Then an hour.
At half past eleven, my phone finally rang with an incoming video call. When I answered, Sebastian’s tired, handsome face filled the screen. His tie was loose, and his hair stood up in every direction like he’d been running his hands through it all day. There were dark smudges under his eyes.
“Hey,” he said, his voice scratchy. “I’m sorry. I know I said thirty minutes.”
“It’s fine,” I said, scooting down and rolling onto my side. “Another crazy day?”
“You have no idea.” He scrubbed a hand over his face and groaned. “We’ve been going around in circles trying to figure out how to counter this misinformation campaign Merrick’s people are running without giving it more oxygen.” He shook his head. “But I don’t want to talk about me. How was your day? You said you had news?”
The frustration I’d been holding onto all evening loosened slightly.
“Hendricks called me into his office to tell me he’s moving me up to the second pairing with Kyle Monroe for our upcoming games. Wants to see if we have chemistry together.”
“Chemistry, huh?” Sebastian’s eyebrow arched. “Should I be worried about this Monroe guy?”
I chuckled. “Notourkind of chemistry, asshole.”
“Mmm,” he hummed, his eyes roving over my face. “No one has our kind of chemistry.”
“Bet,” I agreed, feeling warmth spread through me.
Sebastian leaned back, tugging at his tie before pulling it off completely. “Tell me everything your coach said.”
I found myself grinning as I recounted the conversation—Hendricks’s comments about my conditioning, the tactical reasoning behind pairing me with Monroe, the experimental nature of it all.
“Taylor, that’s huge.” A wide smile broke out across his face, genuine and bright. “I’m so proud of you.”
“Yeah, well, it’s not a done deal yet. We’ll try it out in practice tomorrow, then I’ll get my first real test on Saturday against Cleveland.”
I wanted to ask if he’d be there. I didn’t even know if his schedule would allow it, but the thought of him in the standscheering me on filled me with so much excitement it should be illegal.
Sebastian had gone to some of my games back in college before I'd been injured, but he’d never seen me play professionally.
Had never been there when he was really mine. Could I convince him to wear my jersey? Historically, I wasn't one of those players who got off on that, but I found I didn't hate the idea.
“Do you think you can come?” I loathed how needy I sounded, but fuck, Ireallywanted him there.
His expression softened. “What time?”
“Puck drops at four. I can leave tickets at will-call.”
“I’ll be there.”
“Thank you.”
We smiled at each other for a long moment until a loud bark of laughter in the background broke the spell. Sebastian’s eyes shifted to the right before coming back to me.
“Wait. Are you still at the office?”
He blew out a breath, his eyes dropping closed briefly. “Yeah. I’ll probably sleep here again tonight.”
“Again?”
Jesus. No wonder he looked so wrecked.
“Yeah. It’s easier than going back and forth when we’re working until two or three in the morning,” he said matter-of-factly, like this was a completely reasonable thing to do.
I wanted to point out that this wasn’t sustainable. That he needed to take care of himself. But even with his very obvious exhaustion, he loved the work. Who was I to tell him to pull back?
