Page 72 of Lawson

“I’m giving you the chance to move on with your life without me in it. Without me even being athoughtin your head. Without any consequences. But if you so much as text me again, call, show up, send an e-mail, or a letter in the mail, I will take everything I've documented and file an order of protection against you.”

“That's ridiculous. You don't need protection from me.”

“Thenproveit,” I fire at him. “Leave me alone. Move on.”

He shakes his head, and I can see the resistance in his eyes. He hates losing, he always has, even if it's something as ridiculous as a board game. So I continue with what I know will be the nail in his coffin.

“Not only that,” I say. “But you must know that I now have connections beyond your wildest dreams. Not just with the coach of the Bangor Badgers, but theowner. And that owner happens to know a lot of people. He has a ton of great relationships with wealthy executives, including the producer of the reality show you're so desperate to get on.”

His eyes flare wide, and I'm not surprised, but ultimately disappointed that the threat of the police isn’t enough to scare him. A small warmth pulses in my heart for Mr. McClaren, and how easily he’d agreed to my request when I spoke with him the other day about this very thing.

“Exactly,” I say, nodding to his apparent fear. “All it will take from you is one more move against me, one more question, one more plea, one moreanything, and I’ll ask Mr. McClaren to make one phone call of his own, and your skating career will be over. You won't even be able to teach, let alone compete. Are you understanding me?”

Brian visibly swallows, then nods. “You've made yourself very clear.”

“Good,” I say. “And I know you're angry. I know you're pissed off and probably trying to think of a way around this, but I assure you, you won't. You should be focusing on the fact that you're lucky that I’ve given you this warning. I could’ve easily called the police, filed the order of protection, and had Mr. McClaren kill your chances at any sort of a career. The only reason I haven't is because I don't need to be as toxic as you. I don't need to wield that power and laugh as it plays out. But test me, and you'll find out.”

Brian nods again. “I understand. You won't hear from me again. I don't even know who the fuck you are anymore, Blakely, but it's not a good look for you.”

A sharp laugh escapes my lips, and I shake my head. I anticipated a barb like that, and it bounces right off the shield I have built for myself since leaving him. “Of course you don't know who I am,” I say, scooting back from the table. “You never met me. It's amazing what someone can become when they're no longer being suffocated.”

I don't bother saying goodbye, having already paid for my untouched iced coffee. I leave him sitting at the table alone and don't look back.

Once I've made it into my car, tears roll down my cheeks, the kind of happy relief that only comes from doing something that seemed impossible in the beginning. My chest unravels in a way that's almost dizzying, and hope flares to life in the heart that he tried to break.

I get myself together, and head toward the practice arena, knowing Dad will be there. This is the last piece of business on my big-girl agenda today.

I find Dad in his office, his usual haunt if practice isn't actively happening, and smile at him as I knock on his open door.

“To what do I owe the pleasure, sweetheart?” he asks, waving me in to take a seat across from him. “Should we order some lunch?” He shoves his tablet to the side, whatever he’d been working on forgotten as he gives me his full attention.

It almost makes me want to cry again, the instant support I have from him, but I manage to swallow it down and take a deep breath.

“I'm not sure you'll want to eat with me after I tell you what I need to tell you,” I say.

Dad's smile falls, his mustache drooping in the way it does when he frowns. “Are you in trouble?” he asks. “Are you hurt?” His eyes dart over me like he can see or detect any unknown ailment, some parent superpower he thinks he has.

“I'm perfectly healthy,” I say. “And I guess it'll be up to you if I'm in trouble or not.”

Dad studies me, then leans back in his chair.

“I didn't intend for it to happen,’ I start off. “But I can no longer deny that I may have…sort of…fallen in love with one of your players.”

A rumbling laugh tumbles from Dad's lips, so much so that his shoulders shake. He lightly smacks the edge of his chair and blows out an exaggerated breath. “Is that it? Whew, from the way you were acting, I thought you’d stolen the Zamboni and went on a joy ride or something.”

Shock ripples through me as I gape at my father.

He clears his throat, fastening a serious look on his face again. “Sorry, honey,” he says then shrugs. “It's just that I'm your dad, and you haven't really been able to hide anything from me since you were eight and tried to smuggle that wild baby fox you found in our backyard inside your room.”

I shake my head, cringing at the memory of me trying to hide the fox from him. It only lasted about a half hour before he took a tearful me to the nature reserve where we handed the baby fox over. Of course, I knew the creature would be better off, and I’d gotten to go visit him frequently that summer, but it’d been my first real heartbreak. Dad had been there every step of the way, just like he always has been.

“So, you know about Lawson?”

“You haven't really tried to hide it that well,” he says. “You two are like two peas in a pod lately. Plus, the whole hypothetical convo kind of gave it away.”

“But I hang out with Pax and Nash and?—”

“I know that, sweetheart,” he cuts me off. “But you don't look at them the way you look at Lawson.”

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