Shutout: Rules of the Game Book 2

TYLER

The remainder of my flight feels like forty hours instead of four. I text Seraphina when I land, but she doesn’t answer. Again. She hasn’t answered me since last night. I’m well past worried.

Baggage claim takes for-fucking-ever. I low key resent every person whose bag appears before mine on the carousel. My equipment bag finally emerges on the conveyor belt, followed by my luggage. Grabbing it, I turn and haul ass to the parking garage to get my car. As I make the drive home, all I can think of is those last thirty seconds of a shutout when the pressure is more intense than it’s ever been—everything comes down to the final second where you either walk away with the win or get denied that big moment.

Seraphina still hasn’t written me back by the time I pull in. Entering the keycode, I go through the garage to put away my gear. Her SUV is sitting parked inside. My worry ramps up another notch. If she’s not in class, why hasn’t she answered any of my texts? Is she upset with me? Is she okay?

The house is silent when I step inside.

“Ser?” I call.

No answer.

With my duffel bag on one shoulder, I go down the hall to check her bedroom and find it empty. Could she be out with someone else? Maybe Chloe picked her up for school today.

I open the door to downstairs, greeted by the sound of water rushing through the pipes. Cautious relief sets in. If she’s in the shower, that would explain why she didn’t hear me come home. Still doesn’t explain why she hasn’t answered any of my texts all day, though.

My gut says something is wrong, and I no longer think it has anything to do with her being angry at me. I can’t explain it. I just know.

Adrenaline spiking, I take the stairs two at a time. When I reach the bottom, I ditch my bag and jog to the bathroom. The door is closed when I reach it.

Placing my ear to the door, I knock softly. “Tink?”

She doesn’t answer.

“Ser.” I knock harder this time, but I still don’t receive a response.

Give me something. Anything. Tell me to go away. Yell at me. Be mad at me. Just answer me.

Growing desperate, I try the handle and find no resistance. It isn’t locked.

“I’m going to come in for a second, okay?” I say through the door. “I want to make sure you’re all right.”

When I open the door, it’s like a knife to the gut.

Seraphina is sitting in the tub next to the faucet with her knees pulled up to her chest. Her gaze is fixed down, and her eyes are vacant. Above her head, the running shower pours down on the tiled surround. The shower curtain is half-closed like it was an afterthought, and there are puddles all over the floor.

Panic courses through my veins, and cold water seeps through my socks as I rush over to her. As I draw closer, a few stray droplets from the spray hit my face and bare forearms. Even though the dial is set to warm, the spray is cold too. Our hot water tank lasts for three or four showers, sometimes more. That means she’s been in there for at least an hour.

How long has she been in there under the cold water?

Kneeling by the side of the tub, I shut off the faucet and try to catch her eye to no avail. Her fair skin is dotted with goosebumps all over, her lips are pale, and she’s shivering. I’m fairly certain she’s in shock, and I have no idea why.

I’ve never been more scared in my entire life, but I need to stay calm for her.

“Ser.” I touch her shoulder to get her attention, finding her skin chilled to the touch. Her eyes lock onto mine, but she doesn’t react. “You’re frozen, baby. I’m going to dry you off and get you warmed up, okay?”

She nods silently, but she doesn’t look at me.

Turning away, I grab a stack of fluffy white towels from under the sink, draping one over my shoulder. While she doesn’t resist my efforts to dry her off, she doesn’t help me, either. It takes some maneuvering, but eventually I manage to wrap her in two of the towels before I lift her up, bridal style. She sags against my chest as I carry her into my room.

Holding her up with one arm, I rearrange my pillows and prop them at the head of the bed before I set her down against them. “I need to get you into some clothes, Tink.”

I get her dressed as quickly as possible, narrating everything as I go even though it feels like I’m talking to myself. She wordlessly cooperates as I tug my black T-shirt over her head, then lay the spare towel over her shoulders to stop the cold water in her wet hair from dripping onto her shoulders and back. Then I help her into the warmest pair of sweats I own and slip on a pair of thick socks for her feet. It’s all several sizes big for her, but at least she’s insulated.

Taking the extra towel, I gently blot as much moisture from her hair as I can, trying to make sure I don’t pull it.

“Tell me if I hurt you,” I murmur, but I know she won’t. She’s like a zombie. I have no idea what’s going on. I suspect no one does; Chase would be here if he did.

Once her hair is dried to damp, I grab a newer Falcons hoodie that still has lots of its fleece lining left from my closet and put that over her head. Her skin is slowly warming, and she isn’t shivering anymore. She looks better—but she still hasn’t said a word.

Nearly out of my mind with worry, I lower to my knees on the floor in front of her. A million scenarios are flying through my brain, ranging from terrible to catastrophic. All I want is to know she’s okay. I need to know she’s okay.

“What happened, Ser?” I take her hands in mine, relieved by how much they’ve warmed since I got her out of the shower.

Her eyes glitter with unshed tears as she looks at me. My clothes drown her, and the combination makes her seem especially vulnerable. She looks so small; fragile.

“Did something happen with your mom?”

She shakes her head. “No.”

This eliminates the most obvious explanation, leaving me more confused than ever.

“Then what is it? Talk to me,” I beg. “Please.”

Seconds pass, and she doesn’t reply. She draws her hands into the sleeves of my sweatshirt, hiding them, and wraps her arms around her body, hugging herself.

“You can tell me anything.” My palms smooth up her back, squeezing reassuringly. “I promise I’ll have your back. But I can’t help if I don’t know what’s going on.”

“It’s me,” she finally says. “The test was positive.” Her voice cracks, and my heart breaks along with it.

“What test?” I crane my neck and try to get a glimpse of her face, but she won’t look at me. “Are you pregnant?”

She hides her face in her hands, a sob wracking her body. My mind whirls as I process the implications of what a positive pregnancy test means for us. Pregnancy. A baby. Parenthood. A little scary, and a lot sooner than I imagined during my What If game earlier, but we can handle it. I’d do anything for her, shifting timelines included.

Crawling up to sit beside her on the bed, I wrap my arms around her as she continues to cry. “It’s okay, Tink. We can figure it out together. I’m not going anywhere. A pregnancy—”

She looks up at me, stricken. “No, Ty. The genetic test. My mom has a BRCA mutation, and I found out this morning that I do too.”

“BRCA?” I echo, not understanding and hating myself for it.

“It’s a cancer gene,” she says, another sob wracking her small frame. “It’s bad. Really bad. It means I’m more than likely to develop cancer in the future. I have—I have an appointment tomorrow to find out more.”

It’s like a bomb detonating in my brain. Seraphina. Cancer gene. The concepts wedge themselves in my mind, stuck as abstract ideas beyond my comprehension. I can’t reconcile it. I don’t want to accept that something could happen to her—that she could get sick like that.

Of all the explanations I’d been worried about, this one hadn’t even entered my mind as a possibility. I didn’t even know she even got tested. Why didn’t she tell me?

Then it hits me: she tried to.

“Ser.” Now it’s my voice that’s cracking. “I’m so fucking sorry. I should’ve been here for you. I wish I’d known.” My chest aches so intensely I think my ribcage might break open. All the shit I’ve been worried about lately seems inconsequential in comparison to this.

Seraphina tears her gaze away from mine again. “I guess… I-I wasn’t sure you’d want to hear about it. You were so busy with hockey, and stressed out with your own stuff, and—’

That guts me all over again. If she believes that, I fucked up majorly along the way.

“Of course I’d want to know, Tink. I love you.” The words leap from my mouth before I can think it through. I don’t know if this is the right time or if she even wants to hear it. It’s just the truth.

“You what?” She turns to look at me with surprise across her face.

“I love you,” I tell her, tucking a lock of damp hair behind her ear. “So fucking much. And I’m sorry if I ever made you feel like I don’t. None of that other stuff means a thing without you.”

Her bottom lip wobbles. “You don’t have to say that just because you think you should.”

“I’m saying it because it’s true. I know what we agreed to going into this, but I want more, Ser. I want you. All of you. The label, a future, you name it.”

Tears spill down her cheeks, and she hides her face in my chest, crying even harder than before. Knowing she was hurting like this alone kills me. I tighten my arms around her, wishing more than anything I could fix things and cursing the fact I can’t.

“Y-you still want to be with me?” She can barely get the words out between her gulps for air. “Even if I might get sick or have to get surgery or—’

Her last sentence cuts me to the bone. Not because I don’t want to deal with that, but because it kills me to think of it happening to her. Fuck. Why is life so unfair?

“No matter what. I’m all in, Ser. I’d do anything for you. Name it, and it’s yours.”

She clings to me, bawling, while I fight the lump forming in my throat. How long has she been dealing with this alone?

“Does this have anything to do with what happened at Rob’s?” I ask quietly. The timing would explain everything.

“Uh-huh.” She gasps as she nods against me, clutching my shirt with her fingers.

Fuck. She’s had this hanging over her head a long time.

“You don’t have to go through this alone anymore, okay? I’m here.”

Seraphina hiccups. “Okay.”

An indeterminate length of time passes as I hold her, rubbing her back and trying to calm her down. It hurts me on every level to see how much pain she’s in knowing there’s so little I can do about it. It’s a visceral ache down to my bones.

I wait until she’s cried herself out and her sobs start to subside.

“Have you eaten?” I ask, stroking her hair.

“No,” she admits. “Not since yesterday.”

Damnit. I should’ve asked her this sooner. It’s well into the afternoon, and this means she’s long overdue for a meal.

I lean over and grab my phone off the nightstand. “Let me order some food. I’m going to shoot Mark a quick text, too. I want to give him some notice.”

Seraphina peers up at me, her lashes still wet with tears. “Notice?”

“Yeah. I’m giving him the week off. With that much time, he might want to fly out of town or go do something.”

“What?” She releases me and scoots back on my bed. “No, I can’t hog you all week.”

“Tink.” I press a finger to her lips. Training is the least important thing in the world on the heels of learning this. “Hockey can wait. Right now, you’re my only priority. I’m clearing my schedule. I’ll tell coach I’m out for tomorrow, too. Then I can come to your appointment if you want. Or I can be waiting for you when you get home. Either way, I’m here and I’m not going anywhere.”

Between the cold shower and skipping several meals, Seraphina worked up an appetite. She eats nearly as much as I do once our food arrives, and that’s saying something because I’m fucking famished.

“By the way…” she sets down her nearly finished chicken clubhouse, wincing. “Chase doesn’t know.”

“I sort of figured. Is there a reason you haven’t talked to him?” They’re pretty close, so I’m surprised she hasn’t.

She bites her lip briefly, then releases it. “Men can be carriers too, but my mom wanted to talk to him about it when the time was right.”

“I understand.” I grab another french fry from the middle where we’re sharing. It goes without saying that I’m saying fuck it to worrying about my diet this week. No real plans to attend class, either. “Can you tell me more about what being positive for BRCA means, Ser?”

Obviously, I’m going to go down the research rabbit hole when I get the chance, but for now, I need her to give me the quick and dirty about what we’re dealing with.

Her hand tightens around her iced tea. “It’s BRCA1, which means I have a significantly increased risk of breast and ovarian cancer.”

My heart clenches at those words.

“Is there anything they can do about that? Extra screening?” My unspoken question is, can we throw money at this to help her? Sky’s the limit.

“Um, well…” Seraphina scrunches up her mouth. “The recommendation is to have preventative surgery around age thirty-five to forty. In other words I have to decide how old I want to be before I let them cut me open and take out my ovaries and cut off my boobs. What’s a good age for that?” Her voice wavers more and more as she speaks, breaking again.

I hate the idea of her undergoing something that invasive, even if it’s necessary.

“Ser. I’m sorry.” I set down my food and shift closer on the couch, hugging her to me. She’s still dressed head to toe in my clothing. While I’d normally find it cute, it makes me sad when I know why.

“Obviously, that decision affects other things, too. Like having kids. We haven’t really talked about that. Do you even want any?”

“Yeah.” My mouth tugs at the thought of a family with her someday. “I definitely do.”

“When I was at my checkup, I asked my gynecologist about my options if the test comes back positive, and she said my best bet is to start a family in my twenties. You know, in case there are any fertility issues and it takes a while to get pregnant. I guess if you wait until thirty to start trying and things don’t pan out, it doesn’t leave you much time to work with given the surgery timeline.”

She seems nervous to tell me this, and I’m not entirely sure why. It all seems logical enough given the circumstances.

“That makes sense.”

Seraphina pulls away from me, reaching for her last bite of sandwich, and finishes it before she replies. “I’m already in my twenties, Ty. Barely, but still. That’s kind of terrifying, isn’t it? None of this was even on my radar a few months ago. Now I have to plan out my entire life. Everything is evolving so quickly; my brain hasn’t had the opportunity to catch up.”

“I get why you’d be overwhelmed, but you’re not alone. We’ll figure it out together.” There are a lot of other things out of my hands. Supporting her, at least, is something I can help with.

Her eyes narrow. “I’m talking about pregnancy and babies to you. Most guys would run for the hills. Why aren’t you freaking out?”

If someone told me I’d be having this conversation, I might’ve expected that reaction from myself as well. When I look at things in perspective, that isn’t the part that scares me.

I wipe my hands with a napkin before I reach for her, cupping her face. “I want a future with you. The details are negotiable. What’s important is that you’re happy and healthy, Ser. We’ll do what’s best for you, whatever that looks like.”

Tears well in her eyes again. “I love you.”

“I love you, Tink.”

Her eyelids turn heavy, and she presses her forehead to mine. I almost think she might fall asleep on the spot.

“God, I’m exhausted. Do you mind if I go take a nap?”

“Go ahead,” I say, kissing her forehead. “I’ll clean up.”

Once she’s in her room, I put away our garbage and straighten up the living room. Then I empty out my suitcase and do my laundry. She’s still asleep when Chase gets home after five.

I glance up from the pile of clean clothes I’m sorting. “Hey.”

Even after our talk at Overtime, our relationship has been strained. Artificially cordial at best and missing the usual level of comfort longtime friends have around each other. Awkward, basically.

“Hey.” He looks around, hesitating. “Anyone else home?”

“Sera is, but she’s napping. Not feeling well.” Partially true, at least.

Chase nods and stuffs his hands into the pockets of his red Falcons hoodie. “Can we talk?”

“What’s up?” I gesture for him to sit. Is he going to ream me out again?

When he lowers onto the couch across from me, resting his arms on his spread thighs, his expression isn’t confrontational.

“Look, I don’t want to have this weird tension between us. I’m willing to admit I may have overreacted slightly.” He gives me a tired half-smirk. “But you caught me by surprise, dude. When I talked to you that night at Overtime, it was clear that you care about Sera, and that’s all I want. I freaked out a little at first because I know you’ve never had a girlfriend. I don’t want to see her get hurt.”

“You’d never had a girlfriend before Bailey,” I point out, setting a pair of socks aside.

Not sure which one of us would’ve qualified as the least likely candidate to end up in a committed relationship. It would have been a close race, to be sure. Yet here we are: two whipped motherfuckers who are loving every minute of it.

“That’s why I’m giving you the benefit of the doubt. You have my blessing. Conditionally. Because if you hurt her—”

“You’ll fucking kill me,” I finish, laughing.

“I won’t make it fast, either. It’ll be long and painful.” He’s jarringly cheerful as he says this, probably because he means every single word.

“Trust me, I have no intention of ever hurting her.” Reaching into the basket, I search for another matching pair of socks. I’m nearly done folding everything, and Sera is still asleep. Poor Tink. I should go check on her.

“Good.” He pushes to stand, dusting off his hands “By the way, you’re invited to family dinner this weekend.”

I give him a questioning look. “Does Seraphina know about this?”

“She will.”

Guess I can consider that his formal stamp of approval. I’ll take it.

Abandoning the folded laundry in the living room, I opt to go see if Seraphina’s awake yet. When I push open the door to her room, it squeaks, and she stirs. Shit.

She stretches and rolls over in bed, turning to face me. “Hi, Hades.”

“I didn’t mean to wake you,” I say, my voice hushed. “How are you feeling?”

“As okay as can be, I guess.” Pulling herself upright, she beckons to me to come closer. “I have something for you, actually.”

“You do?” I sit down next to her, the mattress dipping beneath my weight.

“It’s a birthday present. And not another blowjob.” She laughs. “I didn’t get the chance to give it to you after everything went sideways that night. I may have chickened out because I wasn’t sure if you’d like it.”

“I already know I’ll love anything you give me.”

Seraphina leans over and turns on her lamp. Then she tugs open her nightstand, emerging with something wrapped in sparkly silver paper. It’s not overly big; maybe the size of a soda can. I carefully tear away the wrapping to find a miniature replica of Northview Arena. It’s identical down to every last detail, including the logo beneath the ice. When I look closer, there’s a tiny heart rhinestone embedded in the window of the announcer’s box.

“I found a company who makes custom replicas,” she says shyly. “This way, you’ll always remember where everything started.”

“Ser.” I glance up at her, struggling to find the right words. It’s cute and thoughtful and it’s so characteristically her. There are several meanings behind it, and all of them are important to me. “This is amazing. I love it.”

“Even the heart?”

This is clearly the part that made her nervous, and it’s my favorite detail of them all.

“Especially the heart.” Carefully setting it aside, I lean in and kiss her cheek. “Thank you. It’s perfect.”

My phone rings in my pocket, interrupting us. I check it to find another call from my dad, who’s called five times already—probably wanting to know why I gave Mark the week off without telling him. I’ve been avoiding his calls while I let everything sink in. If I don’t answer soon, he’s going to get worried and hop on a plane here to find out what the fuck is going on.

“Mind if I take this? It’s my dad.”

“Go ahead. I should check online and see what I missed in class today.”

She grabs her laptop while I answer the call next to her, not bothering to step out. I don’t plan to make this a long conversation.

“Hey, Dad.” I reach over with my free hand, raking my fingers through Seraphina’s hair. She angles her head appreciatively, leaning into my touch.

“Tyler.” Concern tints his voice, laced with an undertone of restrained panic. “I spoke to Mark. Is everything okay?”

“It’s fine. Just need to take a few personal days to focus on some other things.” While my father is generally understanding, I’m not sure how he’s going to take this—or whether he’s going to press me for details.

“You thought about what I said, then?”

“I did, and you’re right.”

A relieved sigh sounds on the other end of the line. “I’m sorry if I overstepped or pressured you too much, Ty. Hockey isn’t the only important thing, and I don’t want you to miss out on the rest of your life because you’re too narrowly focused on it. I’m glad you’re prioritizing other things. Or a relationship, as the case may be. I want you to be happy.

I glance over at Seraphina. She’s studying the computer screen, her mouth tugged into her trademark pout of concentration. A now-familiar feeling blooms in my chest, and all of those What Ifs flash through my mind again. They all start and end with her.

“I am,” I tell him. “I can’t wait for you to meet her.”