“Ooo,” Winnie says while bumping her shoulder with mine. “This is so exciting. I feel like I go feral at games.”
“She does,” Ollie says as she takes a bite of her pretzel. “It can be scary at times.”
I look out toward the ice, where the boys stretch and warm up. It takes me a second, but I spot Levi over with Eli. They’re both stretching their hip flexers and chatting it up. I glance around the arena, taking in the energy and, for the first time, fully appreciate the love for these men. Grown men cheer, children wave their hands, and women toast their beers. There are signs asking for pucks, telling the players how much they love them, and even a few proposals. There’s one for Levi that makes me chuckle.
It truly is a sight to see, and I can understand why someone like my dad would revel in such impassioned energy all the time. It’s addicting.
Speaking of Dad. He’s behind the bench in his standard black-on-black-on-black attire, hands behind his back, looking out over the rink. Sterling, his assistant, talks to a few players on the bench while the staff prepares for the game around them.
But my eyes remain fixated on my dad, as I take in the stoic yet intimidating set of his shoulders. The way he casually observes but is calculating every little advantage in his head. He’s conniving and smart, one of the many reasons the Agitators are the team to beat this year.
“You okay?” Winnie asks.
“What? Oh yeah. Just thinking.”
“About your dad?” Ollie asks, mouth full of pretzel.
“Yeah,” I answer.
“Have you spoken to him since everything went down?”
I shake my head. “No, and that’s okay. I’ve come to terms with it. It sucks, but like Levi has said, it’s his loss if he doesn’t want to be a part of my life.”
“He’s right,” Ollie replies. “And I don’t say that very often.”
“It’s taken me a second, but I’m coming to terms with that train of thought.”
“Good,” Winnie says. “If anything, you’ve gained a whole bunch of brothers and sisters.”
I smile. “I can get on board with that.”
“I can barely talk,”Winnie says, her voice hoarse.
I rub my ear. “Yeah, and I think I can barely hear.”
“Glad you were the one in the middle,” Ollie says as we walk toward the players’ locker room. “Usually I’m the one with a ringing in my ear after a game. Told you she was loud.”
“Like, way louder than I ever could have imagined.” I glance at Winnie. “You’re so small. How do you do it?”
“Blessed with powerful lungs, I guess,” she answers.
“It was a good game, though. I will admit that,” Ollie says. “Do you think Posey got in that fight because you were watching? He was barely checked into the boards, and it looked like he lost his cool.”
“I don’t know,” I say. “But it was really hot.” I bite the corner of my lip, recalling the fight. Levi was hardly touched, but he got the other player a few times in the ribs and once on the face. Levi went to the penalty box with a sweaty head of hair and a ripped jersey, while the other player went in with a bloody nose and a dazed expression.
“Posey could have given him a few more wallops. I think he held back. He was showing off but not being barbaric about it.”
“I’m sure it will aid in tonight’s festivities,” Ollie says.
“Most definitely.” Winnie winks just as the locker room door opens, and Silas pops out, looking fresh from the shower. When he spots Ollie, he walks right up to her and wraps her up in his arms before placing a big kiss on her lips.
“Need you, babe,” he says, barely loud enough for us to hear. And then he whispers something in her ear that makes her cheeks flush.
She twiddles her fingers at us. “Got to go. Talk to you later, ladies.”
“Bye,” Winnie and I say together with a laugh.
When they’re gone, Winnie leans over and whispers, “Bet they do it in the car in a parking lot somewhere.”
“Seriously?” I ask.
Winnie nods. “Yup, they’ve been into this voyeur, almost getting caught situation lately. I don’t know. I prefer the privacy of my own home where Pacey can bend me over the counter.”
I laugh just as the door opens again, and this time, it’s Levi. He’s wearing the same green suit he showed up in, but unlike the image I saw of him on social media, walking into the arena, this time, he has a smile on his face as he spots me.
He scoops me up into his arms, spins me around once, and plants a huge kiss on my lips. When he pulls away, he groans quietly. “Fuck, I love seeing you here, waiting for me in my jersey. It feels like everything is right in the world.”
I cup his cheek. “Everything is right in the world.” Then I stand on my toes and kiss him one more time before pulling away. “Ready to go home?” I ask.
“Ready.”
I turn toward Winnie. “Thanks for tonight. My ears will never be the same.”
“Anytime.” She winks, and then, hand in hand, Levi and I start heading toward the parking lot, but stop when we see my dad staring back at us.
I knew this would happen at some point, but I wish it didn’t happen tonight. Not when we’re both on such a high from the game.
Dad crosses his arms over his chest. “Wylie, may I have a word?”
That doesn’t sound great.
“Uh . . . sure,” I say as I look up at Levi. He nods and then leans down and gives me one more kiss before he encourages me to go with my father.
I head toward his office, but my dad moves toward the rink instead.
“Where are you going?” I ask him.
“Follow me,” he says. So I do as I’m told and follow him through the players’ tunnel and onto the bench, where he takes a seat.
He leans his forearms on his thighs as he stares out at the ice. Uneasy and unsure of what he’s going to do, I keep some distance from him and prepare my heart for whatever he has to say.
After a few seconds of silence, he says, “Did he get you that jersey?”
I look down at it. “He did.”
Dad slowly nods his head. “Seems like he really cares about you.”
“He does,” I answer. “We, uh, we actually have known each other longer than what you might think.”
Dad glances over at me. “How so?”
“We met a year prior at a hotel bar. It was when I caught a ride with you to visit Sandie in college. Levi and I got to talking, and well, I didn’t let him know who I was out of fear that he’d stop talking to me. It was honestly one of the best nights. I felt an immediate connection with him, which surprised me because I too had a preconceived idea of who he was. But when I saw you come into the bar, I bolted before I could tell him my name. I only recently found out that he’d felt the same attraction, as he spent the better part of a year looking for me. Using a private investigator and everything. He was so shocked when he then found out I was your daughter in your office a few weeks ago.”
Dad runs his hand over his bald head. “What a moron.”
I don’t know why, but that makes me laugh. “He can be at times,” I say, “but he’s a loveable moron.”
“Did he tell you what he and his teammates have been doing these past few days?”
“No,” I say, brow pinched. “What did they do?”
Dad sits up, and I watch his strong, usually tense jaw relax. This genuine conversation is the first we’ve had in a long time. “His teammates went on some sort of Posey campaign where they chatted him up with letters to me and personal conversations, telling me what a great guy he is. How he’s the backbone of the team. How he would do anything for anyone.”
“They’re right,” I say.
“Well, I didn’t believe them,” Dad says, making my heart sink. “Not until Posey came to me himself.”
“He did?” I ask.
Dad nods. “When we were in Nashville. He showed me a picture you were working on, one of you and me.” My cheeks flame with embarrassment.
“I’m not done with that one yet. I was actually kind of practicing. It’s not my best—”
“It nearly made me cry,” Dad says, stunning me. He then looks out at the ice again and quietly says, “Your mother was an artist, Wylie. She was incredible. It was one of the things that I fell in love with. She could see the beauty in everything . . . well, everything but me.” He lets out a deep sigh, and I inch closer toward him as I comprehend how vulnerable he’s being. When I’m close enough, I place my hand on his back. “I was a fool back then. She wanted to paint around the world, and I wanted to build my career, make something of myself. She tried to live a simple life with me, being the coach’s wife, but it wasn’t enough. She told me I wasn’t enough, and it cut me. She wanted to leave, and I told her she could, but if she left, she wasn’t to ever come back. And her relationship with you was terminated. She cut me so I wanted to cut her. Little did I know, she would take the deal.”
“Dad, I’m sorry.”