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Stabbed in the Heart
Isabelle
Itried to savor every last moment Rust and I had in those three days before the playoffs began and Dad arrived. It was like the calm before the storm—although, truth be told,Iwas anything but calm. I don’t know if my emotions were already getting a little batty because of the pregnancy or what, but every day was like riding a roller coaster. One minute I could be so excited, the next scared shitless. Another minute after that, I might be convinced Rust didn’t even love me.
I mean,didhe love me?
He acted like it, but I didn’t know, because we still hadn’t said the word to each other. So maybe it wasn’t such an irrational fear after all. How crazy was that? We were both excited about this baby on the way, and yet we hadn’t even exchangedI love you’syet.
I wasdefinitelyin love with him. I’d fallen more and more madly in love with him from the very beginning. But I was afraid to be the one to say it first. I felt like he alreadyknewI loved him. I felt like we were just waiting to see ifhecould feel that way about me.
It didn’t help that, with each day, Rust grew more and more distant, as the start of the playoffs crawled closer. Every morning, he woke up early to go to practice, work out, and attend team meetings and get drilled on their opponent. He didn’t get back home until late afternoon, and then his body was so tired and his mind so crammed full of hockey strategy, he was like a shell of himself—too tired to want to do anything besides rest up at home.
I couldn’t hold it against him, because this was exactly what he’d warned me about—that the playoffs were a crazy time. And so I tried to keep that in mind and be understanding, of course. But I couldn’t help that, deep down, I felt incredibly insecure about our future.
Hestillhadn’t met my friends, after all. I hoped we could all meet up before Dad came to town, so we could at leastpracticebeing a “couple” in front of other people … but with playoffs about to start, Rust wanted to wait.
And my dread continued to grow. I wanted to believe that Rust was a great guy who wanted to be with me, who wanted to raise a baby with me.AllI needed to know was that this was for real. If it wasn’t, fine. I’d be absolutely heart broken, yes, but I’d find a way to get over it. But until everythingwas out in the open, like he said, a part of me remained insecure that this wasn’t for real.
* * *
Tourists and gamblers ambled about the Grand Royale, the casino hotel where Dad was staying. I rode the elevator up to the tenth floor and made my way to his room.
My heart raced. I wasn’t sure how, exactly, I was going to come clean to Dad about dropping out of school, or my OnlyFans. But I knew I wanted to do it today. Dad’s flight had arrived earlier that morning, and we made plans to meet up at noon. He’d asked me if I’d be willing to drive him around to run a few errands before we went to the game tonight.
I knocked, and he swung the door open a second later.
“Hey, hey! There’s my baby girl!” he said, wearing a lopsided grin. Dad’s face looked puffier than the last time I’d seen him a few months ago.
“Hi, Dad!”
“Wow, look at you,” he said, whistling. “I swear, I must’ve forgotten how beautiful you are.”
We hugged. That’s when I smelled the sour stench of alcohol and stale cigarette smoke on him. It was only noon.
“Da~d,” I whined, “are you drinking already?”
He chuckled. “Hey, as soon as I checked in, the front desk kid gave me a stack of drink tickets.”
“Yeah, but it’s so early,” I said.
“C’mon now, you’re sounding like your mom,” Dad said. He waved me in. “Come on in. I’ll be ready to go in a sec.”
Dad was never a teetotaler—he definitely enjoyed the occasional beer—but the keyword there isoccasional.I’d sort of suspected Dad might be drinking more the last time he visited Vegas; he’d put on weight, and he basically had a drink in hand every time I saw him that trip. Rust suspected the same; he thought Dad was drinking more because he and Mom were having issues.
But looking at Dad now basically confirmed it. In need of a haircut and a shave, he looked rough around the edges. His wrinkled clothes weren’t helping his shabby appearance, either. It broke my heart to see him look so haggard like that.
He glanced up and caught me staring at him. “What? Why are you looking at me like that, Izzy?”
I folded my arms uneasily. “I’m worried about you, Dad.”
“Hey, leave the worrying to me. That’s my job,” he said with a wink. “I could ask you how your classes are going, you know. I know how much you love that.”
I tutted. “And if I tell you the truth, will you be honest with me about your drinking?”
He avoided the question with a hearty laugh. He put on his shoes and grabbed the rest of his things and whisked me out of his hotel room.
“Thanks for agreeing to drive your old man around all day, by the way,” he said, putting his arm around my shoulder as we walked down the hallway.
