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Dean’s gaze slid over to Tank, who gave him a sheepish shrug. “I might have said you were a bit off today at practice,” he admitted. “And when you opened the door a little while ago…”

“You looked like someone had just killed your dog,” McKenna added.

“I don’t have a dog,” Dean said, striving to make a joke and divert his too-astute daughter.

Tank bumped shoulders with McKenna. “I’m going to grab us all something to drink. Meet you in the living room?”

“Sure,” McKenna answered for them, as Dean tried to figure out how to proceed with this conversation. It was apparent neither of them was planning to drop the subject.

McKenna led the way to the living room, while Tank detoured to the kitchen. She claimed the couch as Dean sank down in his recliner. For several seconds, neither of them spoke.

“Kenny,” he started.

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to. It’s just…you’ve helped me so much since I moved to Baltimore, I was hoping I could repay the favor.

The first time McKenna had called him dad was during a rough patch at the beginning of her relationship with Tank. She had shown up here, seeking his comfort and advice, and it had felt amazing that she’d sought him out.

He sighed. “I’ve been seeing Vivian the past couple of months.”

Of course, Tank chose that moment to walk in. He stopped mid-stride. “Vic’s sister? Jesus. You might be the bravest man alive.”

As terrible as he felt, Tank’s words landed just right, and Dean chuckled.

“Or the dumbest,” he corrected.

Tank handed Dean a beer, then joined McKenna on the couch, giving her one of the White Claws that Dean always kept in his fridge just for her. Personally, he couldn’t stand the sweet drinks.

“You’ve really been dating her for months? I wonder why she didn’t tell me,” McKenna mused.

“Viv asked that we keep it a secret. She hasn’t dated anyone since her husband passed away and she was worried about introducing a man into Pip’s life,” Dean explained.

McKenna frowned. “Pip knows you.”

“As Victor’s coach. Not as Vivian’s…” His words faded away because, while he’d wanted the role of her boyfriend, he’d never let himself think that word.

“Boyfriend?” Tank added. “Guess I understand why you’re still alive. Is that what’s bothering you? Dropping this bomb on Vic?”

Dean shook his head. “Victor knows. Or maybe I should say, he knew. I broke things off yesterday.”

McKenna looked crestfallen. “Oh. Why? You two are perfect for each other.”

Dean couldn’t deny he liked that McKenna thought so. He lowered his head, focusing his attention on the bottle of beer in his hands. “I can’t be who she needs.”

He felt the weight of McKenna’s gaze, even though he couldn’t bring himself to look at her.

“I don’t understand what you mean,” she said, when he didn’t bother to expound.

He blew out a slow breath, then lifted his eyes to her. “You of all people, Kenny, should understand. Vivian has a daughter, one who deserves a good father.”

McKenna rolled her eyes at him. “Dad.”

“I abandoned you.”

She snorted. “No, you didn’t.”

“I wasn’t there for you when you were growing up,” he continued. “I missed eighteen years of your life. Birthdays. First days of school. Christmases. Your first date, first heartbreak. All of it.”

McKenna’s expression softened.