Page 88 of Put a Rink on It

Two swings to send the ball into the air, only to hear a very distinct splash a little while later. “Shit.”

Dad chuckles behind me, the first break in his stoic demeanor. “I thought you’d be a little more coordinated based on your ability to skate and shoot pucks while knocking away offenders.”

“For real.”

He gathers his ball and sets it up on the tee. “So tell me more about this upcoming wedding. Why everything was kept hush-hush.” It’s not a tone he uses often, but it’s one that means business.

“Mostly to keep her out of the limelight,” I start before launching into the story we’ve concocted about our relationship, embellishing parts I’ll have to remember to write down later. By the time he’s put the ball into the hole, I’ve all but shared our history. Each time I tell it, it feels less fake.

“You’ve always harbored feelings for Marina. Since you came home from college freshman year.”

Dad’s revelation lands like a bomb, and a rush of anxiety hits from out of nowhere.

“What are you talking about?” I can’t hide the high-pitch. My gut twists as a rock lands in it. With my luck, it’s the size of this stupid golf ball I can’t hit for the life of me.

“You always thought you hid your feelings, but for the big things, the truth always shone through. I’m surprised you waited so long to act on your emotions.”

“Hockey,” I grit out, not liking the turn this conversation is taking, the assumptions Dad thinks he knows.

“Yes, but you established yourself years ago, and still. You watched her from afar.”

What is he even saying? How does he know any of this? If I spend three weeks a year with the man, it’s a lot. And it’s never consecutive days. It’s one or two here and there at a game they’ve traveled to or when I played in California. I rarely came home during the offseason, choosing to enjoy the summers traveling or vegging at my house, secluded. How is he so wise about my—concealed—feelings for Marina?

Is there any credence to what he’s saying? That he could know how I truly feel about her?

Memories of Kaitlyn teasing me about loving Marina pop into my brain.

“Did Kaitlyn say something to you? Is that where this is coming from?”

“Your sister?” Dad hedges, something amiss in his voice. “We see her less than you, and besides her faux life plastered on the internet, her secrets are on lockdown.”

I glance over at the man, sure this can’t be my father, not the way he speaks and hurtles this lingo around.

“Your mom and I wanted you both to be independent. Seems we may have taken our roles a little too seriously.” He sets up his shot for hole eleven. “In case I haven’t told you lately, I’m proud of you, Nero. Your mom, too. Ask her to see the scrapbooks.” He attunes back to his game, like he didn’t just blow everything I knew about my world to pieces.

CHAPTER 28

nero

“What are you two doing here?” Dad’s question pulls my attention away from the task at hand—“sinking” the ball into the last hole.

Glancing up, Kaitlyn hugs my dad, and Marina pierces my vision, her smile wide, the sun through the window behind her like a halo.

She’s stunning, the most beautiful woman I’ve ever come into contact with. Both inside and out.

I blame my father’s comments for these thoughts, and I swat them out of my head together with the twinge in my chest and abandon my club and ball to stalk over to her.

“What my dad said.” I fist my fingers, aching to push the fallen strands of hair behind her ear.

“Kaitlyn wanted to check out the country club. Something about a library of books here, and since she’s my ride, here I am.” She holds out her fingers for me to inspect. Hockey sticks and the Nauts logo are painted onto four of the nails, and the rest are our team’s colors. “You like?”

I can only nod, not trusting my voice at first, but she’s waiting for a reply. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen them with designs. Is this a first?”

“I’ve attempted a few throughout the years, but they were always so bad, I didn’t let them see the light of day. At the salon, they seemed out of my budget.”

“I would have added more to the gift card for designs. All you had to do was ask.”

“I didn’t want to be ungrateful for your generosity.” A slight blush covers her cheeks.