Page 97 of Lace 'em Up

Something that feels even more wrong.

That she thinks I wouldn’t give her more.

That she thinks I wouldn’t give her this.

That she thinks I wouldn’t give her the world.

“It’s really not a big deal,” I say, hating the sympathy that creeps into her eyes, hating the way it makes me feel. “Plenty of other people have dealt with a shitty breakup and come through unscathed.”

“But not you.” She nibbles at her lip. “Or not you in this situation.”

You’re not your dad.

God, I’ve heard that so many times over the years.

Too many fucking times.

And not just from Rose.

She just…somehow made that feeling stick.

“Not me,” I agree. “I…well, I fucked it up. She deserved better and I couldn’t do enough for her and?—”

Christ.

My voice cracks. My eyes sting.

Over a decade old breakup.

I really am pathetic.

“She deserved better?” There are embers of fury in Rory’s green eyes now.

“I—”

Fuck. Why did I open this shitshow up for discussion?

But before I can pull back, Rory asks quietly, “How didn’t you do enough for her?”

I freeze, force myself to meet her eyes. Thankfully, there’s no sign of pity in the emerald depths and that means I’m able to take a breath, to let the words come.

“I’m away half the year,” I remind her. “And most of the other months are dominated by me training or at practice or watching tape or getting ready to play. Even when I’m here, I’m busy and unavailable.”

Her brows pull together, the embers sparking into a tiny inferno in deep green irises. “Because you have a job?”

I peel her hand from my jaw, press a kiss to her palm. “Hockey dominates my life and leaves room for little else.”

“Except rescuing a pup”—she nods to Zeus sprawled out on my feet—“and keeping a schedule”—to my binder, currently sitting on my nightstand because I’d spent the morning before the game doing some planning and prep work for the next couple of weeks—“and rescuing runaway brides from the side of the road.”

I inhale sharply.

Exhale.

You’re not your father.

“It’s not that simple.”

A long pause. “Was it different before?”

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