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Seeing Hendrix on television and seeing him out on the ice are two very different things. When I watch him on TV, there’s almost like a shield between us. But sitting here two rows back, feeling the same chill from the ice that he does, it brings to the forefront the reality that I’m dating a hockey star. I have this weird moment where my life doesn’t seem real as I look around the arena. In a million years, I never thought I’d ever meet a Titans player, much less date one.

And I certainly never considered I’d be in one’s bed, getting fucked like there’s no tomorrow.

My cheeks turn hot as I catch my dad watching me.

“Your guy keeps looking over at you,” he mutters before taking a sip of his beer.

I look to the ice, but Hendrix isn’t looking at me. He’s standing in a line, rocking side to side on his skates while talking to Bain, who I don’t quite recognize with his helmet on but his last name—Hillridge—is on the back of his sweater.

And then, he does it. Twists his neck slightly to look to where I’m sitting with my dad. I smile when we make eye contact, and he winks before turning away.

“Christ, you two are adorable,” my dad grumbles.

“Why don’t you like him?” I ask, giving him my regard.

“It’s not that I don’t like him, it’s that you do.”

I frown and angle my body toward him. “That makes absolutely no sense.”

“Yeah, it does, Carrots.” His eyes move from the ice to me. “I’ve never seen you look at a guy like this. I’ve never heard you talk about a guy like this. So I know this is serious, and because it’s serious, I care about this situation. I’m going to make him prove himself, not to me, but to you. Until he does, I’m reserving judgment.” He leans to the side and bumps his shoulder against mine. “You deserve nothing less than the absolute best.”

I grin at my dad, but my voice is soft. “I love you, Peas.”

He harrumphs and turns his attention back to the ice, and I do the same. In a low voice, he admits, “It wasn’t a bad move getting us nice seats. That’s a point in his favor.”

Laughing, I watch Hendrix take the puck, then zig and zag with a quick wrist shot at Drake McGinn who easily bats it away. “I’ll transfer some of the points he’s racked up with me over to you.”

That gets his attention back on me. While I’ve filled my dad in on how my dates with Hendrix have gone—minus the sex details—I haven’t spoken about how he makes me feel.

I boil it down into something succinct he’ll understand. “He’s the exact opposite of Mom.”

“Aah,” my dad says, rubbing thoughtfully at his beard. “That means he’s mature, stable, genuine, caring, has a solid work ethic, and doesn’t give up easily.”

“Pretty much.”

“What does he think about your mom?” my dad asks curiously. This is where Hendrix could’ve scored major points with my dad if he’d told me to run far away from Mandi, but I decide to be honest.

“He said there’s nothing wrong with me wanting to have some type of relationship with her.”

My dad grunts and turns his attention back to the ice. His expression is impassive, so at least he’s not shooting daggers at Hendrix.

“He also told me I didn’t have to love her.” That gets my dad’s eyes back on me. “He basically affirmed it’s okay to have all kinds of fucked-up feelings about her, just as it’s okay to try to work through them to achieve something meaningful.”

With a heavy sigh, my dad drapes his arm over my shoulders and leans in closer to peer at me. “You know I don’t like your mom.”

“Understatement,” I mutter. It’s one of many reasons I’ve not turned to him for advice on finding the money to help her. He’ll tell me to turn my back on her and then will be disappointed in me when I don’t.

“But I do want you to have whatever in this world makes you happiest.” He motions out toward Hendrix. “So if preppy boy makes you happy, you go for it.” He pokes me in the upper chest, just below my shoulder. “If you want your mom in your heart, open it to her. If you need to set boundaries, I’ll validate their enforcement.” Once again, he turns his attention to the players. “If you want me to sit down to a meal with you and your mom, ain’t fucking happening.”

I bust out laughing and snuggle into him for a second. “I’d never ask that.”

Just like I’d never ask him to help me find her a way out of this jam she’s in. My dad doesn’t deserve to be weighed down with her shit.

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