The morning felt like goodbye even though it wasn’t supposed to. We stood inside his front door, holding hands.
“Whatever happens today,” he said, “we’re still us.”
“We are, but I’m terrified anyway.”
He stroked his thumb across my knuckles. “Me too.”
Beau stood nearby, his stubby tail wagging because he thought this was the start of a fun new game.
Tolrek pulled me close and held me.
“I love you,” I whispered.
“I love you too.”
“What do you think he’s going to say?”
“I don’t know.”
“Best-case scenario?” I asked.
“He’s had time to think. He’s still angry, but he’s willing to hear us out. We explain that we’re serious about this. That we’re not hiding anymore. He accepts it, eventually.”
“And worst case?”
“He trades me or releases me. Makes it clear I’m not welcome on the team anymore.”
“And me?”
“He’ll never fire you. You’re his daughter.”
“But everything changes between us.” I stared forward at nothing. “That might be worse than losing my job.”
He lifted my hand, kissing it. “It’s going to be alright, no matter what.”
I nodded and stepped into the hallway. Behind me, Beau’s whine cut through the quiet.
The door clicked shut.
We couldn’t arrive together, and we couldn’t be seen leaving the same building at the same time. The street was empty at this hour, the city still waking up. My car sat in the garage where I’d left it yesterday, covered in a thin layer of dust.
The drive to the rink took fifteen minutes. I spent all of them rehearsing what I’d say in my head.
Dad, I’m sorry we lied.
Dad, please don’t fire him.
Dad, I love him, and I’m not giving him up.
None of them sounded right. All of them sounded desperate.
The parking lot was nearly empty when I pulled in at six thirty. I recognized my father’s truck in his usual spot, and I’d bet he’d been here since six or earlier. Had he slept at all?
The thought made guilt churn harder in my belly.
Inside my office, I dropped my bag on the desk and booted up my laptop. Practice footage from yesterday sat in my queue, tagged and ready for review.
Tolrek’s sequences loaded first. I watched him move across the ice with the confidence he’d rebuilt over the past month.
