AllFreeNovel
Share Us
There was only one thing she could do now. She’d taken the hit that had knocked her off her skates. Now she had to get back up and play as if nothing hurt at all. Willing herself not to give a shit—or at least to look that way—she pulled open the door and walked out.
“You’d be a great fit for the Yeti job,” she said, forcing herself to smile as she made her way into the kitchen where she grabbed a can of Diet Coke from the fridge. “And Dad is all talk. He’ll give you the recommendation.”
“I will?” her dad asked, scowling at her as if she was one of his players.
Completely immune from the glare, she popped the top of her soda. “You will. Cal’s good, you know it, and you’re not the type of guy to bullshit about it.”
Her dad looked like he wanted to argue, but he closed his mouth, no doubt because he knew she was right—and she was. No matter how much she hated it, Cal really would be a great fit for the Yeti, who were on another playoff run.
“And you think I should say yes if offered?” Cal asked, his expression inscrutable as he stood there with one hand on the doorknob.
Astrid braced herself for what had to be done next. “Of course. It’s what you want, right? You said it yourself: hockey is who you are.”
Cal’s gaze dropped to the floor, and he rubbed the back of his neck as he shook his head. When he looked back up, he stared straight at her with such an intensity that her can of Diet Coke, slick with condensation, started to slip through her fingers. She bobbled it, liquid sloshing out of the opening, before tightening her grip and recovering her hold. By the time she glanced over, Cal was gone.
It’s for the best.
But even she couldn’t make herself believe that. She put the can down on the counter and took a deep, steadying breath.
Dad sighed and sat down on the bar stool on the opposite side of the island. “I’m sorry for being a selfish asshole and getting you mixed up in all of this again, Button.”
“I’m a grown woman,” she said. “I’m responsible for my own decisions.”
He smiled kindly at her. “I know, but you’re only here because I asked—and I shouldn’t have. I just couldn’t help it. I thought if you could see hockey up close again, you’d get to have that love of the game in your life again. I know how much you love it, and I hated you not having what you wanted.” He grabbed a napkin from the stack on the end of the island and put it under her Diet Coke. “You remind me so much of your mother sometimes.”
Her breath caught and her heart sped up as she waited, silent, for what would come next. They didn’t talk about her mom—it was one of their unwritten rules—so any tidbit of information was like a precious gem.
“You’re always trying to take care of other people and guard their feelings,” he said. “I loved your mother more than anything—still do—but I wish she hadn’t always done that.” His voice broke on the last word. “I wish she hadn’t waited so long to tell me she was sick.”
Astrid started at the bombshell. “She did?”
He nodded. “It was my first year as an NHL coach, and I guess she figured there wasn’t anything that could be done so telling me would only hurt. And after, well, I wasn’t thinking straight. All I knew was that I couldn’t lose you, too, so I brought you everywhere. The practices, the road trips, the film sessions, the daily ins and outs. And I thought as long as you were there that I could make sure nothing happened to you, that you wouldn’t go. And look how that turned out.”
Tears filling her eyes, she reached out and squeezed his hands. “Oh, Dad.”
Astrid didn’t know what else to say. She’d never known any of this, had never thought about the why behind how she’d been raised. It just was, and she’d always accepted it.
“I could have killed Tig myself after what happened,” he said, sounding like he meant it literally. “But then I saw how you handled all of the shit that happened, how you became this stronger person not because of it but despite it. You own your own business, you have friends, you’ve found your way in the world, and I’m so damn proud of you.” He paused for a second, slipping his hands free from hers and fiddling with a napkin from the stack, twisting it into a tight tube. “And when I took this job and saw what had happened with Tig, well, I guess there had been enough time that had passed so I could see him as a hockey player losing his dream rather than the asshole who broke my girl’s heart—especially after seeing the woman you’d become on your own without me or hockey. And I wanted so badly to have that one last season with you that—” He clenched his jaw tight and stared up at the ceiling, blinking hard, before looking back at her. “I’m sorry I was such a selfish bastard, and now you’re paying the price with all of this media mess. All I want—and I’ve ever wanted—is to keep you from being hurt.”
Warmth filled her chest, making her shoulders lighter and burning through the tension stringing her tight. It was such a ridiculous want, impractical and impossible and so unbelievably sweet.
“I don’t know that’s even possible,” she said.
“Maybe not, but I’d like to see someone try to stop me,” Dad said, squishing the napkin into a ball. “I’ll take care of this, Button. All of it.”
She wound her way around the island, stopping next to her dad and laying her arm across his shoulders and resting her cheek against the top of his head. “We’ve gotten through this before. We’ll do it again.”
“Damn right we will. I’ve already got that Lucy person on it. That woman sounds downright terrifying on the phone.” He chuckled, the mood lightened, and he stood up and wrapped his arms around her in a bear hug. “I love you, Button.”
Her face pressed against his chest so tight her nose was practically flat, she said, “Love you, too, Dad.”
They stood there embracing each other, and for a minute, it was like being eight again, having full faith that there wasn’t a thing in the world that her dad couldn’t fix. She knew better now, but part of her still believed anyway.
“So you really want me to tell the Yeti Cal’s a great choice?” he asked after their hug broke up. “Tell me what you want, and I’ll make sure it happens.”
She stuffed the truth down deep—because what was the point in putting it out there—and said with a lightness she didn’t feel in the least, “To never get involved with another hockey player or coach in my life.”
Chapter Forty-Six
