I wait.
“Was that your girl?” he asks. “The one who sang the national anthem…”
“How'd you guess?” I ask sarcastically. If the escorting her out on the ice wasn't enough of a declaration, then the kiss on her palm solidified it.
“It’s obvious, Scotty.” My dad studies my face for a second and sighs. “I'm sorry.”
“For?” I raise a confused brow.
“Everything,” he says, exasperated, before running a hand through his hair. “Seeing you out there, living your life... with her. It just confirmed everything your mother and I talked about after my last visit.”
“Which is?”
“You're happy.” It comes out slightly choked, which surprises me. “I don't think I've ever seen you this happy before.”
“Thanks.” I shift on my skates; it all feels a little strange to hear coming from my father. His eyes are glazed, but he surely can't be crying. He only evercrieswhen he's won a Stanley Cup. The rest of the time he's the happiest dude I've ever met. “But I've been happy, Dad. I'm one of the luckiest people on the planet to have you and Mom as my parents.”
“Yeah,” he says, and raises his hand before dropping it. “You always say that, and then you give me that smile you always flash for the camera.”
“Dad—”
“No. Let me say this, Scotty. I need to. I’m sorry. I never intended on the reality show taking over yours and Amelia’s lives. I’m sorry I was too busyclinging to my past to see that I was taking away your future. I never really let you be a teenager without the glare of a life you didn’t ask for.”
The hallway feels smaller suddenly, like his words are crowding the air between us. He’s never said anything like this before. Not even close.
“Dad…” I swallow hard and finally manage, “I’m not perfect either, you know.”
He actually smiles at that. “No shit. But you’re a good man. And I’m proud of you. Not because you scored five points. But because you found something real out there.” He nods toward where he last saw Laura. “Someone real.”
“You think we’re the real thing?”
My dad is quiet for a moment, then says, “The way you looked at her during the anthem… I've never seen you look at anyone like that.”
“Guess I was making it too obvious.”
“That's how I looked at your mother,” he continues, “the first time I really saw her. Not just as a skater or a beautiful woman, but as the person who was going to change my entire life.” He pauses. “You changed her too. Look what you’ve done for her.”
“She doesn't need my help now,” I say. “Tonight everyone saw what I’ve been seeing all along.”
My dad nods slowly. “You played the best game of your life tonight. Five points. Absolutely dominant out there.”
“I was motivated.”
“By her.”
“Yeah.”
“That's how it should be,” he says. “Your mother made me better at everything—hockey, life, being a person. When you find someone who inspires you to be better, you hold onto them.”
Emotion rises so fast it burns behind my eyes.
“Thanks, Dad,” I whisper. “For saying that.”
He pulls me into another hug, and for the first time in a long time, it doesn't feel suffocating. It feels right.
When he finally lets go, he claps my shoulder. “Now go shower. You smell like a moose that lost a fight.”
I laugh, shoving him lightly. “Love you too.”
