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He shows it the only way he knows how. Through his eyes, I see his calls and emails in a different light. I see him wanting whathethinks will make me happy. “That’s what Mom said.”
He stills. “You talked to Nicole?”
“We’re trying to patch things up.” Vulnerable honesty flows out of me like water from a faucet. It’s addictive, telling the truth like this.
He stares at me for a long time, frowning, regret flashing in his eyes.
“She asked about you.”
“She did?”
“Yep.”
A long pause. “I think about her every day.”
His honesty shocks me. Rick Miller doesn’t care about anything but hockey, or so I thought. “Maybe you should call her.”
He shakes his head, glancing down with a hard set to his jaw. “She left me.”
The corner of my mouth tilts in a sad smile because for years, I told myself she leftme, but my dad has his own lies he tells himself.
“I compare everyone to her,” he says quietly. “That’s why all my relationships fall apart. No one’s Nicole, and it’s only a matter of time before they realize that.”
My chest aches, and even though he’s made me feel like I wasn’t good enough for years, made me think hockey was my only value, he’s still my dad.
“Call her,” I tell him, “because I think she thinks about you, too.”
He grunts, acknowledging but not agreeing, and the three of us stand in silence.
“Hockey’s the only thing we have in common,” he finally says, looking lost. “I don’t know what else to talk to you about.”
“Maybe we should change that.”
At my side, Hazel watches, guarding me. My dad’s gaze swings to her and he clears his throat.
“Hi.” He sticks his hand out to her. “Rick.”
“Hazel.”
My dad is an intimidating guy—tall, broad, with an intense, commanding presence—but Hazel can be intimidating right back. She holds his eyes, and in her gaze, the message is clear.Don’t fuck with Rory.
I hide a smile. I love her so fucking much.
“The physio and yoga teacher,” he says with a nod. “Good to finally meet you, Hazel.” He clears his throat, glancing at me. “I love you, Rory. I don’t say it enough.”
“You don’t say it at all.”
Shame passes over his features. “I want to, it’s just…” His Adam’s apple bobs. “Hard.”
I can’t imagine a guy like my grandpa told my dad he loved him.
I think about the things I’ve done this season—going back to the pickup league after I failed miserably, taking risks in games with the team, telling Hazel I love her.
“Hard things get easier with practice.” The knot in my chest begins to loosen, and I follow my own advice. “I love you, too.”
He pulls me into a hug, and while we embrace, whatever I’ve been missing all these years opens in my chest, taking up every inch of space.
We break apart, and he clears his throat. “I’m in town for a couple days,” he says. “Maybe I can take you two for dinner.” He nods to her with a serious expression that I think might be nervousness. “I’d like to get to know you better, Hazel, if that’s alright.”
