Chapter 38
Brynn
The next two months were a frenzied blur of the most important hockey Shea had ever played, and a fiery romance that the two of us struggled to keep under wraps.
For the Brawlers, the beginning of a heroic playoff run started with that first victory against Tampa. The Brawlers won the next game at home, knotting the series at two games apiece. For Game 5, Shea and the rest of the Brawlers traveled to Tampa. They won that game, too—and then they closed out the series by winning the next game in Boston, advancing to the second round of the playoffs.
With each victory, the Brawlers' confidence as a team grew. Each and every player started to hit his stride, blossoming like the spring flowers that were blooming all around Boston. Lance and Radar continued to click as a goal-scoring duo, leading the team's high-powered offense. Ilya looked unbeatable in net. Shea was the calm, reliable presence that the team needed on defense—calm, that is, until anyone neared his goaltender. Then, Shea possessively guarded his net like a rabid dog.
In round two, Shea and the Brawlers traveled to Toronto. The hot and experienced Brawlers steamrolled the young Toronto squad, dispatching them in five games.
The kids and I watched every game during the playoffs. Shea had told me once that, when he was still married and his kids were still little ones, the family would be waiting for him at the door after every game. He told me how much he missed that, how that greeting always made him feel like a hero. So, when Shea returned home after every game, the four of us would be waiting for him. It was a small thing, but I could see just how happy it made Shea, so I made sure that it continued to happen.
When Shea was out of town, I began the search for a replacement nanny and started interviewing candidates immediately. It wasn't easy. I was mostly joking when I teased Shea about having a thing for hot nannies. But I'd be lying if I said jealousies and insecurities never entered my mind when I interviewed the women who wanted to replace me. The thought of them taking my spot, forging relationships with the kids, alone in the house with Shea …
It was almost enough to make me call the search off entirely.
The truth was, I'd been falling for Shea for a while. Sure, in the beginning, the two of us made more than a few missteps. But ever since he told me that the twins weren't his, and that it didn't make a difference in how he raised them, I knew he was a special man. He hadn't been scared off by 'the talk' that had sent every man I've tried to date since Mikey running for the hills. I knew in my heart that I had to do whatever I could to keep him.
And in a strange way, that was exactly why I knew that I had to hire another nanny if I was serious about our relationship. It was great that we got along so well—but we needed healthy boundaries; we needed our own lives. I couldn't continue to live and work at the house.
With the parade of potential nannies coming to the house for interviews, it was no use trying to keep it a secret. I told the kids that they would have a new nanny, so they would have time to process the news. Chloe wasn't too effected, since she'd seen it coming—but the twins were crushed. They simply could not understand why I was quitting. Why can't you stay forever? they'd ask. I tried to reassure them that they'd still see me from time to time, but they didn't believe me. They never saw Estel or any of their other nannies, so why should they see me again?
Shea and I agreed that the replacement nanny wouldn't take over for me until after the playoffs were over. Part of that agreement was because hockey players were deeply superstitious by nature—and since the Brawlers were winning, Shea didn't want to mess with a good thing.
But another part of me had to wonder if there was more to it than just superstition: maybe, just maybe, Shea got an athletic boost from our forbidden romance? He said I made him feel ten years younger, after all. And on the ice, he sure played like it.
It was easy to understand, too. Our 'affair' was the most thrilling time of my life, and I might have felt a few years younger myself. On one hand, it felt so wrong sneaking around behind the kids' backs for our midnight trysts like we were. On the other hand? It was so exciting, and we never got caught. We knew we were being irresponsible, like a couple of insatiable teens that couldn't keep their hands off each other, but what else could we do?
The sex was frequent, whenever we could take it, and always sinfully hot. The fact that we 'weren't supposed to be doing this' only added more fuel to the fire. We were always inventing new excuses to be alone together. A quick run to the store for a gallon of milk might take us twenty minutes longer than it was supposed to. We always returned with our clothes looking slightly disheveled, my hair suspiciously messy, a fog lingering in the Bentley's windows.
One night, after Shea returned from the road and I was feeling particularly pent-up, I was having a terribly hard time staying quiet for him. Shea tried cupping his hand over my mouth to muffle my screams, but even that wasn't quite working. So he whisked me to the basement instead, and we made use of the soundproof rink. Sometimes, I'll get a sudden reminder of the raunchy night we defiled the indoor rink, and a hot burst of shame rises to my cheeks—but then I remember how hard the two of us came, moaning and groaning at the top of our lungs while the rest of the house peacefully slept, and … well … I can't exactly say that I regret it.
When Shea was on the road, the kids stayed with Cynthia. It was a bittersweet time—we were so far apart. Yet, those were the only times when Shea and I didn't have anyone to hide from, when we could talk openly and without speaking in hushed tones. As soon as Shea got back to his hotel, he'd call me and we'd talk for hours. We could talk about everything or nothing at all. Just the sound of each other's voices kept us going. Inevitably, our phone conversations turned dirty, and we drove each other crazy talking about just what we were going to do to each other when we could finally be together.
And then, days later, we'd be back together … only to remember that we couldn't do any of the things we wanted. At least, not until late at night, when the house was quiet and still and our hearts pounded in our chests.
All I knew was that I wanted the hockey player thinking about me always. As soon as he got home, I needed to feel his eyes all over me. I needed to know that he was obsessing over me, plotting out just when and how he planned to take me this time. As long as he wanted me, I knew everything was good, everything was right—in life and love and hockey.
My only complaint?
Shea still hadn't taken me out on that date. Yes, it was impossible with the kids around. And yes, he was very busy with his hockey schedule. I knew all that. But still, one real date—that was all I wanted, to know that this was really real, and not just some short-lived flame.
But I had to have faith.
And wait until hockey ended.
The Brawlers, meanwhile, continued their march through the playoffs. Their opponent in round three was a veteran Washington team. The winner of that series would play for the Stanley Cup. Both teams wanted it, bad, and it took seven games of back-and-forth action before Boston emerged victorious.
The Brawlers had one last team standing between them and the Stanley Cup.
Their opponent?
Nick and Cam's favorite team, of course—Chicago!