The rhythm between the three of them took me by surprise. Abby teasing, Cassy chiming in, and Mel holding her own as if she’d sat at this table a hundred times. Something in my chest loosened. It seemed I’d been waiting for this and didn’t know it until now.
After dessert of fruits and chocolate truffles, Cassy curled up with her coloring book, and Mel sat beside me on the couch, our thighs against each other. I passed her the remote, but neither of us cared what was on. I rested my arm on the couch behind her, and she naturally leaned in while we pretended to watch a movie. This felt good.
Abby peeked in from the kitchen and passed through to carry a sleeping Cassy to bed. Mel sat up, smoothing her dress. I stood and offered her a hand, she took it. We walked out to the back gazebo, the night air cooler now, crickets loud in the grass. My chest was tight, half from nerves, half from not wanting the night to end.
She looked up at me, porch light catching her dress which glowed against the dark. My heart pounded as I pulled her into my arms. No more words needed. Her smile said she felt it too.
I brushed a curl from her cheek, leaned in, and felt her breath hitch. Then I kissed her. Slow at first, then deeper when she leaned into me, arms circling my shoulders. When we pulled apart, breathless, I knew walking her to the car would be the hardest part of my night.
Tuesday arrived with the kind of energy that only follows a game like Saturday’s—gritty and earned. I’d let the guys rest Sunday, keep Monday light with optional lifts and treatment. Today, we were back to the grind. Dallas was in town tomorrow, and I wasn’t about to let the height from that win turn into complacency.
I walked to the arena early, coffee still hot. The tunnel was quiet, the hum of the facility slowly coming alive. My favorite part of the day—the calm before the sticks started clapping and the chirps filled the space.
“Morning, Sean,” Rich called from the trainers’ room.
“Morning. Logan cleared?”
“He’s cleared for full contact, but I still want eyes on those shoulder rotations.”
I checked my notes. “He’s skating second pairing tomorrow. Keep me posted.”
“You got it,” Rich said and walked away.
I headed to the locker room next, where the guys were getting ready. Some were tapping sticks, others zoned out with headphones, and Porter Macneal chewed his protein bar as if he hadn’t eaten in days.
“Coach, can we still sit Logan out? We were glad for some peace and quiet,” Sergei called out loud for the whole room.
Laughter burst out.
“Shut up,” Logan said, flashing his cocky grin. “Hello, Coach.”
“Glad you’re back. Don’t make me regret it,” I told him.
“Wouldn’t dream of it. It feels good.” He knocked his fist lightly on his shoulder.
“Good. Dallas doesn’t leave much room for excuses.”
“None here. I want Melanie to cheer for me like she did Saturday. She got my best fan trophy from that entire bar.”
My jaw clenched so fast I probably chipped a tooth. Mel. At a bar. My calm evaporated faster than spilled water on a hot rink. Logan’s grin was harmless enough, but the sting of his words wasn’t.
He knew. That meant they all knew, and the way the room hushed slightly, confirmed it. Great. My entire team was now privy to my head full of Mel this or Mel that. They might not know the details, but they knew enough to joke about bar cheers in a subtle warning.
Damn it. ‘Watching the game’ had always been my old man’s code for getting wasted, drowning crap he never dealt with. I’d steered clear of bars unless it was work-related. And now the woman I wanted—yeah, wanted—was watching hockey with other guys in one.
The thought of her there, laughing, animated, with anyone but me, was a hot, prickly knot in my gut. Rational? Probably not. Human? Absolutely.
I didn’t want to control her, but I sure as hell didn’t want her meeting other guys while I was halfway across the country. What was she doing? Asking me to play fake boyfriend, then acting as if we weren’t already past that?
From that moment on, I was all business. No jokes. No banter. Just the game. Partly because they all knew now and that made me feel exposed. Mostly because of the knot tightening in my gut. I kept my eyes on the ice, but my chest was a damn fire alarm on repeat.
The guys noticed my mood. Even Paxton didn’t bother asking if I was okay. The goalie was chronically tardy but had the biggest heart, always making sure everyone was sound. And Rich handed me the updated training notes and stepped back like he was approaching a bear out of hibernation. Logan kept his distance, smart kid. He’d landed his hit and knew it.
After practice, I sat alone in the office, gear still damp, heart still loud. I stared at my phone for a long minute. Then I texted Mel.
Me:Hey, let’s meet. 6 p.m. Across the street at that park by the ice cream truck.
The sun was low by the time I got there, stretching long shadows across the grass. That truck, the same one from the ice cream afternoon, was parked not far from the same bench, the hum of its generator blending with the distant laughter. I bought two ice cream cups and waited.
