And for the first time since this whole mess started… I let him.
I lean into him, shoulders shaking, tears soaking the front of his jacket. He holds me like he hasn’t in years—firm and steady and scared he might lose me ifhe lets go.
“I didn’t want to disappoint you,” I manage, voice shredded.
He sucks in a breath like the words punched him. “You’ve never disappointed me.Never.I was the one who failed you. Not the other way around.”
I cry harder, fingers clutching at his sleeve.
After a moment, he cups the back of my head like he used to when I was a kid. “I don’t care who you love,” he says quietly. “I care that you know I loveyou.And I don’t want you to think you have to hide any part of yourself from me ever again.”
My voice trembles. “I thought you hated me.”
He lets out a broken noise, something between a gasp and a sob. “No. God, no. I hated myself.” He presses his forehead to the side of my head. “I just want to try to fix this. If you’ll let me.”
I don’t answer for a long moment. Not because I don’t want to. But because I can’t get the words out around the tightness in my chest.
Finally, I nod into his shoulder.
His hand squeezes the back of my neck, relief flooding his body. “Okay. Okay. We’ll get through this.”
We sit like that for a long time.
A father and a son on a cold metal bench outside an empty rink, crying into each other in the most imperfect, honest way we ever have. And I know that eventually, we will heal.
FORTY-TWO
TODD
Once we both straighten,Dad sniffles once, rough and tired, and rubs his palms on his jeans like he’s preparing himself for something harder than anything he’s already said.
“There’s… one more thing,” he murmurs.
The heaviness of his tone makes my pulse jump. “Okay.”
He clears his throat, eyes fixed stubbornly on the pavement between his boots. “I’ve met the boy from the photo before.”
My breath catches. “Yeah. You have.”
He nods, slow, almost ashamed. “But I didn’t…I didn’t see him. Not the way I should have.” He winces, like the honesty hurts coming out. “I saw your teammate. I saw some kid from the rink. I didn’t see the boy my son…cared about.”
My vision blurs again. I blink hard.
“So,” he continues softly, “I was wondering if… if I could meet him again.” Another pause. “As your boyfriend this time.”
My heart stops.
Then starts again, painfully, too big for my ribs.
He holds up a hand like he’s afraid I’ll shut down. “Not today. Not right this second. And not if it’s too much for either of you. Just… when you’re ready.”
The sincerity in his voice guts me.
“I want to do it right,” he adds. “And I want him to know he’s welcome. That you’re both welcome. That I’m trying.”
More tears spill before I can stop them.
I swipe at them with the back of my sleeve. “Dad…”
