5. Sean

5

Sean

The silence that follows my impromptu proposal is so thick you could slice it with a knife. There I am, knee on the ground, heart on my sleeve, throwing out what feels like the most significant play of my life. And then, unexpectedly, Aubrey starts laughing. Not the gentle, amused chuckle I'm used to, but a full-on, can't-catch-her-breath kind of laugh.

"Shane, are you serious?" she gasps between her fits of laughter, and I'm momentarily floored.

And that’s another question—Shane? Who the heck is Shane?

I straighten up, confusion etching every line of my face. "Shane? Who the hell is Shane? Are you calling me Shane? Why?" The frustration in my voice is palpable, a mix of hurt, annoyance, and sheer disbelief at the turn this moment has taken.

"Well, I don’t know… maybe because that's your name?" she manages to say.

" Sean ," I correct her, the irritation now laced with a hint of incredulity. "My name is Sean Ice ."

Her smile dies down as realization washes over her face, transforming her amusement into a look of shocked understanding. "Oh my God," she says, the humor fading into something softer, almost apologetic. "That's why I couldn't find you. I've been looking for a Shane."

The tension that had built up starts to dissipate, replaced by a bizarre sense of relief mixed with a lingering awkwardness. Here I was, ready to merge our lives with a proposal, and we're stumbling over my name. It's almost comical, in a way that only real life can manage.

"So, you're telling me," I start, a half-smile beginning to form despite the situation, "all this time, we've been caught in a mix-up over my name?"

She nods, a rueful smile tugging at her lips. "Looks like it, Sean. I'm so sorry, I just... I never knew."

The absurdity of the situation isn't lost on me. A name, a simple error, had kept us apart, had kept me from knowing about our kid, from being a part of his life from the start. And now, with the truth laid bare, the proposal hanging between us takes on a new weight, a new meaning.

As the chuckles die down, reality kicks the door back open. Aubrey floats back down to earth with a thud I'm not quite ready to join. "Listen, Casanova," she starts, and I can already tell I'm about to be schooled. "Kids aren't like a Netflix subscription. You can't just decide on a trial period for a family setup overnight."

"This isn't about a trial period, Aubrey. This is about doing right by Luke in the eyes of God and the church. He deserves to be recognized as legitimate, to have both his parents united in marriage like the Catholic faith teaches us. This isn't just about us—it's about giving our son the foundation he deserves."

“I didn’t know your faith was so important to you.”

“There are many things about me you don’t know yet.” I try to mask my impatience with a grin. "I hear you on the Netflix, but come on. I'm trying to step up here. I want to be in the picture, for... for what's his name?"

"Luke," she says. The reality of acknowledging my son hits me with a mix of nerves and a surprising rush of excitement.

"Luke," I repeat, a smile tugging at my lips. "I have a son. I can't believe it. This is incredible, Aubrey. I've got so much to catch up on with him."

Aubrey's gaze softens, but she's steadfast. "Sean, I need time. This... us... it's not a decision I can make just because you decided to play Prince Charming on bended knee. It's more complicated than that, and I need to know you’re really committed to being a father and a partner."

The frustration that's been bubbling under the surface pops. "Come on, we both know I'm more of a jester than a prince, but can't you see? This is it. The big leagues of life decisions!" My hands spread wide, as if I could encompass the entirety of our situation in the gesture.

But there she stands, unmoved by my charm offensive, a reminder that this isn't just about grand gestures. It's about what comes after—the day-to-day, the reality of melding our lives together for Luke's sake.

"Alright, alright. Time," I concede, with a dramatic roll of my eyes that belies the genuine understanding beginning to take root. "But just so you know, I'm pretty good at waiting… especially when I know what I'm waiting for."

We're at an impasse, each of us standing on our side of the bridge, but I can't help feeling like maybe, just maybe, we've started to lay down some planks between us.

"So, what's the game plan?" I ask, leaning against the counter with a curiosity that feels almost too eager for the conversation we've just had. Aubrey looks at me, a mix of resignation and determination in her eyes, and I brace myself for her response.

She lets out a sigh, the kind that says she's gearing up to lay down some truths I might not be ready for.

"Well, Sean, I'm actually here to work with you," she starts, running a hand through her hair in a gesture that somehow manages to be both exasperated and endearing. "I do marketing, dabble in a bit of PR on the side. Your dad thought it'd be a good idea to clean up his son's image a bit. Surprise, that son turns out to be you."

The irony isn't lost on me, and I can't help but chuckle. "So, we're going to be working together, huh?" I say, the thrill of the prospect lighting up in my chest. "This could be the perfect opportunity for us to get to know each other again. You know, for Luke's sake."

Aubrey doesn't share my enthusiasm, her skepticism written all over her face. "Just because we're working together doesn't mean we're suddenly going to be one big happy family. PR isn't a magic wand."

I wave off her concerns with a flick of my wrist, already plotting ways to turn every work meeting into a chance to charm her—and maybe, just maybe, to show her I'm serious about being a part of Luke's life. "Come on, where's your sense of adventure? Think of it as a team-building exercise. Team Ice."

Aubrey’s sigh fills the kitchen, a sound so laden with exhaustion it's as if I can physically see the weight on her shoulders. "Sean, I need a bit of space—to process all of this," she confesses, and her voice cracks just enough to drive home her point.

Trying to lighten the mood, or maybe just grasping at straws, I offer up what I think is a pretty solid silver lining. "Hey, if it helps, I've managed to save a decent chunk of change from my hockey days. We can figure this out, financially speaking."

But Aubrey isn't buying it; her eyes do that roll, the one that says I'm missing the point by a mile. "Throwing money at this isn't going to magically make everything okay. It's going to take more than cash to win me over," she tells me, and I can't help but feel a bit deflated.

"I'm not just throwing money at it," I say, flashing her a confident grin. "I want to help compensate you for shouldering the financial burden of raising Luke on your own for so long. You did all the heavy lifting, and it's about time I stepped up."

That gives her pause, her eyes softening a bit. She seems to appreciate the gesture but shakes her head slightly. "I get that, and I appreciate it. But I'd like to table that issue for now. There's more to this than just money."

"Fair enough," I reply. "I just want to do right by you and Luke. You deserve it."

She goes on. “And let's not tell Luke anything until we figure out what we're doing." On this, we're in agreement, but it's clear we're viewing the situation from entirely different angles.

In my mind, the solution's as clear as a fresh sheet of ice: marriage, a family, the whole nine yards. But Aubrey? She's not sold, not by a long shot. Her skepticism is a wall I'm not sure how to scale, but I'm not about to give up. Not when it comes to family.

As Aubrey heads for the door, I can't just let her walk out without trying one last time.

"So, this isn't like us hitting a dead end, right? More like a slight detour?"

She pauses, her hand on the doorknob, and gives me that look. It’s the kind that suggests I've just proposed a snowball fight in the desert. "Sean, it's like we're playing two different games. You're freestyling while I'm playing strategic chess. We're not even on the same board."

Once Aubrey exits stage left, leaving me in what feels like the aftermath of a particularly dramatic reality TV episode, I decide it's time for my go-to stress buster: hitting the trail for a run. There's something about sprinting across the ranch that beats sitting around moping. Plus, if you're moving fast enough, life's complications have a harder time catching up.

I gear up with the speed of a player late for the first face-off, eager to shake off the heaviness of our conversation. My route? A scenic tour of Ice territory that eventually snakes up to the ridge separating us from the sprawling lands owned by our rich-as-hell neighbor, Buck Winston. Nothing like a bit of elevation to put things into perspective.

As I'm pounding the path, thoughts of Aubrey, Luke, and my newfound dad status are doing laps around my brain. It's a lot to digest—like finding out you've been traded to a team in a city you've never heard of. But hey, I've always been quick on my feet, both on the ice and off. Running helps, turning the mental marathon into something a bit more manageable.

Just when I'm debating whether I could start a new career as a marathon runner, the peace is shattered by the rumble of an engine. I slow my pace, curiosity piqued, and turn to find a side-by-side chugging up the trail from Winston's land.

As I stand there, catching my breath and mentally preparing for the neighborly exchange, the side-by-side rumbles closer, and it's none other than Buck Winston himself who pulls up. Buck’s the picture of rural aristocracy—if there ever was such a thing. Tall and bulky, with a build that might have once been athletic but, in his mid-fifties, has softened with age and excess. A bristly, salt-and-pepper mustache and beard frame his face, short but rugged—the kind of look that says “man’s man” and is meant to intimidate as much as impress. Buck’s eyes are a piercing blue, though they often look more calculating than friendly, always assessing the angles to his advantage. They carry a hard, almost steely quality, with crow’s feet at the corners—not from smiling, but from squinting at people he finds inferior.

Decked out in what’s probably designer outdoor wear, he’s the kind of guy who doesn’t just enjoy wealth; he wants you to know he’s got it, from his shiny rough-terrain vehicle down to his polished boots.

The side-by-side comes to an abrupt stop, dangerously close for comfort, flinging a small shower of dirt my way. I step back, annoyance flaring up. A quick glance at the ground confirms my suspicion—the fresh ruts marring my running trail are a testament to Buck’s disregard for property lines.

"Buck," I greet, my tone cool but edged with a hint of challenge. "Nice of you to drop by. Though, you seem to have confused our land for your personal playground."

Buck smirks, a flicker of amusement crossing his too-handsome face. "Sean, come on now. A few tire tracks never hurt anyone. Besides, with all this space, who's gonna notice?"

I cross my arms, unamused. "I notice. This isn't a free-for-all. You're trespassing. Again."

His laugh is short, dismissive. "Trespassing? Please. It's just a bit of land. And between you and me, Ice, I might as well start getting used to it. This all might be mine soon enough."

The arrogance dripping from his words is enough to boil my blood. "Over my dead body," I retort, stepping closer. "This land has been in my family for generations. You think you can just waltz in here, tear it up, and lay claim to it? Think again."

Buck’s response is a chuckle, the sound grating against my nerves. "Maybe. The way I see it, you and your family are just sitting on a gold mine here. It's only a matter of time."

Before I can launch into another retort, he guns the engine, the side-by-side kicking up a spray of mud that splatters across my running gear. With a final, infuriating wink, Buck speeds off, leaving me standing in a cloud of dust and fuming with anger.

As the roar of the engine fades, the reality of the confrontation sinks in. Buck Winston, with his deep pockets and deeper sense of entitlement, sees our land as just another trophy to add to his collection. But if he thinks the Ice family is going to roll over and let him take what's ours, he's got another thing coming.