I stare at him, nostrils flaring. The possibility of declining is nothing new, but hearing it so bluntly being used as a reason to keep us apart makes me want to punch him in the face.
Merci jumps up from his chair, both palms slamming down on the table as he leans across it. “He’s not alone! We’re not alone! Look around the table. His teammates aren’t just friends. They’re his family. They’ve been taking care of him all this time. More than you ever did.”
I place a hand on his lower back, trying to calm my little scorpion. But he’s too fired up, continuing to glare at my father, who appears to have temporarily replaced Viktor as enemy number one.
“You don't know what it's like to watch your child change overnight because you made one stupid mistake." My father's voice cracks, something raw and brokenbleeding through. “I have to live with that every single day.”
The room goes still, everyone now staring at him.
"What?" The word falls from my lips, barely a whisper, but it feels like a thunderclap.
"It was my fault." My father's jaw slackens, brows pinching together, lips parted as he draws a shaky breath. "That winter vacation . . . I'd been drinking with my buddies. Took you out on the snowmobile and hit a mogul wrong." He turns away to avoid my gaze. "You went flying. Hit your head on the back of the snowmobile. Even with the helmet . . . the impact . . . "
My chest is too tight, as if something's wrapped around it, squeezing all the air out of my lungs. The memory isn't there—just a blank space where it should be.
"You used to smile all the time. You were so silly, so full of life. And then I . . . I broke you. I ruined my own son. That's why I’ve always been distant. Why I couldn't . . . I hated myself too much." The tears streaming down his face are a sight I never thought I’d see. The man who’s always been so composed is falling apart in front of me.
My body starts to shake, and I can't make it stop. So many emotions are swirling inside me and I can’t make sense of them all. Pushing my palms into my thighs, I try to calm down.
But it’s not working.
"Talk to me." Merci's voice cuts through the fog as he rests a hand on my forearm.
Viktor tosses a stress ball across the table. I catch it midair and squeeze rhythmically, trying to quell the chaotic storm building inside me.
"My chest hurts like something’s pressing down on it, making it hard to breathe. My body’s shaking. Heart rate elevated." I squeeze the ball harder, a loud ringing filling my ears. "Can't . . . can't process. Too many sensations at once."
"Keep going," Merci encourages softly, thumb brushing over my knuckles.
I look directly at my father. “You stayed, but you weren't here. Not really. I thought I wasn't enough. That I was too broken to love. Even if I can’t fully process the emotion, I understood enough to recognize how you treated me was different."
"I'm so sorry. I should have gotten help. Should have dealt with my grief instead of making you think any of this was your fault." He lifts a trembling hand, wiping the corners of his eyes to clear the tears that have gathered. "Can you ever forgive me?"
I stare at him, trying to read his expression and understand the emotions playing across his face. It's like looking at a book in a language I can't quite read—I recognize the letters, but the meaning eludes me.
“Take your time,” Connor says, setting his glass of wine down. “Process it. We’re all here for you.”
I look at my friends, then at Merci, each offering me patience, understanding, and support. My fingers tighten around the stress ball. "It changes nothing. And everything. The damage is done. But the distance makes sense now."
My father gets up from his chair, walks to my side, then crouches down so he’s at eye level. “If I could go back and change it all, I would. But that’s impossible, so I promise to do better moving forward. And your friends have set the bar high. I hope, if anything, you can at least give me the chance to make it right.”
"I forgive you," I say simply because holding onto whatever this feeling is won't change anything.
Tears stream down my father’s cheeks as he leans in and wraps his arms around me. It’s been years since he’s hugged me, and it's awkward and stiff. But something inside me settles, a tension ebbing away because I understand now.
In some way, we're all broken.
As I return the hug, I glance around the table at my friends and family.
I’ll be okay because no matter what happens in the future, I'm not alone. I never really was.
Chapter 29
Merci
The burn in my muscles feels fucking amazing as I lock into a Russian climb, the silk wrapping just right around my foot and thigh. I push up through each beat, smooth and controlled, my body moving higher like it's nothing. Some random indie playlist echoes through the speakers while Danica spots me from below.
"Your lines are getting cleaner every session."
