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Nothing like his moody, broody teammate.
“Another time, then?” He grinned. “I think you and me could have a lot of fun, blondie.”
Just like that, my good mood died. Because Mason called me that. Whether he knew it or not, he used that nickname every time he hoped to get a rise out of me.
And for the most part, it worked. So hearing the same nickname roll off Ward’s lips felt all wrong.
“Shit, was it something I said?”
He must have noticed my glum expression.
“Not at all,” I lied. “I’m just tired.”
“I’m surprised Coach D’s daughter needs to work to pay her way through college.”
“What?” Everything went still inside of me, my fingers digging into the edge of the counter as I gawked at him.
Ward chuckled. Soft. Easy. Either oblivious to the tension humming between us or nervous about it. “I just mean, your old man is ex-NHL. He’s a fucking legend around these parts, for fuck’s sake. It must have been pretty damn special growing up with him as your dad. I can’t even imagine—”
I snapped.
The tether inside me that had been slowly fraying since my father arrived on campus snapped, and I lost it.
“I’m going to stop you right there.” My voice trembled with barely restrained anger. “You don’t know anything about my father or me.”
The blood drained from Ward’s face. “Harper, shit. I wasn’t—”
“Good. Don’t.”
“Harp?” Rory chose that moment to wander over to us. “What’s wrong?” She glanced between us, concern shining in her eyes. “Ward, what did you do?”
“Do? I didn’t—”
“I need some air. I’ll be back.” I hurried out of there, crashing through the staff door marked private and practically jogging down the long hall.
God, I couldn’t breathe.
Couldn’t get air into my lungs quickly enough.
I shouldered the emergency exit and dropped my hands to my thighs, inhaling a ragged breath.
It always came back to him.
My father.
James ‘The Real Deal’ Dixon.
Ha. The irony.
He’d decided to exclude me from his life, and yet I couldn’t escape his shadow if I wanted to.
“Harper?” Kalvin called, and panic flooded me.
I didn’t want him to see me like this. Weak. Broken… Hurt.
“Harp—”
“Hey,” I sucked in a sharp breath, pasting a smile on my face. “Sorry, I started to feel light-headed.”
