Chapter 18 – Seth
I stay quiet and wait, watching her pretty profile in the dim glow from the dashboard. It casts soft shadows across her face, and I have to press my fists against my thighs to stop myself from reaching over and taking her hand and saying something like I could listen to you talk for hours.
I force myself to look out the window, because if I keep staring, I know I’ll start thinking about all the things I like about Bri.
And then I’ll end up saying something I know I shouldn’t.
Something like why can’t I stop thinking about that Halloween night?
Do you ever think about it too? When you’re around, you’re all I see.
When you’re gone, you’re all I can think about.
I’m a man who’s made a shit ton of bad decisions; would you like to be added to that list... again?
I give her the space to work through whatever it is she’s turning over in her mind. Finally, she speaks, “My dad,” her voice is softer now, “played professional basketball. He was genuinely great at it.”
I glance at her, watching the way her expression shifts—nostalgic, but with her brow pinched together like she’s trying to make sense of something she’s wrestled with for years.
“I heard he played in the league.”
She nods. “Yes. He and my mom crossed paths when he was playing for a B team in Milwaukee. She didn’t know who he was at first. She wasn’t a big sports fan. But they met, dated, and basically fell in love with each other immediately. And then she got pregnant with me on accident.”
My chest tightens. I already know where this is going. The NBA and NHL seasons are practically identical in length and demand. Which means having a baby right when you’re starting off in your career is almost impossible. Ask me how I know.
“Shortly after he found out she was pregnant he got drafted to a top NBA team. He was gone for her entire pregnancy,” she says, her voice dropping.
“Nine months and he was just… gone, and when he came back, and I was born, he told my mom he couldn’t commit to being a dad.
He didn’t want to be in and out of my life, so instead of trying to be there for some of it…
” She trails off, her jaw clenching. I already know what she’s going to say but it doesn’t make me any more pissed.
The man didn’t even try to be a father. He just gave up instead of giving her as much as he could.
"He left." She lets out a slow breath. "So, my only memories of him came from pictures and accidentally seeing him in commercials on TV."
Fuck. A sharp, ugly anger settles in my chest. The next time I see Caleb, it's going to take every ounce of self-control I have not to knock his fucking teeth down his throat.
The silence that follows feels different. I glance over and catch the way Bri's mouth presses into a thin line. Her green eyes stay fixed on the road ahead, her grip tightening on the steering wheel. Bri doesn’t get bothered by much, but I can tell her relationship with her father hurts her.
"I'm sorry." My voice comes out rough. "Sounds like he was a pretty shitty excuse of a guy and doesn’t deserve the title of being your father."
Her fingers tighten another fraction around the wheel. Then she nods.
“Don’t be sorry,” she whispers. “I never knew any different. I have no idea what having a dad even feels like.”
Fuck. He just left. Chose a sport over his only child. And even after all these years, I can still hear the hurt in Brianna’s voice when she talks about it. It’s the kind of wound that never fully heals and it pisses me off.
I know firsthand that becoming a parent while trying to build a professional sports career isn’t easy.
Sawyer wasn’t planned, and having a baby while I was just entering the league put a strain on every part of my life.
It took a toll on my relationship. It stretched my late wife and me in ways we probably never would have been stretched otherwise.
There were seasons when I spent more nights in hotel rooms than in my own bed.
Times when I missed milestones I would give anything to have back.
But I still showed up every chance I got.
During Sawyer’s first year of life, I flew her and her mom out to as many games as I could, even when it made absolutely no financial sense.
Even when I could barely afford it mentally or financially.
I made it work because she was my daughter. Because being present mattered and I knew that.
Brianna’s father could have done the same.
Maybe not perfectly. Maybe not every time.
But he could have tried to show up. He could have found a way to be part of her life even if it was in stolen moments, birthdays and the off season.
Being a professional athlete and a father is hard.
No one knows that better than I do. But it’s not impossible.
And it’s not like he was the first athlete in history to have a kid while chasing a career.
The more I think about it, the angrier I get. Because from where I’m standing, Brianna deserved better. She’s always deserved better.
I shift in my seat again, the dull ache in my leg flaring up as I try to get comfortable.
Nothing about this is comfortable. Not the seat, not the conversation, not the way my chest tightens every time I look at her and see that sadness in her gaze lingering just beneath the surface.
I want to erase it from her face. Kiss her lips until she’s not thinking about her shit dad.
“So, you mentioned you haven’t spoken to him since taking a job with the Mayhem?”
She looks at me slowly then back at the road. “You remembered that?”
“Of course.”
Her laugh is dry, almost bitter. “We haven’t talked since I took the job, but we did talk about a year ago.” She takes a deep breath. “When my mom died, he showed up at the funeral.”
“Really?”
She nods. “I only recognized him because I’d looked him up online. You know, like any kid would. I just… I wanted to see what his life was like. What I’d missed out on. What he chose over me.”
That guts me.
“I watched a few of his games and I hate to admit it, but he was really good. The only reason I never tried out for the basketball team as a kid was because it was his sport. It’s the reason I got into volleyball and then played in college.
Volleyball felt like the antithesis of basketball.
” Her laugh is hollow and bitter. “I knew he’d bought a hockey team after he retired, but I didn’t know anything more until the day of her funeral. ”
“What happened there?” I ask gently.
Her knuckles whiten on the wheel. “He asked if I needed anything,” she whispers, her voice thick with barely contained emotion. “And I wanted to scream.”
Fuck.
“It was the first time in my life I’d felt blinding rage, and I didn’t know how to handle it. Like yeah,” her voice cracks a little, “I needed a dad. For the last twenty-seven years of my life.”
Damn.
She sighs heavily, her breath shuddering out of her as she turns down the music, like she needs the silence to focus.
“What did you say to him?” I ask her gently.
“I told him I needed to finish school,” she murmurs.
“I only had one semester left of my clinical doctorate program and to be honest, I was struggling with being able to afford it and focus with my mom’s death.
And he…” She clears her throat, her eyes flicking to the rearview mirror before landing back on the road as she changes lanes.
“He offered to pay for the rest of it so I wouldn’t have to take out loans. ”
“Okay.” I nod slowly, waiting for the catch.
“But there was a caveat,” she says, her lips pressing into a thin line. “I had to intern with his hockey team and finish my program in New York.”
And there it is. That’s why she was in New York the night we met.
She uprooted her entire life because her father gave her an ultimatum.
Finish school in New York. Take the internship with the Mayhem.
Work for his organization. And knowing Bri, she probably convinced herself it meant something more than that.
She probably hoped this was his way of reaching out.
Of finally trying. Of building the relationship she’d spent years wishing she had.
Because that’s who Bri is. She sees the good in people even when they haven’t earned it.
She gives them the benefit of the doubt.
She believes in second chances and happy endings, and all the things most people stop believing in after life disappoints them enough times.
She packed up her life. Left home. Rearranged her degree program. Took a job with his team. And then he barely acknowledged her existence. He gave her hope, and somehow, that bastard managed to let her down all over again.
“I see.”
“When I graduated in May…” Her voice trails off again, quieter now, like she’s ashamed.
“I couldn’t find a permanent job. Sports PT is insanely competitive.
People are desperate for PTs for kids and the elderly, but athletics is a whole different world.
Even with all the rotations I’d done during school—baseball, football, soccer—I still couldn’t lock anything down by the time graduation hit and I desperately needed the money for housing and my mom’s bills. ”
My jaw clenches. Her mother’s medical debt. She’s mentioned that before. I wonder how much debt she’s accumulated. It must be a lot if she was willingly to work for the Mayhem and as a nanny for me. “So, he offered you a job to keep you close but won’t talk to you?”
She nods, her lips pressed tight. “Yes. I didn’t really have a choice, and I knew I needed to be grateful. Some new graduates don’t have a rich dad who will hand them a job even if he won’t talk to her.”
“He didn’t hand you the job, Bri. You earned it. From everything I’ve heard, you’re an incredible addition to the medical staff on the Mayhem.”
She nods but doesn’t say anything. “Do you really mean that?”
Fuck, does she not see how much I mean that?
“Without a doubt.”
“I thought he’d bridge the gap eventually.
The night of the team dinner at the hotel, Lochlan said he was looking for me but when I left the gym, I couldn’t find him which means he either chickened out or got me confused with someone else.
I don’t know.” She sighs. “I can honestly say he’s the only person I’ve ever felt real, deep anger toward. ”
She blows out a breath, her fingers flexing on the steering wheel like she’s trying to keep her emotions in check.
“Damn.”
She nods; her gaze fixed on the dark stretch of highway ahead. “It’s weird,” she finally says. “Like, I think he wants me to be close by, but he also doesn’t.”
I want to tell her that maybe he’s struggling with where to start.
Maybe he doesn’t know what to say or how to fix things after spending her entire life apart.
Maybe he’s afraid she won’t forgive him or want to be in his life, and he’s right.
She doesn’t owe him that. She owes him nothing.
Because fuck that. He could’ve shown up.
He could’ve tried. He didn’t. And that’s on him.
He deserves to not know how amazing Bri is.
The kind, romantic soul that she is. He doesn’t deserve to be in her presence at all, regardless of whether he’s reconsidered.
The song changes, and a familiar riff echoes through the speakers.
“Avril?” I ask, raising a brow.
Her lips quirk up into a mischievous grin as she cranks the volume. And then she belts out the lyrics like she’s on stage at a sold-out show, her voice loud and carefree, filling the car with her energy as she air-guitars a riff.
Gone is the sad girl from a few moments ago talking about her late mother and her absent father.
In its place is a girl who believes in love and laughter solve most wrongs.
I feel the tug at the corner of my mouth, a smile creeping in despite myself.
It’s like the smile’s been waiting and she’s the only one who can pull it out of me.
Because here she is, driving three and a half hours through the dead of night after working a full shift with my team.
Loving my daughter like she’s her own. Sharing openly with me about the hidden parts of her past. Hyped up on energy drinks and sugar, running on fumes, and yet…
she’s still smiling, belting out some emo lyrics to a sold-out crowd of one.
Anyone else would be bitching. Hell, I want to bitch about the ache in my legs, feet, and back and I’m not even the one driving.
But not Bri. Nope. Not a single complaint has come out of her lips. She’s finding the adventure in all of this and truly enjoying it.
I let her. I let her sing. I let her listen to her music. And she keeps going for a full hour—through Three Doors Down, The All-American Rejects, Green Day…and I just watch her, smiling like an idiot until I can feel my eyes starting to drift shut.
I’m somewhere between awake and asleep when I hear her whisper, her voice soft but full of warmth.
“Only a little longer to go, little Tremblay. I’m good if you want to take a nap.”
Little Tremblay. I snort, my eyes cracking open just in time to catch her adjusting those sexy-as-fuck glasses on her nose.
"You know," I murmur, voice already going rough with exhaustion, "I'm glad you weren't wearing those glasses the night we met."
She smirks. I can hear it without looking. "Why not? Do you hate them?"
I reach down and press the button on the side of the seat, reclining it just enough. Let my eyes fall shut.
"No." My voice drops. "That's the problem. I fucking love them on you."
I feel her smile without seeing it.
"If you'd had the glasses and that fiery red hair..." I trail off, too tired to filter myself the way I normally would. "I don't think I would've let you leave."
And for once, she’s quiet. There’s a heavy beat of silence that follows before I add, “I chased after you.”
The silence stretches.
“But you didn’t want to be caught.” I drift off completely this time, letting exhaustion finally drag me under while I’m serenaded by some emo ballad by Evanescence.
Something I wouldn’t believe I’d ever fall asleep to.
But that’s the power of being around Bri.
It makes me feel things I never thought I could feel.
It makes me admit things I didn’t think were possible.
Like how being around her makes me the happiest I’ve been in over a year. Like how badly I want to stay in this road trip bubble where it’s just us and the real world doesn’t exist.