“What are you doing here, Mouse?” Tank asked.
“I was hoping we could talk.”
While Tank had been on his way to initiate a conversation of his own, he was now nervous, because he wasn’t sure if it was good or bad that she’d decided to seek him out on her own.
“Okay. Wanna come back to my place?” Tank offered.
McKenna hesitated just long enough that his worries became full-blown.
“Or we could talk at your place if you’d prefer,” he said, wondering if that would be a more amenable option to her. He hoped she’d go for that because he didn’t want to have this conversation in public, preferring privacy as he bared his soul to her.
“I’d come here thinking we could just talk in my office but…maybe my place would be better,” she said, looking as lost as he felt.
Her office?
Tank couldn’t help but think that didn’t bode well for him.
“Your place,” he said, refusing to continue treating this thing between them like it was just part of their jobs.
“Sure. Meet me there?” she asked.
The fact they weren’t riding together was another huge red flag, and Tank felt as if she’d punched him in the gut. She obviously wanted him to have his own car so he could leave after she said whatever it was she had on her mind.
Unable to speak, thanks to the weight now pressing on his chest, he merely nodded.
The two of them walked to the parking lot in silence.
“See you in a few,” he said, as she climbed into her car.
Tank walked to his own vehicle, his heart lodged in his throat. Maybe never falling in love hadn’t been such a bad way to live his life, he decided, as he drove to McKenna’s townhouse. Because at least he’d never had to feel this heavy, agonizing, relentless pressure.
McKenna, who’d snagged the parking spot in front of her townhouse, was waiting at the door as he walked down the block toward her.
“Come on in.” She led him to the living room. “Would you like something to drink?” she offered, as he took a seat on the end of her comfy couch.
He shook his head. “No.”
She dropped down on the other end, leaving way too much space between them.
“So Coach Fields is your dad,” he said, choosing to start with a safer topic. He was aware he was simply prolonging the pain, but he hadn’t seen her, hadn’t touched or kissed her in days. If she was determined to break things off with him, he was damn well going to steal every extra second he could sitting here next to her.
“Yeah. He was twenty-one when he found out he had a daughter, right at the beginning of his hockey career with the Stingrays.”
“So it was Dean who was sending gifts and child support all those years,” he said, recalling that conversation by the waterfront.
“Yeah, and for most of my life, that was all it was. He’d hung up his skates and started coaching by the time I was in high school. On a bit of a whim, I invited him to my graduation, and he came. It was the first time we’d ever met in person.”
Tank’s eyes widened. “You invited him?”
“Yeah,” she said, as if that shouldn’t be so surprising to him. “I’ve experienced a million different feelings toward my dad over the years, but I’ve never hated him. Maybe that was because Mom never said a negative thing about him. And the money he sent…well, it was kind of a lot. I mean, he could have denied I was his and just walked away without looking back, but he didn’t. He made sure I was financially cared for. And then, when I invited him, he showed up.”
“So what’s your relationship now?” Tank was still struggling to believe she was Coach Fields’ daughter, but as he played through certain things—like the coach pulling her aside at the gala and then dragging them apart on the dance floor—it started to make sense.
“Evolving,” she replied. “After graduation, we started talking more. Mainly just phone calls and the occasional short visit, never anything super heavy. When I was at college, he asked me about my classes, my friends, my hobbies. Eventually, he started telling me stories about his life, which I had to admit were super entertaining. He’s met all kinds of famous people, and he’s a funny guy. When all that shit with Eddie went down, and I knew I needed to get away, Dad stepped up and made it happen, helped me find the job and this place to live. He’s been great,” she said, smiling.
Tank couldn’t help but smile, too, because it was so her. McKenna was open and loving. There were probably plenty of kids who would have rejected Dean, would have resented him for walking away, but McKenna only saw the good.
Hell, once Tank had stopped acting like such a dick around her, she’d even started finding the positives in him, things he hadn’t even managed to see in himself.
