Page 4 of Whirlwind (Seattle Blades #4)

This isn’t unexpected, either. I had an off-season incident that tabloids ran with. Was it part of why Vancouver didn’t hesitate to trade me? Maybe.

“Whatever they need from me,” I say, easily. Seattle is giving me a shot; I’ll give them one, too.

“If you want a place at the dinner table, all you have to do is show up. The guys here will hold a seat for you.”

“Thanks, Coach. I appreciate that.”

“Don’t thank me, just put in the effort and I’ll do my best to get you that cup.”

“Will do, Coach,” I tell him, standing to leave.

Before I make it to the door, he stops me.

“Tyson,” he calls. “Sadie is going to be excited to see you.”

“I’m going to be excited to see her, too,” I admit. She’s a special girl and I’ve missed her. “I hope that won’t be weird for anyone.”

“Her dad worships the ground she walks on; he’ll be happy she’s happy. I think you can understand, yeah?”

Coach Cole doesn’t need to remind me of common ground between me and Cillian. I know it exists. I appreciate his effort, all the same. Regardless of how difficult it will be for two men in love with the same woman to play together, we’ll both put Isla and Sadie first.

“Perfectly.”

“Good, get suited up. I’ll see you on the ice.”

“Yes, sir,” I say, shutting his office door behind me.

Stepping into a new locker room is a little like the first day of school.

No matter how familiar it all is, you’re still somewhat off-balance.

When you’ve played elite hockey your whole life, you get used to your teammates changing up, that’s nothing new.

Every summer camp as a kid was with new guys.

All-star game lineups are different each season, trades and drafts happen every year.

If you can’t get accustomed to interchangeable parts, this isn’t the sport for you.

Knowing that doesn’t lessen the first-day jitters. As expected, I get some razzing when I walk in to change into my gear.

“We put your cubby next to Wylder’s, Murphy,” Axel Wallin says. “You cool with that?”

“That was my second choice of places to be,” I say.

“Where was your first?” he asks, cocking his head.

“Next to you, buddy. Heard your eyesight was going in your old age, wanted to stick close enough for you to ogle me like I know you like to do.” That gets a few laughs from the other guys.

Wallin is now one of the older guys, on what is mostly a younger group of guys, on the team.

I’ve known him for years; we played in the WHL together for a few seasons.

Him being the first to give me some shit is his way of welcoming me.

“Whatever, Pretty Boy,” he says. “I see just fine!”

“Nice comeback, Wally.” I laugh.

“Yeah, yeah. Good to see you, dickhead.”

“You, too.”

I move to my cubby, saying hello to the guys I pass as I go. Wallin wasn’t joking; I am next to Wylder, who is already sitting there, putting his pads on.

“Tyson,” he greets me with a nod.

“Cillian,” I say back. Taking a seat, I start to unlace my tennis shoes. “How’s it going?”

“No complaints.” He doesn’t look toward me for a moment or two, but I feel his gaze when he finally does. “I’m not going to let history dictate our team relationship. There are no hard feelings on my end.”

“On mine, either,” I say, turning to look at him. “Honestly.”

“Good to hear, man. Sadie was a box of firecrackers when she heard the trade announcement. She’ll be at the game tomorrow and is hoping to see you.”

“Let’s make that happen. I don’t want to disappoint her,” I say. “I’ve missed her.”

“She’s missed you, too,” he says. “They both have. I’m not saying this out of misguided jealousy, more out of diplomacy. If it’s too difficult for you to be around Isla, you tell me. I’ll get you in front of Sadie Baby without her mom.”

“I…” I start to say something, then pause to consider. “I guess I didn’t expect you to be this understanding.”

“We don’t know much about each other. That’s something I’d like to see change.

As captain of the team, as the husband of a woman who respects you, and as the dad of a kid who sees you as an idol,” he says.

“First thing you should know about me is that I fucked my life up beyond belief and am living every day to ensure I never do anything like that again. My family is the most important thing to me, but my family extends to this team. So, it includes you now, too.”

“I respect Isla, too. She never gave me any false hope, I knew where her heart was. Her making the choice to be happy isn’t something I hold against her. Or you.”

“Good to know. Despite the rough start, you’re still one of the best in the fucking game, so I’m glad you’re here. We all are.”

“Damn right,” Blom says from a few stalls down. “Now, if you two are done fucking hugging it out like a couple of old grandmas, can we get on the ice and see how Pretty Boy plays with the rest of us when he’s wearing the same sweater?”

“I guess I got my nickname already,” I mutter.

“Could be worse,” Cillian says. “They’ve started calling Letty Fat Bottom Girl, in recent weeks.”

“Do I want to know the story behind that?”

“Probably not,” he answers with a laugh.

Practice goes as good as I could have hoped for.

They throw me on a line with Letty and Wally, who are not only fast and capable, but fun, too.

The lighthearted banter, the ribbing of other players, infuses the work with much-needed joy.

Something I hadn’t realized I’d missed. The three of us read each other well, better than you can expect after one practice.

For the first time in a long while, I step off the ice with a sense of optimism.

After a shower, I meet with the team of trainers.

We met yesterday, too, after my flight arrived.

They gave me a general physical then. Today, they’ll have a plan for me.

And like the pro I am, I’ll execute it all without complaint.

At least, to them. My dad is the one who hears that side of me.

He says it’s his job, since he’s the one that encouraged me to start playing at the age of four.

My mom carpooled me to every practice, every game, every camp. All while my little sister became my biggest cheerleader. My career became a family affair. I owe them everything.

When I spoke to my parents last night, they told me my sister, Lottie, needed to move. The occupants of the apartment above her flooded their unit, which caused Lottie’s ceiling to cave in.

I came up with a solution; I’ve just yet to let her know. On my drive back home after practice, I call her.

“Hi, Ty,” she greets.

“Hey, heard you had an interesting day yesterday.”

“Mother fucking idiots,” she mutters.

“Move into my house, it’s empty anyway.”

“I can’t do that, Ty.”

“Sure, you can, and you fucking will,” I tell her with my stern big brother voice. She nearly always ignores it with an eye roll, but it’s worth a shot. “You have the code to the door, take your pick of guest rooms. Dad will help you move anything out of the way so you can move stuff in.”

“I can’t afford your mortgage payment.”

“Who the hell asked for you to cover my mortgage?” I ask. Truth is, it’s paid off, anyway, but she doesn’t know that.

“I can’t live there for free,” she says, and I take that as a win because she’s no longer saying she can’t move in.

“Pay me whatever you were paying for your apartment. You get a bigger place, in a safer neighborhood, and I get someone to keep an eye on the place. It’s a win-win.

” What I don’t say is that I’ll put whatever money she sends me into a low-risk investment account for her.

She’d fight me on that, too. Lottie likes to be independent.

She’s not very good at it yet, but she tries.

At twenty-two, she’s still got time to learn.

“Are you sure?”

“Absolutely. It’s empty, Lottie, take advantage of it. Besides, I know you don’t want to move back in with our parents.”

“Not while that demon still lives with them,” she says, referring to my mom’s cat. The animal hates Lottie. None of us know why; it’s amusing to all of us but my sister.

“It’s settled then,” I say, trying not to laugh.

“Fine. Now, tell me about your first day. Did you and Wylder have words?”

“Yes, but they were all good ones. He’s helping me see Sadie.”

“Oh, God, Ty,” she says, and I register the emotion in her voice. “That’s kinda fucking great.”

“It is,” I say, allowing some emotion of my own. My family knows how much I cared about Sadie. It’s been hard having to cut that tie. “Coach and I had a good chat, too.”

“I’m proud of you, Ty. Probably don’t say that enough.”

“I’m proud of you, too, kiddo. Now, go move into my house.”

“All right, thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Love you,” I tell her.

“I love you, too. And I’ll be watching tomorrow.”

“You better be.”

We end the call as I pull into the driveway of my house, or Calvin’s house. Whatever. As I step out of my rig, wet paws land on my calf.

“What the fuck?” Looking down, I find the smallest ball of fur I’ve ever seen.

“Nightmare! Damn it, I’m so sorry,” a woman’s voice calls out from behind me. “He got out of his harness; it’s still too big.”

I pick up the yappy little thing and turn around to find a familiar face.

“Hey, you’re Willa’s friend.”

“Oh, Tyson. What are you doing here?” she asks, taking the dog from my arms.

“I live here.”

“Oh,” she repeats.

“I’m sorry, what was your name again? Kat?”

“Kit.”

“Right, sorry. And that’s Nightmare?”

“Yeah, I recently bought my house,” she says, pointing to a small, black brick house across the street. “Thought it would be good to have a guard dog.”

I laugh, because what the actual fuck? Nightmare weighs maybe six pounds, and considering I can’t see his face under all the fur, I’m not sure he could find an attacker if he tried.

“Probably a smart move,” I say.

Kit smiles at me, and I wonder why I never noticed how pretty she is. Her skin is flawless bronze, her hair is dark and falls thick past her shoulders, with a thin nose and full lips, she’s truly stunning.

“What?” she asks after a moment, scrunching her nose in the most adorable way. Except, she’s looking at me like she said something that I should have responded to. Did she?

“Sorry?”

“You’re staring.”

“You’re staring,” I say back like I’m a four-year-old with an undeveloped brain.

“Oh my God,” she says with a laugh. “Okay, I’m going to go back home to my pizza and Baldur’s Gate . See ya, Tyson, I’ll try to keep my dog out of your hair.”

“Wait,” I say, stopping her. “Console or PC?”

“Xbox.”

“What’s your gamer tag?”

She narrows her eyes at me, but eventually answers. “HookersNBlow.”

“Shut the fuck up, seriously?”

Kit smiles and shrugs before crossing the street without another word.