During these get-togethers, he didn’t touch her other than to steady her on a patch of ice or when he helped her into his car, and though he mourned the close physical relationship they’d enjoyed when they’d first begun to date, taking things slow was the best chance they had of surviving all of this. He didn’t even know how to classify what they were doing now. Even worse, Sebastian wasn’t sure if he was afraid to be alone with her or if there was more going on. The whole bachelor auction thing was really messing with his head. It was the last freaking thing he needed to worry about during his first playoffs.
The NHL playoffs were well-known for being the most difficult in sports. They were so grueling mentally and physically they could sap the strength of even the strongest, most intense player for months afterward. The level of intensity was so high for so long the playoffs were at their heart an exercise in attrition; survival of the fittest in its purest form.
Before Game One Jon gathered everybody in the dressing room and gave the team a pre-game pep talk. Sebastian wasn’t sure what to expect, as Jon wasn’t known for being sentimental. He was more of a fire-and-brimstone coach.
“You guys have been through a shitload of stuff this year, but you didn’t let everything get to you, didn’t take your eyes from the prize,” Jon said. “Well, now you have the opportunity to play for that prize. You have the right attitude, along with the tools and the desire, to win it all. I really believe that.”
Sebastian was riveted. He’d never heard Jon this positive and passionate.
Jon looked around at the players. “Understanding what it took to get here, and to bring home a championship, is crucial. The playoffs are when you find out what your teammates are willing to do to win the Stanley Cup. Are you guys ready to battle for each other? To do whatever is necessary to bring this town a championship?”
He finished his talk by gathering everybody into a group around him. He got down on one knee and peered up into the sea of faces. “Talent wins games, but teamwork and intelligence wins championships.”
Sebastian smiled. Now that was the coach he was used to. Jon was forever quoting Michael Jordon, one of his favorite athletes. This particular quote was pretty popular in hockey circles and Sebastian wasn’t surprised Jon liked it.
Jon let it sink in for a bit, then roared, “Let’s go win a championship! Everybody in!”
At the end of two periods, the score was tied at one and tensions were running high in the locker room. The third period started and the Storm was pressing hard to get the go-ahead goal. It was clear the team was in for the fight of their lives. Sebastian’s line was getting double the ice time as Jon went down to three lines from the usual four. Keeping the best offensive players out there provided the team with much-needed energy.
Unfortunately, the Storm couldn’t solve New Jersey’s goaltender and regulation ended, sending the game into overtime. Since it was the playoffs, the teams got a full twenty minutes before the start of overtime. Conceivably, overtime could last hours since it was played until a goal was scored. Because of that, the teams got extra time to rest.
The first overtime period came and went with not much to show for it, except that two of their star players took hard hits in the corners and were held out of the game while Colby checked each over. Both players returned to the locker room in between the first and second overtimes and declared themselves ready to go. Only a severed limb would keep the guys out of the lineup in a game like this. Without any further discussion Jon put them back in the lineup.
The second overtime period began, and several moments later, Sebastian and Ben were sprung on a two-on-one breakaway after catching the New Jersey defensemen flat-footed. They were at the end of their shift and dead tired, but Ben shoveled the puck to Sebastian, who dove for it as it careened wildly in front of him.
He poked it just past New Jersey’s goaltender. The goal horn sounded and the crowd went berserk. Sebastian fell to the ice and Ben jumped and down, then tripped, landing on top of him, both of them laughing like lunatics. The team was exhausted but exhilarated.
Sarah stopped Sebastian on his way to the training and the locker rooms. “I’ll be waiting after your shower if that’s okay.”
“Yeah, sure.” He was pleased she wanted to see him and hurried through his shower and getting dressed.
She met him in the hallway outside the locker room. “Is it okay to go to my office?”
Sebastian momentarily panicked at the thought of being alone with her, but he knew in his gut he could trust her. “For sure, yes.”
Sarah left the door open and Sebastian knew that was for his benefit. He appreciated her thoughtfulness, but that flew out the window the moment she looked at him and said, “Sit on the desk.”
He did, not quite sure where this was going. She approached slowly, giving him plenty of opportunity to stop her, but he didn’t want to. He needed her touch.
She hugged him tight. Leaning back, she said, “I’m so proud of you. I want you to know that. You’ve come so far in just one year.”
Sebastian gave her a tired smile. “Thanks.” He reached up and cradled the side of her face, needing a more intimate connection, and she leaned into his touch. “That does mean a lot coming from you.”
“You need to rest. Go home. Is Rob waiting for you or did you drive alone?”
“He’s waiting, probably not very patiently.”
Sarah grinned. “You should’ve seen him during the game. I was afraid he was going to have a heart attack.”
“That’s the way he is,” Sebastian said with a shrug. “But yeah, I’m pretty tired. I’ll see you tomorrow?”
She gave him a soft smile. “You couldn’t keep me away.”
As he left her office, he considered that wouldn’t be a bad thing. He needed her in his life.
Chapter Sixteen
The grind of the playoffs continued for Sarah and the team. The next few games seesawed like preschoolers on a sugar high, but the Storm managed to win two of the next four, sending the series back to New Jersey with a chance for the Storm to win it in six games. The team’s belief in themselves and their playing system was astounding. It was truly a treat for Sarah to be a part of, despite the emotional roller coaster she endured every game.
With a win in game six, the Storm advanced to the second round, where they would play Montreal, a divisional rival that had given them fits all year. The teams had played six times and the Storm had won two, both at home.
Jon didn’t want to admit it to the guys, but confided to the operations staff that he was apprehensive about their chances. She and Doug spent every available minute preparing video and making notes for the series with Montreal, going back over analysis they’d done a few weeks ago and adding heaps more to their research.
Sarah called Marcy one night after taking a short break from another long session of video analysis. The wall had been holding her up, but she found herself sliding to the concrete floor of the arena’s inner concourse. It wasn’t comfortable, but her body didn’t care. It wanted sleep.
She’d been making a point to speak with Marcy at least once or twice a week in order to keep some semblance of normalcy around her. After exchanging pleasantries Sarah declared, “The playoffs are going to kill me.” As she spoke, she moved her neck around to loosen the tense muscles and when something cracked she groaned.
“That bad?”
“It’s hard to describe. The team is playing well, and it’s riveting to watch this from behind the scenes the way they’ve come together and are fighting toward one common purpose. You wouldn’t believe the crazy things they’re doing, like not washing socks, walking into the arena in a specific order, listening to the same songs over and over. Frankly, it’s nuts.”
Marcy chuckled. “I can imagine. So how are you and Sebastian?”
“We’re good. We actually don’t see very much of each other outside the rink right now because of the playoffs. Not surprisingly, he doesn’t have much energy left in the t
ank for us. And then there’s me. I’m still a little confused.” Baby steps, she reminded herself.
“About what?”
“About why I acted like I did. I mean, I was scared. But Sebastian is incredible! So why did I pick those fights and then shut him out?”
“Maybe what scares you is you’ve finally met your match.”
It was the first time anyone had suggested Sebastian might be “the one” for Sarah, and her heart fluttered. “Maybe.”
“How is he reacting to you?”
“He’s finally letting me touch him some. It’s basically just holding hands and a little kissing and stuff, but it’s something. Even if he wanted to have sex, when would we find the time? The team is so busy and Doug and I are working all the time too, trying to get the proverbial edge.”
Sarah laughed. “You know one odd thing Sebastian does? After every practice he skates three laps around the ice, always counterclockwise. These guys are so superstitious. It’s hilarious, but I don’t dare laugh to their faces. They take all this stuff very seriously.”
“So you still aren’t seeing much of each other? That’s too bad.”
“Well, we see each other all the time, but as for quality time, no. From what I’ve heard from the guys’ wives, it’s like this every year. They become ‘hockey widows,’ you know, like when women complain about their husbands watching football every Sunday during the season and they call them ‘football widows.’ I’m lucky in that I see Sebastian a lot more than most of the wives see their husbands because I travel with the team.
“When do get quality time we eat out or go to a movie. He’s too fried from the pace to do much more, and he still doesn’t seem to want to hang out at my house.”
After stifling a yawn, Sarah continued. “This is his first time in the NHL playoffs and he’s getting a lot of ice time, which is taking a toll on him, both physically and mentally. Add to that all the stuff he’s gone through in the past few months and I can’t blame him for having nothing in the tank. I’m trying to be supportive and just let him do his thing.”
“That’s good,” Marcy answered. “Just take things slow. There’s no reason to rush.”
“I know. And my counseling is helping, I think. I’m much calmer and more confident that I can handle adversity.” She chuckled. “Know what I figured out the other day?” Without waiting for an answer, she said, “Sebastian and I reversed roles in a lot of ways. He wanted a commitment, he wanted to settle down, and I was the skittish one. Isn’t he supposed to be in the midst of his roaring twenties? Sowing his wild oats?”
“Some people never do. I didn’t. On that note, I should let you get the hell out of there so you can go to bed. Remember, be gentle with him and with yourself.”
For some reason, Sarah teared up. “You’re an incredible woman, Marcy, and an incredible friend.”
By Game Five, the socks were becoming downright disgusting, and between the tune repetitions, the skating in circles and the other weird routines the boys insisted on, Sarah was sure the entire team had lost its mind.
Both teams had won their games on home ice and now it was time for one team or the other to pull ahead. Sarah was as nervous as the players shifting around in their chairs in the video room. Jon had called the meeting to discuss the face-off thing but was twenty-five minutes late. Jon was always late, many times even later than she herself was, so that wasn’t a surprise, but the guys were getting pretty restless, with good reason.
Finally, the man strolled into the room. “Morning.”
“Morning,” they mumbled as one.
“Okay, boys. I think we’ve got this face-off thing worked out. We watched more game video last night and went through various scenarios, and here’s what we came up with. There will be a specific guy whose job it will be to get puck control right after the face-off and fire it at the net. We’re going to try the same set play on every face-off we can. I’m guessing that’ll mess with their heads pretty good. They’ll figure we’ll try it once, maybe twice, and then abandon it. I doubt any of them will know why we’re doing it, either.” He went to the whiteboard and wrote scenarios and assignments.
This whole hypothesis about the goaltender might mean something, or it could mean nothing. Sarah, Doug, the coaching staff and the team leaders were of the same mind; it did mean something. Statistically speaking, it was happening too often to not be significant.
As Jon continued to draw on the board, the guys perked up. Jon was assigning some to take the shot, including Sebastian. The guys were starting to yammer to each other about how and when they should shoot.
Jon whirled around. “Quiet! I want everyone involved in this process to study this board. Hell, I want everybody to study the board whether you’re involved or not. Learn it, know it, live it, and play the system.” It was a mantra he’d preached all season. “Come see me if you have questions.”
The guys nodded, leaning forward in their chairs to study the formations. Some had their eyes closed, seemingly visualizing themselves in the situation in an attempt to make the strategy more instinctual and less about trying to remember a sequence of steps. Sebastian studied the board for a while and then ran his hands over his face, exhaling loudly. He stood up to leave and Sarah followed him into the hallway.
She worried about him more every day and his current appearance didn’t allay her fears. “Hey.” He looked atrocious, with his scraggly beard and sunken eyes, not to mention the large bruise on his cheek courtesy of a high stick a few games ago.
He gave her a weak smile. “Hey.”
Sarah frowned. “You’re scaring me. Are you sleeping all right?” She took a step toward him, running her hand down the side of his face before resting it on his shoulder. Sarah tried not to be demonstrative at the rink or freak him out by touching him too much, but she couldn’t help herself. “How’s your back?”
Sebastian sighed. “The same. It’s not going to get better until we stop playing.”
“But there’s something else bothering you. I can tell.”
“I never realized how much pressure would be on me. I mean, I am a rookie. Usually rookies get little ice time in the playoffs. The way Jon’s got those diagrams drawn, I’m responsible for getting that shot off if I’m on the ice. It is a lot to think about.” He leaned against the wall and eyed Sarah. “And as far as sleep goes, there are two problems. One, my back hurts every time I move, and two,” his gaze became wary, “you’re not there.”
Sarah’s mouth fell open. He wanted to sleep with her? He hadn’t mentioned nightmares lately—maybe they were gone. Hers finally were. Did he want to get back together? She was so afraid to let her heart hope. A tear escaped and she swiped at it, but Sebastian uttered a curse and straightened.
“I didn’t say that to make you cry, mon coeur. Come on.” He turned them both in the opposite direction from the locker room.
He called me “mon coeur.” He hasn’t called me that in forever. Her chest threatened to burst from happiness. “Where are we going?”
“We’re going to find an empty room. One that is not your office. That place has been far too busy for us to have any privacy there,” he said as his arm slid around her waist, and she marveled at how good and natural it was for Sebastian to hold her again.
It had been too long.
He opened the door to an auxiliary training room that was now used for storage, checked to make sure the door wouldn’t lock them in, and then pulled her inside.
Sarah had no idea what his plans were for this little liaison, but being close to him was having its usual effect. Her breath quickened and her body heated as she drank in his scent.
Sebastian picked her up and placed her on a counter. He stared into her eyes for a moment, his gaze smoldering. Sarah shuddered with need. After Sarah lived and died a thousand times, he moved in, taking her mouth in a deep, passionate kiss.
He hadn’t kissed her like this since before the attack, and she’d been holding back for a long time, afraid
to make a move herself. She opened to him, and Sebastian groaned and drew closer, continuing his sly, flirting torment. She hitched her legs over his hips, hooking her ankles together at the base of his spine, aligning her body with his. They melded together, both of their hearts thumping.
Sebastian finally broke the kiss and pulled away. He was panting and Sarah’s head was spinning, her skin hot and her body crying out for him. He ran his hand through his hair. “I’m sorry, I had to.”
“I wanted you to. That wasn’t obvious? Why are you apologizing for kissing me?”
“Because I’ve been trying to deal with all this stuff from the auction and the playoffs and also figure out what I wanted from you. I didn’t intend to ravage you. I just wanted a private place where we could talk for a minute. But now, mon trésor, every piece of my body is dying to make love to you.” He shrugged, frowning. “I haven’t felt that way in a long time. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable. But ma belle, Sarah, when you touched me back there in the hallway… I guess I just snapped. My body hurts, both from playing hockey, and now from wanting you, but you know what hurts the most?”
He took her hand, drawing it to his heavily-muscled chest. His bright green eyes were shining with emotion. “My heart, Sarah. My heart hurts. This is supposed to be the best time of my life, living my dream, and it doesn’t mean anything because I don’t have you. Not really.”
You do have me because I love you.
And she did. She loved him. Her breath quickened, but she recognized the reaction for what it was. Excitement, not fear. Now that she believed he might accept her love, she couldn’t wait to tell him.
Sarah started to speak, but he cut her off. “I want more. I need more.”
Before he could say another word, she put her finger to his lips. “I love you.” Her body sang with the truth of that sentiment.
ShouldveKnownBetter Page 21
