Page 54 of Rookie Attraction

He shakes his head.

“We got through it and we’re stronger for it. We hear from my father once a year—a phone call. He works as a ranch hand in South Dakota. Unfortunately, two decades later, he’s still drinking.” He sighs. “It was rough on all of us, but in the end, his leaving was for the best. Somehow he knew that he couldn’t get a handle on his addiction, and he didn’t want to hurt us. At first, all I wanted was for my dad to come home, but as I grew older, I learned to accept why he didn’t. Or couldn’t. Not that it hurts any less. If it hadn’t been for Mom helping us through it⁠—”

Sel blinks rapidly and reaches for his drink. I can’t even imagine dealing with a loss like that. Before I know it, I’m reaching across and touching his forearm to comfort him. Sel doesn’t pull away.

“Your mom’s a warrior.”

Sel’s grin makes a comeback.

“Strongest person I know. Fierce and funny too, but in a very dry way. The Dutch way. Not everyone gets her sense of humor. And she takes no bullshit, not from anyone, not even from her sons. She was born in the Netherlands before her parents immigrated here and built a grocery business in Santa Barbara. Mom still runs it. She could retire now, but she loves working.”

“That’s awesome.”

“I get my drive from her.”

“Same. Well, from both my parents and my brother, Will.”

Despite what he’s been through, Sel’s steady and grounded, a lot more than I first assumed. I chatter about my siblings, including my oldest brother, and the accident that I never talk about with anyone, except those in my inner circle.

“Will’s the oldest. He and I are four years apart, but similar in a lot of ways. He was a star linebacker in high school and we both had dreams of becoming pro athletes.” I pause and reach for my glass, needing a drink to ease the constriction in my throat. “Just after he turned eighteen, on the Thanksgiving Sunday, Will and a group of his buddies drove to Fremont to watch a football game. A snowstorm turned into freezing rain and the friend who was driving lost control of the truck. Everyone survived, mostly minor injuries, but my brother ruptured his spinal cord. He lost the use of his legs and his football dreams. It took a lot of time, healing and redefining what his new life would look like, but he kept working, and he wouldn’t give up. Now he runs his own social media business helping colleges market their athletic programs, and he’s doing great.”

Sel’s eyes lock on mine. The sunset casts a glow over his features and I can’t look away.

“You’re close,” he finally says.

“Yes,” I admit. “He’s one of the reasons I push so hard when it comes to hockey. I refuse to give up. That, and what happened with my mom and her cancer. I feel I owe it to them.”

Sel stares at me.

“You don’t owe them; you love them.”

I nod, a tightness gripping my chest, leaving me at a loss for what to say.

Luckily, I don’t have to say anything because the server returns with our meals. We pivot back to talking about food and the upcoming games.

Two hours, two braised beef ribs with polenta, and four desserts later, we head back to the hotel. I’m so involved in our conversation that I don’t realize Sel’s escorted me to my floor until I hear the elevator ping. The doors slide open, and the hallway’s empty and quiet. I step out and turn to say good night, only, something makes me pause as Sel and I stand facing each other. There’s a tension, an undercurrent that I can’t explain. It’s probably all in my imagination.

“Thanks for the workout today,” Sel offers. “And the company at dinner.”

“Anytime.”

With a final nod, the doors close.

After that epic meal and lots of walking, I should be relaxed and sleepy, ready for bed. Instead, my heart’s thrumming wildly, so I speed walk to my room. Swiping my card, I open the door, and jolt when I hear Kuznetsov’s twin-engine snoring. My teammates are right: he’s louder than a jet plane. Fuck me, it’s going to be an interesting week.

For many reasons.

I throw my key card on the dresser, shove in my earplugs, and throw myself down on the mattress. But sleep doesn’t come. My mind’s too busy replaying dinner. The more I talk to Sel, the more I want to know. Not just that, but I want to hang out with him, all the fucking time. And what’s worse? My body catches up to my brain, and when I think about him here, now, lying in the dark, it happens again.

I’m hard.

For most guys it’s no big deal, happens all the time. But for me? It’s telling. And I can’t pretend anymore that I don't understand what it means.

Sel

Do it already.

I pick up my phone, determined to send Taylor a text about our plans for the next date. On paper, we’re a perfect couple. In real life, I couldn’t care less. But things will be easier if I follow Hugo’s advice.