“Still. He’s in a position of authority.”
“I know. But that’s not even the biggest problem.” I laughed bitterly. “Turns out he’s been lying to me since day one. His name isn’t Nils Anders. Well, it is, but he’s also Prince Nils of Sweden. Like, actual royalty.”
Dad’s expression went through the same journey mine had: disbelief, shock, confusion. “A prince?”
“Sixth in line to the throne. Has a whole title and everything. He’s here pretending to be normal for a year, and I’m the idiot he chose to experiment on.”
“Tell me everything.”
So I did. The whole story from the beginning—how Nils had helped my game, how we’d grown closer, the stolen moments and careful boundaries. How I’d fallen for him without meaning to. And finally, the revelation in the cabin: the lies exposed, the trust shattered.
Dad listened without interrupting, occasionally nodding or asking for clarification. When I finished, he was quiet for a long moment, hands resting on the dismantled mower.
“He lied to you,” Dad said finally. “That’s not okay.”
“Thank you! That’s what I said.”
“But Puck, let me ask you something.” He turned to face me fully. “If you were born a prince, with everyone wanting something from you, how would you know who to trust?”
“That’s not?—”
“You’re angry he didn’t trust you. I understand that. But have you thought about why he might be afraid to trust anyone?”
“He said his ex only wanted him for his title.”
“And that didn’t make you understand why he might want to hide it?”
“But I’m not her. He should’ve known I’m not like that.”
“How? By reading your mind? By knowing the future?” Dad shook his head. “You can’t know what weight he carries unless you’ve carried it yourself. This boy has lived his whole life with people wanting to use him. Can you blame him for wanting one relationship where that wasn’t a factor?”
“So I should forgive him?”
“I didn’t say that. Trust, once broken, is hard to rebuild. But the question isn’t why he lied. It’s whether what you built together was real despite the lie.”
I thought about Nils lending me his skates. How he’d sworn to do whatever he could to help me make it. The way he’d celebrated my victories like they were his own. How he’d looked at me in the firelight, like I was something precious.
I sighed. “It felt real…”
“Then you need to decide what matters more: your pride or what you two have.”
“It’s not about pride…”
“Isn’t it? He hurt you by not trusting you. Now you want to hurt him back by not forgiving him. That’s pride, Puck.”
The truth of it stung. “Even if I forgive him, it doesn’t fix everything. He’s a prince, Dad. His life is complicated in ways I can’t even imagine.”
“That’s the real question. Not whether you can forgive the lie, but whether you can accept all of him. The coach and the prince. The man who teaches you hockey and the one who has responsibilities you’ll never fully understand.”
“I don’t know if I can.”
“That’s honest. But here’s what I know about you, Puck. When you care about something, you fight for it. You don’t give up just because it’s hard.” He put his hand on my shoulder. “Sometimes, love means understanding why someone was afraid to show you everything. Sometimes, it means accepting that people are more complicated than we want them to be.”
Love? Why was he talking about love?“When did you get so wise?” I asked, trying to lighten the moment.
“Your mother’s been training me for twenty-five years.” He smiled. “Whatever you decide, we support you. But don’t make a choice you’ll regret only because you’re hurting right now.”
He held his arms wide open and I stepped into them for one of his bear hugs, the kind that wrapped around your soul as well as your body. “Thanks, Dad.”
