Bitter Sweet Heart (Lies, Hearts & Truths #2)(50)

I wait until he pulls ahead before I say, “What if I don’t want to get called up?”

A crease forms between his eyes. “You’ve been working your entire life for this, Maverick. Why would you want to walk away now? What’s going on? I’m worried about you, son. This isn’t like you.”

I lift my hat and run my hand through my hair before replacing it, adjusting the brim. “I know. I’m being stupid. Tonight, I played like a rookie, and it put me in a shit headspace. I’ll be fine next game.”

He squeezes my shoulder. “You will. It’s normal to have doubts after a rough game. We all have them. I had lots of bad games. And I got lots of penalties when I was a rookie and playing with my emotions and not my skill set. I don’t ever expect you to be perfect. You know that, right?”

“Yeah, Dad, I know. Thanks for the pep talk.” But part of me wonders if I’m so focused on hockey because it’s the one thing he and I have in common, and I don’t want to give that up.

We pull around to the window, and my dad pays for the coffees before the college-aged girl passes them over. Once we’re back on the road, my dad says, “You know I’m always here if you need to talk.”

“Yeah, I know. I appreciate it.” But telling my dad what’s going on in my head isn’t something I can do.

“How’s everything else? You dating anyone new?”

I shake my head and take a sip of my overly sweet coffee. “Nah. Gonna focus on exams and getting through to the holidays. Doesn’t make sense to get involved with someone when I don’t have the time for it.”

“Okay. But, uh, in case something changes, you all stocked up on condoms and lube? You know I can always call in a favor and get you what you need if you’re running low.”

“I’m good, Dad. Still going through the liter of lube Mom put in my stocking last year.” It was the only thing in my stocking. She wrapped it in festive paper with penises wearing little Santa hats and beards. I have no idea where the hell she found the paper, but I made origami cranes out of it and put one on each plate at the table when she had her friends over for a New Year’s dinner party.

“Good. Good.” He taps the steering wheel. “Remember, foreplay isn’t a suggestion, it’s a necessity if you’re a Waters man.”

“I’m super aware of that, Dad, but thanks for the reminder.”

Thankfully, my dad stops both the sex lectures and the hockey talk. He makes a right down Hackett Street, and my heart does this weird thing in my chest, as if it stops beating for a second before catching up again. It’s just after nine, and Clover’s front porch light is off. As we pass, I notice a pair of figures in the kitchen.

And that black BMW is parked in front of the house. Still. Again. I grab the door handle.

“Mav?”

“Huh?” I tune back in, my throat tight. The automatic locks are on; otherwise, I’d already be out of the vehicle.

“You’re coming home for Christmas and staying for a bit between games?” Dad asks. “You’ve got almost two weeks off, according to the schedule. Everyone’s going to be up at the lake. Your aunts and uncles, the Bowmans and Westinghouses too.”

“Yeah, I might have some shifts at the gym, though.”

“Is that still working out for you? Do you think you’re taking on too much with your final semester coming?” He pulls up in front of the house.

“Nah, it’s only a couple shifts a week. I can handle it.”

“Okay. I just don’t want you to get overwhelmed.” He gives my shoulder another squeeze.

“You gonna come in? I don’t think River’s home.” His car isn’t parked in the driveway, and he’s been sleeping somewhere else a lot.

Dad shakes his head. “It’s late. I should head home, and I saw your sister earlier this afternoon before my meeting. We had a late lunch. She seems like she’s really settling in here. It’s good that she has you to watch out for her.”

“She’s different than she was when we were kids.” I pinch the bridge of my nose as memories pop like bubbles in my brain. It’s been like that a lot lately. It makes it hard to stay focused on any one thing.

“Mav? Is something going on with Lavender?” My dad’s hand is still on my shoulder.

I shake my head. “No. She’s fine.” I reach for the door handle, but blurt, “Do you ever think about what happened at the carnival?”

“Of course.” He clears his throat, his voice gruff. “More often than I’d like.”

I nod, but don’t look at him. “It’s been coming up a lot for me lately.”

“Is your sister talking about it? Do you think she needs to talk to her therapist more?” There’s an edge of panic in his voice.

“Lavender isn’t talking about it,” I reassure him. “And she seems like she’s handling college fine.”

“Then what’s going on? Is it Kody-related? Does it have to do with their relationship? Do I need to talk to him?”

I hold up a hand. “No, Dad. You don’t need to talk to Kody. It’s not about that. Just forget about it.”

“You’re a good kid, Mav. Impulsive, but good.”

I want to stab myself in the eye. I nod again, my mouth dry, my stomach unsettled. I swallow down the bile and force a smile. “I should hit the books. I’ve got an exam to study for.”