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I stop walking, completely floored. Even for my father, this is…beyond judgmental.
“You don’t know the first thing about her,” I say, my fury rising like a flood in a downpour.
“That’s because you haven’t introduced us. Your mother and I can fly in this weekend for”
“No,” I say, cutting him off. “You’re not meeting her.”
“I’m a very good judge of character, and”
I laugh, but I’m anything but amused. “The operative word there is judge, Dad. You think you’re better than everyone and everything. Kylie’s a better person than you could ever dream of being.”
“It’s not about being better than anyone. I’ve had people try to take advantage of me and leech off of me my entire life. I know what it looks like. I don’t want to see you throw away your life to some woman looking for a meal ticket.”
I close my eyes, wishing I could crush the phone in my hand and never have to hear that condescending tone from him again.
“I pursued her, Dad.” I force my voice to stay even. “You have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“I’d love to meet her and see for myself,” he says, sounding exasperated. “We want to be in your life, but you shut us out at every turn.”
“Just don’t want to embarrass you. I know how hard it is having your son become a pro hockey player.”
He sighs heavily. “We all make mistakes, Pax. What happened with you and Angie”
“Don’t.” My tone is laced with warning. “Do not say their names. Don’t ever say their names again, or I swear to god, I’ll never take another call from you.”
After a few beats of silence, he says, “I’m sorry. I know it still hurts.”
“You have no idea.” My voice shakes with emotion. “Who have you ever lost?”
“You’re right. I didn’t call to upset you. I know I don’t always do and say the right things as your father, but I wish you could see where I’m coming from. I just want to be in your life.”
I scoff. “I don’t want someone in my life who calls my girlfriend a gold digger without meeting or knowing her.”
“I suppose that’s fair.”
I resume the walk to my car, weary of this conversation.
“Look, it’s been a long day. Can we talk another time?”
“I’ll be traveling to Dubai tomorrow but call me if you want to. And congratulations on the home opener.”
“Thanks,” I say. “I’ll talk to you later.”
We end the call, and I unlock my car and toss my phone over to the passenger seat. This is how every conversation with my father goes. He inevitably ends up disappointed somehow, and I end up feeling the way he’s made me feel since I was a kid—angry and inferior.
He had plans for me to follow in his footsteps in the NBA. There was a time when I thought I wanted that, but then my life took an unexpected turn, and everything changed. His time as an NBA superstar taught my dad how to put on a positive persona. The world thinks he’s proud of me, but he still reminds me regularly that I’m not as famous or as wealthy as I could have been if I’d followed his plan for me.
Fame and wealth don’t mean a thing to me, though. And if there’s one person I don’t ever want to end up like, it’s my father.
I head for home, eager to eat dinner and call it a night early. We have to leave early tomorrow morning for our first road trip of the season, and I want to be focused and prepared in every way.
Chapter Eight
Kylie
* * *
“Come on!” my daughter rises from the couch, her face scrunched as she points at the TV. “That was slashing! These refs should have ski masks on; they’re robbing us blind!”
She has truly become her uncle’s niece since we moved to Las Vegas. Jasmine loves watching sports with Pike—especially hockey. They even watch classic games from decades ago, and whoever he’s rooting for, she’s rooting for.
We watch every Saints game, which Jasmine likes because it means she gets to stay up late, and Mom and I like it because we usually order pizza, which means no cooking.
“But our team is still winning, Jas,” Mom says, ever the peacemaker.
“That doesn’t mean the other team gets free shots at us,” Jasmine grumbles, flopping back down.
My mind is half on this game and half on my next fake date with Pax. He texted yesterday asking me to go with him to a dinner party for VIPs who rent suites at the hockey arena. Expect lots of high-roller types, he said. A few seconds after that text, I got a notification that he’d sent $1,000 to me through Venmo. I was trying to figure out how he got my information and why he’d sent the money when another text popped up.
