Chapter 19 - Sean
Chapter nineteen
Sean
“I want sleep, silence,” I said, eyes locked on hers. “A few hours without anyone needing anything from me. Cassy will wake up soon, and I’ll wake up too.”
What I didn’t add: I wanted her with me, chasing the kind of closeness only she could bring. But saying that out loud felt too bare for a parking lot at dawn.
Her shoulders eased, though I could still see the wheels turning.
“Sam’s expecting me for her going-away lunch with my parents.”
“I know. I promised her too, and I won’t miss it.” I paused, then added, “If it helps, I won’t even kiss you.”
She swatted my arm, smiling. “That’s not what this is about.”
Oh, it was, Mel. It always was—wanting more and learning not to rush it.
“Good. Then after you.” I let her lead the way.
We stepped into the hotel before 6 a.m. The place was hushed, lights low, smelled like overworked HVAC, the kind of stale quiet that made my shoulders drop without permission.
The suite was bigger than we needed—king bed, sectional couch, two big windows behind blackout curtains.
Mel walked in, handbag slung over one shoulder, luggage left by the door.
I pretended not to look, but my peripheral vision had suddenly self-corrected to 20/20.
First time we’d ended up in a bedroom together.
She glanced at the bed, her silence thoughtful.
My Coach Dazzler reputation had probably spread faster than a puck on shaved ice.
She moved to the couch and dropped her bag. I toed off my shoes, peeled off my socks and pants, draping them over the back of the couch. Left my T-shirt and boxer briefs on, brushed my teeth, and crashed onto the bed.
She’d probably made a mental pros and cons list in the time it took me to spit out toothpaste. Pros: plush bed, comfort, rest. Cons: proximity, potential nakedness.
“Come on, don’t even think about the couch. The bed’s big enough for both of us,” I said, patting the spot beside me.
She looked over.
“I’m a zombie right now, and to my knowledge those don’t even kiss,” I said, grabbing one of the long pillows.
“And now, for your safety and mine, Operation Fortress Pillow is officially complete.” I laid it down in the middle of the bed like a peace treaty.
“All skin frictions are officially quarantined.”
She chuckled, and I relaxed. Humor was my best defense against wanting too much, too fast.
“‘Night,” I said and flopped onto my stomach, the best sleep position for a sleep-deprived coach.
When I stirred, the room was hushed and dim. It was 11:40 a.m. Five solid hours. This impulsive idea—crashing in a hotel room with Mel—had turned out to be a brilliant one.
Then I felt a weight on my side. Mel’s arm, loose and stretched beneath the fortress pillow, her hand brushing my ribs.
One long leg crossed over too, angled across the border as if her body had staged a midnight rebellion.
Her breathing was even on the other side of the pillow. That soft rhythm so close made me smile; she’d managed to sleep too. A free faller, judging by the way she was sprayed out. She hadn’t wanted to share the bed, yet she ended up taking over.
I slid the pillow to the floor so I could watch her.
Hair spilled across the sheets, lips parted with the kind of soft breathing that only comes when every muscle relaxes. She looked open, free—peaceful in a way I hadn’t seen in her awake.
I wanted to pull her in, wrap myself around her and stay like that while the day moves on outside. She hadn’t said no to cuddling, not really. But she hadn’t said yes, either. My hand twitched against the sheet, temptation buzzing through me.
Don’t. Respect her line.
So I turned onto my side, propped my head on my arm. If I couldn’t hold her, I could at least memorize the way she looked—this unguarded, this mine.
Eventually, my eyes closed again, her warmth brushing against me like a promise. I opened them when she stirred and bolted upright.
“Damn it. We’re going to be late.”
She threw off the sheet and darted to the bathroom. A few seconds later, the shower kicked on. Those legs, those bare feet, the pink shorts as she ran by—let’s just say not a single pixel was missed. She had no idea how easy she was to be around, how much lighter I felt with her here.
When the bathroom door opened, Mel stepped out in her earlier pajamas shorts, a towel wrapped around her head.
I raised a brow.
She rolled her eyes, and breezed past. “Your turn.”
“Every bit of sass today is going on your kiss debt,” I said, heading in.
Later, I stepped out, towel knotted at my hip, and stopped. She was standing by the window in a purple summer dress and small-heeled sandals. Cute was the right word. The hemline rested a few inches above her knees, showcasing those legs.
She was blow-drying her hair, lost in the hum of the dryer. I smiled, struck by how domestic it all felt.
Then she turned.
“Hey.” Her eyes narrowed with purpose, scanning me.
“Hey.”
“C’mon. You’re not going to lunch with my parents wet-haired, with a naked torso, and wrapped in a bath towel,” she said and turned away.
“That’s two sasses in less than thirty minutes,” I said, walking toward her. “Better start cashing on it. My kiss debt account is spilling over.”
She turned back, brandishing the hair dryer like a weapon. “You said no kissing.”
“I said in bed.”
“You said in the hotel room.”
I glanced between the hair dryer and her face. “Ah. So if I stand outside on the balcony, the clause is void?”
She gave me a look that said try it and I will lock you out forever.
I grinned, unable to help myself. “And if my towel falls off while I’m standing out there… our neighbors would be very curious about the kind of business going on in here.”
Her mouth dropped open. “Don’t you dare, Sean Murphy.”
I laughed, deep, full-bodied. My favorite new hobby: teasing Mel until she cracked that perfect composure.
A highly scientific experiment involving pink cheeks, tight lips, and the occasional hair-dryer threat.
The more I rattled her, the more I uncovered the amazing, fiery, hilarious creature beneath the calm.
She’d sprawled across my side of the bed without knowing it, and now she was bossing me about towels—both felt like home.
I moved toward my bag to get dressed. Mel stepped out onto the balcony, shutting the door behind her. She didn’t come back in until I was fully clothed.
Smart woman.
We checked out of the hotel and drove to Mel’s house for Sam’s going-away lunch.
“We’re ten minutes late. Thanks to your freaking balcony towel jokes,” Mel said and got out of the car, her sandals clicking against the driveway.
I winked at her. “You’re welcome. An encore is free any time.”
She rolled her eyes.
“The eye rolls. My personal standing ovation,” I said, grinning.
She huffed, but the corner of her mouth twitched, half amusement, half exasperation.
Inside, Bill, her dad, greeted us at the door with a warm smile and handshake. “Sean! Good to see you again.”
“Good to see you too, Bill,” I said, matching his energy.
From the archway behind him, Ruby, her mom, appeared. Her gaze landed on Mel. The word ‘Ruby Stare’ jumped out of me. Laser beam-like, ready to make anyone rethink even if they were wearing tuxes at a backyard barbecue.
“Hi, Ruby. Smells incredible,” I said with an easy nod.
When in doubt, lead with food.
“Hi, thank you.” Then she turned to Mel. “Melanie, I thought you were coming home last night.”
Mel’s posture stiffened beside me. “We landed early this morning,” she said, stepping into the living room and setting her bag on a chair.
Ruby took her in, her expression holding that curious tilt, and I could almost hear the italic font of her voice: And where, precisely, did you land early this morning, Melanie?
“Can’t wait to hear about Dallas.” Sam joined us and brightly cut the tension. Her eyes darted from me to Mel and back again, an amused glint in them.
“The guys’ shots were insane,” Mel said, grateful, I could tell, for the shift in subject.
“Unfortunately, the shots weren’t enough,” I added, and the conversation turned to hockey as we followed the smell of roasted garlic and herbs into the dining room.
The table looked like part of a lifestyle spread—china plates, linen napkins threaded through ornate rings, polished silverware catching the light.
Ruby poured water with practiced elegance that suggested she’d done this a hundred times.
I wondered what she did for a living before she retired. Something exacting, no doubt.
Sam grabbed a roll and smirked at me. She could tell I was finding my footing. Her look said Good luck, Sean. You’d need it to survive this crew.
Bill turned to me. “So, how do you prepare for away games like that? There has to be a flow to it.”
I nodded. “There definitely is. Stats and knowing your guys helps, but real coaching is about instinct. Gauging when to push or when to pull back.”
He smiled. “Sounds a lot like golf. You can’t rely on averages alone; you have to know the person.”
“Exactly,” I replied, and the conversation settled into a comfortable rhythm.
But I couldn’t help watching Ruby. The fact that she’d invited an ex who dumped her daughter to this house still made no damn sense to me.
I reached for Mel’s hand and kissed the back of it, slow and deliberate.
She smiled, but she’d grown more reserved since we arrived. It was very subtle, but I clocked it.
Ruby could try to squeeze Mel with her icy politeness, but public display of affection? That was my counterpunch to passive aggression.
The conversation shifted to Sam’s residency as we ate. Her voice was bright as she told us about general medicine and pediatrics. But every so often, there was a pause, as if she was tucking something heavier out of sight.
When we finished the main meal, Ruby announced dessert. Lemon carrot cake happened to be Sam’s favorite.
“Swapping these out for cake plates.” Mel started clearing the table.