The Cyclones are good at not dwelling on things. Or at least we can all fake it well enough to move on with our lives.

Once we get home, everyone turns their attention toward the Vyper VIP Tournament. It's one of the last, big sponsored events of the season, and it's a chance for us to show that we can quickly and efficiently take down bleeding edge content, since the newest expansion for Estalia Online will be out only a couple weeks beforehand.

We settle back into a daily routine. For me it's workout, breakfast, team meeting, then practice with everyone. After that it’s the evening post-mortem where we go around the room and talk about what went well and what we can improve, then dinner and finally private time where I can work on my YouTube channel or get in some more practice.

Tonight I'm doing the latter, or at least trying to. Because while the Cyclones as a whole may be good at compartmentalizing and moving forward, I apparently am not.

I glance at my second monitor for the third time in the last ten minutes. I've got three different tabs pulled up, all for the same purpose: keeping an eye on Ryker Winthrop.

It started with his Insta, since he's most active there. Then I added Facebook and Twitter to the mix. Now I constantly refresh all three, looking for some sign that he's going to drag my team--or me--through the mud.

He hasn't yet, and I honestly don't think he will. It's just something I'm telling myself so I can avoid the reality of it all, which is that I need to know if he's seeing anybody.

It's stupid. I know it is. And it's not like knowing he is changes anything. We had a casual encounter. Two casual encounters. Unless I count each time I came as another encounter, and then it was… a lot. But we don't live in the same city or even the same state, so it's not like we can keep up some enemies with benefits thing.

I shouldn't want to, anyway, because being around Ryker makes me selfish. He makes me put my needs before the team's, and I can't be the captain who lets down the people who depend on him just because he's fiending for some dick.

Even as I think it, I pull up my DMs. His icon is right at the top, the message instantly displaying. It was sent yesterday, maybe even while he was still on the plane home.

I don't think he could sound any more conceited if he tried, and I've responded at least ten times today to tell him that, and maybe to get in some jab about how he couldn't even wait a full day to tell me what a good lay I was.

But I always delete the message. Even now as I'm typing it, I know I'm going to delete it. It's what gives me the confidence to say whatever the hell I want.

I roll my eyes and delete it, tapping out another.

Lies. What a massive lie. I'm definitely interested in thirds. And fourths, and fifths, and however many it takes to scratch this itch.

Delete.

More honest than I'll ever be with him. I start to delete it immediately when I hear a knock at my open door. Blake stands there, looking flustered in a way I've never seen from him before. His gaze is unfocused, his face is a little pale, and one arm is braced over his stomach like he's going to be sick.

I immediately close all the Ryker tabs and turn to face my teammate. "Blake? Are you okay?"

He was fine at dinner, and I didn't notice anything weird going on when we were tanking together earlier. He's one of the most dependable guys I know, and probably the most agreeable. The fact that he's in such rough shape gets to me.

"Yeah, yeah," he says, obviously distracted. "You got a sec?"

"Of course," I say, pushing away from my desk and gesturing to the empty chair by the wall.

Blake closes the door behind him--another big clue--and sits down, his fingers finding a loose thread in the upholstery. He doesn't say anything for a long moment, so I finally prompt him.

"What's up?"

When he looks up at me, there's an insane mix of emotions in his dark eyes. I see worry and joy and caution and sadness, and that's just scratching the surface.

"Holly's pregnant, man."

It's like someone dropped a bomb in here. There's chaos all around, and Blake and I are sitting at the center of it, with him buried beneath the debris and me having no clue how to react.

"Whoa," I manage, rubbing a hand over my face. "That's huge."

"Yeah," he says on an exhale. "I... yeah."

"Is that... a good thing?" I ask cautiously.

He lets out a dry, nervous laugh and rakes his fingers through his hair.

"I don't know, Finn. I think so? I love her. I really, really do, and there's a part of me that's so fucking ready to do this, you know? Start a family. Grow the hell up and be the man she needs me to be. But..."

"It's a big change," I finish for him, reaching over to pat his knee. "Nobody can fault you for having mixed feelings."

"Holly can," he says with another strained laugh. "She's pissed I wasn't immediately on board. And I wasn't even acting like I didn't want this, I just didn't know what to say when she told me." He fidgets, getting out his phone as if he's checking for a message from her. "I mean, being somebody's dad is a huge deal."

"Did you tell her all the things you're telling me?"

"Not yet," he admits. "I'm going over to the house tonight to try and make things right. I want to make an honest go at this; to be there for her and our kid. And if I do that..."

He trails off, but I can see the end in his eyes. Not just of his sentence, but of our long history as co-tanks. Being a member of the Cyclones takes a lot of time and dedication, and Blake was already struggling with having to cancel wife time because something came up with the team. He's not the sort of person who just phones it in--I've always admired that about him.

And sure, losing him on the team is a bummer. But if he thinks we aren't going to hang out, he's wrong.

"Say no more," I tell him. "Family comes first. Always. You know we'll miss you, but you're always welcome here."

He manages a shaky smile at that. "Yeah. I know. I appreciate that, Finn. Seriously."

"Are you going to finish out the season?" I think I already know the answer, but it doesn't hurt to ask.

"I don't think so. I don't want Holly to worry I'm going to let myself get sucked back in next season. I think it has to be a clean break."

"I get it, man," I assure him, giving his leg another pat, "and so will everybody else. Have you told Coach yet?"

"It's my next stop. Wanted to tell you first," he says with a smile. "You're a good captain, Finn, and a great friend. Whoever you get in here as co-tank better realize how lucky they are."

"I'll make sure of it," I say with a laugh.

We talk a little more, mostly about his anxieties with Holly thinking he's fit to be a dad. It's obvious to me he's the one who's insecure about it, but I think he'll make a great dad and I tell him as much.

Before he leaves, I pull him into a tight hug. I know it's not the last time I’ll see him, but it'll be different next time. It always is.

"Good luck, Blake. And if you ever need anything, you know how to reach me."

He heads out to talk to Coach Singh, who's thankfully pulling a late night at the house, and then the rest of the team. A goodbye party's planned, as well as a baby shower, but after the excitement dies down and Blake heads off to talk to Holly, Coach Singh pulls me into her makeshift office which--for now--is just a section of the large dining room table.

"I think you already know what I'm going to say," she tells me as I lean against the nearby counter.

"We need to hold auditions."

Usually we shift people around, but the turnover rate has mostly been in healers and damage dealers--never tanks. I'm kicking myself for not training a backup before now, but it doesn't matter anymore. We have to find someone, even if it's just for this season.

"We need to hold auditions," she agrees, letting out a sigh that she caps off with a small smile. "He's going to be a kickass dad, though."

"He is," I answer her smile.

Neither of us is mad or even upset. Everyone on the team is genuinely happy for Blake. But it doesn't change the fact that we need to find another tank, and we need to find one fast.