Page 102 of Breaking the Ice

Shifting my weight from foot to foot, I stare at my parents’ welcome mat. It feels weird to ring the doorbell, but also rude to barge in at six-thirty on a Saturday morning. My mom might still be sleeping, but my dad is always up by now, so I knock on the front door and then unlock it, easing it open.

“Dad?” My voice is quiet as I tip-toe down the hallway to his office, where he drinks his morning coffee and reviews film. “Are you up?”

I didn’t make it to the Griffin’s game last night. By the time all the kids were picked up after our concert, it was the third period. (I checked the score on my phone.) I went home and tried my best to stay up to see Evan, to talk to him, but the day—the week, hell, the whole semester—caught up with me, and I crashed. When I woke up this morning, way too early, Evan was asleep next to me in our bed. He looked so peaceful, I couldn’t bother him. He has to be just as exhausted as me. On top of student teaching and all that entails, he’s playing college hockey. So I sent him a text and left the apartment as silently as I could.

My dad pops his head out of his study, his eyes wide. “Bella, this is unexpected. Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” I gesture at the mug in his hand. “Did you make a pot?”

“Like I do every morning.” He gives me a small smile. “I might still have some of that creamer you like in the fridge. It’s so full of preservatives, it’s probably edible. Join me for a cup?”

“Sounds great.”

After getting my coffee to the perfect shade—barely tan—I take a sip and shuffle from the kitchen to his office, settling in the leather chair that faces his desk.

Some guys, I imagine, have spaces covered in sports memorabilia. Not my dad. There are three framed pictures on the wall. One of him with my older half-brothers in full hockey gear, grinning on the ice. One of him with me and my mom, a posed affair outside at a park. Definitely my mom’s doing. And one of the Griffins team photo after they won the Frozen Four two years ago. I guess he’s a minimalist at heart.

“So, kiddo.” My dad clears his throat. “How was your thing last night?”

“Surprisingly okay. Mostly because half the hockey team showed up to help.” I raise a brow and play dumb. “Know anything about that?”

He shrugs but grins. “I’m glad it was good.”

“Thanks for that. It means a lot.”

“I…” He trails off. He’s always been uncomfortable with emotion, so I’m about to change the subject when he continues. “I wasn’t always there for you. But it felt good to let Evan do what I couldn’t. Didn’t.”

Coming from my dad, this is a deeply personal speech. If he’s opened the door to the conversation, though, maybe I can walk through it.

“Yeah. It was nice, not coming second to hockey. That was how I felt growing up, you know. Like I wasn’t as important as your players and the game.”

He shakes his head, his brown eyes pained. “I’m sorry you felt that way. I didn’t think that, but I was pretty bad at showing it. At letting you know that I cared about you. I didn’t know how to be a girl dad, but I could have tried to learn. If it’s not too late, I’d like to change.”

“I’d like that, too. But Dad, you were kind of terrible to Evan. Not only as his coach but as his father-in-law.”

He sighs and runs a hand across his face. “You’re right. I didn’t want anyone to think I was playing favorites on the ice.”

“And what about off the ice? What does that look like, now that I’m all grown up and married?” I’m not saying he’s lost his chance, but… “I think we need to have clear expectations.”

Leaning forward, he rests his elbows on his blotter and laces his fingers together. “It looks like whatever you need. No matter what that is, I want to do a better job of including Evan. He’s a good kid. Uh, man. He’s grown a lot. Possibly thanks to your influence, but I didn’t give him a chance. I assumed he wasn’t good enough for you, and I regret that.”

He sighs so deep, it’s like his regret comes from his toes. “I doubted his motives. I didn’t think you two had much in common, and, well, I’m in the locker room. I hear things. Know things, even if my players don’t realize it. He didn’t have the best reputation. I thought he would break your heart, to be honest. But Bella, he’s convinced me. He’s in love with you, and he’s not going anywhere.”

I swallow around the sudden lump in my throat. “I’m in love with him, too, Dad.”

“I know, honey. I don’t think you would have married him otherwise. I know you only stayed married to him for me, though, and⁠—”

“I secretly wanted to, though, for me. You were just my excuse. I love him so much.” I shake my head, my words coming out in a whisper. “The problem is, I’ve never told him.”

My dad blinks at me. “I’m the last person to lecture about sharing your feelings, but I think you should change that.”

“I’ve got an idea, actually. I need your help, though.”

He rubs his eyes. “I don’t know. I’m way more involved in your relationship than I should be. Things last night…and now whatever you’re thinking.”

I stand and set my cup on his desk, then move around to pat his shoulder. “You said you’d be here for me however I needed.”

“True.” He takes a deep breath and taps his desk. “I don’t want to be accused of playing favorites. You know that, right? But I probably swung the pendulum too far the other way and was too hard on him.”