Alex (Cold Fury Hockey #1)(88)

His plans are to leave in the morning for home, because I’m leaving for my game road trip. So we have tonight to start to forge some type of new relationship before we head our separate ways.

I slapped a frozen pizza in the oven and I’m cutting it now as he walks into the kitchen, his hair still damp. He doesn’t waste any time, cutting through to the other elephant in the room.

“So what’s going on with your game?” he asks as he sits down at the kitchen table.

His apology, while heartfelt and accepted, does nothing to erase the years he dictated to me how I should model my behavior, so my hackles rise up. “What? You mean you’re not going to tell me what my problem is? Not going to tell me how to correct it?”

My dad swallows hard. “I’ll give you advice if you want it. If you want to tell me what you think the problem is.”

I put a couple of slices of pizza on two plates and bring them to the table, setting his down in front of him. After I take my chair, I look at him while picking at a pepperoni. “I’m not focused,” I admit.

“Can’t focus your brain on something, maybe it’s focused somewhere else,” he offers, and I know this is a direct slap at Sutton.

“You mean my girlfriend,” I accuse.

“What else is there?” he counters.

“Well, let’s see,” I say sarcastically. “Maybe because my dad is a drunk and is killing himself. Maybe because my dad has been in rehab and I’m dealing with all that shit.”

At least my dad has the grace to blush at my words, but his tone is censuring, “You can’t blame me for all the wrongs in your life.”

“Can’t I?” I throw at him.

Pushing his plate away, my dad rests his hands on the table. “Look, Alex…I know you’re angry at me and you have every right to be. I did wrong by you. But I also did right. You are a superstar. You have an amazing career and more money than you know what to do with. There are a few things that you could thank me for, perhaps.”

It’s surreal how his words have a sting of truth, even though his methods were for the most part completely barbaric.

Before I can respond, my dad continues. “Look…I’m sure that girl…Sutton is perfectly nice. But you’re twenty-six. You have, at most, another four to five years of top-level play in that body before you’ll start to get overtaken by the next hot young player out there. That’s not a long time, and you shouldn’t waste it on things that don’t lead toward an intense focus on the game. It’s professional suicide.”

His words penetrate deep, and for once, I can say that my dad is absolutely one hundred percent correct in his evaluation of the situation. Hockey careers are fleeting, particularly because it’s such a violent sport. I have only a few more years to stockpile my way to an early retirement.

While every cell in my body wants to buck against what he’s saying, I can’t say the idea hadn’t crossed my mind. That perhaps my focus is too fractured, between my newfound love for the game, a new girlfriend who is in love with me but whom I’ve yet to truly figure out my feelings for, and my alcoholic father, who could die.

Maybe I need to lighten the burden. Cut something out.

Cutting the game out wasn’t possible, because after all, that is the one thing I can pretty much say is my best chance at success.

And I can’t cut out my father. Not now…not after he’s trying to get sober and trying to make amends.

So, that leaves Sutton, and just giving credence to this idea makes my gut churn with bitter acid. But unfortunately, she’s the newest thing in my life. She’s the great unknown and by far the biggest risk.

She makes me feel too much sometimes. It’s a kaleidoscope of feeling with patterns that play out across my heart, some round and soothing yet others sharp and angled, causing a small bite of pain.

Some would say feeling is good. Others, like my dad—and clearly this resonates with my way of thinking—might say it could be distracting. Perhaps it’s better to stay ice-cold, like the surface upon which I play my game.

This is something I need to think about.

This is something I need to take action on.





Chapter 28


Sutton


It’s been fifteen days, six hours and twenty-seven minutes since I last saw Alex.

It’s been fifteen days, six hours and twenty-seven minutes since he broke my heart.

And while my heart is on the mend, it still hurts badly on most days and just twinges annoyingly on the others. My anger has at least subsided, and while I don’t accept his reasoning for breaking things off, I do understand it. Just because I understand it doesn’t mean it isn’t painful.

Because God…it’s so painful.

I wish I didn’t understand why he did it, because it would be easier to mire myself in hate and bitterness, which I’m sure would stop the pain that emanates from the center of my chest. But I do understand him, in ways that most others never would.

Just fifteen days and some change ago, my day had started off wonderfully.

I had an amazing counseling session with Mara. She looked healthy, although not quite happy. However, she had told me the words that I had longed to hear, that was she was staying strong to fight her desire to use meth again. More important, her parents had agreed to come in and talk to me the next week. I didn’t have high hopes they’d make it in, because I knew how easy it was to make those promises yet so very hard to keep them. Still, I was feeling more confident that Mara was taking the right steps so she didn’t stray down the same destructive path as her parents.