I nod, knowing Roe has some hard-won wisdom here.
“I haven’t talked about my dad in years. He passed well before Jamie was born.”
Roe doesn’t move. Doesn’t press. Just waits.
“He was a star,” I say. “Not just local famous. He played Juniors, got close to a shot at the big leagues. Then he tore up his leg in a car accident, and came back here bitter as hell. Played for the farm team and lived in the land ofwhat if.”
Roe shifts just slightly closer, still not speaking.
“Everything in our house revolved around the game. How you skated, how you passed, how you got hit and didn’t cry about it. And if you didn’t live up to that? He found ways to make sure you felt it.”
I flex my hand without thinking. Some bruises never made it to the surface.
“I quit at seventeen. Told him I wanted to work with my hands, not break them for someone else’s approval. He called me acoward. Told me I’d waste my life just making things for other people.”
Roe’s jaw tenses, but he stays quiet.
“I told myself I’d never let Jamie go near a rink. I didn’t want him growing up thinking his worth had anything to do with points or penalty minutes. I was going to shield him from the locker room idea of what a man could be. I forgot that would be impossible in Fox River Falls, so I caved when he was still too young to catch on.”
“But he loves it,” Roe says softly.
“Yeah.” I swallow. “And he’s talented. And I’m trying not to ruin that for him. Even subconsciously.”
Roe reaches over, not for drama, not for show, just to hold my hand, steady. “You didn’t ruin it. You support him. That’s what good dads do.”
I nod. Look down. “I guess I just don’t want him to think I hate what makes him happy.”
“You don’t,” Roe says. “You just hate what it did to you.”
That lands harder than I expect.
And then, after a beat, “We should tell him about us.”
I look over. “Jamie?”
Roe nods. “Before anyone else does. Before it ends up on The Bench again with a badly photoshopped engagement ring and a soft-focus filter.”
I huff a laugh. “Yeah. You’re right. They are relentless.” I close my eyes. “Or someone asks him at school.”
“You okay with that?”
“With telling him?”
“Yeah.”
I nod. “He deserves to hear it from us.”
Roe leans back, shoulder brushing mine. “I’m nervous.”
“Me too. But, with everyone else . . .”
“Gabe, I’m perfectly fine with you and me doing whatever the hell we want and letting the gossips of this town try to sort it out. We’re dating.”
“There’s one thing, though,” I start, not sure how to say this. I never asked Liz about it, and maybe that’s pretty telling. “When you saydating,I think about being exclusive, and you might not, but—“
I don’t get another word out before Roe’s lips are on mine.
“Oh no,” he says, pulling back. “You’re all mine, Gabe Thatcher.”
