But every time I'm on the ice, I can feel my father watching. Judging. Waiting for me to prove him right that I'm distracted and unfocused.
I play conservatively. Cautiously and we lose 3-2.
After the game, my father is waiting outside the locker room with a smug expression.
"Tough loss."
"Get away from me."
"I warned you. Personal distractions affect performance. The scouts saw it." He holds up his phone. "Already getting texts. Teams withdrawing interest. Questioning whether you're worth the investment."
"Because you've been poisoning them against me?—"
"I've been honest about what I've observed. A player who's more focused on his girlfriend than his game. Who makes emotional decisions over strategic ones. Who?—"
"Who's trying to be a decent human being instead of a robot. Yeah, sorry that's so disappointing." I push past him toward the exit.
He follows. "This ends now. Either you break up with that girl and refocus, or I'm done. No more second chances."
"Good. Be done. I don't want your chances."
I find Lennox waiting by my car, looking worried.
"I saw your father. Did he?—"
"Yeah. He's been talking to scouts. Sabotaging my draft prospects." I unlock the car. "Get in. I need to get out of here."
We drive in silence for a while. Finally, she speaks.
"Maybe he's right."
I slam on the brakes, we're in a parking lot, thankfully. "What?"
"Maybe I am distracting you. Maybe you would play better if?—"
"Don't. Don't you dare finish that sentence." I turn to face her fully. "I lost that game because I was playing scared. Playing to prove him wrong instead of playing for myself. That's on me, not you."
"But if the scouts are pulling back?—"
"Then I'll find different scouts. Different teams. I'm a good player. Someone will see who isn't influenced by myfather's bullshit." I take her hand. "I'm not losing you over this. I refuse."
"Carter—"
"No. Listen. I've spent my entire life letting him control my decisions. Letting fear of his disappointment drive everything I do. I'm done. Even if it means my hockey career goes differently than planned. Even if it means struggle. I'm choosing me and I'm choosing us."
She's crying now. "That's the most romantic and terrifying thing anyone's ever said to me."
"Good. Because I mean it." I kiss her, right there in the parking lot. "Now come home with me. I need you."
"Your place or mine?"
"Mine. It has better coffee and no roommates."
"Sold." She jokes.
***
That night, after we've exhausted ourselves, we lie tangled in my sheets, talking about the future.
