Page 74 of Lucky Mother Pucker

“I counted two instances where you could have scored, Leo. But you didn’t. You passed the puck to your teammates and let them have the glory, like some spineless understudy.”

“Tell me what you really think,” I say sarcastically.

He glowers at me. “This isn’t a joke. You think you can play like that in the pros? You think your coaches aren’t going to notice that you blow opportunities to score? They’re going to see you as a liability if you keep doing that. They’re going to see you as a player who costs them points. You think that’s a good thing?”

“I know what I’m good at. I’m a good defenseman. I don’t need to score goals constantly to be considered a decent player.”

“That’s just it, Leo. You need to be better than decent. You need to be great. When I was playing in the pros⁠—”

I cut him off with a bitter laugh. “That’s what all this is about, isn’t it? You hate that my style of play isn’t more like yours. You got off on being the defenseman who scored goals, and it drives you crazy that your own son doesn’t play like you.”

His jaw tightens. “I’m disappointed that you’re not playing to your full potential. You need to be giving your all every time you hit the ice. Every time you choose not to do that, you’re risking being labeled a lazy player.”

“I’m not fucking lazy, and you of all people should know that.”

He glowers at me. “Don’t use that language with me. I’m your father.”

Another bitter laugh falls from my mouth. Adrenaline pumps through my entire body. My muscles are tight with stress. This isn’t how a son is supposed to feel around his father. Defensive and on edge. This is so fucked up.

“You know the years of hard work I put into hockey. You know I spent every free minute I had at the rink or in the gym, with trainers and coaches. You know how many times I gave up hanging out with my friends in middle school and high school so I could be the best hockey player.”

He tilts his head at me. “You’re making up for it now in college, though.” His gaze cuts to the diner. “You’re having your cheat meals with your buddies instead of resting properly. You think that’s what top athletes do? Drink milkshakes and eat French fries? You’re a disgrace, Leo. You have a legacy all laid out for you, and you’re going to blow it because you can’t practice some goddamn self-control and discipline.”

That frustration and anger inside of me finally collide. “Screw you,” I mutter before I start to turn around.

“We’re not done talking.”

“Yes, we are,” I say as I start to walk off. But then he grabs my shoulder and jerks me back.

“Don’t touch me.” I pull out of his grip.

He glares at me before glancing around the parking lot.

I watch as the anger in my dad’s eyes dials back. He doesn’t want anyone to see him losing his shit on his son. Because that would make him look bad. It wouldn’t align with the respected hockey pro he prides himself on being.

He’s always so fixated on his image. He cares more about that than his own family—his own son.

Pain blasts through my chest.

“You gonna knock me out if I try to walk away from you?” I say. “That wouldn’t really align with your hockey family man public image, would it?”

He wags his finger at me. “Quit being a smartass.”

I grit my teeth. I don’t care if the whole world is watching us. I’m sick of doing this shit with my dad.

I look off to the side and into the diner. And that’s when I see Lucy staring at me, a stricken look on her face.

Embarrassment roasts me from the inside out.

I didn’t think I could hate anything more than fighting with my dad…but in this moment, I realize I do.

It’s seeing that heartbroken look on Lucy’s face and knowing that I’m the reason for it.

Chapter 28

Lucy

My stomach sinks as I watch Leo argue with an older man who looks like the spitting image of him in thirty years.