24. Ty
TY
I’ve taken direction my whole life. Coaches. Systems. Play diagrams drawn out so clearly there’s no question where I’m supposed to be or what comes next.
And the girls and I—we’re better than we were a couple weeks ago. I know how to talk to them on the ice. I know how to meet them where they are. So this shouldn’t be a problem.
Except it is.
Up here, I’ve got nothing. No plan. No outline. Not even a vague idea of what I’m supposed to say about jewelry to a room full of girls who are already looking at me like I’m wasting their time.
I told Vivian I’d handle it. Which, in hindsight, feels like a bold claim for a man who doesn’t know the difference between half the tools laid out on these tables.
“Where’s Miss Vivian?” one of them asks.
“Yeah,” another chimes in. “Are we doing jewelry today?”
A chorus of agreement follows.
I nod once, hands braced on the table in front of me like that might help. “So. Miss Vivian had a family emergency.”
That gets their attention. Their expressions shift and concern flickers in.
“She’s okay,” I add quickly. “She just needs to be with her grandmother right now.”
“Are we still making stuff?” someone asks, hopeful.
I glance at the tables. All the tools. All the expectation. We could make things. I could teach them how to make paper airplanes, or I could teach them how to make a fool out of themselves—that one I’ve got down.
Or I could teach them that sometimes things don’t go the way you planned, and you figure it out anyway.
“You know what?” I say, straightening. “We’re going to pivot. Today, we’re going to watch a movie.”
There’s a half-second of silence before every single one of them looks at each other and they cheer.
“What is it?” one of them demands immediately.
I glance toward the door and give a quick nod. Right on cue, it opens.
Liam walks in first, pushing a rolling TV like it’s 1998, Owen behind him with something that absolutely looks like it came out of a storage closet no one’s touched in a decade.
“I managed to get the TV,” Liam announces, already laughing.
Owen nudges the cart into place, making a great show out of it for the girls. “This is the exact one we use to watch game footage in the locker room.”
The girls are already buzzing.
“What are we watching?” someone calls out.
“Tape from the playoffs last year?”
I cross my arms, leaning back against the table like I’ve done this a hundred times. “We’re going to watch a very important movie.”
Liam looks at me, his mouth hanging open, but I ignore him.
“It’s about jewelry,” I continue, “and how jewelry can play a significant role in a story.”
Now Liam’s really looking at me; Owen, too. Both of them waiting.
“What, like Ocean’s Eleven?” one of the girls asks.
I shake my head. “No. Not a movie about jewelry thieves.”
I step over to the ancient setup, holding up the DVD player like it’s a rare artifact. “I even found one of these. I can’t believe it still works.”
“Pretty sure it doesn’t,” Owen mutters.
“It works,” I say, more confidently than I feel, plugging it in.
Liam leans in slightly. “What are you doing?”
“Trusting the process,” I say, sliding the disc in.
“Ty—”
I hit play and the screen flickers. Pretty Woman.
From the back of the room, Owen lets out a long sigh and immediately turns for the door. “I smell an HR issue coming.”
He’s gone in three seconds flat. But the girls? Hooked and already whispering.
Liam steps closer to me, lowering his voice. “Are you serious right now?”
I keep my eyes on the screen. “It’s Julia Roberts.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
“It’s about jewelry,” I add, nodding toward the TV like that settles it. “There’s a necklace. It’s important.”
Liam stares at me. “Did you get permission from their parents?” he asks. ”I think it’s rated R.”
“It’s Pretty Woman,” I say.
“That is not a permission slip.”
“They’ll be fine.”
Liam makes a choking sound, shaking his head. “Vivian is going to kill you.”
I let out a quiet breath, something lighter cutting through everything else that’s been sitting heavy in my chest.
“Oh,” I say, glancing at him now. “If she did…” I gesture vaguely toward the screen. “That would be a mistake. Big mistake. Huge.”
Liam stares at me for a second. Then shakes his head, backing away. “Movie quotes aren’t going to help you.”
For a few minutes, it actually works. The girls are pulled in, eyes on the screen, whispering to each other in that low, excited way that doesn’t spike the noise too high.
I lean back against the wall, arms crossed, tracking everything the way I do on the ice—movement, sound, shifts. It’s all contained. Manageable.
My phone buzzes in my pocket, but I ignore it for now. I need to focus on this lot. Julia Roberts laughs on screen. A couple of the girls giggle with her. One leans forward, chin in her hands.
Okay. This is fine. We’re fine.
Until we’re not.
“Wait, what’s going on?” one girl pipes up.
“Why is she driving that car like that?” another girl asks, louder than the others.
Someone answers her. A third jumps in. The volume rises. It’s not bad, not yet, so I need to get it under control.
I push off the wall, stepping forward. “Hey, hey. One person speaking at a time.”
Within a few minutes, they’re quiet again, watching Julia on screen until one of the girls relates her name to…
“Her name is Vivian?"
This leads to another rise in volume as the group starts comparing notes, and in my pocket my phone buzzes again.
I shift, trying to keep my focus here. “If you’ve got questions, save them. We can talk about it after.”
“Are we almost to the part with the necklace?” someone asks.
“Not yet,” I say.
“Is she, like, a princess?” another girl asks.
“No.”
“Then why does she get—”
“Hey,” I cut in, a little firmer. “Movie first. Questions later.”
They nod and manage to stay quiet again for about thirty seconds. Then someone drops something—a metal water bottle hitting the floor with a sharp, echoing clang that ricochets through the room.
A few girls laugh. One shrieks. But the noise. The noise spikes hit me hard. Voices overlapping now, bodies shifting, chairs scraping as they turn toward each other.
My phone buzzes again.
And again.
I press my tongue to the roof of my mouth, forcing my brain to sort it, my anxiety spiking.
One thing.
“Okay,” I say, stepping forward again, hands up slightly. “Guys. Eyes on the screen.”
“Wait, but—”
“Eyes on the screen,” I repeat, more clearly this time.
A few of them comply, but not all. Why is this devolving into chaos? A chair screeches loudly against the floor at the same time the TV volume suddenly jumps. Probably some glitch in the ancient setup that causes the music to blare too loud, too sharp.
Everything stacks.
Sound on sound on sound.
My brain tries to catch it all at once but it can’t. It fails.
“Turn it down,” I say, not even sure who I’m saying it to.
Liam’s already moving, grabbing the remote. “Got it, got it—”
The volume drops. Better.
My phone buzzes again. This time I pull it out, and give it a quick glance.
Vivian.
Emma.
Vivian.
Vivian.
My chest tightens. I look up, toward the door. I need to open the texts, check the voicemails. I don’t want to miss something.
I’m in the middle of forming a quick escape plan when the door opens. There’s a subtle change in energy that announces “adult,” pulling my attention to who has entered our room.
When I look over, I realize I should be surprised, but I’m really not when I find a woman standing in the doorway, arms crossed, eyes locked directly on me.
Danielle. Great.
“Can I have a word?” she all but snaps, eyes on the television and already stepping inside.
I look over at the girls, then to Liam, who steps in.
“I’ve got them,” he says quietly.
I step out into the hallway with her, the door clicking shut behind us.
The quiet out here should help. It doesn’t because she doesn’t wait. She launches right in on me.
“Pretty Woman?” she says, incredulous. “I thought they were bonding over jewelry.”
I exhale slowly. “Vivian had a family emergency. I’m covering.”
“That doesn’t explain why they’re watching Pretty Woman,” she presses. “Today was supposed to be about confidence. About teaching the girls it’s okay to be expressive, to connect—”
My phone buzzes again in my hand.
“...but if that’s the kind of expression I’ve signed her up for…”
I tighten my grip on it.
“I made a call,” I say, keeping my voice level. “We’re still talking about themes that matter.”
“By showing them a movie about—what exactly?” she cuts in. “This is not what my Ava is built for.”
Another buzz.
“Look,” I say, forcing my focus back to her. “They’re safe. They’re supervised. And they’re engaged.”
“But this isn’t what was promised,” she says sharply. “They’re watching a movie about a prostitute.”
My jaw tightens. I should have taken time to think about this one, I guess.
“I understand that,” I say. “And I’ll make sure—”
Behind me, the door opens again.
“Ty…”
I turn to find Liam, his expression is tight but apologetic.
“Owen’s locked himself out of the building,” he says under his breath. “I’ll be right back.”
I wave a hand in the air. “Go take care of it.”
He takes a look at the two of us, hesitates for half a second, then jogs off, leaving me standing there with a beet-red Danielle and a room full of excited girls behind that door.
Alone.
My phone buzzes again.
Louder now. Or maybe it just feels that way.
Danielle crosses her arms again. “So what’s the plan here?”
The sounds from inside the room bleed through the door—voices rising, again, the movie playing, something scraping across the floor.
My brain tries to catch all of it at once.
Her voice.
The noise.
The phone.
It doesn’t sort.
It stacks.
I press my thumb hard against the side of my phone, trying to find a port in the storm. I need one thing. Only one, but I don’t know which thing to pick.
My brain stalls. It’s not empty, this is so much worse. It’s too full.
Danielle is still talking. The room behind the door is still moving, voices rising and falling in uneven waves. My phone buzzes again in my hand, the vibration sharp against my palm.
I can’t sort it.
I can’t—
Pick one. Pick one.
“Ty?” Danielle says, sharper now. “What’s the plan?”
My mouth opens. Nothing comes out.
I force a breath in, reaching for something—anything—that usually helps.
My fingers find the ring. I twist it once. Twice. Again. Faster. It should ground me. It doesn’t.
The noise bleeds through the door again—someone laughing too loud, a sound of metal scraping, the movie dialogue cutting through in bursts. It all stacks back up, pressing in from every direction.
Danielle’s still watching me.
Waiting.
My phone buzzes again.
I glance down.
Don’t read it.
Can’t read it.
I swallow, try again. “I—”
The word catches.
Doesn’t finish.
I look past her without meaning to, my focus slipping—and catch movement at the end of the hall.
Liam. He’s back. From the way he beelines it to me, I think he can tell I’ve lost the thread completely.
He walks over, slower this time.
“Hey,” he says quietly, not to Danielle. To me. “You good?”
Am I? I shake my head, small. Barely there. “I think I…I think I need to go.”
It comes out rough, but it’s the first thing that actually feels true.
Liam nods immediately. “Then you go.”
Danielle looks between us. “Excuse me?”
“I’ve got the girls,” Liam says, calm, already shifting into place like he’s done this before. “We’ll handle it.”
I nod once, because I can’t explain it. Don’t have the words. Don’t have the space in my head to try.
My fingers are still spinning the ring, faster now, useless.
“I—” I start again, to Danielle this time. “I’m sorry.”
It’s all I’ve got. All I can manage to say before I turn and leave. There’s no plan. No fixing what may have happened here.
I am out the door, down the hall, in no time. The noise changes but does not disappear, my phone still buzzes in my hand, my chest tight and my thoughts finally narrowing to one thing—
Get out.