Alex (Cold Fury Hockey #1)(93)

Rubbing my temple and staring blankly across the bar—because Garrett sometimes has a way of inducing a migraine—I try to think of a good comeback. Garrett doesn’t give me the opportunity, though.

“Besides, I have it on good authority that you won’t even have to grovel to get her back.”

My eyes snap to his. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, I asked Sutton point-blank what it would take to fix this shit.”

“And?” I prompt.

“And she assured me no groveling would be needed. She still loves you, buddy. More important, she understands you. She understands your moment of weakness, so just show her it was nothing but a moment.”

His words are simple, yet they cause elation to swell within me. I had for sure thought I ruined everything with Sutton. In my world, things are black and white, and forgiveness is a foreign concept and a tough pill to swallow.

“Seriously?” I ask, smiling for what I’m betting is the first time in over two weeks.

“Cross my heart,” he assures me. “So what’s the plan?”

Picking up my beer and downing the rest, I stand up and throw some cash on the bar. Turning to Garrett, I say, “Well, you said groveling isn’t needed but I’m thinking Sutton deserves a little something more than just a lame-ass apology. I have something in mind and I need your help, and Glenn’s too, for that matter.”

Standing up, Garrett slaps his hands together and rubs them briskly. “I love it. A devious plan.”

“Exactly,” I say with a grin. “Let’s get to it.”

***

Garrett just left my apartment and we have worked out a solid plan, which in my estimation will put Sutton in a position where she has no choice but to take me back. We had to call Glenn first, to make sure he was on board, because he’s instrumental to the plot.

The little dude was not happy to hear from me, which was beyond adorable. I mean, I’m his hockey idol, but he worships the ground Sutton walks on far more than he does my terra firma.

When he got on the line and I told him “hello,” he said, “You hurt my sister and I don’t want anything to do with you.”

I had to do some fast talking so he wouldn’t hang up on me, but thankfully he listened, and after much groveling on my part, he finally agreed to help me. Garrett had his part of the scheme secured and planned on meeting Glenn tomorrow for the handoff.

He gave me a fist bump and a grin before leaving, saying, “This is going to be so much f*cking fun. And you know you’re going to get an ass-chewing from the management, right?”

“It will be worth it,” I told him, and it would be so worth it.

Now the only thing left I had to do before I reclaimed what was mine and what I so foolishly let get away, was to make a very important phone call.

My dad answers on the second ring and he sounds coherent, which is excellent, because I really need him to hear what I have to say.

“Hi, Dad.”

“Alex…buddy…what’s going on?”

He sounds jovial and clear, which is a good sign. I take that to mean that he’s staying sober, a concern I’ve worried over every single day since he visited a few weeks ago.

“Just calling to check in on you. So how are things going?”

“They’re going fine,” he says nonchalantly.

“You’re not drinking, are you?” I have no choice but to ask point-blank. I hope I can detect the truth of his answer.

“No way. I’ve been sober thirty-five days now.”

I’m silent because he sounds truly happy about that. I’m truly happy about it, but it doesn’t mean that he’s won the battle.

“That’s fantastic, Dad. Is it tough?”

I can hear my dad take a deep breath and let it out, then he says quietly, “Hardest thing I’ve ever done in my life.”

“You can do it,” I assure him. “I know you can.”

“I appreciate the vote of confidence,” he says with a chuckle. “The AA meetings really help and my sponsor is a great guy. I call him if things get too rough.”

The tightness in my chest eases up a bit and I allow myself the permission to let go of some of this worry. I have to remind myself, and accept, that whatever path my dad chooses, it’s out of my control. All I can do is support him when he’s standing tall, and reach a hand out if he falls.

“Listen, Dad…there’s another reason I called.”

“What’s up?”

“Remember when you asked for my forgiveness when you came to visit?”

“Of course.” His words are soft and appreciative.

“I didn’t mean it when I told you I forgave you,” I tell him bluntly and then hold my breath for his reaction.

“I see,” he says sadly, and I can tell he’s hurt.

Before he can say anything else, I tell him what he really needs to know. “I said those words to you because you asked for them. Because you needed to hear them…not because I wanted to give them to you.”

“Alex—”

“But,” I cut him off quickly, so I can hurry up and get the words out and ease his pain. “I want to say them to you again…right now…and let you know that I want to give them to you. I need to give them to you and I very much mean them.”