Chapter 15 Sean #2
Driving home, the streets blurred past in streaks of amber and shadow.
I thought about how, after my divorce, I’d thrown myself into coaching.
It was safer—keeping my life free of anything that could tangle into more.
Then I met Mel. I hadn’t planned for someone like her to skate into my routine.
And with Abby and Cassy living under my roof, another marriage in my family on the line, I should know better than to let myself inch toward a relationship.
Because what was I hoping for, if not that?
Mel hadn’t tiptoed around the bruises my marriage left; she’d walked straight into my daily rhythm. She was already the person I caught myself checking on before bed. That sure hadn’t been in this season’s playbook.
I turned into my driveway, headlights catching the bumper of a car that could only be Sam’s. She was babysitting Cassy while Abby and Jeff went out on a date-slash-make-or-break talk. As Mel suggested, it ended up easy for my sister and Sam to set it up.
The house was quiet, dim. The hallway was lit faintly from the kitchen light. Sam sat at the table, laptop open, her fingers resting on the keys.
“Hey, Sean.”
“Hey. How’d it go? I hope Cassy behaved.”
“No worries. Cassy’s a breeze,” she said, closing the laptop and sliding it into her backpack. “We read Goodnight Moon twice because apparently I didn’t ‘do the old lady voice right’ the first time,” Sam chuckled.
I grinned. “Been there too. Thanks again, Sam. We really appreciate it.”
“Oh, there’s a Post-it under the lamp for her to find tomorrow. Said it’s from Dr. Sam.”
I smiled at that. “She’ll love it.”
Sam tilted her head, studying me with the same focus she probably used in the hospital. “Sorry about the loss.”
I shrugged. “Part of the job. But thanks.”
She offered a small wave as she walked to the door. “Later.”
“Night, Sam.”
I walked to Cassy’s door and peeked in. She was out cold, snuggled with Pitou. A small, bright pink plastic stethoscope glowed under the lamp. Small things like that made the house brighter than it had in years.
A smile stretched across my face. Sam had promised and delivered. The Boyd sisters were growing on me faster than my bike on an open road.
I headed to my office, reviewed game tape, took notes, shut the laptop, and rubbed my hand over my face. “We’ve gotta get ahead tomorrow,” I muttered before hitting the shower. The hot water didn’t fix the loss, but it slowed the loop in my head.
I sank into the bed, and right then my phone blinked.
A text lit the screen.
Ben: You coach a hell of a game. The guys won’t let you down. You’ve been here before and came on top. Clear answers with the press. They got what they needed.
I stared at that for a second. Ben handed me a backbone. He’d always known how to steady a ship, especially mine. I owed him one.
Me: Thanks, man. I still owe you a visit. I’ll come see how your boys’ drill team is holding up during the offseason.
I let my head fall back against the pillow.
Losses were supposed to sit on your chest all night.
Tonight, though, the tension behind my neck was gone.
Mel had caught me off guard twice now—first in the car when she made me laugh, and again now when she cut through the noise.
She didn’t settle for watching the game; she saw past the gum-chewing, wound-tight coach everyone else tolerated and looked for ways to patch the cracks.
Talking with her left me lighter than I had any right to feel after a loss.
As soon as the last press conference question wrapped the following evening, I slipped out. I had a date, and the media wasn’t invited.
Mel was waiting in the empty VIP lobby near the vending machine.
She stood when she saw me, smiling. “Congrats on the win.”
“Thanks.” We walked out together.
“That’s a little grim for someone who just won a playoff game.”
My grin widened. She might not realize it, but this was our first real date, and my pulse was pounding like I was a rookie again. I didn’t usually get nervous, except behind the bench. But tonight, it was her.
“You’re here. That counts more than any victory shout.” If that sounded un-Coach Murphy, blame the sudden onset of teenage giddiness.
When we slid into my car, I leaned into the headrest, letting her presence fill the space.
“Cassy’s been gushing about you and Sam to my sister ever since that ice cream at the park,” I said. “Abby finally met Sam yesterday, and today she asked if Sam’s sister was really ‘that awesome.’”
Mel’s brow arched. “And you said…?”
“That if she insisted, she could see it for herself Sunday when I was back in town. And dinner is on her.” I glanced at her. “You don’t mind, do you?”
Her mouth curved. “Not at all.”
But her jaw set in a way that didn’t match her smile. Something was working behind it, and I couldn’t quite read. “Are you tired?”
“A little. Everything’s been a bit of a mental obstacle course lately. Sitting in the family section…is fine. But it puts me on edge.”
“Anyone say anything?”
“No, but I’m new.” She bit her cheek. “I kept waiting for someone to look twice. I don’t know. I just feel it.”
“That minute before the puck drops, huh?”
“Yep. Because, eventually, it always does,” she said.
That second before the big anticipated thing. I knew it too damn well.
“It’ll pass.” I reached over and squeezed her hand, then started the car. “Thanks for putting up with who I am, for coming tonight.”
“I wanted to.”
The restaurant was nearly empty, dimly lit with soft jazz playing overhead. We slid into a booth, the vinyl seats squeaking slightly beneath us. I reached for the menu, even though I already knew what I wanted.
The server came and took our orders.
“Chicken for me,” she said, grinning, “and for him, steak with way too many adjectives.”
The server blinked, pen hovering midair.
I smiled. “She means medium-rare with garlic butter, a side of grilled shallots, and lemon juice.”
She gave a small laugh.
After the server left, I glanced back at her. “Didn’t know you were keeping notes.”
“It’s impossible not to,” she said, eyes dancing.
“Guess I’ll have to start noticing what you notice.”
“Oh, I noticed. You know, after watching the game a few times now, I have this itch to write what I’ve seen in people.”
“A comic reporter in the making? What things …?” I asked, glad she was eager to talk, because my brain had cheese holes right now.
“You looked like you were orchestrating a battlefield out there.”
I laughed, low. “That’s dramatic.”
“Well,” she said, eyes gleaming now, “I also saw you chewing your gum to death after Asher took that hit in the second.”
I pointed at her. “He’s fine. And my gums are a casualty of war. Might get its name on the locker room wall.”
She chuckled. “It’s like hockey never let go of you, and you didn’t want it to.”
My fingers curled around the foot of my wine glass.
“Yeah, I was almost sixteen years in the league, bounced through a couple teams, and spent my last seasons here in Tahoe. Retired from playing at thirty-four, six years ago now. Did a year in scouting and player development before moving into coaching. Assistant coach first, then head coach two years ago this month.”
Her eyebrows lifted. “So basically, typical hockey player trajectory minus the part where you still have all your teeth.”
That made me laugh. “Pure luck. What about you? You’ve been in the sports world a while?”
“Oh no. I worked in my college’s athletic travel office while studying management.
After graduating with a bachelor’s, I was an operations assistant for a finance company, then left for a better opportunity as a law office assistant.
Did that the last three years. This Tahoe job, it’s the first time I’m blending logistics and sports since college. I’ve missed it.”
“So you were following your dad’s path into management.”
Surprise flickered in her eyes “You remember.”
“Hello?”
She laughed, a quick spark in her eyes.
“This gig is right up your alley then,” I said.
Her mouth curved, faint but proud. “Finally landed the job that fits. Took me long enough.”
The food came, hot and perfectly plated, steam curling into the air.
The second the server walked away, I realized I wasn’t hungry.
I sipped my wine instead, elbows braced on the table, watching Mel as she moved her fork around the plate with absent-minded precision.
If eating were a competition, she’d lose hands down.
“Ever done competitive sports?” I asked.
She pressed her lips together in thought. “No, but I tried. All through grade school and high school—basketball, soccer, volleyball…even horseback riding and tennis. But I never got the pro mindset you did.”
I shook my head. “It happened without much thought. I tried a bunch of sports, and hockey clicked.”
“Instinct.”
“Yeah.” I grinned.
We sat in the hush of the emptied restaurant.
“You’re not hungry,” I said.
“Guess adrenaline and exhaustion cancel each other out.”
“Let’s call it.”
I signaled for the check and asked the server to box up the food. Mel stood slowly, her hand brushing over her hip in an unknowingly sexy sweep. I followed her out, takeout in hand, into the cool night air.
At the car, I slid the containers into the backseat and closed the door. She leaned against it, eyes locked on mine.
And that was all it took. I stepped in and cupped her jaw with one hand, thumb brushing along the edge of her cheekbone. Her breath caught, barely, but I felt it. Then I kissed her.
This time I fumbled, hoping I’d get it right.
My other hand found her waist, pulling her closer until there wasn’t an inch of air between us. Her hands clutched my shirt, fingertips curling into the fabric, either to keep her balance or because she didn’t want me to stop. Either way, I didn’t either.
Deepening the kiss, I tilted her back against the car door. Her mouth opened under mine, soft and searching, the kind of response that kicked heat low in my gut. I was drowning in the faint citrus of her lip balm and in the exhaustion still clinging to both of us.
It was hard to ease back. I wanted to keep kissing her. Her breath ghosted over my lips, and her eyes remained closed, lips parted in an invitation.
I dragged in a breath. “Damn, Mel.”
That got her to flutter her eyes open, slightly dazed. “You really need to stop doing that,” she whispered.
My thumb grazed her jaw one more time. “Not happening.”
She swallowed, and for a second, neither of us moved. Then she nodded and slipped into the passenger seat.
I drove her home. At her house, she glanced at me, and I leaned over and gave her a slow kiss before she got out. I watched her go, the night air cooling my skin, knowing I’d be feeling that kiss until morning.