CHAPTER TWELVE

L uke

The hotel suite feels smaller with every piece of equipment Sebastian sets up. Lights, cameras, tripods. I help Sebastian unpack the equipment. Mostly I observe him, while he takes me through the questions he’s going to ask.

Sebastian is here to make this as efficient as possible. Our time together won’t be wasted.

Finally, he gestures to the armchair. “Have a seat.”

“Awesome.” I plop down.

He nods, his face calm, like the ice that closes off the ponds each winter, hiding everything from view.

His eyes narrow, then he looks through his lens.

The door to the living room portion of the suite is closed, but I’m still conscious of the large king bed with its comfortable bedding on the other side of the wall. The suite is narrow, more crowded because of the black tripods scattered around, thrusting light in my direction as the lenses record me.

“Please move forward,” he says.

“Okay.”

“And keep your arms on the armrests.”

I grip them, and he frowns.

“I’ll, um, just help you...”

He’s at my side at once, a testament to the tininess of the room and the tallness of his wiry figure. He moves his fingers over me, and I’m aware of their length and general lightness as they brush against my forearm.

I jump, and his fingers abandon me.

“S-sorry.” His face is red by the time I slide my gaze to him, and I don’t like it. I don’t like that I’ve rearranged his blood in such a fashion. And I don’t like that Bryce used to scare him all those years ago.

“You’re fine,” I assure him.

Sebastian seems uncertain.

“Completely good,” I say, trying to smile, but for some reason my skin is warm where his fingers touched my jacket, even though the fact is ridiculous.

This is a hotel, not a tent. I shouldn’t notice every change of temperature, like I’m a freezing man, and Sebastian has bestowed me with fingerless gloves.

He stares at my forearm again, and for a wild moment, I think he’s noticing burn marks on my coat, seared by an overly eager ironer.

“Flip your hand around.”

I do so, and he nods.

“Then move your arm toward me.”

It occurs to me I could brush my fingers against his arm so we’ll be even.

But that’s an absurd thing to ponder.

His cologne is heavy, and my nostrils flare. I look down, because I don’t want to act like a barbarian who’s never been exposed to cologne before.

But I notice it all the same.

Sebastian hurries back to his seat. His steps are too quick, red still paints his face, and I frown.

I don’t have children, but Evan is always happy to talk about his daughter Stella when he’s not talking about playing hockey to the best level possible, when he’s not just a captain, but a man. And though it’s hard not to notice how much Evan adores Stella, it’s also hard not to pay attention when he talks about wanting to raise Stella to be the best possible version of herself, to be fearless, to not cause fear.

If I’d been fearless, maybe I would have gotten Bryce to stop all those years ago. I knew what he was doing was wrong, but I told myself my brother wouldn’t do anything too bad, that he had a reason. The brother who taught me how to ride a bicycle, who took me to hockey practice, who cheered at the sidelines of every game in Ashcove couldn’t be bad, couldn’t be misled.

But I’m pretty sure I was wrong.

Bryce was imperfect, and I knew better, and I only said a few words, a few times, when I should have said many, all the time.

“I’m going to start the interview,” Sebastian says. “Everything is edited, though I can’t promise it won’t be edited in an interesting manner. But I might ask the same question a few times, and I might suggest answers to questions.”

“That sounds naughty,” I say with a wink.

He busies himself behind the camera right an away, and I wonder if I’ve been unprofessional. God, I hope he doesn’t think I’m unprofessional. I’m not here to waste anyone’s time. I’m here to do a good job. That’s all. I’m here to make everyone happy. Troy. Noah. Nate. Team management. Sebastian.

A green light flickers on.

“So, Luke, how was today’s game?”

I lean back, relieved, then remember not to change my position too much. “It was awesome. We won.”

Sebastian grins back at me.

“Now, what made you decide to join Seeking Mr. Right?”

“Um...”

The tips of Sebastian’s start to slide down, like snow melting.

I hope he can edit that away.

I’m not sure if I want to admit that Troy and Noah put me up for it, because management sure as hell will be watching this, and if this goes wrong, I don’t want it to reflect on them. I don’t want to admit I’m a long-time viewer. Sebastian will have too many questions I’m not prepared to answer.

“I haven’t been in a relationship in a while,” I admit finally.

“Ah.” Sebastian nods. “But you’re open to love.”

“I guess,” I say, then I shake my head. Viewers don’t want a Mr. Right who says “I guess” to the prospect of love. They want a lead man, a hero. Something I’ve never been. On the ice, I’m one out of many. I’m always looking for who I can send the puck to, who is best positioned to take us to victory.

“I mean,” I say, “I am open to love. Definitely.”

He smiles. “Continue.”

“There’s nothing like it, right? Someone whom you can be yourself with. Someone you can do things with.”

“I suppose you must have lots of functions to attend,” he says.

“Sure. I’m involved in different charities. And charities often have events and fundraisers. But it’s not just that. I don’t want someone out of convenience. I would have settled down with someone long before if that was my chief criterium.”

Sebastian nods, and I know I’m supposed to continue.

“Seeking Mr. Right is all about someone having many options, but finding the person who isn’t just pretty, isn’t just qualified on paper, but someone who makes you declare all sorts of sappy things about in front of the world. I think that’s nice.”

He blinks.

“It’s sweet.” I grin, thinking about the final floral crown ceremonies I’ve seen over the years. I think about the speeches the various Mr. Rights have given. They met different women, under circumstances most people would consider stressful, but at the end, they always find love.

It’s one of the things I like about the show. I like that there’s always a happily ever after in sight.

“I want to be so captivated by someone that I bare my soul to the nation,” I say.

“What are your first impressions of the women?” Sebastian asks.

I frown. “They were all pretty.”

His smile tightens.

“And all...nice. I had a good time with them.”

“Did anyone in particular draw your eye?”

“I’m not going to bare my soul to the country before the second date,” I say, and he smiles. “I think they’re all equally appealing.”

None of them have been in my minds, and I’m grateful he doesn’t ask for names. I frown, wondering if I should have spent the day randomly thinking about them. Is that what people do?

I try to imagine if I can spend the rest of my life with one of them. I try to envision coming home and having Flora or Willow or Dahlia wrap their arms around me. I try to imagine turning to one of them at night, sharing secrets and doing night-time activities.

The idea sends a chill through me, but the sound of wind beating against the windows can’t have been caused by that thought. My gaze drifts toward the windows, covered by curtains.

“The storm is picking up,” Sebastian says.

“Yeah. New Hampshire in winter.”

“Let’s continue,” he says.

I inhale, then nod to let him know to proceed.

“What are you looking for in a partner?”

My fingers tap against the armchair rests automatically, then I remember to slide them back. It looks better if my palms are exposed, so I look more kind man rather than brutal hockey player. I carved my muscles to do well at my job, not to scare.

“I would like someone who’s gone through things. Who has some edge. I-I appreciate that. I like calm ponds, they’re better to skate on, but I grew up by the ocean.”

“Your family were fishermen.”

“That’s right. If I hadn’t discovered hockey, hadn’t been good at it, for whatever reason, I probably would be out on the ocean right now. Well, hopefully not exactly right now, because there’s a storm, but I would have done that in general.”

Sebastian nods, not minding my ungrammatical sentence too much. I guess he knows what can be easily edited away.

“I think it would be nice if someone understood me. If someone had also been through things.”

He gives me a strange look, and I wonder what he’s thinking. I continue with my train of my thought. It’s not something I’ve given much consideration to before, but now it seems the most important thing in the world.

“Someone resilient who’s made something of themselves. Who knows what it’s like to come from...not much and appreciates everything now. Someone who sees the real me.”

Sebastian looks away from me and at his sheet of questions.

“Tell me about your childhood.”

“Well, as you know, I grew up in Ashcove.”

He stiffens.

I stiffen.

His eyes widen.

My eyes widen.

“I-I mean you probably read it. It’s on Wikipedia. And the application. Probably.” God, sometimes I wish I’d actually applied to the show. I’m not sure what Troy and Noah put down. From the surprise on Sebastian’s face, I’m not answering the questions in the manner he expected.

Sebastian’s gaze is tucked behind the computer lens, but his fingers tremble.

“It’s a small fishing town on the coast of Massachusetts,” I say hastily. “It was...okay.”

Sebastian rises abruptly.

“I-I didn’t answer that question with a lot of detail. Do you want me to talk more?”

“About...” I know he’s going to say Ashcove, but he doesn’t. Instead, he starts to turn everything off.

I’m no longer flooded in bright light. The room grows dim, then dimmer.

Finally, we’re in the dark, and I stare at him, though he’s now just a shadow. I’m conscious of our breath and the storm outside.

“Sorry,” he says, even though I don’t want him to apologize. He hurries away from me, but in the next moment the room is inundated in dull hotel light. “It got very dark.”

I nod uncertainly. “Yeah.”

Tension still seems to bubble between us.

“I’ll get these things in the morning,” he says. “You don’t need to stay. You can...go.”

I realize I’m standing in his room.

“Right. Okay.”

There feels like there’s more unsaid. Like maybe we should talk about Ashcove. But I don’t think he wants to, and I don’t want to make him do anything he doesn’t want to do.

So instead, I leave, my heart aching, as if part of it is still with him.