Page 87 of Playmaker

Dad was on a Zoom call opposite the commentator, sitting in his familiar office with trophies and accolades in the background.

“This must be an incredibly proud moment for you,” the commentator said. “Having a sonanda daughter competing in their professional hockey leagues’ postseasons.”

“I’m very proud of both of them,” Dad said with a bright smile. “Mark has played some of his best hockey this season. And Sabrina—well, what can I say?” He chuckled. “Those McAvoy genes are strong.”

I gritted my teeth. Of course he was taking some credit for it. But… he was also acknowledging my hockey ability. Thiswasprogress.

“Now, Doran,” the reporter went on, “there have been rumors that you’re not supportive of the Women’s Hockey Professional League. Can you speak to those, especially with your daughter’s impressive season?”

Rumors. Was that what kids were calling it these days? But I supposed a reporter had to be a little careful how he approached the subject if he didn’t want Dad to lose his mind or end the interview.

Dad’s lips tightened, but only for a second. “Obviously there is a demand for women’s hockey, and this league has been meeting that demand. The players are exceptional—can’t deny that.”

I actually had to pause the video and replay that bit just to make sure I heard him right. I even put on closed captioning. Had he really…

Holy shit.

Dad continued, “These girls worked very hard to get where they are, and they had to work to build a professional league at the same time.” He shrugged. “My league was in place for a century before I was even drafted. We didn’t need to develop it while we also played in it.” He gave a soft laugh. “Trust the women to be able to multitask better than us.”

My jaw went slack and I wavered a little. Good thing I was leaning against the padded headboard; even then I almost toppled off the mattress. He’dfinallyfigured that out? Had my stepmother talked some sense into him? Had three ghosts visited him in the middle of the night or something? Because… whoa.

And why didn’t I feel anything?

Shock, yes. But all the other emotions I’d have expected—they were absent. If anything, I just felt… empty? Numb? Those didn’t make sense, but I couldn’t figure out how else to describe it.

I closed the video and reopened the text window with Lila.Is it weird that I’m not as excited about this as I thought I’d be?

After all the shit he’s said to you and how he’s acted about women’s hockey? Of course not.

But what if he’s really changing his tune? What if he’s finally supporting me for real?

Lila started and stopped typing a few times.

Then the screen lit up with a FaceTime request from her. Of course, I accepted it.

“Hey.” She smiled at me on the screen, but then turned serious. “Figured this would be easier than typing it all out.”

“Yeah, probably.” I ran a hand through my hair and sighed. “What is wrong with me?”

“Nothing. There’s nothing wrong with you.” She seemed to study me. “Do you think he’s sincere about it?”

I gnawed my lip. Was that the problem? “I don’t know. Part of me feels kind of meh about it whether he’s serious or not. Part of me really, reallywantshim to be serious about it. Like I’m so afraid he’s going to yank the rug out from under me.”

Lila’s brows knitted together. “Do you think he’d try to be a dick to you like Ty was at the All-Stars?”

I considered that. “Maybe? Because they both do shit like that. Wait until I’m on some kind of pedestal, and then make sure to bring me down a peg. Especially in front of people.”

Lila rolled her eyes. “Jesus.”

“I know, right? And I… I mean, I do want this to be real. I really want my dad to finally accept me playing hockey and be proud of me. I’m just…”

“Afraid it’s a bait-and-switch?”

I nodded.

“That’s valid. It really is. He’s done it enough times, anyone would be.”

“Exactly. And I also…” I sighed, pressing back harder against the headboard. “Even if heissincere, I still feel weird about it. Like it’s notjustbecause I’m afraid he’s bullshitting me—there’s a part of me that thinks he might actually mean it, and I don’t feel as good about that as I should.” I grimaced. “Does that even make sense?”

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