I squeeze his shoulder, then walk over to my dad.
“Am I being arrested?” I say stone-faced.
“Not yet.”
“So I’m free to go?”
“Very funny. Get in,” he replies, climbing into the driver’s seat.
I walk around, getting in the passenger side, not even trying to fight it.
We drive around for a while in silence. I don’t push it. I had many of these growing up, and it’s best not to rush him. He’ll say what he needs to say when he’s ready.
“You are in the best position you could possibly be in. Better than I expected after everything,” he says thirty or forty minutes later.
I look over at him, not adding to it. With a cop as a father, you learn to use your right to remain silent before you learn to tie your shoes.
He glances over, clearly gauging if I’m going to reply, and when I don’t, he says, “It’s more important than ever to be the guy they want. You could have gone last year or the year before.”
I can’t argue. With how they changed the draft, making it more like football and extending the eligibility to give players a chance to develop more in college or other leagues, things are more competitive than ever.
“I wanted to finish college with my team.” Hockey can end at any point, and if I have nothing to fall back on, I’ll end up like him. But I won’t say that to his face.
We both know plenty of guys don’t make it out of their rookie contract. But he won’t hear any of that. He’s still living inthe memories of his hockey days and thinks he can rewrite his history with mine.
“You’re wasting your most valuable years.”
“Younger isn’t better. I wouldn’t have been top of the draft two years ago.”
“But you’d be almost out of your rookie contract.”
“Maybe.” I grit my teeth and pull my annoyance into my chest. Showing him he’s getting to me will not do me any favors.
“You only have so many fucking years to play.”
“If I did what you wanted, I’d be in the AHL or ECHL for years and maybe never would have gotten where I am.”
“Or you could be on an NHL team already and positioning yourself to sign a huge deal. Your agent agrees with me.” He’s talked to my agent?
I dig my nails into my palm to not react. I count back from five before saying, “But now I have a degree and whatever happens, I’ll be okay. One puck could take me out, like it did you.” I shouldn’t have said it, but the words were already out.
His fingers ball into fists, and I flinch. A grin flickers on the corners of his mouth, and I fucking hate him.
It doesn’t matter that I’ve got inches on him and outweigh him by a decent amount. That fucking asshole will always make me a helpless little kid.
“You have opportunities that were taken away from me. I couldn’t spend years jumping from minor team to minor team and leave you with her. I had to get a stable career quick and marry your step-mother so you had a fucking shot.” He’s better at keeping himself under control now than he was ten years ago. He’s got his fucking reputation to uphold, but it’s only just barely that he doesn’t revert to who he is under the surface.
“But you did leave me with her.”
“I didn’t pick my duty station.” But we both know he didn’t fight her for custody either. “I offered for you to come live with me when I realized how bad it got.”
“It was always bad. I just couldn’t speak.” I don’t even know why I’m arguing with him. He’ll never be the bad guy in his mind.
“I didn’t know.”
“You didn’t have to leave. You chose to.”
“It was a better job and a better life.”
