Bitter Sweet Heart (Lies, Hearts & Truths #2)(110)

“You didn’t fail me, Dad.”

“But I did, because I didn’t see how much this was weighing you down, how my actions are responsible for making you feel this way all these years.” He rubs at the corner of his eye, expression despondent. “How can I ease the burden, son?”

“You just did.” I feel like that kid all over again, but instead of the weight of guilt dragging me down, it’s been lifted from my shoulders—a lot like a different weight was lifted after Lavender and I had that heart-to-heart.

For years I’ve carried around that blame, wore it like a punishment, believing everyone felt the same way. Now to be absolved again, to see it through a different lens, brings with it a peace I’ve never experienced before. It’s almost a terrifying feeling, and one I don’t know how to handle.

My dad hugs me again, and I break, really and truly in a way I don’t expect. I didn’t know how much I needed to hear those words until he spoke them. I needed the absolution so I can finally move on from this.

Eventually he sits back and reaches over, yanking several feet of toilet paper free. He tears off a handful of squares and passes them to me. He uses the rest to blow his nose. I do the same.

“I feel like I have a lot of years of making up to do when it comes to you,” he says.

“You don’t.” I shake my head. “I loved the time I had with you more than I loved playing hockey. It was worth it, though. Taught me solid work ethic.” I toss my wad of TP into the toilet. “But, uh, if you’re really serious, I wouldn’t say no to you dealing with Mom if I don’t end up accepting a training camp offer.”

He laughs and runs a hand through his hair. “I can handle your mom on this one.”

My alarm goes off, signaling that it’s six, the time I usually get up for work. There’s not much point in going back to bed. I wouldn’t be able to sleep.

“You think you can handle coffee?” Dad asks.

“Yeah.” I pick myself up off the floor and hold out a hand, helping my dad up.

He grimaces and limps a couple of steps before he finds his footing, another reason I’m not entirely sold on a professional hockey career. I see the toll it’s taken on my dad’s body, and what that might mean down the road.

I pull on a shirt and shorts and follow him downstairs. We make a pot of coffee, and I throw some whole grain bread in the toaster. And instead of talking about this year’s draft and who we think is going first round, we pull out the Scrabble board, and my dad lets me kick his ass.

Once the day gets started, Kody and I message back and forth all morning. He’s meeting with his agent and while Vancouver drafted him, there are trade talks and apparently Philly is pushing for him. He lived in Philly for years, and it’s the closest to Chicago he can get.

Kody comes over later in the evening, and we head down to the beach, beers in hand. Our dads hang back, probably trying to give us space.

I leave my flip-flops on the beach and dip my toes in the water. It’s hot, being the end of June, but the water is still cold.

“You all right?” he asks.

I nod and drop down in the sand, close enough so the water comes up to my toes, but not so close that my shorts get wet. “Even if I get an offer for training camp, I’m not sure I’m going to go.”

“What do you mean if? You’ll get an offer. There’s no way you won’t.”

I appreciate his conviction, even though I’m not so sure it’s accurate. “Have you called Lavender and told her yet?”

He shakes his head. “We decided we’d wait until I was back in New York before I say anything. I’m ninety-nine percent sure I’ll be going to Philly, but my agent is negotiating, so we’ll see. And Lavender and I want to be together when I give her the news. She threatened to break up with me if I didn’t accept an offer.”

I frown. “Why the fuck wouldn’t you accept?”

He answers my question with a question. “Why are you on the fence about training camp?”

“I haven’t been offered yet. The only thing you love more than hockey is my sister.” I pause. “Ah, that’s it, isn’t it? You’re worried about being away from her.”

He pulls something out of his pocket and flips it between his fingers. “I just got her back. I don’t want to risk losing her.”

“You won’t lose her. You might have a hard time with the distance, but you’ll manage.”

“Yeah. I know. But Philly’s looking a hell of a lot more alluring than Vancouver.”

“You gotta do what’s going to make you happy.”

“It’s about more than my career now.” He settles his forearms on his knees. “Talk to me about why you’re on the fence? What’s going on?”

“I don’t think I want it, not the way I should. And taking a spot from someone who’s driven to play just because I think it’s what I’m supposed to do doesn’t seem like a good idea.”

“What’s really going on, Mav? I know I’ve been wrapped up in my own stuff, but this is about more than just hockey.” I catch a glimpse of the tiny purple fabric heart between his fingers and know it has to be something Lavender gave him—a talisman of sorts, I’m sure. Something to calm him while he’s away from her.