Page 154 of Slapshot Bride

“You chose to save this hockey star by returning to this same man who has always limited you.”

I nod again. The tears fully pour out, hot and furious.

“Riley…”

“I couldn’t even say goodbye to him.” My voice breaks. “I left a note saying it was never real. It’s the cruelest thing I’ve ever done to another person, and I did it on purpose, because if I’d told him the truth he’d have come after Preston and lost everything anyway, a-and…”

I stop. I can’t finish it.

My father waits.

The study is very quiet.

I take out my phone with shaking hands, and I find the file, and I put it on the desk between us.

“I came to the house that day to give you this, but when I saw you’ve made up your mind about Preston, I thought… I thought it wasn’t important.”

I press play.

Preston’s voice comes out of my phone. It’s the recording of him in the locker room with Easton.

I watch my father listen to it.

When it ends, he sits back in the chair and puts one hand over his mouth, and for the first time, I see pure rage emanating from him.

“I gave you to him,” he says. “I let him do this, and he almost got away with it.”

His eyes are red. He stands up.

“Dad. Wait. Wait…” I catch his sleeve. “You can’t say anything. Please. If you mention anything relating to the video, if he finds out anyone knows, he’ll release it, and Easton—” I’m crying again. “Promise me.”

My father looks down at my hand on his sleeve. He pulls me for a hug and kisses my head.

He doesn’t wait for me to recover before he pulls away, and he’s out the door before I can hold him back.

My heart drops.

I bolt out after him, knowing I have to do something.

He’s in the middle of the room, and sets his glass down on the piano hard enough that people turn, and he stands there until sixty people have stopped talking.

“Preston.”

“D-dad…” I try to stop him, rushing to his side. He throws me a hard glare, and the words fail me.

Preston comes through the crowd smiling, wine in hand, already reaching to clasp my father’s shoulder. “Richard. Everything all right?”

“No.”

The room goes still.

“My daughter is leaving with me tonight,” my father says. “She won’t be coming back to this house. Not tomorrow, not next month. There is no engagement. There is no reconciliation. There will be no wedding.”

“Richard, I think this is a conversation for—”

“I’m not finished.”

I watch Preston’s face harden. His eyes dart to mine, and the knowing look is there. They quickly return to my father.