If You Love Me: Chapter 14

“That was quite the win last night,” Dad says.

“Oh, did you catch the game?”

“The highlights.”

I shouldn’t be surprised. The only thing my dad can do for three hours at a time is work. “The hockey-gossip sites have a lot to say.”

“I thought you stayed away from those.”

He’s typing and talking. He never just has a phone call. I’m packing lunches, though, with Dad on speakerphone, so I guess I’m no different. “They come up in my feed because they’re hockey and Terror related.” And me related. “It’s not unexpected, but it can be irritating.”

We won the last game, but it was dirty. As good as Connor is on the ice, he still tends to play with his emotions. And I still don’t have an answer to why he and Madden hate each other so much. Yes, I’m making gains, finding my footing, but it’s infuriating to be unable to get to the bottom of this. And Thomas is all about protecting his center, which doesn’t help at all.

“Are they blaming you for Grace and Madden?” Dad asks.

‘I’m the new assistant coach and I work with the enforcers, there’s speculation that I’m part of the problem.”

“You don’t control how the players behave on the ice,” Dad argues. He’s such a lawyer. And this is how he shows he cares.

“You’re right, I don’t. The chatter I can handle. I know Connor has a long history of chippy behavior, but he’s been playing a lot cleaner lately. He has one bad game and everyone writes him off.” And me. “He’s so used to being a punching bag.”

“Do you think he’s turned it into a self-fulfilling prophecy?” Dad asks.

“Possibly. I need to pull him aside when the rest of the team isn’t around so he doesn’t feel like he has to save face.” I drum my fingers on the counter, pondering. “Grace is my responsibility, and his actions reflect on me and the team.” Getting him and Madden on the same line is imperative for a successful season—which means getting to the bottom of their sandwich problem. But Grace doesn’t socialize off the ice, and Madden is always surrounded by his friends whenever we’re at the Watering Hole.

Grace and I have a good rapport on the ice, and off it, but getting him and Madden to not just play nice but play together is the ultimate goal.

I realize there’s been a pause in conversation. I still hear Dad typing, so hopefully he didn’t notice. “Maybe you could fly out and catch a game soon? You could stay overnight?”

“My schedule is pretty packed,” he hedges.

“We’re two months into the regular season. You haven’t even had a chance to see the living room you bought us.” I hate that it feels like I’m begging. “What about Friday? Didn’t you say you were only in court until Thursday? It could be a quick trip.” That’s two days from now.

Ophelia ambles into the kitchen and peeks over my shoulder, checking out my phone screen. Her lips push out, and she grabs a banana from the fruit bowl. She struggles to warm up to my dad. Callie, on the other hand, loves when he comes to visit. Probably because he brings her presents.

“I might be able to swing it.”

Ophelia rolls her eyes.

I give her a look.

She gives me one back.

“I can get you box seats,” I tell Dad. “I’ll even book your flights. Just send me a link to your calendar.”

“I guess that can work,” he says after a moment. “Make sure it’s business class, please. I’ll send you money to cover the cost.” He’s typing again.

“Sure, Dad. The girls will be excited. They’ll come to the game, too.”

Ophelia gives me two thumbs down. A chunk of banana falls to the floor.

I hand her a damp cloth.

“It’ll be nice to see them,” he says, sounding more upbeat. “I can’t believe Ophelia is almost through high school. Time really does fly. How are you doing for Christmas gifts? Can you send me a list for the girls and yourself? I can top up your account so you can get something special.”

“You don’t need to do that. This job pays really well.”

“I know. But Toronto’s expensive, and you’re doing this on your own.”

I take a breath. I know he means well. This is mostly how he expresses emotion. “We’re fine. I promise.” I practically raised myself, so I’m used to being self-sufficient. Taking money from my dad isn’t something I enjoy.

“Okay, I’ll stop pushing. You can add the flight details to my calendar once you’ve booked it,” he says.

“Sounds good.”

“I’ll see you in a couple of days.”

“Looking forward to it. Bye, Dad.” I end the call.

Fee props her hip against the counter.

“If you don’t have anything nice to say, don’t say anything at all,” I warn.

“We probably shouldn’t tell Callie in advance, in case he cancels,” Fee replies.

“Agreed.” We’ve played in New York, but my dad got tied up at work. I get it, even though it’s hard to always take a back seat to his job.

Fee’s expression shifts. “It sucks that this is the first game he’s been able to make.”

I don’t defend him to Fee, because she’s right. “Yeah, it does.”

“Doesn’t it make you angry?” she asks.

I sigh. “It used to, but therapy helps. Some people just aren’t designed to be parents, and they don’t realize it until after they’ve had kids. He tries in the ways he knows how.”

Her lips pull to the side. “Mom never had anything nice to say about him.”

Phantom pain makes my heart ache. “I know. She wanted him to be someone he couldn’t be, and that was difficult for her. You have to learn how to love people the way they are, not the way you wish they were.”

“That seems hard.”

“It is, but it also saves your sanity.” I open my arms and make a bring-it-in motion.

She steps in and wraps her arms around me. “I miss them,” she whispers.

“I know. Me, too.”

“Kristoff! Yay! I’m so glad you’re here for the game!” Callie throws herself into my dad’s arms.

She only found out he was coming an hour ago, when I had confirmation that his flight had landed in Toronto. He pats her awkwardly on the back, then smooths his tie when she releases him. Other than the players, he’s the only guy I know who would wear a three-piece suit to a hockey game. Although, he did leave New York directly from work and came straight here when he landed.

“My goodness, Calliope. You’ve grown at least a foot since I saw you last. How old are you now? Ten?”

“No! I’m eight!” She beams up at him. “We’re going to have so much fun. They have snacks and drinks in the box, and they have a popcorn machine! Did you know Connor Grace is my favorite player and after that is Roman Hammerstein? I’m so excited to see them play!”

He nods knowingly. “Ah, that explains the jersey.”

“Connor even signed it!” She shows him the signature across the shoulders.

Ophelia stands off to the side, dressed in her usual uniform of all black, but she is representing with a Terror hoodie. It’s a special-edition one designed by a local tattoo artist. My dad bought it for her when I got the job with the Terror. He might not be around much, but he always pays attention when I tell him what she likes. She accepts an awkward hug from him, but perks up significantly when Rix, Essie, Tally, and Dred show up to escort them to the box.

At least I don’t have to worry if Dad needs to take work calls. I wave goodbye and join the team in the locker room for the pregame strategy talk. We need more team cohesion if we want to win games. “I want clean game play tonight,” Coach Vander Zee says.

“We need to remember what position we play,” Grace mutters.

“You got something to say, Grace, say it to my face,” Madden snaps.

“This, right here, is the damn problem!” Vander Zee booms. “Whatever your issue is with each other, iron it the fuck out off the ice. You’re skilled professionals, and I want you to channel your energy into playing a good game, not trying to show each other up. Am I understood?”

“Yes, Coach,” Madden and Grace say at the same time, ears a matching shade of red.

Vander Zee looks my way, giving me the floor.

I need to show him I can handle these boys and get them to play together. It’s up to me to prove that he made the right decision by bringing me on the team, and this is one way.

“We need more of what we saw at practice today,” I add. “You’re a team, you need to support each other on and off the ice. Show up for each other, and more importantly, show up for yourself.” The room is pin-drop silent, every set of eyes trained on me. “When you step inside this locker room and suit up, you become brothers. You don’t have to love each other every moment of every day, but you do have to have each other’s backs. In this room, but especially out there.” I point toward the door. “This team won the cup last year. That wasn’t a fluke, that was earned. You fought for that. Be that team when you take the ice tonight.”

“Well said, Coach Forrester.” Roman claps and the rest of the room breaks into a round of enthusiastic applause.

I can’t deny the way the look of pride on Roman’s face bolsters my confidence. And lights up other parts of my body.

Coach Vander Zee gives me a rare smile of approval. “Let’s get out there and play the kind of hockey that takes us to the finals again this year.”

That gets a round of applause and hell yeahs. The players file out of the locker room, and I fall into step with the coaching staff. Coach Thomas is in the upper box with Fielding.

Vander Zee runs a hand through his hair. “Nice work in the locker room, Forrester.”

“Thanks. I’m making headway with Grace, but we need those boys to sit down and deal with the issue.” It’s frustrating to feel like I’m at standstill. I can work with Grace as much as I want, but if I can’t get Madden on my side, then where am I?

“Agreed. Every time I’ve pulled them in they say they’re fine, but the tension is there.” Vander Zee rubs his bottom lip. “I think you’re right about Palaniappa and Grace on the same line, Forrester.”

I made the suggestion this afternoon when I was rewatching some of the practice footage. “Palaniappa is always level-headed.”

“So is Grace when he’s out there with him. He plays with skill instead of ego.”

Last season I took a team at the bottom and brought them to the top. Toronto is already a strong team. We need Grace and Madden to bury the hatchet so there’s no more team division. And the best way to make that happen is to talk to the guy who already has the team’s loyalty, not the one fighting for it. Madden is the key to this, and if Thomas can’t deal with him, someone else has to.

In the first period, Grace and Palaniappa help shut out Carolina, and Grace manages an assist with Bright scoring a goal for the Terror.

“Nice work out there, Grace. That’s the kind of hockey I love to see from you,” I praise when he rotates off after the goal.

“Thanks, Coach.” A slight smile tugs at the corner of his mouth.

It grows larger when Bright echoes the statement.

The game unfolds, and Toronto manages to keep the lead, only letting in one goal at the beginning of the third period, giving us a 3-1 win. If we have a few more games like this, with Madden and Grace playing like they’re on the same team, it could make sorting things out between them that much easier.

My phone is full of messages from Fee after the game.

I wish I couldn’t empathize with my sister’s irritation. But I never had the kind of parents she had. My mom didn’t step up to the parenting plate until after my sisters were born. I’m glad things changed and that she gave them the attention they deserved.

Sure, they went on vacation often and left the girls with a nanny, but they never missed one of Callie’s hockey games or Fee’s dance recitals. My mom wasn’t interested in my extra curriculars, mostly used my hockey games as excuses for dates with rich men. My dad just sent flowers or a gift card so I could buy myself something nice when he invariably had to miss an event. It’s hard not to be disappointed sometimes, even though it’s expected.

We transition to the Watering Hole to celebrate the win, and surprisingly, my dad agrees to come along. Fee is happy to join us since Tally is there, and Callie is in heaven knowing some of the team will be present.

We grab our favorite table and settle in, the energy positive after the win. I’m in the middle of introducing my dad to the team when Callie drags Roman over. He’s holding her hand; my heart and ovaries are rioting. And then the panic sets in. But my dad was mostly checked out during the baseball game more than three years ago. He spent the first few innings on his laptop and then excused himself to take calls, until he left to handle some emergency. Surely he won’t make the connection.

“Kristoff, this is Roman Hammerstein,” Callie announces. “He’s the Terror’s goalie and my second-favorite player. Roman, this is Lexi’s dad, Kristoff. He’s a lawyer in New York, and he loves his job a lot.”

I shoot Fee a meaningful look. She sips her soda and looks appropriately mortified.

“I’m so used to seeing you in the goalie gear.” Dad shakes his hand, brow furrowing. “Have we met before?”

“Uh…” Roman glances at me.

I’m ninety percent of the way to a panic attack.

“Do you watch baseball?” Dad asks, completely oblivious.

“I mostly focus on hockey, but I’ve been known to catch a game.”

Dad’s brow smooths out. “Right. Yeah. We just…Lexi and I went to a game a few years back when she came to visit me in New York and for some reason…” He trails off and shakes his head, waving away the idea. “What are the chances you’d be in New York for a game and have seats right next to us, right?” He laughs, like the idea is ludicrous.

“It’s not impossible, but unlikely,” Roman says smoothly.

I don’t know if I’m imagining it, or paranoid, but I swear Hollis is giving Roman the raised eyebrow. Roman is a huge New York fan. He wears their baseball caps all the time. Thankfully not tonight, though.

Dad rubs his bottom lip. “Lexi definitely would have mentioned it if we sat right beside a hockey player.”

“I’m sure.” Roman gives him a polite smile. “Anyway, it’s nice to meet you. I hope you enjoyed the game.”

“It was great.” Dad’s phone rings. “I’m sorry. I’m expecting a call. I need to take this. It was nice to meet you, though.” He brings his phone to his ear and heads for the doors.

I heave an internal sigh of relief.

Roman gives me an unreadable look and excuses himself to the bathroom.

Dred passes me a glass. “You look like you might need this.”

“What is it?” I sniff the contents.

“Just cranberry and soda water. You okay? You’re a little pale.”

“I’m fine.” I sip the drink, my mouth ridiculously dry.

“Okay.” She touches my shoulder. “But if you decide you’re not fine, and you need to talk about it, I’m always here, and I’m a vault.”

My dad returns a minute later. “I have to take care of a few things, but I’ll call you first thing in the morning, and we can go for breakfast before my flight.”

“Sounds good, Dad.”

As much as I’m sad my time with him is cut short, it may be for the best. I can’t have the people I work with figuring out what happened in New York three years ago. Not when we’re this far into the season and I’m finally making the progress I need with the team.