Chapter 31 – Brianna #3
For a moment, I let myself drift—into the warm, savory smell of pasta and salad, into the way the tension has eased from my spine, into the soft clink of forks and the low hum of New York City noise beyond the windows.
I’m sitting across from my father. A man I might have the chance to develop a relationship with.
But that chance hinges on me staying. In this city. With the Mayhem.
“So, I know you’ve been training the guys and seeing their injuries up close more than I do,” he says, breaking the silence. “What do you think of the team that I’ve built?”
My focus snaps back to him, and I smile, because this is my favorite part.
When someone asks my professional opinion on something I’ve spent years studying and practicing.
This is what I love about sports. The banter.
The breakdowns. Talking through projections, injuries, performance and how we think certain players will do.
We spend the next thirty minutes in an easy rhythm, dissecting plays, strategizing for the next home game, discussing which players are peaking and which ones need more support.
I give him my take on what Coach Steele should focus on, and he listens—like actually listens to all my suggestions.
His eyes stay on mine, and there’s a quiet pride in his expression that tells me he’s impressed.
We didn’t get to bond over the usual things that daughters and father’s connect on.
Bike rides, bedtime stories, scraped knees, but we’re bonding now.
Over stats. Over a shared love for the game.
Over something that, whether he meant to or not, he passed on to me.
This is one of those things I got from my dad, I think. And that makes me smile.
He leans back, dragging his fork through the remnants in his bowl, his grin wide.
“And what are your thoughts on my goaltender trade? The Tremblay name carries a lot of weight in this city.”
My heart skips a beat. We’ve discussed everyone on the team except for Seth, but at the mention of his name my focus sharpens.
“Yeah,” I say carefully. “He played well in the first game. I think he’s a solid addition to the team.”
He nods, but there’s something calculating in his eyes. “Only thing is, I got a call from the Boston Tea. They’re sniffing around, want to make a trade. Their goalie is looking to retire.”
My hand freezes mid-reach for my water. “The Boston Tea? Why would you consider that? Seth just joined the Mayhem.”
Dad nods, completely unaware of the way that my hand has stilled. “The Tremblay name is great for promo, ticket sales and for hype. But for the right deal we could trade him for someone with less risk.”
“Why do you think Seth’s a risk?” I ask, trying to sound like I have only a professional interest in this discussion and not a heart interest.
Dad sighs. “That hamstring pull.”
My stomach twists, but I force my face to stay neutral.
I can’t let on how much this means. Now I definitely can’t tell him what’s happening between Seth and me and that I don’t want it to end yet because he gets moved to the Tea.
And I sure as hell can’t tell Seth that he might be traded.
Not when he just got here. Not when he’s settling in, when Sawyer’s finally thriving.
Oh God, what would this mean for Sawyer if they’re forced to move again?
She’s been through so much change lately and she’s loving her new school and team. This would devastate her.
“We’re rehabbing it,” I say quickly. Probably too quickly. My dad doesn’t seem to notice.
“I know. And I trust you and the team of doctor’s that we’ve hired.
But if it keeps flaring up—or gets worse—I’m in trouble.
I’ve got to think long-term for what’s best for the team.
Look,” he leans in closer, “I’m not saying I’m going to make the trade.
Seth’s looking good out on the ice. He’s the entire reason we won our last home game, but it’s a possibility if things start getting worse. ”
Of course he’s thinking about this. That’s his job.
He’s the owner of the team. A former pro athlete himself.
He’s trained to think two steps ahead, to calculate risk and pivot before anyone else sees the play unfolding.
I get it. I do. But that doesn’t mean I don’t want to fall on the table and beg for him not to do it.
But I know I can’t. I can’t do that to Seth, and I definitely can’t do that to my dad.
“I see.” I manage to keep my voice calm and neutral.
He shrugs, like it’s not personal. Like it’s just business.
And to him it is because he doesn’t know the way my heart’s cracked open when I’m with Seth.
The way Seth asked me last night to make our relationship public because he wants more and doesn’t want to hide this anymore.
And the way that makes me feel so... loved. Seen. Wanted.
“We’ll see how these next few games go,” he adds.
And just like that, the safety of our first lunch together leaves the room and my fear around Seth, me, and my new relationship with my dad become very real.
I can’t tell Seth any of this.
And now, more than ever, I need to make sure his hamstring never becomes a reason to let him go.