I nod. “Are you angry that the league’s put me in charge for the time being?”
“My daughter’s the acting president of a national sports franchise. How could I be mad about that?” He gives me a weak smile, and some of the tightly coiled rope inside me unwinds.
“I’m sure they’ll force a sale soon,” I reply.
“Probably. And then what? Back to movies?”
“If I can find my way back.”
“You will. You’re a smart girl,” he says. “And now you won’t have my reputation shadowing yours.”
Sadness darkens his eyes and another lump forms in my throat. “For what it’s worth, I am sorry, Dad.”
“Don’t be. It’s business, not personal.”
It’s a start. You can’t defeat theBabadook. You manage it, by accepting that it exists in the first place. For the first time since I was a little girl, I getup and throw my arms around my father. When he squeezes me back, it’s like some missing piece of me slides back into place.
Chapter 58
Mattias,eightweeks later
I’m at long last cleared to be back on the ice for our final Western Conference match-up against the Dallas Rattlers. If we win tonight, we’ll clinch the playoffs, though I know they won’t go down without a fight.
Ever since the NHL made the announcement that Freddie would be stepping in as president until a sale, there’s been a new sense of electricity among the team—a cautious optimism. One thing is for certain: the NHL won’t be allowing that fucking private equity firm to gut us.
I’m so proud of Freddie.
The morning skate of our Rattlers game, I pass her in the corridor as she’s leaving her office. I can’t help myself—I grab her around the waist and push her inside, shoving her against her door to steal a slow, drawn-out kiss before I have to listen to Coach Marshall’s briefing.
I suspect everybody knows what’s going on. We haven’t exactly been subtle, even if they don’t actually see it. We’ve become that annoying couple exchanging glances across the room, making little inside jokes, living in our own world. I can’t count the number of elbows I’ve gotten from Poirier for staring at her when I’m supposed to be listening to something else.
“You better win tonight, or I’m trading you to Buffalo,” she has the audacity to say against my lips.
“If you trade me to Buffalo,” I say, planting kisses down the side of her neck, “I’m taking you with me. You wouldn’t last two seconds in a proper winter, so tread carefully.”
“I’m never careful,” she replies.
“I'm painfully aware of that.” I slide my palm down from her waist to grip her ass, pulling her against me. I know she can feel how hard I am, how quickly I’ll take her over this desk again. Only, I check my watch and see I have about thirty seconds to find myself in Coach Marshall’s office before I’mlate. I force myself to pull back from her, though I can see the promise of later lingering in the flush of her skin.
“See you at the game.” She unlocks the door. I cup her jaw, brushing my thumb over her lower lip one last time before leaving to find Coach Marshall.
“Jennings is such a douche. I’m gonna pin his ass to the boards for that hit last game,” Poirier says as we’re padding up.
“He thinks he’s a cowboy,” Sokolov replies.
“I heard he fucked Macarthur’s mom,” Fontenot chimes in.
“The rookie?” Poirier says.
“Yeah. I heard Jennings makes Macarthur call him stepdaddy now.”
“That’s fucking evil,” Sokolov says.
Poirier lets out a barking laugh.
“Maybe I’ll call him stepdaddy, too,” Tremblay adds.
“Do that and I’ll put you in the box myself,” I threaten. LeBlanc rolls his eyes.
