He's right. I take a breath, shake it off, refocus.
The third period, I score twice. Both times, I don't look at my father. I look at Lennox, sitting in her usual spot behind the penalty box.
She's smiling. Proud, and suddenly, the only opinion that matters is hers.
We win 4-3. The team celebrates, but I just want to get through the post-game requirements and leave.
My father is waiting outside the locker room.
"Carter. We need to talk." He says as I get closer to him.
"Not now."
"Yes, now." He follows me toward the exit. "That performance was sloppy. Undisciplined. If scouts are watching?—"
"I don't care about the scouts."
He stops walking. "What?"
"I said I don't care. Not if caring means playing your way. Being who you think I should be." I turn to face him. "I'm done trying to impress you."
"You're throwing away your future?—"
"I'm choosing my future. There's a difference." I spot Lennox by the door, waiting. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have somewhere to be."
I walk past him without looking back.
Lennox meets me halfway, and I don't care who sees when I take her hand.
"You played amazing." The smile on her face is so cute.
"I played angry."
"Sometimes anger is useful." She squeezes my hand. "Ready to go?"
"More than ready."
We're almost to my car when I hear my father's voice.
"So that's what this is about. The journalist." He shouts, and I turn. He's standing twenty feet away, his expression a mix of fury and disgust. Something I’m used to seeing from him.
"This has nothing to do with her?—"
"Doesn't it? You've been different since her article was published. Defensive. Distracted." He looks at Lennox with disdain. "Did you plan this? Write a hit piece to get his attention? Use him for access?"
"Dad—"
"No." Lennox steps forward. "I wrote the article because your son's team had legitimate culture issues. Issues he's been working to fix despite resistance from coaches and players who think the old way is better. He's actually trying to change things while you're just worried about reputation."
My father's face goes red. "How dare you?—"
"I dare because someone needs to tell you the truth. Your son is a better leader and a better man than you ever were and the fact that you can't see that says more about you than it does about him."
Holy shit. I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone speak to my father this way.
My father turns to me. "You're going to let her speak to me like that?"
"Yeah. Because she's right." I put my arm around Lennox. "And I'm done with this conversation."
