“Hi, sir,” Santo says, sitting up straighter as if the alpha can see him. Poor guy.
“Is there something wrong? Is Cae alright?”He asks.
“I was calling for some advice,” Santo explains. “She's been having nightmares since McCreuger ambushed her. We’re concerned?—”
“Cae is stubborn,” Mr. Freedman grunts. “Bring her to me. I’ll sort her out.”
“Buthowwill you sort her out?” Santo asks.
“In my way,” he says. “I know my daughter.”
The three of us stare at each other because there’s really nothing else to say, and we just said that Caelia’s dad might be the best person for her to see.
“We want to take a trip out to see you. Is next week too soon?” Miles asks, leaning forward.
“No, I don't think so. I’m not doing anything.Are you staying with me?” Mr. Freedman asks.
“Rental,” Miles replies. “I want to be close enough that she can walk over if she wants, so I’ll start looking tonight.”
“That would be nice,” he says.“I think Caelia needs some more exercise in her life. Endorphins help her sleep better, clear out the bad thoughts in her mind. Are you up for it?”
“I need to stay in shape or Miles will fuck me up when we get back on the ice,” I say, shrugging. “I’m in.”
“Good. In the next couple of days, she could break. If she’s been holding things in, it could get violent. Caelia isn’t usually the type to hit or break things, but it could help,” Mr. Freedman says.
“Rage room it is,” Santo says. “She hasn’t had a panic attack, it’s more internalized.”
“Hmm,” Mr. Freedman mutters. “Nothing Caelia did the night of the hockey game was her fault. Sometimes, she can overthink things. Keep reminding her that she didn’t ask to be attacked. McCreuger is an asshole.”
“I never realized it when we used to play together,” Miles muses. “How did I miss that these guys were rapists?”
“They hid it well, and the owner helped cover it up,” Mr. Freedman says. “That's why I walked away. Hockey will never be more important than my daughter to me.”
“Caelia is everything,” I say automatically.
“Is your dad still fucking with my boss, Santo?” Mr. Freedman asks, chuckling. “Friedrick has been avoiding me.”
“Dad’s about to close on a pretty large settlement for Caelia,” Santo grins. “She wants to go back to school for art, and I think she should. It’s been lighting her up. If she’d let us pay for it, we’d enroll her ourselves.”
“She has the money for it,” I remind Santo. “A part of me thinks that she’s worried about her ability to get into art school.”
“Bah,” Mr. Freedman spits out. “My Cae is talented in many ways. She simply chose the path of least resistance and went into graphic design. I think art school is perfect for her. While you’re here, she can work on her portfolio for it. I’ll insist that she apply.”
Damn, why didn’t we call him before this?
“Thank you, sir,” Santo says. “We’ll see you next week.”
Mr. Freedman hangs up the phone after saying goodbye, and I can tell why he’s such a good father and coach.
“Feel better?” Miles chuckles.
“You knew he’d know what to say,” I accuse.
“I’ve known him for a long fucking time, despite our perceived differences,” he says. “Caelia is going through some shit. There’s nothing wrong with needing her dad to help. My mom doesn’t live far from New Orleans, maybe we can see her at some point.
“I think we should meet Caelia where she’s at. I can’t explain how freaked out I was when I heard her scream in that hallway. I was scared to death that we were going to lose her.”
“We could have,” I say, my fingers rubbing the soft strands of her hair.
