33. Sebastian
Chapter thirty-three
Sebastian
I stare out the window of the team bus as we make our way from the airport to the hotel.
Normally, I love traveling, but right now, I wish I was at home with Sutton.
Now I understand how Holt felt last season when he and Becca were first together.
How the other guys must feel when they’re away from their wives or girlfriends.
I glance over at Hunter who is sitting across the aisle from me glued to his phone, a dreamy expression on his face. If I had to guess, Madison sent him new pictures or videos of Tate.
“Look at this.” Wes shoves his phone at me from the seat behind me.
“I don’t want to see your gnarly toenail again.” I try to push the phone away. I made the mistake of looking at a photo on his phone the other day without asking what it was, and it turned out to be a blackened toenail. I bite back the gag at the thought. Why he took a photo of it, I don’t know.
“It’s not my toe. It’s Daisy. Hads just sent me this picture.”
I sigh but peek at the phone. Daisy is sitting with a chew toy balancing on her nose.
I chuckle. “Why?”
He shrugs, flipping to another photo, of Daisy in Hadley’s lap. He lets out a dreamy sigh, and I snort.
“What?”
I shake my head. “Nothing. Just you in love …”
He looks me up and down. “You’re one to talk.”
“And?”
“I knew it.” He points at me. “I knew it,” he says louder. I swear the whole bus is watching us.
“Knew what?” Hunter asks, peeling his eyes away from his phone.
“Sebastian and Sutton. Falling in love,” Wes sing-songs, and I want to melt into the seat.
For fuck’s sake. If only the guys who play against us could see him now. The tough-as-nails defenseman is nowhere to be found.
“It was only a matter of time,” Holt says.
“Who won the bet?” Elias asks.
I whirl around to face him. “Bet?”
His lips tip up into a grin. “After you all bet on Holt falling in love last season, I think it was inevitable we’d bet on your relationship.”
“I had three months,” Hunter says.
“You were in on this, cap?” I grumble.
He shrugs. “What can I say? I love a good love story.”
I groan, putting my hands over my face and shaking my head, but inside, I’m laughing along with them. Of course they bet on this. Can’t say I blame them. I’d have gotten in on it if I could.
“You know we’re happy for you,” Wes says, clapping me on the back.
“Thanks.”
“Then there was one …” Wes sings as all of us turn toward Elias.
“Nope.” He shakes his head. “I’m going to be an old cat man.”
“Old cat man? Dude, what the hell?” Holt asks.
Elias scoffs. “If women can say they’re going to be old cat ladies, why can’t I be an old cat man?”
“Do you even like cats?” Hunter asks.
“I like Peaches,” Elias says.
“Everyone loves Peaches,” Holt says.
Very true. Becca’s cat is lovable.
“Are you serious?” Wes asks, leaning closer to Elias. “There’s no one you’d want to end up with?”
“Nope,” Elias says, a little too quickly.
Wes must catch it too because the corner of his lips tip up into a smirk. “Not buying it. Try again.”
“It’s the truth,” Elias says, crossing his arms.
Wes opens his mouth, to say something in protest I’m sure, but Hunter jumps in. “Alright. Let’s leave it alone. If Eli wants to be in denial, that’s fine.
“I’m not in denial. I told you, old cat man.” He jabs himself in the chest with his finger.
I scoff. Right. Sure, E. You keep telling yourself that.
Maybe one day, you’ll believe it.
Maybe.
The conversation shifts, and eventually the bus pulls up to the hotel.
It’s only been a few hours, and I already miss Sutton, a lot.
I scrub a hand down my face. I can’t imagine how hard this is going to be once she has the baby and I have to travel for games.
Maybe I don’t want to sign another contract.
Maybe I should retire. Be a stay-at-home father.
That way I won’t miss out on a single thing.
I sneak a peek over at my teammates who have kids—how do they do it? How do they miss out on parts of their kids’ lives? I know hockey won’t last forever, and I should enjoy it. But at what cost?
As I’m stepping out of the shower a few hours later, my phone rings. I snag it, answering it when I see it’s the mechanic shop that’s working on Sutton’s car.
“Hello.”
“Hi, Mr. Henderson. This is Jenny over at Ace’s.”
“Hi, Jenny. Tell me you have good news?”
“Unfortunately not. The alternator and battery both need replacing.”
“Okay.” That’s not too bad.
“We also found oil leaking from the manifold, and the transmission is starting to slip. We recommend fixing both.”
At this point, I might as well buy Sutton a new car. I’m sure the cost of fixing hers is going to be astronomical.
“How much is all of this going to cost?”
“Around six thousand dollars.”
I cringe. I have the money. It’s no problem to fix it, but at the end of the day, what else is going to break next month or the month after?
I pace around the hotel room. It kind of makes more sense to buy her a new car.
“Let me talk it over with my wife and call you back.” I check the time. “Are you open tomorrow? I might not be able to call you back today.”
“Sure thing, Mr. Henderson, we’re open until two tomorrow. I’m hitting send on an email with the quote and all the pictures so you have that.”
“Sounds good. Thank you.”
I hang up the phone and finish getting dressed.
Sitting on the bed, I open my email and read through the quote to make sure I have all the information to give to Sutton.
Why do I have this feeling she’s not going to like the idea of me buying her a new car?
I want to make sure she has something reliable to drive and that she and the baby are safe.
I’m sure she’ll understand. She’s a reasonable woman.
I hit the Call button next to her name.
“Hiya, love,” I greet her.
“Hi, Bash. Made it to Pittsburgh?”
“Yep, just got out of the shower. How are you? How are you feeling?”
“I’m good. Tired, as usual. I miss you.”
“I miss you too. The mechanic called …”
“Oh.” There’s rustling in the background, and I wonder what she’s doing.
I run a hand through my hair. “It’s not good, love. The reason it wouldn’t start was the battery and alternator are both shot.”
“That’s not too bad, right? It’s not a fifty dollar fix but nothing I can’t manage.”
“There’s more.”
“Oh?”
“You also have an oil leak, and your transmission is starting to slip. You could probably drive it as is for a little while longer without fixing the transmission, but one day in the very near future, it’ll break and leave you stranded.”
“How much is this all going to cost me?”
“A lot.”
“How much?” she asks, and I picture her sitting in her office playing with the ring she always wears on her thumb or twirling her favorite pen.
“Six thousand, give or take.”
“Shit.”
“Yeah. I don’t think it’s worth it at this point. Let’s go shopping for a new car on Friday when I’m back home. I’m sure we can find something you like.”
“Excuse me?” She snaps, and I cringe. This is not going well.