Page 80 of The Trophy

I thought I would hate the pity in her eyes, it usually pisses me off when people feel sorry for me. Lakyn however looks at me with a warmth that tells me that she cares. “I’m glad they didn’t,” she says. “Or you and I wouldn’t have met.”

She’s right.

“Dad was a senior and Mom a junior when they went to prom. Dad had a full ride to Stanford, but he decided not to go and accept a contract with the Bridgeport Warriors when they were created.”

“So your dad was an NHL player?” Lakyn asks.

“He played defense. He wasn’t a goalie like me.”

“What happened? You always said you’re from Star Cove. Did you live a few years in Bridgeport? I didn’t know that Star Cove had an NHL team.”

I link my fingers through hers, feeling the need to touch her. “That’s because Dad suffered a career ending injury practically a few minutes after stepping on NHL ice during his first pro game.”

“I’m so sorry, Cash.”

I laugh, but there’s no mirth in it. “Yeah, me too. That injury changed things for them. Obviously without the NHL contract, things were hard. I was born straight after and my parents had nowhere to go. Their families had been clear that they weren’t going to support them if they insisted on keeping me and getting married.”

The emotion in Lakyn’s eyes is no longer pain, anger is flashing in the blue depths of her gaze. “How could they?”

I shrug. I’ve made my peace with the lack of an extended family. “It is what it is. I’ve been angry for years, but now that I’m older, I can kinda see why they were against them having a baby so young. Having me made everything twice as hard for them.”

Lakyn shakes her head, ready to object to my assessment of my parents’ situation.

“I’m not saying they shouldn’t have had me or they should have given me up, baby. I’m just acknowledging that admittedly, being teen parents made their lives harder for them, especially without the support of their families and the money of a pro hockey career.”

She squeezes my hand, tracing my jaw with the other. “I can’t imagine how hard it must have been, Cash,” she says. “But I’m grateful to them that they had you.”

Her soft tone, the look in her eyes, makes me feel like a bigger asshole for not telling her all this sooner.

“I’m grateful too. Especially because money might have been tight for most of my childhood, but my parents never gave me any reason to doubt that I was loved. They loved each other and they loved me. Money means very little to a child and they worked hard to give me everything I needed.”

There’s a moment of hesitation, as if she wanted to say something but she was looking for the right words. “So… what happened?”

I know what she wants to know. I give her the short version of the story.

“My parents came back to Star Cove and used the money Dad got from Bridgeport to put a deposit on this house. His severance wasn’t nearly enough, but the owner was a huge hockey fan and cut them a deal. I guess hockey was still Dad’s saving grace. He was a huge star in high school as you can imagine, so his coach came through with a part time assistant position. Mom also got a job as soon as she was able to and with that, she helped put Dad through community college. He got a degree in Physical Education and eventually became the coach of his high school team.”

“I admire him for getting his degree. What did they do with you? Without the support of their families, working, going to school and raising a family, must have been hard.”

She’s right.

“I grew up staying with Aunt Enid—Mom’s high school BFF—when she was home from her flight attendant job and I spent a ton of time at the high school ice rink with Dad.”

Lakyn smiles. “You have hockey in your blood.”

“Yeah,” I confirm. “I learned to skate practically as I was learning to walk.”

I know she’s waiting for the hardest part of the story. I don’t like to remember it, but I feel like I owe it to her if I want her to believe that I’m all in with her.

“Life was good for a long time,” I tell her. “We weren’t rich, but we were happy. Mom got into yoga and began teaching it, I was playing varsity hockey with my high school team, like Dad. Then Mom got pregnant with Conor and Carolina and my parents were so excited. So was I.”

My voice breaks, remembering how everything changed one fateful day.

“Dad had put together an amateur hockey team. He wanted to give teens who didn’t have a nice family like I had a place to go and channel their energy. Give them some structure and who knows, maybe a way into something more. He was still in touch with his old agent and he was always keen on helping any real talent he could spot.”

Lakyn listens intently. “Did you play in your dad’s team too?”

I shake my head. “I wanted to, but Dad wouldn’t allow it. Scouts were coming to my varsity games and he knew I had a real shot at being drafted straight out of high school or to get a full ride at an Ivy. I helped him with coaching, though. Every spare minute I had.”

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