Page 94 of Home Ice

“On?”

“On whether I can keep my hands off you on the dance floor. And I think the club the other night gave us the answer to that question.”

I’d been worried for a few days after that a picture of us kissing might show up online, but there was nothing. I know that Hawke isn’t in the closet or hiding, but I also don’t want that kind of drama finding me either. “So your whole team will find out you’re fucking your best friend.”

He waves a large hand over me. “Look at you. I think they’d assume it either way.”

Well, if that isn’t an ego boost, I don’t know what is. Until I remember a not-so-small detail. “I can’t leave Dad.”

“For a weekend?”

“No. It was bad enough leaving him for a night.”

“What if we fly back Sunday night instead?”

That’s still three whole days he’ll be alone. And two nights. What if he tries to cook dinner again?

“And Gigi will stop in to check on him,” he adds.

“Gigi?”

“Yeah, my sister. Remember her?”

I narrow my eyes at him. “Of course I do. But she’s not going to want to waste her weekend doing that.”

“She will love doing that. It will be the best part of her week.”

He’s lying, but I don’t call him on it. I’m surprised by how much I actually want to go. How much I think I might need to get away. “Dad might put up a fight.”

“I can already guarantee you that he’ll do anything for you to come with me.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Because your dad’s the best. And he wants you to be happy.”

But just as I’m about to reply, the sound of shattering china comes from behind me. I spin in my chair, immediately on alert, and find Dad standing in the middle of the cafe, broken mugs and saucers at his feet.

My heart leaps into my throat, and this sick, heated dread settles over my gut as Dad’s hands tense into fists. His lips are pressed bruisingly together like he’s ready to explode but is trying to hold it all in, and I know from experience that I only have a few seconds to get him out of here before it happens.

I throw myself from my chair, but Belli reaches him before I do.

And she’s laughing. “I know I told you that I wanted to replace all those cups, but you didn’t need to hurry me along by smashing them.” She picks up the tray and presses it into Dad’s hands before ducking down with a broom and pan to sweep up the mess. “But I get your message. They’re ugly. They belong in the trash. I’ll place an order soon for more.” She turns to the table right next to them. “Everyone okay here? Yes? Good.” Then, as fast as she appeared, she takes Dad by the arm and leads him toward the hall to the back.

Oh, shit. She’s going to fire him.

I hurry after them, no clue where I’m going, but eventually, I catch a voice coming from a room right next to the back exit.

I’m about to storm in there, tell Belli that it’s her fault for encouraging this, that Dad didn’t do it on purpose and deserves another chance, when I pause at her words.

“Take a breath, darlin’. That was nothing.”

“I … I …” Dad huffs, and it sounds angrier than anything I’ve heard from him in years. “I knew it was coming, and I pushed. I shouldn’t have pushed. But I wanted to fucking do it.”

“Of course you did. But I told you to come to me. You need to tell me when you need a break.”

“I’m sorry, Belli. I’m so fucking sorry. Maybe this was a stupid idea. Maybe I shouldn’t⁠—”

“Ben Barrett, if another negative word leaves your damn mouth, we’re going to have some issues.”