“He cares about the team more than anyone!” I threw my hands in the air. “And if you just opened your eyes for one moment, you’d see it.”
“You’re not a coach, Mackenzie. You don’t see the same things we do. You’re looking at that boy through tainted lenses.”
“I thought you said this wasn’t about the fact we kissed.” I shook my head. “Why are you still so hung up on that?”
This time, my dad didn’t have a response. Instead, he glanced away.
I shook my head. “I came in here hoping we could have an open conversation, but yet again, you’re closing up on me. Just like always.” I marched up to his desk and put the picture of mymom down in front of him. “What lie are you going to tell me about this? Or will you just not say anything, yet again?”
He stilled as he stared down at the picture. Ever so slowly, as though his body was resisting, he reached out and gently gathered the frame in his hands. “Where did you get this?”
There was no longer anger or argument in his voice. Instead, it was replaced by a tone I’d rarely heard from my dad before—pain.
“The wrong moving box was in my room. It was filled with Mom’s things.”
He nodded, his eyes still unable to pull away from the picture.
“Why didn’t you tell me she played hockey?” I did my best to stop my voice from breaking as I spoke.
Finally, my dad managed to lift his gaze, and I was surprised to find grief pooling quietly in his eyes. “She wouldn’t have wanted you to know.”
My heart ached at his words. “Why?”
He didn’t answer.
“Please, Dad. You can’t shut me out of this.”
“I know.” He closed his eyes, as if he was taking a second to gather himself. When he opened them again, I could have sworn they were glistening slightly. “I just wasn’t sure when we’d have this conversation, if ever. But, it’s probably long overdue.” He walked around from behind his desk and leaned against the front of it. “Have I ever told you how your mom and I met?”
“Uh, yeah, I guess. At college, right?”
“That’s right,” he said, with a rare warm smile. “I was walkingthrough campus one day and saw she had climbed a tree to rescue a cat. The cat was okay, but your mom was stuck. I went to help her get down and she fell right on top of me. She was so beautiful, I pretty much fell in love at first sight.”
I listened carefully. He’d never told the full story before, and I longed to hear more.
“I soon learned Abby was also bold and smart and kind and so incredibly strong. I often felt like it was a miracle she even noticed me. But it wasn’t all smooth sailing in those early days.”
“Why not?”
“Because your mom hated hockey more than anything,” he said. “And there I was, hockey-obsessed, about to enter the draft. The game was my entire life, and I wanted her to be a part of it. Luckily, she liked me a little more than she hated it.”
I shook my head; it didn’t make sense. “But if she hated hockey, why did she play?”
“She didn’t always hate it,” he explained. “In fact, I think once upon a time she loved it as much as me. But her high school didn’t have a girls’ team. She played with the boys, and that came with many challenges.”
He ran a hand through his hair, his forehead creasing as he continued. “She never felt accepted by the boys, and she was bullied by the girls. She had to prove herself every single time she stepped out on the ice and, although she didn’t like to talk about it, I know it eventually became too much for her. Before the end of high school, she’d quit hockey for good.”
“She gave up?”
“Yes, and I don’t blame her. I know I’ve always said I wanted to protect you, Mackenzie, but the blows we take mentally cansometimes take longer to heal than the physical ones. Hockey put your mom in a dark place, and she locked those memories away for years for the sake of my career. When you were born, she made me promise to do everything I could to prevent you from experiencing what she went through.”
I swallowed, my throat closing up. “She’sthe one who didn’t want me to play?”
He nodded. “We both thought it was for the best.”
“But I was a baby when she said that, Dad. I understand you wanting to respect her wishes and look out for me, but I’m not a kid anymore. You don’t know how she’d feel about it now.”
“I thought you loved your art. Isn’t that enough?”
