Page 92 of The Chase

Dad furrowed his brow and held up his hand at me. “Wait a second. You apologized via text message?”

“Yeah?”

He glared at me. “Are you serious?”

“What?”

He pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and finger. “Goddamnit, kid. You apologize in person. How are you that thick? You love this woman?”

“I pushed her away and told her I didn’t think it was going to work out.”

Dad sighed. “What was the fight even about?”

I shrugged. “She thinks I told Roxie she hates her job.”

He furrowed his brow. “What does your sister have to do with it?”

I sighed. “Roxie’s her boss.”

“Christ, kid,” Dad swore with the shake of his head. “Why would that lead to you saying you don’t think it’s gonna work out?”

“Because I once again proved to her I’m not good enough.”

He held up his hand for me to stop. “I’m sorry, what? You’re not good enough for her? Did she say that?”

I rubbed the back of my neck nervously. “No. Nat did.”

Dad rolled his eyes so hard I thought he might go cross-eyed. “Jesus fucking Christ. Tristan, I want you to be happy, but thinking you don’t deserve happiness because of something a troubled sixteen-year-old said to you is the stupidest thing I’ve heard. When you get home, you better grovel your fucking ass off.”

I gave him a sideways glance. “You sound like you have experience with that.”

He gulped down the rest of his beer. “You think everything’s perfect with your mother?”

“Well yeah, you do anything she says.”

He tipped back his head and laughed. “Tristan, we almost got a divorce.”

“What? When?”

My parents seemed so solid. To the point, it was embarrassing as a kid to watch your parents kiss.

“I didn’t want to retire,” he said with a frown.

Oh, shit.

I vaguely remembered them fighting a lot about that. Dad retired because of one too many hits to the head and concussion complications. Back then, the league wasn’t doing enough to combat the rampant head injuries. Some people would argue they still weren’t doing enough about it.

“What did you do?” I asked.

“Well, my last scan was terrible. They found spots on my brain.”

“Like LaVoie.”

Dad nodded. “But I was trying to be that tough hockey guy. Your mom was scared of losing me. We fought about it a lot.”

“But you quit anyway. Why?”

He sighed. “Tristan, I love your mother. She’s the light of my life. She packed a bag and took you and your sister to your gran’s.”