My mouth opened, but nothing came out. Confirming it would make it real. Denying it would be a lie Mark had already seen through.
“I’m not trying to make this a thing,” Mark said. “I’m not going to tell anyone. But other people are noticing.” He shrugged, letting the implication hang. “Just saying. Your dad is going to take it hard.”
“I’m an adult,” I said, defensiveness coming through in my voice.
“You are.” Mark’s expression held sympathy. “I’m just suggesting you find a way to control the narrative before someone else does it for you.”
He picked up his coffee and left without another word.
The door clicked shut behind him.
I stared at the footage I’d been tagging, seeing none of it.
I found pacing helped. Moving kept the panic from settling into my bones and taking root.
Five steps to the door. Turn. Five steps back to my desk. Turn again.
Mark’s words kept running through my mind.
We’d planned to tell my father tonight, together. But what was the point of waiting?
Mark had noticed. Simone had noticed. How long before someone felt obligated to tell my father that his daughter was sleeping with his star defenseman?
Every hour we delayed was another chance for someone else to tell my father before I could. It would be better to do it now and on my terms.
My phone was in my hand before I’d fully decided. The text to Tolrek went out fast.I need to talk to my dad today. I can’t wait anymore.
Hitting send felt like jumping off something high without checking how far down the ground was.
But I was already moving, shoving my phone in my pocket, and heading for the door. Waiting for his response would give me time to second-guess myself, and I’d been second-guessing everything for too long already.
This would end now.
The corridor between the video room and my father’s office had never felt longer.
My feet moved fast, carrying me past the players’ lounge and the assistant coaches’ offices. Each step closer made my pulse climb higher, but turning back wasn’t an option.
Phrases circled through my head again, different variations of the same conversation.
Dad, I’m in love with someone on the team.
Dad, I need you to hear me out before you react.
Dad, please don’t hate me for this.
I still couldn’t find any that sounded right.
His office sat at the end of the hall, and I found the door half-open. Voices carried through the gap, one of them my father’s, the other female.
I slowed as I approached, catching a glimpse through the opening, finding Simone standing inside, holding a plastic container. The wives and girlfriends were known to drop off baked goods for the coaching staff as a thank-you for the work they put in.
She turned toward the door as I reached it, and our eyes met. Understanding flashed across her face, followed by a hint of warning.
“Haley! Come in, come in,” my dad called out. “Simone was dropping off some of her famous lemon bars.”
Simone’s smile spread across her face. “Hi Haley. I was just leaving.” She moved past me in the doorway, her hand catching my arm as she passed.
Be careful.Her touch said everything her mouth didn’t.
