Sebastian
Chapter five
“Hey, love.” I peek into Sutton’s office, relieved to see her sitting behind her desk.
“Hi,” she greets me, setting her pen down.
I shove my hands into the pockets of my jeans so I don’t reach for her and walk over to her desk.
“Got a minute?”
“Sure.” She tips her chin toward the visitor chair and I take a seat.
I take out the set of keys I had made for her after morning skate. “These are for you. Blue is the front door, green for the mailbox—box fifty-six zero eight, and purple is for the fitness center and the pool.”
Her gaze flashes between me and the keys lying on her desk. “You didn’t have to do that.”
I lean back in the chair, crossing my arms. I don’t miss the way she checks me out before meeting my eyes. Do I flex my biceps? Maybe a little.
“This way you can come and go as you please.” She sighs, picking up the keys and clutching them in her hand. “Any word from your landlord?”
She fiddles with the keys before telling me the unfortunate news that her landlord wasn’t able to find her a temporary place.
She grimaces. “I talked to Becca and Hadley at lunch, and they volunteered to help me pack over the weekend. I’m going to make a few phone calls to find a storage unit.
Hopefully I’ll be able to find a new apartment quickly.
I might take you up on your offer of me staying for a few weeks, if it’s still on the table. ”
“Stay as long as you want. There’s plenty of room.”
She stares down at her desk. “Just until I find somewhere else.”
Not the response I wanted, but I also understand her wanting her own space.
“Okay, but in the meantime, you can keep your stuff in my garage. One side is completely empty. There should be plenty of room, and if there isn’t, we’ll figure it out.”
She shakes her head, setting the keys down. “I don’t want to impose any more than I already am.”
“I’m not using the space, and you need a place to keep your stuff. This way, it’ll be right there if you need something.”
“If you’re sure it won’t be an imposition.”
“It won’t be. Let me hire movers to help you. They’ll even pack your things.”
She fiddles with her hair. “No. That’s too much. I can’t let you do that.”
I lean forward, resting my hands on her desk. “You need help. I have the means to help you. Let me do it.” Please.
“I’ve got help. I told you Becca and Hadley are going to—”
“You all have better things to do than spend your weekend packing. Relax. Put your feet up.”
She’s silent for a few beats. “Fine. I’ll pack my clothes and the breakable things.”
I’d rather she just let the movers do it all, but I can compromise.
“As long as you promise not to move the furniture. Any of you. Let the movers take care of it.”
“I’m not fragile, you know.”
I lean forward in my chair, pinning her with a look. “I know that. Even if you weren’t pregnant, I’d say the same thing. I don’t want you to get hurt.”
“Thank you. Why don’t you have the movers bring my bedroom furniture up to your condo? That way you don’t have to buy anything. Although it might be more trouble because they’ll have to come back and move it out in a few weeks.”
I run a hand through my hair. If I have it my way, she won’t be moving out in a few weeks. “Works for me, if it’s what you want.”
“I do.” Her computer dings, and she peers at it.
“I have a meeting to get to in a few minutes.” She opens one of her desk drawers, dropping the keys I gave her into it.
I get to my feet. “I’m gonna head home. Are you planning to stay for the game?”
She gathers up the papers on her desk. “I wasn’t.”
My heart sinks. I wish she was. But I’m sure she’s tired at the end of the workday.
Her computer dings again. “I’m sorry, I really do have to go.”
I knock my fist on her desk. “I’ll see you after the game or in the morning. Eat whatever you want in the house. My food is your food.”
“Thank you.”
With a wave I leave her office.
“You alright there?” Hunter, our team’s captain and one of my best friends, asks, and I blink, realizing I’ve been staring at the ground for who knows how long, half dressed.
“Fine. Fine,” I say, tugging on my sweater and grabbing one of my skates.
“You wouldn’t happen to be lost in thought about your new roomie, would you?” Wes asks, leaning toward me, a shit-eating grin on his face.
“New roomie?” Hunter looks between the two of us and then around the locker room, probably trying to figure out who could have moved in with me.
Before I can deflect, Holt pipes up. “You didn’t hear?” I cut a glare his way, but he just bounces his eyebrows at me. “Sutton moved in with him.”
“She did what now?” Hunter asks, scratching his head.
“It’s not what it sounds like.” Although I wish it were. “She needed a place to crash for a few weeks. The condo above hers flooded into her bathroom. I offered her my spare room. End of story.” I go back to tying my skate.
“Our boy here is finally having his moment,” Wes stage whispers. “Maybe we need to figure out a way for it to be more than temporary.”
“Don’t,” I hiss, glaring at him.
“Something else going on?” Hunter asks.
“Nothing, cap. She made it clear it was only until she finds her own place. I’m not going to pressure her into staying longer.” Hunter watches me for a few seconds before nodding. Although I really do want her to stay for longer, forever if possible.
“You heard the man. Stay out of it.” He points at both Wes and Holt.
“What are we staying out of?” Elias, Hunter’s half brother, asks, taking a seat on the other side of him.
“Sebastian and Sutton have found themselves in a roommates situation, and I was saying maybe it’ll turn into a roommates-to-lovers situation,” Wes says.
I roll my eyes but don’t engage. It’ll only egg him on if I do.
“Kind of like you and Hadley,” Elias quips.
“We were only roommates because of the fake engagement,” Wes points out. “Which did have its advantages.” He winks. “If you know what I mean …”
“Can we not?” Holt groans. “That’s my sister you’re talking about.” Holt shoots Wes a look before putting his headphones on so he can do whatever pre-game Zen goalie ritual he usually does.
“I agree with Holt. Can we drop it?” I ask before grabbing my phone and noticing I have a text from Sutton.
Sutton: Have a good game. Don’t get into any fights.
Me: Worried about me?
Sutton: More worried about the other guy, but also, we don’t need you taking a five-minute penalty. Or out of the game.
Me: I’ll try.
I’m grinning as I shut my phone off and shove it back into my stall. I can’t help it. Sutton thinks I’d win in a fight. She’s worried about what I might do to the other guy. Definitely the ego boost I didn’t know I needed.
I don’t have long to think about it as it’s time for us to head out onto the ice for warm-ups.
I tune everything out as I skate a few laps around our half of the ice. I stop to stretch out my legs where a few of the other defensemen are gathered.
As I wait for my turn to shoot a few pucks at the net, my gaze wanders around the arena, taking in all the sights and sounds.
I love playing here and am so thankful I got traded at the beginning of last season from Buffalo.
This city and team have been nothing but welcoming.
The arena is always electric. Orlando is such a great place to play.
I hope I have many more years here. I’d love nothing more than for this to be the city where I finish my career.
I catch Wes’s eye across the ice as we skate backward, covering the opposing team’s forwards coming at us with the puck.
The guy with the puck tries to make a pass across the ice to his teammate, but I manage to block it and force him into the corner.
Hunter and Elias fly into the zone, fighting to gain possession of the puck.
We’re five minutes into the third period, and we’re up by one goal. Our two goals and their one came in the first period. I have this feeling that if they get a goal, we’ll be heading into overtime, and something tells me they believe this too, based on how aggressively they’ve been playing.
Eventually, Hunter breaks free with the puck. As he’s about to cross the blue line into their zone, one of their defenders comes plowing into him, knocking him to the ice. It wasn’t a dirty hit per se, but it was definitely a lot harder than it needed to be, and Hunter is slow to get up.
“Shit,” I mutter as I change direction to chase the forward who now has the puck back in our zone, but not before I clock the guy’s number—sixty—as he hops over the boards.
Guess my promise to Sutton not to get into a fight is going out the window.
There’s no way I can let a guy get away with a dirty hit, especially on our captain.
“You or me?” Wes asks when we’re back on the bench.
“Me,” I grunt.
I think he’s going to protest, but then he tips his chin up in agreement.
It takes most of the remaining period before I’m on the ice with the asshole, as I’ve deemed him, and once the puck is dropped in their zone, I skate toward him.
“Fucker, why don’t you pick on someone your own size,” I yell, seeing red as I remember how slowly Hunter got off the ice.
He grunts. “You’re ’bout my size, wanna go?”
“Let’s do this, asshole.”
Gloves are dropped, and he lunges toward me.
I’m quicker and dart out of reach, throwing a fist toward him.
He barely gets out of the way, but it’s enough of a distraction that I’m able to grab his sweater and yank him closer.
We throw a few punches at each other before one of the linesmen skates over and separates us.
We each get five minutes for fighting, and I get an extra two for instigating.
Since there’s not a whole lot of time left in the game, I head down the tunnel to the locker room.
“Fuck,” I yell, dropping my helmet onto the bench.
I shouldn’t be surprised that I ended up with seven minutes of penalties. I did pick the fight. But the asshole had it coming. No one touches one of my guys and gets away with it. Most especially not my captain. Almost as bad as touching my goalie. Almost.