with her new school. Her new team. A whole new city she didn't ask to move to but did it with a smile anyway. And I'm not there. It makes me feel like garbage.
Focus, Seth.
But the doubts and guilt creep back in anyway. Is she nervous? Did she sleep well last night? Is she scared and pretending she isn't because she doesn't want to worry me? Am I screwing up her childhood by having a career that is constantly taking me away from her?
The questions circle. I wasn't there to take her to the airport this morning. A couple of the school moms took the girls to the airport and flew with them to Boston. I know she's fine. I know she has everything she needs. I checked her bag by the door last night. Gave her extra cash. Made sure she had her headphones and the snacks she likes. But I still should've been there. Should've walked her to the gate and told her I love her one more time. Should've looked her in the eye and reminded her she's a Tremblay and we don’t back down from the hard things.
Most of Sawyer's away games don't require a flight. But this school isn't most schools. It's next-level competitive, the kind of program that feeds talent straight into Division I because of how close it sits to New York City. I was hesitant to move her here. I won't pretend otherwise. But watching her dig into it, work for her spot, show up every single day without complaint proves she’s got my name on her back, and she carries it like she was born knowing what it means.
I'm proud of her. Even when I can't be there to tell her so.
Focus, Seth.
My throat tightens, and I force my attention back to the ice.
A forward winds up for a shot, and I crouch lower, tracking him. My heart pounds. Another shot. Sharp and fast. I drop into a butterfly, pads sealing off the bottom of the net as the puck ricochets off my leg and into the boards.
Dial the fuck in.
I can’t let my mind wander. Not now. Not with a new team watching my every move, waiting to see if I’m worth the contract they handed me. I’m sure Caleb King is somewhere in his box right now, looking down at all of us, drinking a glass of champagne thinking about the money we’ll make him and wondering if he made the right decision buying me from the Suns.
I could guarantee if he knew the dirty thoughts that I’ve been having about his daughter, he’d have me traded.
I take a deep breath, centering myself. He doesn’t know about Bri and me. There is no Bri and me.There will be no Bri and me.
Worry about Sawyer later. Worry about Bri later.
“Hey, Tremblay!”
