Page 36 of Fate on the Ice

He doesn’t say anything immediately. Instead, he moves into the room, the door closing behind him. His gaze finds mine, and he narrows his eyes on me. I watch as he makes his way straight toward us but then shifts to Otto’s bedside, completely ignoring me.

I don’t give him the satisfaction of a response.

Instead, I stare at him, waiting to hear what he has to say. But as he speaks, I realize that I’m going to be sorely disappointed with him, which really isn’t that surprising. My father has disappointed me so much in my life that I’m always shocked when he doesn’t.

“Doctor says you’re out for six weeks,” my father grunts.

“I’m sorry, Coach. I didn’t even make one game,” Otto grumbles.

“Your position is still locked in. Don’t worry about any of that. I did want to talk to you about something,” he mumbles.

“Is it about Grace?” Otto asks, lifting his hand to gesture to me since I’m just a few inches away.

My father doesn’t even look at me. He keeps his focus on Otto and only Otto. “Yes, it is,” he grinds out.

Otto has no clue what the conversation between me and my father entailed. I haven’t had a chance to tell him anything yet. I didn’t want him to get upset. But I can see now that I should have said something. That I should have warned him about what my father thinks of our being with one another.

OTTO

I shouldn’t ask Grace to leave us alone, but I decide that in order for me to talk to her father man to man, I’m going to need to do it without her by my side.

“I’ll only be gone a few minutes,” she whispers.

Following her with my eyes, I watch as she stops at the doorway, looking back over her shoulder at me. I dip my chin in a single nod, my gaze still on hers. I try to communicate that I’m good. That this is okay. She must accept that because she tugs the door open and slips through, leaving the two of us alone in the room.

“You wanted to speak to me?” I ask, shifting my attention to Coach Burns.

Burns takes his ball cap off, then runs his palm over the top of his hair. His eyes shift to his feet, then slowly lift to meet mine. “I don’t want to talk badly about my own family,” he begins. “Especially my daughter?—”

Holding up my hand, I stop him from speaking because I don’t think I want to hear his words. They’re just gonna piss me off. I know they are. I can tell by the way he ignored Grace the moment he walked through the door.

There is nothing about this conversation that isn’t going to enrage me. But I have to relax my shit because it’s not like I can get into a fistfight right now, and that’s exactly what the fuck I would want to do to this asshole if he says something bad about Grace.

“She’s just like her mother. I think it’s my duty to warn you about her.”

He ignores my palm facing him. He doesn’t give a shit that I don’t want to hear it. He is going to tell me no matter what.

“I’m sorry you feel that way. I really like Grace. I think she’s sweet.”

Burns snorts. “It’s fake. Everything she says and does is fake as fuck.”

Instead of asking for details, I choose to ignore his words because I don’t care. At all. Not even a little bit. He can fuck himself completely and wholly. Arching a brow, I stare at him, and after a long moment of silence, he clears his throat.

“You done?” I ask.

He grunts. I guess that’s his response, that yes, he is finished. Goddamn, what an absolute fuck. “Thank you for your warning, but I don’t give a fuck.”

Burns smirks, and it’s not the response that I thought he would have. He leans forward, his gaze searching mine. “Then be prepared to take care of her financially. Because I am cutting her off. I don’t want her to ruin your life. It will be easier to just let her go, Otto. You aren’t in love. She’s just a succubus.”

“You’re going to cut your daughter off because we’re dating?” I ask.

The whole concept seems so foreign to me. My parents would never cut me off in any way. I don’t think there’s anything I could do that would warrant that from them. Especially my mother. I think she would die before she cut me off.

“She needs to learn how to take care of herself. She wants to be money and power hungry? Wants a handout? She won’t get it from me.”

I stare at him. Blinking and unsure that I’ve heard what I have. Grace is only nineteen. She’s not some grown-ass adult with the means or education to do what he’s demanding of her. I can’t fathom what he thinks she would do.

“You know why she was expelled from college, don’t you?” he asks.

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