Chapter 18 Mel #2
“I wasn’t—” I started, then gave up halfway through the lie. “Both days were busy. One win, one loss, locker room, press... I figured you needed space.”
“Really?” he asked, skeptical. Not mean, just knowing.
“I was trying not to be in the way,” I admitted, adjusting the strap on my carry-on. “You’ve got enough on your plate.”
In other words, I was having an existential crisis about being your girlfriend Sean.
He huffed a low laugh. “If I didn’t want you close, I wouldn’t have asked you to be my girl. You don’t distract me, Mel. I like you near.”
Well, hello there. Perfectly delivered romantic line. My fan club just fainted.
After takeoff, I wanted to tell Sean how it felt, being rinkside with everyone watching, knowing we were dating. But shoulder to shoulder with thirty-plus people wasn’t exactly the space for emotional vulnerability. So, I pushed it for later.
“When we land, we’ll have plenty of time,” he said, breaking the silence. “I would like you to meet Ben. He and I have been buds for almost two decades.”
I turned to him. “That’d be nice.”
Travel days were light—no training, recovery, short team meeting, and carb-loading before game day. My kind of day.
“What does he do?” I asked.
“He coaches juniors. Runs a hockey development program out of Denton. Good guy. Would show up to a kid’s birthday with a stick signed by their favorite player and work his contacts to get them a scholarship.”
“He does sound like a good guy. How did you meet?”
“We played together back in the day. One of the best teammates I ever had.” He paused, then added, “He’s driving into Dallas to meet us. Figure we could grab a drink at a café next to the team hotel.”
“Yeah, that sounds good.”
He smiled faintly. “Ben’s the type of guy who’ll probably grill me about you, then try to recruit you to help coach a summer camp.”
“I’ll wear a whistle and baseball cap too, to really sell it,” I deadpanned.
Sean chuckled. “You’ll like him.”
After that, we fell into silence. I leaned back, tucked the plane pillow behind my neck, and closed my eyes for a second.
When I opened them, the seatbelt light was blinking, and the intercom crackled with a turbulence warning. My head was on Sean’s shoulder. I’d been asleep for two hours.
Two hours. On him. My brain was clearly in a chill mode. I hadn’t realized how much I needed the rest… and how comfy it was to drift off on him.
Later that afternoon, we met Ben outside a café, down the block from the team hotel. He was built like Sean—athletic, tall, easy confidence— but with ocean-blue eyes and sandy-blond hair that gave him a surfer-inland vibe.
“So you are Mel,” Ben said, grinning as we shook hands. “Exactly who I pictured when Sean talked about you.”
“Hopefully only the flattering lies,” I said, smiling back. “Unless it’s the part where I tell the guys what to do and he feels dethroned in his own locker room.”
“She’s not kidding,” Sean muttered.
Ben raised a brow. “Strong and direct. I like her already.”
Strong and direct. Not sure those words belonged to me, but if Sean’s best friend wanted to hand me a gold star, I’d take it.
We settled under the shade of a wide striped umbrella, cold drinks sweating on the table.
The air was thick with late-May heat, but the breeze carried the scent of delicious food from the nearby restaurants and sun-warmed pavement.
They slipped into stories from junior leagues and inside jokes I barely followed, Every so often, Sean glanced over, as if checking to make sure I was still there, still with him.
Ben’s attention slid back to me. “So, Mel, have you seen him after a loss yet? Like, really seen him?”
Sean shot him a look over his glass.
“I’ve seen him focused,” I said.
Ben chuckled. “Focused. That’s one word for pacing a hotel hallway at three in the morning, muttering line changes under his breath.”
Sean smirked, but a faint pink crept along his neck. “It’s called preparation.”
I grinned. “So, you’re saying I should invest in noise-canceling headphones.”
“Exactly. She catches on quick.” Ben pointed at me, pleased.
It was easy conversation, the type that only came with two decades of knowing someone’s game-day quirks and postloss moods.
Ben leaned back, eyes thoughtful. “Truth is, I’ve never seen him coach like this. He’s always been good, but lately he’s got skin in the game beyond the Cup. Makes a guy wonder what—or who—lit that fire.”
My cheeks warmed, and Sean reached for his drink without answering. But the curve at the corner of his mouth said he didn’t need to.
He smirked. “Still take your coffee with half a sugar packet?”
“Still drink yours black like it’s a punishment?” Ben shot back, lifting his cup in a salute. Then he turned to me. “Have you caught him with lucky pink skate laces yet?”
“Not yet,” I answered, laughing.
“Man, that’s twenty-year-old stuff, and it was a safety issue.” Sean pinned him with a look and grinned, not minding the embarrassment.
Forty minutes slipped away fast.
“Nice to meet you, Mel,” Ben said as we stood to leave. “I hope to introduce you to Kelly, my wife. She took the children to her parents, but next time I’ll make sure you two meet.”
My cheeks warmed. “That would be nice.”
Sean’s best friend already wanted me to meet his wife; meanwhile, I’d spent the first two days of our relationship dodging the boyfriend like he was bad takeout. Classic me.
Ben took off, and Sean and I wandered back toward the hotel. The late-May Dallas heat clung to us with every step, but I didn’t mind. I was happy to stroll through a new city with him.
We cut through a plaza where a small crowd had gathered for what looked like a street performance. I tugged at Sean’s hand to stop. He gave me that coach look, all focused, no room for fun.
“Even coaches can pause once in a while. I promise the Cup won’t vanish if you look away for thirty minutes,” I grinned.
He sighed but stayed beside me, watching.
When the first performer wrapped, Sean dropped a bill in the opened case. “Paying for my girlfriend’s off-beat swaying,” he teased.
“It’s called expressive movement.”
He snorted. “Yeah, and she gave it a name, so people wouldn’t call it flailing.”
He took my hand, and we kept walking.
“I still haven’t seen you dance. Bet it’d be my best laugh-out-loud moment yet,” I said.
He stopped and turned to face me. “Already won that bet.”
“We’ll see. I’m the one with the rhythm.”
The hotel came back into view, both of us acting like tonight’s game wasn’t waiting.
That night’s game gutted us.
We lost by one. A tight, bruising battle that left the bench quiet, and the charter flight home wrapped in shadows.
By the time the shuttle pulled up to the team’s headquarters, the sky was starting to pale. 5 a.m. maybe. Every muscle in my body begged for a real bed. My brain was still half on the ice, running line changes.
Sean slowed as we stepped onto the curb, the overhead lamps catching the tired lines around his eyes. He looked at me for a moment, as if weighing something.
“I want to drive you home,” he said, “but… will you come with me to a nearby hotel first?”
My heart kicked in that slow, gut-deep way that comes when you realize intimacy might be on the table—not because I didn’t want him, but because I did.
We’d kissed, he’d asked me to be his girlfriend, and now... the possibility hung there. I liked him; I really did. But… he was watching me, waiting.
The anticipation of being seen twisted my stomach. I hated how my brain always froze when things got real. I could flirt all night, but the moment it felt serious, I turned into a deer in headlights.
I needed a second to catch up to my racing heart.
Breathe, and just say it.