"Have you met your new charge yet? Logan, isn't it?"
"Logan Bishop. Twenty-one. Top scorer. A forward—whatever that means. I know nothing about hockey."
"No one on this island knows anything about hockey."
"King Alex wanted to get Queen Rory a rink so badly, he did whatever it took to make it happen."
"I always find it so funny that you call the king and queen by their nicknames."
"They're just people," I say, "but I am more careful with formality when I'm out in Bellerive society. Too many people care too much about all of it."
Trumpets—actual trumpets—sound, and I shake my head at the ridiculous lengths my father and Alex are prepared to go to usher in this new era in Bellerive. I wish I had faith that it would stick, but worrying about the viability of a professional WHL team on the island isn't part of any job description I have or want.
The hockey team makes their way down the royal gauntlet, as I like to call it. Alex, Rory, young Grace, Alex's mother, Nick, Jules, toddler Amelia, Brice, and Maren. 
In six months, Maren will officially be a Summerset royal. Seems hard to believe one of my little sisters will be on her second marriage when I've never even come close to a first.
Though, that's not really true—I'd been close to making a bad decision, just like Maren made the first time. Painfully, painfully close.
"Do you know which one is him?" Hollyn asks.
I take my phone out of my clutch and scan the text from Tamiko. "He'll be the last one through. He's not thrilled to be here."
"Can't blame him. The palace is a lot," Hollyn says gazing around. "Though there seem to be quite a few people excited to meet the team."
I glance up from my phone to see Ava with Ember and Gage just past the receiving line. Ava looks like the cat who's about to catch the canary. 
"None more so than my sister," I say, catching a glimpse of Tamiko walking beside a tall, hulking man. 
While I'd known he was tall—six foot five—I hadn't thought enough about exactly what that height would mean in person. As they finish the royal gauntlet, Tamiko steers him toward me, and my heart does a weird kick in my chest.
Nerves. 
The sensation is one I've experienced a lot in the last few months, and I don't know why I didn't consider that throwing myself into a new career avenue might produce the exact feeling I wanted to avoid. 
I'm not drowning, I'm floating, and soon I'll be swimming. 
The reminder calms the flare up of anxiety.
"Sawyer Tucker," Tamiko says when she's close enough, Logan trailing slightly behind her, "this is Logan Bishop."
"You're Sawyer?" His voice is low and gruff, and although it suits how tall and wide he is, it's a more mature sound than I expected. I'd heard his voice on TV, but I'd been so focused on his stiff presentation, that I hadn't considered his pitch and tenor. He still has a beard, though it's tidy now, and his hazel eyes have the wary quality I noted in the videos.
"That's me," I say, holding out my hand to shake.
He doesn't make a move to take it. "You're the one who's going to be training me?"
"I'm your physiotherapist."
"I asked for a trainer." He turns to Tamiko, his expression unreadable. "My contract says a trainer."