Chapter 4
TY
This is not happening.
I stare at my hand like that’s going to solve anything. Like the ring might take pity on me and slide off out of sheer respect.
It doesn’t.
“Okay,” Vivian says, already moving, calm and efficient. “Let’s not force it.”
“I’m not forcing it,” I say, immediately trying to twist it again.
Nothing.
Behind me, Emma laughs. Not polite laughter. Not even contained. The full, bright, can’t-hold-it-in snicker of a sister.
“Oh my God,” she says, breathless. “You’re actually stuck. You’re stuck stuck.”
“I’m not stuck,” I mutter as I pull again. Still won’t budge.
Emma laughs harder. “Yeah, okay. That looks super temporary.”
Vivian steps back into my space with a tray piled with tools, solution, and something metal that makes this feel like it just got upgraded from mildly embarrassing to a full situation.
“Ty,” she says, gentle but firm, “I need you to stop pulling on it.”
“If I can get it to—”
“Stop,” she repeats, already reaching for my hand. “You’re only going to make it worse.”
I let out a breath and hold still. Mostly.
Emma leans against the counter. “I cannot believe you.”
“I was looking at it,” I say. “That’s all.”
“You put it on your finger.”
“It went on easily.”
“Again,” she says, wavering between irritation and delight, “famous last words.”
Vivian’s focus stays on my hand, her expression composed, but there’s a tightness there now. Professional. Controlled. “I’m going to try a solution first.”
“It is morning,” I offer. “If it’s not the soy sauce, don’t we naturally swell—”
“Not helping,” Emma interrupts.
Vivian stays completely calm, like this is just another task on her to-do list, and doesn’t react to either of us. Instead, she works the cool liquid around the band. “Relax your hand.”
“I am relaxed.”
“You’re not,” she says calmly, her green eyes flicking down to my hand before lifting back to mine. “Your fingers are tense.”
I look down. They are. I exhale and try again.
Emma tilts her head, watching. “Isn’t this bad luck?”
I freeze. “What?”
“Trying on someone else’s wedding ring,” she says, still half amused. “Pretty sure that’s a thing.”
Vivian glances up briefly, her tone still even. “Let’s focus on getting it off first.”
Emma lifts a hand. “Right. Yes. Sorry. Continue.”
Vivian twists the ring carefully. Nothing. She tries again, slower this time. Still nothing. She studies my hand, then straightens slightly, already shifting the tray.
“Well. Okay.”
I don’t love the sound of that.
“Okay, what?”
She meets my eyes, steady. “I’m going to have to cut it.”
Emma’s laughter dies off instantly. “You’re going to what now?”
“It’s the safest option at this point,” Vivian says, calm, reassuring. “I’ll protect his finger, and I can repair the band afterward.”
Emma pushes off the counter, the humor gone just as fast as it came. “Wait, that’s the ring.”
“I know,” Vivian says gently. “And I’m really sorry this is happening, but I promise you, it’s fixable. You won’t be able to tell once I’m done.”
Emma looks at the ring, then at me, then back at Vivian. “Are you sure?”
“Yes,” she says without hesitation. “I wouldn’t suggest it otherwise.”
Emma exhales, nodding once. “Okay, do it.”
“Thank you,” Vivian says, already moving again, her tone soft but efficient. “Ty, I need you to stay very still.”
“I have never been more still in my life.”
“Good,” she says, positioning my hand. “Because if you move, this gets even more complicated.”
“No pressure.”
Emma hovers now, no longer laughing, watching like she’s trying to will the ring off through sheer focus. “This is unbelievable.”
“You’re welcome,” I say.
She shoots me a look. “You’re never touching anything I own again.”
“That feels like an overreaction.”
“Even when I have kids, Ty. I promise you, you won’t touch your nephews or nieces.”
Vivian huffs out the faintest breath—almost a laugh, but not quite—as she brings the tool into place. “Alright. You’re going to feel some pressure, but it won’t hurt.”
“Love that,” I say.
“Be still,” she reminds me.
I lock every muscle in place. There’s a small, precise movement, then a bit of pressure followed by a sharp snap. The tension in my hand releases instantly.
Vivian eases the band apart, sliding it free with careful hands before stepping back.
“And we’re done,” she says.
I flex my fingers once, then again, testing the movement. No resistance. No pressure. Just my hand, back where it’s supposed to be. No ring and all ten fingers accounted for.
Emma exhales hard. “You’ve already destroyed my wedding and it’s not even here yet.”
Vivian sets the ring pieces gently onto the tray, already assessing it. “I’ll take care of this right away,” she says, looking at Emma. “It’ll be ready well before the wedding. I promise.”
Emma nods slowly, the irritation still there but softened now. “Thank you, Vivian. You’re an angel.”
Then she looks at me.
“You,” she says, pointing, “should come with a warning label.”
I glance at Vivian. “In my defense—”
“No,” Emma says. “No defense.”
Vivian’s mouth twitches, just slightly, as she turns back to the ring. “By the time I’m done with the repair, you’ll never know there was a problem,” she says, professional again, steady.
“Sorry.” I glance back at Vivian. “I shouldn’t have put it on.”
Her eyes lift to mine briefly. There’s something softer there now, but her voice stays even. “It happens more than you’d think.”
I don’t think that’s true, but I nod anyway.
Emma lets out a breath, some of the leftover tension finally slipping out of her shoulders. “Thank you for saving my wedding band from my idiot brother.”
Vivian’s mouth curves slightly. “You’re very welcome. And really, don’t worry about it. It’s an easy fix.”
Emma gives me a look, but there’s less bite to it now.
I flex my hand once more before letting it fall back to my side, grounding myself in the absence of pressure, the absence of a problem.
The moment settles, everything easing back into something more predictable, more manageable, now that it’s over.
Emma glances between us, like a thought clicks into place. “Well,” she says, brightening a little, “I guess this is as good a time as any to properly introduce the two of you.”
I glance at her. “Pretty sure we covered that.”
“Not like this,” she says, waving a hand between us. “Because, you’re actually going to be seeing each other a bit over the next six weeks.” She nods toward Vivian. “While you’re coaching my girls, Ty, she’s going to be working with them, too. Team bonding sessions.”
That seems like an intense plan to me. “The girls train three days a week, Emma. Are you having them bond every day?”
She shakes her head. “Once a week. Starting this Saturday morning.”
I track that automatically. Six weeks. Every Saturday. Weekly. Same place.
Huh. The intensity has changed.
Routine. My routine.
It’s just been altered.
My gaze moves to Vivian, who has no idea of the tiny spiral I’m on the precipice of tipping into. She’s watching Emma, but there’s a small pause before she looks at me, and I wish I could read her mind and know what she’s thinking right now.
“Huh,” I say, glancing at Vivian, squinting a little as I try to get a read on her. The moment’s passed as quickly as it came, and I’m a step behind it, which I don’t like. So I adjust. “What are you doing—coming in to take jewelry off their hands, too?”
“You are so funny.” Her gaze meets mine, steady, unimpressed. “You should do stand-up comedy.”
I shrug like that was the point. “Just trying to understand the program.”
Emma makes a noise under her breath.
I tilt my head, still looking at Vivian. “Don’t tell me you’re all going to sit around making friendship bracelets?”
Emma crosses her arms. “Seriously? Could you be any more ridiculous right now?”
“That’s a yes,” I say.
Vivian doesn’t rise to it. If anything, she settles further into herself: calm, composed, like she’s already decided I’m background noise.
“We’ll be designing and making pieces together,” she says, her tone even but not cold. “In one of the sessions, they’ll choose charms that represent their roles on the team, things they’ve worked toward during the season. It gives them something tangible to connect to—individually and as a group.”
I watch her as she speaks, the way she doesn’t rush it, doesn’t over-explain either.
She continues, “We’ll also be collaborating on a custom piece for the team. A trophy for their MVP at the end of the season.”
Emma uncrosses her arms, nodding. “It’s actually really cool.”
Vivian glances at her briefly, then back at me. “It’s about building connection. Focus. Giving them a shared goal outside of the ice.”
“Ty, the girls have been great with you dropping into practices these last few weeks,” Emma says, a knowing smile tugging at her mouth. “But once you’re on your own with them, you’ll see.”
I glance at her. “See what?”
“They’re fun,” she says lightly. “But some of them can get a little…exclusionary.”
Vivian clucks her tongue under her breath. “From what you’ve told me, you’re about two seconds away from full mean-girl territory.”
Emma shoots her a look, one that says exactly. “Like I said when we met, they need to bond. And right now?” She gestures between us. “You two are the glue while I’m out.”
I take that in. The structure of it. The intent. It makes sense. But instead of admitting that, I stay in younger brother mode.
“So…not just friendship bracelets.”
Emma rolls her eyes. “You slay me.”
Vivian’s mouth twitches, just a little, like she’s deciding whether I’m worth engaging with. I hold her gaze anyway.
She tilts her head slightly. “Ty, if I say we’re making friendship bracelets, then we will and it will be a good time. Keep it up, and I may teach them to bejewel and we’ll start with your jersey and any hoodies you have first.”
I huff out a breath. “That’s not—”
“And,” she continues, cutting me off smoothly, “just so you know, when I made this arrangement with your sister, the coach was always meant to participate.”
That gets my attention.
She leans in a fraction closer, arms crossing now, her voice still even but with a quiet edge. “Because she understands how important it is for the coach to be part of the bonding process, too.”
Well. She had to go there, didn’t she?
“Surely you understand that as well,” she adds, her gaze holding mine, “considering you’re the NHL player.”
Emma straightens beside me. “She’s right.”
I glance over. “Don’t start.”
“No, seriously,” she says, pointing between us like she’s just solved something. “Ty, you’re me when I’m gone. You’ll be at those sessions with the girls.”
“What?”
“What?” Vivian says at the same time, her brows lifting slightly.
Emma doesn’t even pause. “Even when I’m not there, it’ll be good for them to bond with you. You’re their temporary coach, and there still needs to be trust.”
Vivian waves a hand in the air. “I mean, I was thinking more along the lines of—he could maybe check in, or FaceTime, or—”
“No,” Emma says, cutting in, already decided. “You had a good idea for me to be in the room when we planned this, so it only makes sense.”
I stare at her. “Was it really my idea?”
“It was,” she insists. “I swear.”
I look between the two of them. “Are you serious right now?”
“Yes,” Emma says, completely unfazed. “They’re making charms? You’re making a charm. They’re weighing in on the trophy? You’re there for that, too. You’re the adult in the room.”
I blink. “I’m not sure that’s accurate.”
“It is now,” she says.
There’s a beat where I just look at her, then at Vivian, who—traitor—does not look nearly as opposed to this as she did two seconds ago.
“This feels like a trap,” I say.
“It’s team bonding.” She turns back to Vivian, all warmth again. “Thank you so much for everything today. Seriously.”
“You’re very welcome,” Vivian says, slipping easily back into that calm, professional tone.
“I’ll email the last details for Saturday,” Emma adds, already heading for the door. Then she glances back at me. “You coming?”
I look at Vivian, then down at my hand. Then back at Vivian.
“I suddenly understand why people fear organized women,” I mutter.