Breakaway (Beyond the Play, #2)(113)

I duck my head, a small smile on my face. “She’s the best.”

“And you deserve the best. You deserve a father who doesn’t make you question his love.”

I look up; Dad’s voice is breaking. There are tears in his eyes, and when he blinks, a few of them run down his face. I don’t know if I’ve ever seen my father cry before. When James got drafted by the Eagles, maybe? At Granddad’s funeral? I shake my head, barely comprehending what he’s saying. “I mean, I know… I know you love me.”

“I do love you. I’ve loved you since the moment your mother and I found out we were going to be lucky enough to have another son.”

I bite my lip. Across the path, two squirrels chase each other. A woman walks by with a little kid in her arms. So many ordinary things are happening around us, and yet my heart is beating like I’m sprinting down the ice with a breakaway.

“Cooper, look at me.”

It’s hard, but I make myself. He wipes at his eyes carefully with a tissue before folding it back into a square and tucking it into his pocket.

“I’ve always been proud of you, even when I haven’t shown it. I’m especially proud of the man you’re becoming. And I’m sorry you doubted that. I’m sorry you felt like nothing you ever did was enough.”

My vision blurs with tears of my own. I blink them back impatiently. “Why’d you never… just say that? Like when I made captain, why’d you act like you didn’t care?”

“I did care. I was so fucking proud of you I could barely talk.” He laughs bitterly. “But I’d just heard about your uncle from James. I was trying to protect you, and of course, all I did was drive you right to him.”

“Dad?”

“Yes, son?”

“Do you…” I trail off. Fuck, this is hard, but I need to know the answer once and for all. If he’s serious about honesty, then this is the chance to ask. “I mean, do you wish I played football instead? Did I disappoint you, choosing hockey?”

He surprises me yet again by carefully setting my coffee cup aside and pulling me into a hug. I’m frozen for a moment, my brain scrambling as I try to input what’s happening; a hug from my handshake-yes-sir sort of father, but then I relax into it. It’s like when I went to Coach, but better, because it’s my dad giving it to me, not my girlfriend’s. “Never. Not even a little bit.”

“Are you sure? Because James…”

He rubs my back in long, comforting strokes. “Is James. You’re you. I’ve never wanted you to be anyone but yourself, and it’s on me if that got lost in translation. My father—your granddad—he tried his best, you know? But he was the stoic type. There was always a next step. Somewhere else to go. And mostly, that worked as motivation for me. But I see now that your needs are different, and I’m sorry I’ve failed you for so long.”

He takes in a deep, shuddering breath. “I’ll tell you it as often as you need. I won’t let my love go unsaid or unfelt. Not anymore. You’re precious to me, son.”

I’m pretty sure my brain short-circuits. I try to reply, but my voice is all strangled. Eventually, I manage a quiet, “Thanks.”

He presses a kiss to the top of my head. I bite the inside of my cheek. He hasn’t done that since I was very small. A kid in a hockey-themed bedroom, waiting for his quarterback father to come home from a game in time to kiss him goodnight. I’d stay up way later than I should have, just so I could get a couple extra seconds with him.

“I was coming to see you anyway, you know,” he says. “The day after you got into that fight.”

“Not to tell me off about Uncle Blake?”

“No. And I regret what I said.” He pulls away as he clears his throat. “I wanted to surprise you with lunch to celebrate you winning Hockey East. But Sebastian called me on the way, and I let my worry and fear get the best of me. We should have been celebrating your accomplishment, and instead I cocked it all up. Again.”

Hearing what he intended to do—even if it didn’t happen—eases the pain in my soul. “We could do it now,” I offer. “Make it dinner later, with Penny and her dad. I want you to really talk to Coach, and to get to know Pen better.”

He nods. “Your mother will want to be there too, I’m sure. After all, we’ll be traveling with her to see Regionals. The Frozen Four, too, when you get there.”

Warmth spreads through my insides. “If we get there.”

“You will.” He nods, like it’s an indisputable fact. “I’ve seen the tape, son. You’ll get there, and you’ll win.”

I run my hand through my hair. It’s absurd, after the conversation we just had, but I’m still a little nervous about asking him for things. I’ve spent so long worrying about his rejection—yet if this relationship is really going to be different moving forward, I need to put myself out there just as much as him. “So, do you want me to set it up? Or are you too busy?”

“Never for you.” He gathers up his coffee and the rest of his bagel, then claps me on the shoulder. “Let’s go watch the skating for a while. And tell me more about this girl you’re going to marry one day.”





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