“I do love art,” I replied. “But there’s nothing wrong with wanting more than that. What happened to Mom was a long time ago. Things have changed. Have you seen the attention the PWHL is getting? There are women becoming coaches and refs. They’re in management and executive roles for NHL teams. Hockey is changing.”
“Maybe it is…” Then he shook his head. “But it hasn’t come far enough. As much as I love this sport, it’s mostly still an old boys’ club. And it’s my job to protect you from being subjected to the same heartache your mom went through.”
“I’m old enough to make that decision for myself,” I insisted. “And if you’re right, if the sport hasn’t moved forward enough, then maybe I can be part of the push to make it better.”
My dad didn’t respond. Instead, he was looking at me intently, as if he were seeing me clearly for the first time.
“I know you and Mom had good intentions,” I added, “but I’ve told you before, and I still feel the same way, I don’t needyour protection. I need your support.”
Dad swallowed and he took a moment before he replied, “When did you go and grow up on me?”
“I didn’t go and grow up on you, Dad. I’m still the same me. I’m just not afraid to stand up for myself anymore. And I’m strong enough to deal with whatever hockey throws at me.”
I was getting too emotional to keep arguing, so I turned and left, sadness and anger propelling my legs up the stairs to my room. I hated that my dad had kept all that from me. And it hurt to know that the sport I was so desperate to play had caused my mom such pain.
I’d been stupidly staring at her picture every night since I found it, wondering if she’d be proud of me for following in her footsteps. Now I knew she’d be anything but. I just wished I could talk to her. Show her that hockey would be different for me. Explain how much I needed it.
I lay on my bed and stared at the ceiling. I could finally understand Dad’s apprehension about me playing, but nothing else had changed. I still wanted to play.
There was a soft knock at my door before I heard the sound of footsteps retreating down the hallway. When I went to open the door there was no one there, but I found a tray of dinner on the floor. Tears gathered in my eyes again. I may not have my dad’s support or my mom’s, but I wasn’t totally alone. Tessa wanted me to succeed. And so did my brother. Parker and the rest of the Devils had my back, too.
I might not be able to change my mom’s mind, but I could prove to my dad he was wrong about me. And I still had one last chance to do it.
Chapter 32Mackenzie
Our art class spent the morning at the Ransom Community Center, setting up an exhibit to display everyone’s most recent works. I didn’t have anything new to show. Instead, I hung one of the pieces I’d finished before my move to Ransom. It felt a little like cheating, but Mr. Green didn’t seem to mind. I think he was just happy to have another piece to brighten the walls.
“I thought you were doing something with mixed media,” Parker said, coming to stand beside me. It hurt to have him so close, knowing I couldn’t reach out to him. But it hurt even more when he stayed away.
He took his time as he looked over my artwork. The painting was of my brother in action on the ice. I’d spent countless hours perfecting it, and, although I was proud of the final product, I was a little sad I hadn’t been able to finish the new project I’d been working on.
“I like this one, though.” He finally turned to me. “Makes me feel like I’m on the ice right beside him, ready to pass the puck. It’s Max, right?”
“Right,” I said with a smile. “And Iamworking on a mixed-media piece, but I didn’t get it finished in time. I’ve kind of been rethinking it anyway.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah, I—”
We were interrupted as the door to the dance studio downthe hall opened and a gaggle of lively old ladies spilled out. They were chatting loudly and animatedly as they walked toward us, and I started to smirk when I recognized Dominic the hoop dancing instructor bringing up the rear. He was helping two of his elderly students from the room, though I wasn’t sure they’d given him much choice. They looked like they were gripping him so tight they might leave a mark. I didn’t dare to look down at what was happening in his pants today. Jaz would be so disappointed in me.
“I guess hoop dance is for all ages.”
“Hoop dance?” Parker frowned as he glanced at the crowd of women slowly moving this way. Apparently, the class was just as popular with the seniors of Ransom as the moms.
I smiled and shook my head. “Jaz took me to a class a couple weeks ago. It’s like extreme hula hooping.”
“Why would anyone want to do that?”
“Someone has probably asked the same thing about people who put on skates, push a puck around with sticks, and get into fights on a big piece of ice.”
“Yeah, probably,” he said with a laugh.
“Aw, look at that cute couple,” said one of the old ladies walking past, not-so-subtly pointing us out to her friend.
“They’d make very pretty babies.”
“Oh, no, they’re too young for that. I hope they’re using protection.”
