Page 62 of Season's Schemings

I dart across the deck—skipping as carefully as possible over the icy bits—then throw off my robe and practically jump in.

“Brrrrr,” I breathe as the steamy water stings pleasantly on my cold skin. I position myself at the far end of the tub, away from Seb, and sit on my hands. The man looks good enough to eat right now—all wet and shirtless, his hair tousled and damp, his cheeks pink from the heat. I don’t want to accidentally maul him like I’m a hungry grizzly bear or something.

Seb catches me checking him out, and smiles lazily. “Hello, Mrs. Slater.”

“Mr. Slater.” I sigh happily. This is miles better than sitting in the living room. The sky above is a black velvet blanket with a million stars woven across it. The crisp air smells like pine and snow and chlorine. And Seb is looking at me with a heat in his eyes that makes my lower belly feel fizzy.

As the steam clears a little, I catch a glimpse of his swim shorts under the water, and have to laugh. They’re canary yellow with pink donuts all over them. He follows my gaze and grins. “My Homer Simpson shorts.”

“That explains nothing.”

“Okay, if you want the full story… I got them at Universal Studios a couple years back when I was there with my family. I flew them down to see me when I was playing an away game, and I took them to Universal the next day. My younger brother loved the shorts, so we bought matching pairs.”

“You have a brother?”

“Two, actually. One’s a high school hockey coach back in the little mountain town where I grew up, and the other plays in the European hockey league.”

“Runs in the family, huh?”

“You could say that. My dad is obsessed with hockey, but growing up, he could never afford to play. And so, when my brothers and I were younger—and were clearly as hockey-obsessed as he was—he made a ton of sacrifices so we could have the opportunities he didn’t.” Seb smiles a little wistfully. “My parents are really great.”

I put two and two together as I think about how distant Seb seemed all afternoon. “You’re missing your family today. Because it’s the holidays.”

“We actually haven’t spent Christmas together in years. Hockey’s been my priority for a really long time. I’ve been lucky to get as far as I have in my career, lucky that I can financially support my parents to thank them for everything they’ve done for me. ”

“But don’t you miss being close with your family?”

“I do. I guess family and relationships have just… taken a backseat. I’ve always been focused on my next goal.”

“That sounds stressful.”

He looks at me then, and it’s a long, loaded look. “I was furious when I overheard your mom talking to you today. The way she puts you down makes me angry. And the way Adam walks all over you makes me wanna punch him in the face. I dunno, maybe I have anger issues.” He snorts a laugh. “But I’m so impressed by you, I can’t help but go on defense for you. I mean, you showed up for your family Christmas. You could’ve said no, told them to go screw themselves… but instead, you came. Meanwhile, my family loves and supports me—sacrificed so much for me—and in my trying to prove that it was all worth it… I think I ended up putting hockey first to the point that I hardly ever see them. Or talk to them.”

He runs a hand through his hair and tugs on the ends. “I realized today that I’ve been trying to make them proud, but I think I ended up being selfish in my pursuit of that.”

I shake my head. Slide a little closer to him. “You’re not. And you know how I know that? Because I initially thought that you’d been distant all day because you needed to mentally check out and take some brainspace for yourself… but here you were, thinking about other people.”

He pulls a face. “And how much I suck at keeping them close.”

“You can change that.” I shrug. “You’re a good person, Seb. You’re thoughtful. You listen—like, really listen. You care about people. You’re already generous and kind with your money, and you just have to learn to be generous with your time, too. Figure out how to make space for more meaningful things in your life than only hockey.”

He swallows. Nods. “You’re right, Maddie.”

“I’m always right. Never forget that.”

“C’mere.” He wraps his hand around my arm and pulls me none too gently along the slippery seat until I’m right next to him. Like, if I was any closer, I’d be in his freaking lap. “That’s better.”

“Hey!” I splash him indignantly, glad that the mood lifts as he comes back to the present with me.

He shoots me a devious grin. “I’m making space for a meaningful thing in my life.”

My heart jumps into my throat.

That face.

That voice.

Those words.