Page 11 of My Best Bet

She seemed to be actually enjoying herself. She was smiling and high-fiving the other little girls. And I instantly knew I couldn't just take her off the ice. Not when there was a chance she was making friends.

My anxiety was quickly replaced by frustration. Ripping off my hat, I raked a hand through my hair. That tense bubble in mychest now felt like it was about to explode, because I had no clue what to do here.

This whole figure skating venture was an effort to work on Lucy’s confidence because she was dealing with bullies. I never ever would’ve thought bullies would be a thing at this age, but boy… was I fucking wrong.

I’m not exactly sure when it started because she wouldn’t tell me, and that just made me feel like even more of a failure as a dad, but I suspected it’d been going on since the first day of school.

After the second week of classes, I sat in my truck in the pick-up line and spotted her waiting for me by the curb. As I watched her, I caught her wiping tears off her cheeks, and alarm bells went off in my brain. The damn pick-up line seemed to move slower just to spite me, and it was fucking torture watching her standing there struggling and not being able to do a thing about it. When I finally got to her and asked her why she’d been crying, she wouldn’t say a word.

The next day I called up the school and had her move classes, and I thought things improved.

The very next weekend, girls invited her over for a sleepover, which I thought was a great sign. She seemed nervous about going, but I tried to build her up, thinking this would be good for her, thinking this was how you made friends.

But that just proved how clueless I was about growing up in the girl world.

I was shocked when I got a call around midnight from Lucy crying so hard that she couldn’t even make out real words.

I drove like a mad-man over to that house, and when I saw her tear-streaked face in the foyer, it felt like I’d be slashed at the knees. A violent thrum of protectiveness coursed through my body as I immediately grabbed her into a hug, warding off everyone else.

I completely ignored the two girls with their heads down in shame and the mother rambling off a shitty apology, and it was a damn good thing a father wasn’t present, because I definitely would’ve been in a fight that night.

Because half of my little girl’s hair was cut off.

And I felt like it was all my fault.

I wasn’t sure what the fuck I was supposed to do. About the bullies, or about her hair, and I wasn’t close with any women that I’d be able to talk to about it. If I called up my mother, I had a feeling Lucy would cry even harder. My mother and Lucy never really saw eye-to-eye. My mother claimed she was just more of a “boy mom.” She had a harsh outlook on life, and her delivery was off-putting sometimes. She’d probably end up yelling at Lucy forlettingit happen to her. So… no. I couldn’t talk to her.

The next day, I took Lucy to a salon, hoping to fix the situation. I guess I just didn’t realize the only way to fix it would be to have it all cut evenly just below her chin.

When I heard her crying that she wasn’t pretty anymore, it broke my fucking heart. I was so fucking lost on how to fix this.

So, I did the one thing I swore I’d never do from the day I found out I was having a baby girl– I signed her up for figure skating.

It’s just… I knew someone a long time ago that said she only felt beautiful on the ice. It was the only place she felt special and strong and fully herself. It was the only place in the world that she felt she could take up space, the only place she felt shebelonged. I thought it was a long shot, but maybe it’d work for Lucy, maybe it’d give her some confidence.

It was just ironic that the person who said that, the person I’d been thinking of when I signed Lucy up for this lesson… was currently standing on the ice with her, giving her instruction.

Grasping the cold railing with both my hands, I dropped my head as the memories flashed through my brain, a supercut of allthe good and bad mingling together. A flash of sadness pressed into me, suffocating me.

Nope.

I couldn’t go there.

That was practically a different life ago and I couldn’t afford to look back.

I blew out a steadying breath.

This would be fine.

It wasonelesson. Only a half hour.

Then we could go on and never see each other again.

I didn’t want Lucy to get hurt.

And Meredith Bennett hurt me worse than anyone else in this world. I gave her my heart over a decade ago, and she just tossed it aside. I was man enough to admit that I was never really the same after that.

So, no. I would not let her coach my daughter after today, even though she was the best damn figure skater I ever knew.

---