Page 53

FUCK-UPS AND FIASCOS

Tyler

The second we step out of the hotel near the Space Needle, I’m drenched.

“Are you kidding me?” I say to the sky. It’s pelting raindrops down.

We’re in Seattle, having flown up this morning so we can play tomorrow afternoon. I’m heading to the arena for a workout with Rowan and Miles.

“It’s almost like you barely grew up in this town,” Miles says, adjusting his collar but heading into the downpour regardless. The arena’s not far from here.

“Want an umbrella?” Rowan mocks.

“No,” I grumble, since there’s no way I’d ever admit to needing one. The guys would give me hell.

“Maybe you can get a cup of hot chamomile tea at the arena and a warm footbath,” Rowan teases.

“Do you like getting soaked?” I counter as we walk quickly toward the grounds .

“Fucking love it,” Rowan says, lifting his face to the dark sky, inviting the rain. “Makes me stronger. Something you should consider sometime.”

“Thanks, appreciate it,” I say, but then I go quiet as they shoot the breeze about the local music scene.

I’m quiet too, as we head into the arena and make our way down to the visitors’ locker room.

I can’t stop thinking about Sabrina. I can’t stop thinking about when Elle showed up, and I barely knew how to handle the moment after.

And I definitely can’t stop thinking about my own fuck-up with Sabrina—the whole Christmas fiasco.

Although fuck-ups is more appropriate—I’m pretty sure there were several.

I stew a little longer as we hit the weight room, then I move through bench presses, flies, and triceps with barely a word while Miles and Rowan debate punk rock versus classic rock.

When I set down the barbell on the weight bench and push up, Miles turns away from the rack of weights on the wall and meets my gaze in the mirror. “You’re grumpier than usual. What’s up?”

“Nothing.”

Rowan snorts but doesn’t stop his crunches. “Bullshit. What’d you do?”

I narrow my eyes. “Why do you assume I did something?”

“Because that’s how you act when you’re mad at yourself. You get all grumbly and quiet. You complain about the weather…”

What the hell? Are they holding up a mirror to my dark soul?

I don’t deny it, but I don’t answer them either. I don’t even know how to begin to open up about everything that’s wrong. Where would I start? This is all new to me in its own way. I was married for eight years in a very friendly, very lackluster marriage. We grew apart .

There is nothing lackluster about Sabrina. She’s fiery and feisty and passionate and completely off-limits, and I am so out of my element.

Rowan points at me. “You’re thinking way too much.”

I heave a sigh. Maybe I should tell them. I haven’t been able to swim my way out of this murky gray quicksand I’ve been in since yesterday morning. “The thing is…I’ve gotten involved with Sabrina.”

Rowan thrusts an arm in the air. “I just need to say—I was the first one to call it. Back at the gym before the season started.”

Miles smacks his shoulder. “Dude, my girlfriend called it a year ago when Tyler met Sabrina the night she performed at a hockey game. She told me then that she thought he had it bad for her.”

“So you’re claiming first-sies because of your girlfriend? Real classy, Captain,” Rowan retorts.

I drag my hands through my hair and cut through the madness. “Guys, I really fucking like her. And I messed up.”

They snap to it, their expressions suddenly serious.

“What happened?” Miles asks with big-brother concern.

I look around, making sure the door is still shut, and then I say, “I didn’t make any plans with her for Christmas—not for work, not for anything.

The kids are joining me in New York after our last game, and I never even asked her what she was doing.

Never said if I needed her to work or not.

And I didn’t invite her—but the second it came up, I realized I probably should have.

Plus, she found out about the plans through Elle, and it was just…

fucking awkward and uncomfortable and…What am I even doing? ”

Miles blows out a long breath, adjusting his glasses. “That’s a lot, but what part is bugging you the most?”

That’s a damn good question, and I’ve had enough time to formulate an answer. Still, it’s hard to say. “I don’t want to screw this up. Not with her. Not with my kids. Not the way Dad did.”

Miles nods, getting it immediately, of course. “Heard.”

“And she works for me. She takes care of Luna and Parker. So the entire situation is so damn complicated.”

Rowan holds up his hands. “Shit, man. Romance sucks, so I don’t know what to say. But I feel for you since that’s a lot.”

“It is a lot, but let’s break it down,” Miles says, pinning me with a stare. “Do you want to invite her?”

“Yes,” I say, desperation coloring my tone. “But I don’t know if it’s too late or if it’ll look like I’m inviting her as the babysitter or something. Or if it’ll look like I want her to be my?—”

“Your what?” Rowan cuts in pointedly.

I’m silent for a beat because this vulnerability is new for me too.

“My girlfriend,” I say, but then my chest tightens.

“But that’s not what she wants right now.

She just got out of a shitty relationship where she almost married the guy, and I don’t know how to figure that out in front of the kids—dating and all,” I say, and I hate the sound of my voice.

I feel like I’m whining, but I’m in uncharted territory. “And she works for me, like I’ve said.”

Miles laughs, but it’s clear he’s laughing at himself. “Relationships are hard. I fell for the coach’s daughter—I’d know. But you have to communicate what you want. Do you want to spend Christmas with her?”

“I do, but I’ve made it too complicated now by not asking her. And now if I ask her, what if she’s not ready for…a trip with her boss and his kids? For fuck’s sake. Saying it out loud makes it sound ridiculous.”

Miles smirks. “Dude, you’re spiraling. You’re not asking her to be your girlfriend. You’re inviting her on a trip.”

Rowan shrugs. “If she says yes, she wants to go. That’s it.”

Miles moves next to me, claps my shoulder. “One step at a time. This isn’t a proposal. It’s a trip. Just tell her you fucked up and invite her.”

I grab my water bottle and down some. He’s right. This isn’t a grand romantic move—it’s what I should have done in the first place. Invite her to join us for the holidays. “That’s it?”

“Yep, that’s it.”

Miles turns to Rowan. “I bet even the Grinch would say it’s that easy.”

Rowan scoffs. “I’m the last person who should be giving you any romantic advice, but in this case? Just tell her the truth.”

That seems easy enough. This isn’t about putting a label on us. It’s about making sure she knows she’s wanted.

And as I’m leaving, I flash back to something Trevyn mentioned the day I met him. Something Sabrina would love to do in New York. And just like that, I know—this isn’t just something I should do. It’s something I want to do. Something I want to do with her and the kids . Something she’d want too.

I leave the weight room, and I text her to see what she’s up to, trying to figure out if now might be a good time to call.

A few minutes later, she texts back.

Sabrina: I’m OK! I wanted to let you know that Parker isn’t feeling well. I picked him up from school early, and he’s got a fever, but he’s going to be fine! He’s taking Tylenol, and we’re cuddled up together watching cartoons.

I call her stat.