Bitter Sweet Heart (Lies, Hearts & Truths #2)(49)

It isn’t until I’m sitting in the box again that I notice my dad four rows up at center ice. “Fuck,” I mutter, and he cocks a brow at me.

He does this sometimes, showing up at a game without telling me. And of course there’s a scout from Nashville here, too. As if I need the added pressure.

We end up winning by one goal, thanks to Kody.

“You still want me to hang around since your dad is here?” he asks when we’re back in the locker room.

“Nah. It’s cool. You don’t need to see my dad rip into me about my shitty performance tonight.” I blow out a breath. “And I really need to stop channeling my inner Eeyore.”

He gives me a sympathetic look. “We all have off nights. He knows you usually play cleaner than this. And Russo was being a dick the entire game.”

Quinn stops as he passes us and claps me on the shoulder. “Russo deserves more than a shot in the face.”

“Still. I know better than to play with my fists. If there’s a lecture coming, I kinda deserve it.”

“We all know better, but when someone’s grinding you like he was, it’s hard not to react.” He turns to Kody. “Whose bed you sleeping in tonight?”

Kody’s cheeks flush. “Uh, probably not mine.”

Quinn’s gaze shifts from me to Kody and he smirks. “See you both at practice tomorrow, then. And don’t beat yourself up too much, Waters, the pressure can be a lot to handle.”

“Thanks, man.” I know he’s trying to be helpful, but he’s not looking to make the pros, and that’s been the goal my entire life.

Kody turns back to me after Quinn leaves and clears his throat. “We’ll still run drills tomorrow afternoon? And we can go for dinner after that.”

“Sounds good.”

He heads for the showers, even though he’ll take another one as soon as he’s home. I take off my gear, not paying much attention to the conversations going on around me.

“There’s a party going on at Deever’s. I vote we go. One of the sororities is there.” A freshman holds out his phone, showing our teammates a video clip of two girls doing keg stands. “Waters, you wanna come?” He gives me a nod.

“Maybe. Send me the address.”

I’ve been off the party scene for weeks now. But after this shitshow of a day, I might need to unwind with a lot of beer. Or shots.

The freshman, whose last name is Frenchie, sends me the details. I tell the guys I might see them later, then hit the showers, passing Kody on his way out.

He bumps his fist against mine. “See you back at home.”

“Sounds good.”

I take my sweet time in the shower and getting dressed. As expected, my dad is waiting for me outside the locker room. He’s chatting with a couple of the younger players, and when he sees me, he lifts his hand in a wave.

They shake his hand and head for the door, glancing over their shoulders as my dad strolls toward me, one of his eyebrows quirked. I’m a carbon copy of him. Same build, same height, same hair, same everything—apart from the bump in his nose where it was broken more than once in his earlier years, and the fact that he’s an infinitely better hockey player than I’ll ever be.

“I didn’t realize you were coming tonight.” My shoulders are already tight, bracing for what’s to come.

“I had a dinner meeting in the city with one of Aunt Sunny’s clients, and I figured I’d check out the second half of the game.” He pulls me in for a back-pat hug.

Aunt Sunny works for a nonprofit organization that helps kids with terminal cancer meet their favorite hockey players. It’s awesome, but also tragic. They’ll never experience a broken heart before theirs gives out on them.

Dad and I make small talk on the way to his truck. “You drive here?” he asks.

“I got a ride in.”

“Want to grab a beer?”

“Maybe a coffee would be better. I have an exam I need to study for when I get home.” It’s not a lie, although I don’t plan to study tonight. And this is my way of cutting this visit as short as possible.

“Coffee it is, then.” My dad’s truck beeps, and I toss my backpack in the back seat, then climb into the passenger seat and buckle up.

“You want to tell me what happened out there tonight?” he asks as he slides the key into the ignition.

I knead the back of my neck. “I don’t know. Just played like garbage, I guess.”

He glances over at me. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah. Just . . . exams and games are a lot to juggle. I don’t want to shit the bed.”

“Your grades are okay, though?”

“Yeah. They’re up.”

“Okay. That’s good. One more semester and you’ve got a degree under your belt, and I have a feeling you’ll get called up. Just keep your eye on the goal. You’re almost there.”

“What if Nashville decides they don’t want me?” I give voice to the fears that plague me after games like this.

“There’s another team that wants you if Nashville doesn’t.” He says this with such conviction, as if it’s a given.

“But what if there isn’t?”

“There will be. Trust me. The scouts are talking. That’s all I can tell you, though.” He pulls into the drive-thru of an independently owned coffee shop and rolls down the window. He gets a black coffee, and I get one of their latte things that are full of sugar and caffeine.