Page 123 of Breakaway

“I’ve always been proud of you, even when I haven’t shown it. I’m especially proud of the man you’re becoming. And I’m sorry you doubted that. I’m sorry you felt like nothing you ever did was enough.”

My vision blurs with tears of my own. I blink them back impatiently. “Why’d you never... just say that? Like when I made captain, why’d you act like you didn’t care?”

“I did care. I was so fucking proud of you I could barely talk.” He laughs bitterly. “But I’d just heard about your uncle from James. I was trying to protect you, and of course, all I did was drive you right to him.”

“Dad?”

“Yes, son?”

“Do you...” I trail off. Fuck, this is hard, but I need to know the answer once and for all. If he’s serious about honesty, then this is the chance to ask. “I mean, do you wish I played football instead? Did I disappoint you, choosing hockey?”

He surprises me yet again by carefully setting my coffee cup aside and pulling me into a hug. I’m frozen for a moment, my brain scrambling as I try to input what’s happening; a hug from my handshake-yes-sir sort of father, but then I relax into it. It’s like when I went to Coach, but better, because it’s my dad giving it to me, not my girlfriend’s. “Never. Not even a little bit.”

“Are you sure? Because James . . .”

He rubs my back in long, comforting strokes. “Is James. You’re you. I’ve never wanted you to be anyone but yourself, and it’s on me if that got lost in translation. My father—your granddad—he tried his best, you know? But he was the stoic type. There was always a next step. Somewhere else to go. And mostly, that worked as motivation for me. But I see now that your needs are different, and I’m sorry I’ve failed you for so long.”

He takes in a deep, shuddering breath. “I’ll tell you it as often as you need. I won’t let my love go unsaid or unfelt. Not anymore. You’re precious to me, son.”

I’m pretty sure my brain short-circuits. I try to reply, but my voice is all strangled. Eventually, I manage a quiet “Thanks.”

He presses a kiss to the top of my head. I bite the inside of my cheek. He hasn’t done that since I was very small. A kid in a hockey-themed bedroom, waiting for his quarterback father to come home from a game in time to kiss him good night. I’d stay up way later than I should have, just so I could get a couple extra seconds with him.

“I was coming to see you anyway, you know,” he says. “The day after you got into that fight.”

“Not to tell me off about Uncle Blake?”

“No. And I regret what I said.” He pulls away as he clears his throat. “I wanted to surprise you with lunch to celebrate you winning Hockey East. But Sebastian called me on the way, and I let my worry and fear get the best of me. We should have been celebrating your accomplishment, and instead I cocked it all up. Again.”

Hearing what he intended to do—even if it didn’t happen—eases the pain in my soul. “We could do it now,” I offer. “Make it dinner later, with Penny and her dad. I want you to really talk to Coach, and to get to know Pen better.”

He nods. “Your mother will want to be there too, I’m sure. After all, we’ll be traveling with her to see Regionals. The Frozen Four, too, when you get there.”

Warmth spreads through my insides. “If we get there.”

“You will.” He nods, like it’s an indisputable fact. “I’ve seen the tape, son. You’ll get there, and you’ll win.”

I run my hand through my hair. It’s absurd, after the conversation we just had, but I’m still a little nervous about asking him for things. I’ve spent so long worrying about his rejection—yet if this relationship is really going to be different moving forward, I need to put myself out there just as much as him. “So, do you want me to set it up? Or are you too busy?”

“Never for you.” He gathers up his coffee and the rest of his bagel, then claps me on the shoulder. “Let’s go watch the skating for a while. And tell me more about this girl you’re going to marry one day.”

Epilogue

Penny

Several Weeks Later

Cooper has his head buried between my thighs, eating me out like it’s his last fucking meal—you’d think it was, he’s been so dramatic about making sure everything is perfect before we leave for the Frozen Four—and I’m on the edge of coming again when I notice the clock. Back when I first saw his bedroom, I told him he was an old man for having an old-fashioned alarm clock by his bedside, but now? I’m grateful, because without it, I wouldn’t have realized that we needed to leave for campus at least ten minutes ago. Fifteen, if we were really smart.

We’re clearly not smart.

I hadn’t planned on waking him with my best Arwen impression, but I saw The List while I was flipping through my notebook during a writing session yesterday, and I remembered that we technically didn’t cross off every item, and I already had the ears, and well... that led to making out, which led to a vaginal orgasm that made me squirt, which led to Cooper getting that look in his eyes that means I’m about to be devoured. It’s a look I’m powerless to resist, but in my defense, I think most women would agree with me. You don’t get eye-fucked by Cooper Callahan and then turn him down when he gets on his knees.

I smack my palm against his shoulder. “Cooper!”

“Mm,” he says.

The vibration of his voice makes me lose my focus, but then I see my phone—on the floor, half under his desk—light up with a call. I’d bet my last orgasm that’s Dad calling, wondering why the hell we’re not at Markley Center, ready to drive to the airport. “Cooper. Callahan. We’re going to be late.”

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