“They had a path mapped out before I could drive,” he continues. “Hockey was something I was allowed to do in prep school because it gave them a chance to network in the VIP boxes.”
“Well, to be fair, you do have the vibe of a man in high office.”
He raises a brow. “Sexy, huh?”
“Don’t push it, Senator.” I grin.
“From Captain to Senator. What a fucking downgrade,” he snorts.
“I can’t imagine you being an ass-kissing politician.”
“The only ass I kiss is yours, apparently,” he laughs, gesturing to the spread.
I sip my champagne. “What about Melody?”
“Oh, same thing. She was supposed to marry a ‘good man’ and help him shine. My parents lost it when she started dating Jace.”
“Why? Jace is a good man.”
“To them, hockey players are scum. Doesn’t matter how much money you make or how good you are. It’s about perception and bloodlines. Jace grew up normal and worked for everything. That makes him trash in their eyes.”
“When I went pro,” Dom continues, “they pulled every string to stop it. Leaked fake stories, tried to sabotage my eligibility, hired lawyers to poke at my contracts.”
“But it didn’t work.”
“No.” He shakes his head. “I’m just too good.” His lips twitch.
I can’t hide the smile tugging at my mouth.
“And when I finally got drafted,” he adds, “they threatened to cut me off. Said I’d lose my inheritance and be removed from the trust.”
“Did they?”
“No.” He looks at the sea. “I retaliated. I knew things they didn’t want aired. Knew how to play thegame better than they thought. I’ve been holding that line ever since. They think I’ll burn out. Come crawling back and run for office like I’m supposed to.” he scoffs. “They probably cheer every time I take a bad hit and hope it ends me, if they even bother watching.”
My chest aches. He has money, looks, power, fame—but the people who made him don’t see him.
“You know,” I say softly, “for someone raised to give speeches and shake hands… you turned out alright.”
Dom exhales through his nose, smiling. For a minute we just sit—on a beach he never lets anyone see, talking about things he never says out loud.
I look at him, stunned by everything he’s told me. Captain Ice Cold is finally melting. Under the ice is a boy who seems to have been stripped of parental love. What do you do with a man with both mommy and daddy issues?
“So,” I say lightly, “recap: raised with yachts, trained for politics, parents praying for a career-ending injury.”
“Sounds about right,” he nods.
I nudge him. “And here I thought you were emotionally constipated for fun.”
“Emotionally constipated?” He looks at me with both brows raised.
“Very.” I laugh, raising my glass.
“Yikes.”
I see it now. Under the arrogance and intimidation, he’s been exhausted for years, holding up a version of himself for a family that never deserved it. And for some reason, he’s telling me.
My heart squeezes again.
