Then Mel stepped off the curb, her hair loose and flirting with the breeze, for a moment I forgot what I had rehearsed. Her stride was slow, deliberate, hips swaying with that quiet confidence.
She was a heartbreaker, and that was the problem.
I’d always been the one in control on the ice and off it. Lipsticks and ponytails never got to me like this before. Until her. She’d flipped my script, and now she was the one calling the plays.
Her steps slowed when she saw me. I didn’t look away. Couldn’t. Wouldn’t. After the thoughts running in my head all day, I was pretty sure my life depended on this meeting.
She walked up, close enough to touch, but she didn’t. She sat beside me.
“Hi,” she said softly.
“Hey.” I exhaled, letting the moment settle between us.
I stared out at the grass for a beat. “Didn’t realize I had competition. When you texted about the game, I had no idea you were at a bar with Logan.”
Her brows lifted slightly. “Oh—yes. That wasn’t planned. I needed to get out of the house, so Sam and I found a sports bar downtown to watch the game. Logan ran into us there. He asked to join, but it wasn’t a setup or anything.”
I nodded, but the knot in my chest didn’t loosen. It wasn’t only about Logan. Imagining her at that bar cracked something open—bars have never been neutral for me.
“It opened a door I didn’t expect.” My jaw tightened. “I’ve been in hundreds of bars—team nights, media events, celebrations. But my dad used to say he was going to watch games at the bar, and then he’d drink until he forgot we existed. He’s in rehab again. For the freaking umpteenth time. I’m not proud of paying for it; he didn’t earn that. But if he slips, it drags me and the whole family down.”
Her lips parted, surprised. Her hand found my knee, her thumb brushed against it warm and steady. The touch said more than words ever could.
So much for being chill. Nothing like emotional wreckage at a public park to kill the mood yet still hoping to pass for a dazzling coach.
She closed her eyes and reopened them. “Sean… that’s a lot to carry. I didn’t know.” Her voice was careful. “The beautiful part is that—you can’t make yourself stop caring. You’re the one keeping it all from falling apart.”
“Hopefully it stays put and doesn’t fall apart in public the way it did before.”
She went still for a moment, absorbing that.
“Back then, my dad could still hold a conversation. He wanted to be part of who I was becoming. When a couple of sports blogs sniffed his drinking, my mentor convinced him to keep itunder wraps. He kept it at home, so nothing major came out that stuck.”
“It was a brilliant move from your mentor,” Mel said, appreciative.
“Yeah, it was. But I remember how it felt—waiting for the phone to ring with bad news, wondering if the bottom was about to drop out.”
Mel considered me. “Your life as a public figure is not a walk in the park.”
I nodded.
“And your mom?”
“She passed when I was fifteen.”
“I’m sorry. That must’ve been hard.”
I shrugged. “We made it through. I think that’s when my dad started slipping. The drinking didn’t spiral right away, but…that hole doesn’t stay empty unless you fill it with something.”
“And he chose the bad thing,” she said, gazing at me. “It makes sense now, why you thought I was in denial that night after the team celebration. You were not wrong. Trying to hold it together with the booze wasn’t my best.”
“Yeah, but it wasn’t fair. You’re not him, and this isn’t about the bar. You matter.” I held her gaze. “We said we’d fake-date, half-date, whatever. So let’s be clear… I’m only in for one version: I’m dating you.”
Her face stilled. Then slowly, a smile bloomed. She exhaled, her hand slipping into mine. I curled my fingers around hers, holding a silent dating commitment.
She leaned her head against my shoulder, that smile lingering. “And you get to stake your claim with a park bench and an ice cream truck as witnesses.”
My heart did a little jig. “So far, the best romantic act this year.”
