Page 125 of Breaking Away

It doesn’t matter if I don’t answer him. He knows.

“It’s a woman, isn’t it? That’s what’s gotten that happy look on your face.” He points to the television screen, even though it’s turned off. “Last game, you were distracted. You gave up possession in every period. And that icing call? It’s sloppy. Almost as sloppy as that fight you started with the captain of the Blades. Ever since then, things have been changing. It’s been about a woman this whole time, hasn’t it?”

He stands up.

“She won’t be there with you when it ends—which it will—if you keep this up. Women love success, but if you can’t provide that for them, they leave. Don’t fall for it. You can’t afford to make this mistake right now. Not again.”

A flush climbs my neck. I’m pulling on all the levers of control I’ve conditioned into me for years, but they aren’tworking. I’m at the edge of my control, anger rolling through me. “You can say what you want about me. Don’t ever talk about her like that.”

Kavi is out in Seattle to buildherselfup. I could not be more proud of her and more upset that she won’t let me fucking help. I hate that I can’t do more. I lie awake wondering how to support her in ways she’ll accept.

“It doesn’t matter if she’s everything you think she is,” argues my dad. “You don’t have time to lose focus right now. Focus on your career, son. Don’t you remember what it took to get you here? What happened to you?”

His lip curls.

“I thought you finally got it when you woke up in the hospital. Remember, everyone left you but me. Remember how quiet you got, realizing you had to do it on your own? That you couldn’t trust anyone else but yourself? That’s when I knew. My son was going to make it. He’s going to be remembered as one of the greats, because he has the focus. The dedication.”

My dad has shrunk over the years. When he comes over, his hands have to reach up to grip me. “This is the year you win the Cup. It has to be. I feel it in my heart, and then they’ll renew your contract for millions.”

He’s shaking. His eyes are desperate.

“What do you like more than anything?” he asks me, pleading for the same answer I’ve given him for the last ten years.

The ice.

“Her.”

I didn’t have to think.

He staggers back. “Seriously? Your knee is going to fail. Not because of the injury—but because you aren’t in the right headspace anymore. Your edge is gone, Dmitri. You’ll be right here beside me when she leaves, replaying every minute of that last game in your head for the rest of your life, wishing thatyou had done it all differently. Ask me, I know. Don’t make my mistakes, son.”

I pull a deep breath in, letting anxiety drain from me. “I’m not following in your footsteps, Dad. I promise you that.”

I’ve let my dad speakatme for most of my life, thinking he needed me listening to him. That if I grew up in the shape he wanted, it would finally fill him up again. He would stay sober and let go of his bitterness.

Understanding ripples through me. I should have figured this out years ago. Life has hollowed out my dad in ways I’ll never fix. It hurts seeing him live like this, but I can’t let it run my life more than it has.

For the first time, I decide I won’t listen. Not when he’s never going to listen to me.

“I have to go.”

Ivans Lokhov’s jaw drops.

I’ve never done that before.

Left before he wanted me to go.

49

DMITRI

I listenedto her audio message on loop on my way to the airport. She doesn’t pick up her phone when I call, probably busy doing something important in Seattle. So I send her an audio.

Princess. I—fuck this is hard. Thank you for your message. The truth is, I came to see my dad because he spent the night in county jail. For drunk and disorderly conduct.

(There’s a pause.)

He drinks. My dad. Because he can’t play hockey. You might think I’ve hated him for it, but for the longest time, I just tried to understand. See, my dad had the crowd screaming his name for five games before his leg broke and his career ended.

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