I keep my mouth shut about that. It’s not my place to tell him how to live his life. “Talls and I have gotten closer recently.”
Vander Zee’s brows pull together.
I rush to add, “Just in the past few months, really.”
“Closer how?” Suspicion clouds his eyes.
“She’s a great girl. Woman. She’s special.”Just spit it out, man.
“She is.” His tone shifts to warning. “Madden, what?—”
I bite the bullet. “I would like to date your daughter, sir.”
Vander Zee stares at me.
I don’t break eye contact, even though I would like to.
“Repeat that, please.”
My mouth is so fucking dry. “I would like to date Tally.”
“You want to date Tally,” he echoes.
“Yes, sir.”
He clasps his hands, and the tips of his fingers turn white. “She’s my baby.”
“She’s twenty-one. She’ll be twenty-two this year.”
“Her birthday isn’t until the summer.”
“She’s an adult.”
“She’s still in university.”
“This is her final semester. She’s very confident in her path, and I’m sure you’ll agree she always has been,” I counter.
His jaw ticks.
“Her favorite candy is dropjes, specifically the sweeter ones, and her favorite cake is Cherry Chip from Just Desserts. She loves dystopian literature, her favorite genre of music changes depending on her song choice for her showcases, and her favorite color is teal.” I avoid mentioning that she likes vanilla lip balm, her shampoo smells like cherry blossoms, and she also likes spicy romantasy and why choose fics.
His eye twitches. “You’re serious.”
“I am. I care about her, Coach.”
“Do not call me Coach right now, Madden.”
“Sorry, sir.” I feel like I’m tripping around landmines. I haven’t asked anyone for permission to date their daughter ever, but these aren’t typical circumstances.
His face turns red, and he rubs his bottom lip, chest rising and falling like he’s working to contain himself. “She’s my little girl.” He grinds his teeth.
I avoid mentioning her adult status again.
“You have a really heinous reputation, Madden.”
I’ve been waiting for this. I want to look away. To be someone else—someone like Ryker who’s a small-town boy with a squeaky-clean record. The guy is the quintessential Boy Scout. Even Romero, who has a habit of getting into fights on the ice, has never been in the media for bad behavior off the ice. “I’ve done a lot of personal work over the past few years.”
“I can’t argue with that.” He taps on his desk. “Is this what my daughter wants?”
