Page 91 of The Casanova Complex

He’s become someone I talk to daily, that I’ve given pieces of me that I don’t give away easily…

Meeting my dad and Elliott. Talking about my struggles with my ADHD. Leaning on him when I need a little strength. That’s what friends do.

I spin the ring on my index finger and look up, catching his gaze. “Can I ask you something?”

“Yes, Merritt, you have fantastic tits, okay?” he responds immediately, and I laugh, shaking my head at his constant flirting.

“I’m serious.”

He nods. “Okay. Yeah, anything.”

“I know you said that your parents… they work a lot and aren’t nearby, but do they ever come to watch you play?”

The grin on his face slips, and his expression sobers as his Adam’s apple bobs with a swallow.

It feels like the wrong question to ask, and immediately, I wish that I hadn’t.

I open my mouth to apologize, but he says, “Sometimes. It’s… a lot less frequent than they used to.”

He lifts his hand and rakes it through his hair, averting his gaze down to the junk journal sitting on the top of my desk. He drags a finger over the smooth red leather of the front cover.

He stays quiet, not meeting my gaze.

“Why?” My voice is gentle when I ask because I know that I’m treading in uncharted water. “Why don’t they support your dream?”

His piercing blue eyes slam into mine, and emotion, raw and fresh, shines back.

“It is your dream, isn’t it? Playing professionally after graduation?”

Bennett nods but doesn’t respond, not for a few torturously slow seconds that tick by.

“My dad’s schedule… The fact that they live in New Hampshire now, and I’m still in NOLA. But I think it’s just an excuse a lot of the time. Tried and true. They don’t come to watch me play because they think that hockey is an extracurricular, a hobby for me. They don’t believe that it’ll ever become a career,” he finally murmurs. “In their heads, why feed into something that’s never going to happen?”

I don’t know, because they’re his parents? And even if he never made it professionally, it’s still something that he’s incredibly talented at. Something that brings him happiness. Why wouldn’t they want to support that?

“Don’t… Don’t look at me like that,” he says roughly.

“Like what?”

“Like you pity me or something. I don’t need them there, Merritt. I play just fine without having anyone in the stands. I’ve been doing it for years—this is nothing new. It’s not a big deal.”

Except I can tell that’s a lie. It is a big deal to him, and I know that just by the way he’s throwing up defenses the moment it’s questioned.

It’s almost like I’m intimately familiar with that very same mechanism or something.

I know him well enough to see the not-at-all-subtle shift in his demeanor.

Bennett is the epitome of a “golden retriever.” He’s always happy and joking around, wearing the biggest grin. He is playful and funny. And I’m pretty sure he’d have humped my leg already if he thought he could get away with it.

So this? The distant, guarded look in his eyes isn’t concealing anything.

“It could be a big deal to you, and it would be okay if it were, you know that, right?” I say softly. “You’re allowed to feel upset about your parents not being here, Bennett. You don’t have to pretend that it doesn’t bother you.”

A beat of silence ticks by before he murmurs, “Being upset would mean that I blame them. Then not only would I be upset, but I’d also feel guilty for resenting my parents. Guilty because they’re good parents. Who are just doing their best and what they think is best for me.”

“Two things can be true at once.” Reaching out, I cover his hand with mine. “They can be incredible, loving parents, and they can still hurt you, even if they’re excusing their actions because they think they’re doing what’s best for you. Both things can be true.”

His throat bobs, and I know that what I’ve said hits home somewhere; I just know it, but I’m not going to push him. If there’s anyone who understands not wanting to get too close, it’s me.