“I know.” She meets my gaze. “My father played a part in that. I tried to tell him to stop, that it was just an accident, but he was on a rampage.”
“You blocked me,” I say after a beat.
“They took my phone and wouldn’t give it back until I had a new number. They made me promise not to talk to you, that there was a lawsuit regarding the accident. I got them to drop it by telling them I wouldn’t say you forced me. So, we came to a compromise—they’d leave you alone if I promised to never talk to you again.”
My hand freezes, cup midway to my mouth, as I stare.
I had no idea.
She basically sacrificed our relationship to save me.
Fuck.
And I thought she was just a daddy’s girl, who ultimately gave in to her father because it was easier than fighting for me. Except she’d fought for me in the most important way of all.
“I did it because I believed you’d come for me,” she continues after what feels like a long silence. “I thought you loved me and would fight for me, so I did what I had to do to save you. And then you just…ghosted me.”
My mouth opens but nothing comes out.
“I didn’t…” I shake my head. “Wait. I didn’t know about any of that. I had to hire an attorney and even though the law was on our side, the court of public opinion was coming after me hard. And your dad was threatening to sue me for damages since you were hurt in an accident that was technically my fault. My attorney told me that your father was willing to forgo the lawsuit in exchange for me not contacting you again.” I pull in a breath as I meet her gaze. “I thought you’d reach out once you graduated. It was only six weeks or so. I thought you’d move out, come to me…and you never did. Then I got sent down to the minors and at that point, I was done.”
We sit there, not moving, not drinking our coffees, not doing anything but watching each other.
“I thought my dad was right,” she whispers, “that you never really loved me.”
“I thought everyone was right, that you were just a gold-digger and once it got ugly and I got sent down, you figured a guy who wasn’t making a million dollars a year wasn’t worth the aggravation.”
To my surprise, tears fill her eyes. “That’s not true!”
“Seems like there were a lot of half-truths back then.”
Our food arrives, and neither of us says anything as the waitress puts steaming plates down in front of us. We also don’t even look at the food. Instead, we’re still staring at each other, as if these new revelations somehow change everything we thought we knew.
“You, uh, need anything else?” the waitress asks, looking back and forth from one to the other.
“No, we’re good. Thank you,” I reply automatically.
She moves off, and Victoria finally picks up her coffee mug, taking a sip.
“I’m sorry about my father,” she whispers.
“I’m sorry about…all of it.” I reach across the table and hold out my hand, palm up. And wait.
She hesitates, but then slowly rests one of her hands in mine.
“I never had a chance to grieve,” I say. “The loss of our baby. Losing you. I was just doing damage control, trying to heal physically over the summer so I’d be ready for hockey in the fall.”
“Did you get any help?” she asks.
“You mean…therapy?” I chuckle. “No. Not then. About two years ago, in the off-season, I talked to someone because I wanted to make sure I was ready to be back on the Knights.”
“You’ve been doing well.”
Our hands are still clasped, and I can’t believe how good it feels. How soft and warm her hand is, and how much I want to yank her across the table so she can sit next to me.
That probably wouldn’t be prudent, though.
For all I know, she has a boyfriend and has moved on. Just because we’re clearing the air doesn’t mean there are still feelings involved. Well, not romantic feelings anyway. Just a lot of shared history and pain. Pain that we’re hopefully working through today.
