"Her name is Sutton. And she's worth more than all your connections combined."
"She's nothing!" The words echo through the suite. "She comes from nothing. She has nothing to offer you except problems and distractions!"
One of the men clears his throat. "Richard, perhaps we should let you have a moment."
"This is my son," my father snaps. "And he's making the biggest mistake of his life."
"The biggest mistake of my life was letting you control me for twenty-two years." My voice is cold. I’m not nervous. Scared. Or even sad. I’m just done. "Every decision. Every choice. Every path I've taken has been what you wanted. What you decided was best."
"Because I know what's best for you!"
"No, you know what's best for your investment. Your project. Your legacy." I look at him directly. "When did you ever ask me what I wanted?"
"I don't need to ask. I'm your father. I know what’s best for you."
"When did you ask if I wanted to play professional hockey? If that was my dream or yours?"
"Of course, it's your dream."
"Is it? Because I've never said that. Not once. You just assumed." I'm aware everyone in the room is watching us. I don't care. "You've spent my entire life pushing me toward a future I'm not even sure I want. And when I find something thatactually makes me happy—someone who sees me as a person, not a commodity—you try to pay her to leave."
"I'm trying to protect you!"
"You're trying to protect your investment! There's a difference!"
"That girl is going to ruin your career."
"If my career can't survive me being in a relationship with someone I love, then maybe it's not the right career!"
The suite is silent. Even the clients have stopped pretending to look at their papers.
My father's face is red. His hands are clenched into fists.
"You're being irrational," he says quietly.
"I'm being honest for the first time in my life."
"You're throwing away everything I've built for you."
"You built it for yourself. I'm just the tool you're using to get there." The words I said on the phone the other night echo back to me. "Every opportunity. Every door you opened. Every connection you made. It was all for you. For your reputation. For your ability to say, 'My son plays in the NHL.' My contract gets you status. It brings in more clients and makes you richer."
My eyes go to the men. I don’t know who they are, but I’m guessing they’re not just uncomfortable—they’re concerned. My dad is a smooth talker. One of the best salesmen on the planet. He can make any second-rate quarterback feel like he’s going to be the next Peyton Manning if he just pays my dad enough money.
"You're being a child."
"I'm being an adult. Maybe for the first time." I take a breath. "So here's what's going to happen. You're going to stay away from Sutton. You're not going to contact her. You're not going to offer her money, jobs, or anything else. You're going to leave her alone."
"Or what?"
"Or I'm done with you. Completely." The words feel final. Terrifying. "No more calls. No more visits. No more strings attached. I'll make my own decisions about my career. My relationships. My life."
"You need me."
"No, I don't. I've never needed you. I've needed a father. Someone who actually cared about me as a person. Someone who supported my happiness instead of just my potential earnings." I head toward the door. "But that's not who you are. And I'm done pretending it might be."
“Stop it!”
"If you can't respect Sutton, I don't want your help anymore. Not with dev camp. Not with contacts. Not with anything." I turn back to face him. "Figure out if your son matters more than your legacy. Then we'll talk."
