Chapter 4 – Seth
Ten Months Later… August
***
"Little Tremblay!" Coach Steele's voice booms across the ice, cutting through the steady hum of my blades slicing into fresh rink lines.
There's something about being the first one to skate on a recently cleared rink.
The way the sharp blades cut through the blank canvas of solid water like an artist is poetic.
I pause mid-stretch, feeling the tug in my left hamstring from taking too much time off and the bad hamstring pull I had last winter when I was with the San Diego Suns. I skate over to the boards where the kind, older man waits for me with a big grin on his face.
“Coach.” I give him a nod.
My older brother Boone has always said Coach Steele was more than just a coach to him when he played for the Mayhem.
He was the kind of guy who stepped up when others wouldn't after his charges, like a father figure during his decade-long tenure.
That sounds awfully nice right now considering our father passed away when we were young and I feel like lately I'm fumbling through life without a compass. I could use some fatherly guidance.
My new coach pulls me in for a quick, rough-edged hug over the barrier, his grin wide enough to catch the glare of the overhead stadium lights. Every tooth on display, like he's genuinely happy to see me.
"You look good out there. Nice and strong," he says, giving my bicep an affectionate squeeze like he's testing the merchandise. I’m the club's latest purchase.
"Thanks, Coach. I know practice doesn't officially start until next week, but I figured I'd come down, check out the place, see what I'm in for with my new team."
"I like it. Shows commitment." His eyes crinkle at the corners.
"I was disappointed when your brother told me he'd only give me one more season with the Mayhem, but hell, I can't think of a better way to mark the end of an era than with another Tremblay stepping in.
Good for the team, good for the fans, good for you.
I'm glad it worked out. Now we just gotta see if we can get Levi down here." He winks. I know there’s no way in hell my oldest brother Levi will leave the Boston Tea for the Mayhem. He’s been with them for over a decade now.
I loved playing for the Suns. I grew up with them.
But this trade made sense. Not just for me, for Sawyer too.
My twelve-year-old daughter who I'm raising alone now.
At least playing here she has family nearby: Boone and his wife Rosie who both live in Brookhaven, a small town just a train ride away from the stadium, plus their whole extended crew that lives around the lake.
Two hours from Manhattan isn't so bad, and I just closed on a house there where she can grow up with something resembling a normal childhood, despite my sports celebrity status.
It feels solid, even if it doesn't all feel like home quite yet.
"So, how's the settling in going?" he asks.
"It's coming along." I shrug, feeling the familiar weight of uncertainty creep in. I didn't used to be this much of an overthinker, but lately I'm doubting every move I make. "Today was Sawyer's first day at her new middle school, so I'm sure I'll hear all about it when I get back home."
Coach leans in a little, his expression softening. "And how's she holding up with all these changes?"
I exhale through my nose, the kind of breath that carries more than just air.
"I think she's doing okay. She liked our trip into the city last weekend as much as a twelve-year-old can.
The real test will be when winter hits, when the lake behind our house freezes over and the novelty of living close to NYC wears off. "
He nods. "And you? How are you doing with all these adjustments?"
That question lands heavier than I expect. I glance out at the ice, then back at him. "Overwhelmed, honestly. Feels like my to-do list never ends. I still need to find Sawyer a new therapist and a nanny in Brookhaven.”
“Ain’t she a little old for a nanny?”
I tug at the back of my neck. “With the team’s travel schedule and her adjusting to a new city, I’d feel better having someone around when I’m gone.”
“Makes sense.”
“For now, one of the teachers at the elementary school next door to her middle school and a neighbor of mine named Alessia is watching her while I’m away, but I know that's not sustainable.
Once the season kicks in and travel ramps up, I can't expect a teacher to juggle her own life and Sawyer's routine.
I need someone consistent. Someone who can actually be there.
" I pause, dragging a hand through my dark blond hair.
"Frankly, I'm still trying to process the past few years. "
That’s putting things mildly. It’s also the most honest I’ve been with anyone in months. I don’t usually share how I’m really feeling because I know it brings people down, but Coach feels like a safe sounding board and after the past few days of moving across the country, I need to get it out.
Coach Steele nods thoughtfully, his hand resting on the boards. "I'll keep an eye out. See if I hear of someone who might be a good fit for Sawyer."
"Thanks." It's nice to know someone's got my back, even off the ice.
He squeezes my shoulder, grip firm but reassuring.
"For what it's worth, your head’s in the right place.
I get it. Family comes first. You do what you have to do for your daughter.
We're a team, but we're also a family. We'll help you navigate this move however we can. Now,” he pauses and smiles wider. “Go shower and I’ll see you at the team dinner in an hour, yeah?”
“You got it, Coach.”
I watch him turn and head back down the tunnel toward the hallway of the stadium.
I should squeeze in a few more laps, get my legs reacquainted with the rink after taking the past week off to pack up my life in California and move cross-country.
But the weight of it all presses down: it's the end of August, school has just started, and summer is slipping through my fingers like melted ice.
I need to get back in shape fast. Except there never seems to be enough time for skating or working out the way I used to.
Not when Sawyer and her transition to this new town is my sole priority.
So instead, I tug off my skates and head to the locker room to change before I meet up with the rest of my new team.
***
The locker room is mostly empty by the time I get off the ice, just the low hum of the ventilation system and the distant echo of voices somewhere deep in the facility. I'm unlacing my skates when Lochlan Davis drops onto the bench beside me, still in full gear, helmet tucked under one arm.
"At least it's done," I say, though there's not much emotion behind it.
He gives me a sympathetic look, brows knitting together like he actually feels bad for me. There's a part of me that wonders if it's that or he just wants me to stop talking. I know I sound miserable. It's so bad I annoy myself anytime the move or my divorce comes up.
Almost a year out and I don't think about Elena unless someone else brings her up.
And it's not that I miss her—I don't, not even a little.
It's that I can't seem to shake this spiral of self-loathing.
Like I shouldn't have married her in the first place.
Like I introduced another woman into Sawyer's life and then was so fatally flawed that she left, taking whatever stability I'd tried to build right along with her, and leaving my daughter without a mother.
Again. And yeah, Sawyer's birth mom didn't willingly leave when she died. But it still felt personal.
I shake my head. Elena and I should have never gotten married. I won’t make that mistake twice.
"Yeah, man. I get it," Lochlan says. "That's tough. Sounds like she didn’t really understand what she’d signed up for. The hockey world is a wild place."
I run a hand through my dark blond hair for what feels like the hundredth time today, shaking my head and trying to snap out of this perpetually grumpy state I've been stuck in.
Lochlan's a good guy but he definitely doesn't get it.
I've met his wife, Jill already. She's incredible, the kind of woman who makes the whole marriage thing look easy, like it's just something that works if you choose the right person.
There's no way he understands the bone-deep pain of watching your daughter lose her mother to cancer, then spending years trying to hold it together alone as a single dad, then finally taking a chance on someone new only to have her leave too but this time willingly because I just suck as a husband.
It's been a year and a half since the separation, almost a year since the divorce was finalized, and somehow, I'm still trying to figure out how to carry it all without letting Sawyer see the weight of it.
The good news, at least, is that she seems to be handling it better than me. I’m convinced she really never liked Elena, which only makes the guilt sit heavier in my chest.
"How have things been going with Sawyer?" Lochlan asks.
“Think I found her a good therapist here. She seems happy, but shit, I don’t know if she’s just putting on a brave face or what.
She’s good at that. I’m embarrassed to say I don’t think she even liked Elena.
” The words feel foreign in my mouth, like I’m saying them about someone else’s life.
But no, this is mine. This is my reality now.
My ex-wife Elena, the only woman who’s been in Sawyer’s life as a somewhat-motherly figure since her mother passed, divorced me and left my daughter like it was nothing after just eleven months of marriage.
And maybe it was to her. Maybe it was to me, too.
Lochlan exhales sharply. “That’s so fucked up.”
“Yeah.” I nod, crouching to yank the zipper closed on my bag. “It is.”