Page 9

A GROWN-ASS ADULT AND HIS MANTRA

Tyler

Look, I’m not the kind of guy who throws a pile of clothes on the bed and debates what to wear. For anything. I don’t call my sister or my mom on FaceTime, holding up one shirt after another and fielding opinions.

But today? Today, I’m fucking annoyed at the mountain of shirts and the number of options I’ve considered. I blow out a harsh breath, shake my head at my reflection in the mirror, and mutter, “Get it together, man.”

Getting it together means closing my eyes, plunging a hand into the mountain of clothes, and grabbing the first shirt I touch. Doesn’t matter what it is. With my eyes barely open, I tug it on. When I glance back at the mirror, I shake my head.

“Of course,” I mutter.

The text on the gray T-shirt reads: Fun fact: I don’t care. My sister gave it to me because she’s nothing if not irreverent. It’s a little rude, sure, but what can I do? I made a deal with myself.

With that decided, I try to shake off my irritation. I shouldn’t be thinking this hard about what I look like in front of my daughter’s skating coach. I’ve been taking Luna to the rink for years and to Sabrina’s rink for the last five months. Since the second week of January, to be exact.

I’m just a dad taking his kid to a lesson during the off-season. That’s all.

Except it’s not. This is the first time I’ve seen Sabrina since her wedding night when she—let’s just call it what it is—threw herself at me.

Translation: offered me my greatest fantasy.

In a cruel twist of fate, she was far too tipsy for me to do a damn thing about it. Didn’t take much willpower to walk out of that room like I did, given those three margaritas she’d had.

But even though resisting her was the right thing to do, it was the hard thing to do as well. Watching over her? Taking care of her? Looking out for her? Easy.

Still, I have no idea how today is going to go. Or, honestly, if Sabrina still wants some of those things.

A man can dream.

But one thing is clear: things cannot get weird between us.

Luna loves skating. She also loves Sabrina.

She tried a few coaches when we moved here last summer and finally found someone she clicked with in the feisty, upbeat, bright, and enthusiastic Sabrina Snow, former competitive figure skater and performer turned coach.

And nothing—not a thing—can mess that up.

Which means I need to make sure Sabrina knows we are all good.

Even though I can’t help but wonder if it’d be the worst thing in the world to ask her out. We’re both adults. We could be cool about it, right? Doesn’t have to mess things up with the lessons.

Earth to Tyler—She’s barely single .

Right, right. It’s a bad idea for many reasons.

But, is it though?

I do my best to silence the devil on my shoulder as I leave my room and walk into the chaos of the living room of my home in Pacific Heights, the same neighborhood where most of my hockey teammates live.

My son, Parker, is perched on the floor, building not just a Lego spaceship, not just a Lego space station, but an entire Lego space city.

And he’s doing it with none other than my teammate, Asher Callahan.

Parker and Luna’s mom is pretty busy with med school—and I’m seriously proud of my ex-wife for pursuing her lifelong dream to become a doctor—so the kids are with me a lot of the time. Or their nanny, Agatha. Or my mom.

Today though? Agatha’s off, and Parker asked Asher to come over and build, so my buddy showed up for my son. I fucking love my teammates.

“I bet I can finish it faster than you,” Parker says, glancing at the star winger on our team.

“No way,” Asher replies with a smirk.

“Way.”

“Dude, we’re building this together.”

Parker huffs, then smiles like the little devil he sometimes is. “I was just kidding. I’m not that competitive. Like my dad and you.”

I smile. “It’s our job to be competitive.”

Asher laughs, ruffling Parker’s hair. “But right now, we’re a team, little dude.”

“I know,” Parker says, then grabs a yellow piece, squinting as he studies where it goes.

They both turn toward me, and Asher’s smirk deepens. “ Wow. Did you just turn into a dad in a fun fact shirt or what?”

I give him a side-eye. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It’s charming, man. You’re pulling it off. Own it.”

I arch a skeptical brow, then pluck at the tee. “Should I—” Nope. Not going to second-guess. I made a deal with myself, and I stick to my deals. I’ve never once broken a New Year’s resolution. Not going to break this either.

“Keep it on, man,” Asher says, reading into my unfinished sentence anyway.

“Thanks, Asher.”

“Anytime, man. Anytime.”

“Dad, are you ready?” Luna calls from the kitchen. “I have to show Sabrina what I’ve been working on.”

Luna bounces into the room, her brown hair pulled tight into a sleek ponytail, exactly the kind Sabrina wears to every lesson.

Exactly the kind Luna fashions when my mom takes her to the rink, which she does every chance she gets, indulging Luna’s love for figure skating.

It makes my heart squeeze, the love this kid has for the ice.

“Let’s do it,” I say, waving goodbye to Parker and Asher, then trying to fight off the annoying nerves twisting in my stomach as we load into the car.

Seeing Sabrina again…I don’t know what to expect, or what expectation I could even have.

We haven’t talked about all the things she said.

All the tempting, sexy, sinful, inviting things that crossed those glossy pink lips.

Not to mention all the things I wanted, and still do want to ask her, like, Did you really mean it that you want me to take you apart with my tongue?

Do you truly fantasize about me running my beard across your thighs?

Are you thinking about me late at night?

Like I fucking am about her.

But I push those down, focusing instead on Luna’s grin and Parker’s laughter back in the house.

They’re doing so well in San Francisco after we moved here nearly a year ago when Los Angeles traded me to no better place than where my family lives.

Mom’s here. My stepdad, my sister, my brother, and my grandma Birdie.

Life is good. The only thing in my life that’s not great?

My stats. Last year was an okay year—not bad, but not great.

And okay is never acceptable in hockey. I’m thirty-two, I’ve logged ten good years in the pros.

A couple of them were great, but not last year.

When the season starts again in a few months, I need to get back in the great zone.

If I do that, I can play a few more years and make good money, put plenty aside, and be all set when it comes to taking care of the two loves of my life.

Something my own dad never did for my siblings and me, considering he walked out the door with barely a word when I was ten.

I never heard from him again. He died when I was fifteen, and I’m not even sure I cried when I heard the news.

What would I have mourned? The loss of a ghost?

That’s what he’d become to me in those five years.

Absent . A man who wasn’t there for his family.

I won’t be like him. Not a chance.

Which means…now is not the time for romance.

My kids are young, still adjusting to a new city.

I really should set aside any thoughts of asking Sabrina out for real.

The timing is all wrong for so many reasons.

There will be space for romance later. And, really, what am I even missing?

It’s not like I had a great, passionate romance with Elle that I’m longing to replace.

My ex and I were friends before; we’re still friends now. I’m not missing anything.

As I drive through the city toward the rink on the edge of the Marina District, Luna’s voice breaks into my thoughts. “Dad, did you watch the video I sent you last night?”

“Of course I did. Loved the moves and the song,” I say.

“Me too.” She beams. “I want to be able to do something like that. It’s so fun. ”

She chatters on, her excitement contagious.

As we pull into the Sunnyside Rink parking lot where Sabrina hosts her lessons, I’m resolved. Time to face whatever awkwardness might come my way. Then to move on.

When Luna nails her axel with fierce determination, I jump to my feet and cheer. “That’s how we do it!”

She glides over to me, her cheeks rosy, her smile so big it could light up the rink. “Did you see that?”

“Dude, I literally just shouted loud enough for the whole rink to hear,” I say, though there aren’t too many people here—just a few others involved in private lessons happening at the same time.

“I know!” She grins, leaning against the boards. “I just wanted to make double, double sure.”

“You crushed it,” I tell her. “Now get back out there and finish strong with Sabrina, okay?”

“I will!” She beams, flying back to the center of the ice to tackle some footwork. I watch her for a moment, pride swelling in my chest. She’s so confident, so focused. But something’s nagging at me—Sabrina hasn’t skated over to say hi, and that’s not like her.

Shit. Maybe she feels bad. Maybe she thinks I’ll fire her.

The thought twists in my gut. When the lesson ends, I pull Luna aside before Sabrina can bolt. “Why don’t you play that arcade game you like for a few minutes?”

“I love Ms. Pac-Man,” she says. She’s been thrilled since we started coming here that the rink has a collection of vintage games.

I hand her some dollars that she’ll turn into tokens, and once she takes off her skates, she dashes off, already excited.

I draw a deep breath, steeling myself for this conversation with Sabrina. I have no clue how it’s going to go, but I need to clear the air.

But before I can so much as move, Sabrina skates over with a smile that stops me in my tracks. “Do you have a minute?” she asks, her voice light, but something in her eyes makes my chest tighten.