Probably because your type is his younger brother who doesn’t want anything to do with you.
Ugh.
I don’t understand why Seth and he don’t get along.
“Yeah,” I say, eyes drifting back to the ice, where Seth is standing in the net, a wall of muscle and fury as he easily blocks another shot before shouting at his defense. “He’s doing amazing.”
I probably have actual hearts in my eyes when I look at him. Okay, not probably. Definitely.
And it’s not just because I’ve already seen him naked and know exactly what kind of body is hidden underneath all that hockey gear. Or the way he sounds when he’s coming. Or the dirty rasp of his voice when he talks me through it. It’s because now I’ve seen another side of him too. The dad side. Protective without being overbearing. Patient in a way that surprises me. Fun. The kind of father who listens when Sawyer talks, who pays attention to the little things, who somehow manages to make her feel safe and important at the same time. And the way she talks about him... God. Any woman with functioning ovaries would be affected by a daughter who adores her dad.
I’m trying very hard not to be one of them. I’m trying not to romanticize a man who very clearly does not want me back. Trying not to turn every tiny moment into something bigger than it is just because he looks at his daughter with soft eyes and carries the weight of the world around on those broad shoulders.
Because this isn’t romantic.The way he pinned me up against the dryer in his laundry room was totally romantic.It’s complicated.Just like how he held me in the elevator of his hotel.And totally messy and probably doomed before it’s even started.
Unfortunately, my heart does not seem interested in acknowledging any of those facts.
“Have you watched him play any over the years?” I ask.
He shakes his head. “Our game schedules always overlapped. Hard to watch someone play when you’re playing yourself. Wish I got to see Boone play more too, but eh,” he shrugs easily. “That’s life, ya know?”
I do know. A professional hockey player’s season generally lasts for anywhere from eight to nine months with over eighty games packed into that time plus practices. There isn’t much down time to keep up with anything else when you’re in season.
I squeeze his arm affectionately. “Well, I’m sure Seth’s happy to have you here watching tonight.”
He snorts. “I doubt that. But I’m glad I’m here. I’m glad I got to meet you, too.”
I give him a smile. The first period flew by, and we’re already deep into the second. I’ve lost track of how many saves Seth’s made now. Only one puck’s slipped past him so far, and the Mayhem is up by five. The crowd’s electric, feeding off the energy in the stadium, and it’s been a hell of a season opener at home.
But then one of the opposing team’s forwards takes off down the ice, clean breakaway with the puck, and my heart jumps into my throat.
“Get him! Stop him!” I shout, my voice louder over our group of staff. We’re all shouting now, watching in horror as the opponent’s forward dodges our defense and makes a beeline straight to Seth. My whole body’s tense, leaning forward like I can somehow will Penn to intercept it before it reaches him. I clutch my chest, holding my breath as Penn dives for a rough slide.
Come on, come on… don’t let it get to him.
The forward gets the shot off first. It rockets toward Seth, a bullet aimed right at him, and I swear the world slows down to this moment. But at the last second, Seth’s reflexes kick in. He dodges it—just barely—and the puck ricochets off his pad into the boards with a loud crack.
My chest heaves as I finally release my breath.
“Holy shit,” I whisper, feeling the adrenaline flood my veins. “What a rush.”
Levi chuckles from beside me and that’s when I realize he wasn’t watching the play. He was watching me.
“You’re on the staff for the Mayhem now, first time working in hockey?” he asks carefully.
I nod. “Yeah. I’ve done a little of everything—spent most of my time during school in baseball, but I had a heavy internship in football and soccer too.”
“Those sports are nothing like hockey. I’m convinced there’s no other entertainment that can give you this kind of rush.”
“I’m starting to see that now.”
Hockey feels different. Interning for the Mayhem was one thing, but actually being on staff is something else entirely. Standing at ice level during games, working directly with the players, handling real injuries and complicated cases insteadof hypothetical ones from a textbook. Everything moves faster here. The pressure is higher. The stakes feel real in a way none of my previous clinical rotations ever did.
And if I’m being honest, Seth is part of the reason it feels so different too.
Watching him on the ice changes something about the sport for me. The intensity. The control. The way the entire arena seems to shift around him when he’s locked into a game. Somewhere along the way, hockey stopped feeling like just another assignment and started getting under my skin.
This job with the Mayhem was always supposed to be temporary. I made that clear to my dad when I accepted it. I needed the experience desperately because fresh DPT graduates aren’t exactly in high demand, even with the internships and sports clinics I busted my ass through during school. Working with a professional team like this was supposed to be the thing that opened doors for me later. Something impressive on my résumé before I eventually moved on to bigger opportunities. I keep telling myself that but I’m not sure how much I believe it anymore.
