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Emotion clawed up my throat, but I swallowed it down.
“I’m taking five,” I said to Kalvin, dropping my pad and towel on the counter.
“Hey, you okay?” he asked, but I waved him off.
I needed to get out of here for a minute.
Bursting through the door leading into the small staff room, I pressed the heels of my palms against my eyes.
“Don’t cry, Harper, don’t you dare fucking cry,” I murmured.
But it was easier said than done.
My father hadn’t played an active role in my life for a long time. He didn’t care. And over and over, I told myself that it didn’t matter.
But it mattered.
Deep down, in my heart, it mattered, and having him here, in my space, in what was supposed to bemyfresh start, was the final straw.
I came to Lakeshore U to escape him and a life’s worth of disappointment and heartache. But now he was here, ruining everything. And from the looks of it, winning the hearts of the team and the fans, too.
They didn’t know James Dixon, though. Not the way I did. They didn’t know that this was all an act.
A ruse.
Nothing but smoke and mirrors.
But I guess when you were a hockey legend, none of that mattered.
Being a good person didn’t matter.
Something I knew all too well.
* * *
The Lakers won both their games. Aurora called me last night, inviting me over to her place to celebrate, but I wasn’t feeling it.
Something about watching my father on the television with Mason had bummed me out.
It was silly.
It wasn’t like Mason was choosing him over me—he’d made it perfectly clear he had no interest in getting to know me.
But it still stung.
Instead of sitting around and dwelling on the fact I would never earn my father’s approval or love, I decided to torture myself some more and headed to the rink just outside of Rushton. I sometimes went when I was feeling particularly self-sabotaging.
Dropping onto the bench, I took my skates out of their bag and pulled them on. I’d had the same pair of Bauer’s since my feet stopped growing when I was about fourteen.
They’d been a present. One I’d thought was from my father but turned out to be from my mother. She’d signed the card from both of them, letting me think that he’d finally wanted to share his lifelong passion with me.
Of course, he’d reveled in telling me the truth after one too many whiskeys.
I could vividly remember the crushing pain I’d felt when he’d sneered at what a waste of money it was buying me—a girl—a pair of Bauer Vapor Hyperlite skates.
I’d refused to wear them for a month. Had even asked Mom to return them, but she’d admitted to getting them on sale, so she couldn’t get a refund. Eventually, I’d decided to put them to good use.
Tightening the laces, I secured the ends and zipped up my hoodie before making my way out onto the ice.
