Page 2 of Fool Me Once

As I push myself from the rail, he flicks his hard stare toward me.

“She told us last night that she was going to apply to some colleges in New England.” He pauses. “The top of her list was Luxton.”

At the mention of the college I’m headed to in a few weeks, I frown.

“She didn’t tell me that,” I say honestly. “I know Stanford is her dream.”

“Washer dream,” he says coolly, his eyes narrowing like I’m a suspect he has to question. “Apparently, now, she has a new dream. A dreamthat involves chasing you to Connecticut.” He jerks his chin up. “You sure you don’t know anything about that?”

I stand here, puzzled. I mean, fuck, what am I even supposed to say to that?

Gemma and I have shared some pretty great times together the past month, and a few days ago, she told me she loved me. I didn’t say it back, only because I wanted to tell her in a more romantic way than right after I fucked her in the back of my truck on an abandoned road. But we’ve never talked about her going to Luxton instead of Stanford.

“N-no,” I say quickly, shaking my head. “As far as I knew … she was going to apply to Stanford, and that was that.”

Given how brilliant Gemma is and how good her grades are, she’ll undoubtedly get in. So, it’s never been a wonder if she’ll go to Stanford, but more of a fact.

“My problem with your and my daughter’s relationship is that even after all the work she’s done for her future, she’s willing to throw it all away to stand beside you while you chase your dreams.” He breathes out a laugh, and the anger behind it is undeniable. “I read somewhere that less than five percent of hockey players make it to the NHL. And I’m not going to lie, Sawyer, but to me, even five percent sounds pretty high.”

His words strike a nerve, but I do my best to remain calm. If my parents taught me anything, it’s to show respect to those around you. But, fucking hell, this man is making it hard.

“What are you getting at, sir?” I ask, placing one hand on the banister and leaning slightly on it. “What do NHL statistics and Gemma going to Stanford have to do with each other?”

For a few seconds, he’s quiet. He looks down, bobbing his head like he’s thinking. But when he finally looks up at me, I know he’s about to say something that I don’t want to hear.

“My daughter deserves to follow the dreams she set in place at a young age. And while I’m sure the engineering program is fine in Connecticut, Stanford has always been the goal.” He sets his shoulders back, angling his head upward. “Once you leave for college, she’s going to miss you. She’s going to wonder what you’re doing and who you’re with, and it’ll slowly eat her alive, having to worry so much. You’re too young to weather the storm of a long-distance relationship. And evenif you could withstand it, what would happen then? Should she throw away everything she’d worked for and follow you around?” He gives me a look that’s half sympathetic and half condescending. “Your chances of making it to the NHL are next to nothing, Smith. So, please, don’t ruin my daughter’s future by allowing her to chase yours. Especially when it’s likely a pipe dream.”

His words are like a direct punch to the gut. My body feels as if it were floating because I’m so fucking mad, but I also feel discouraged.

What if he’s right? What if she follows me to college and I never make it pro? Or what if I do make it pro and she is stuck in my shadow? Stanford is all she’s talked about since her parents took her to visit the campus when she was in fifth grade. I could never be selfish enough to take that from her.

“So, what, you’re asking me to … break things off with her?” I can’t look directly at him. “You don’t think that’ll hurt her?”

“As much as it’ll hurt her, it won’t ruin her life,” he says brazenly. “If you care about her at all, you will let her go. Oh, and, Smith?”

Finally, I bring my eyes to his, feeling sick to my stomach.

“You aren’t going to tell her about this little conversation either. Because that party you were at last weekend? Rumor has it, there was weed there. I’m not so sure your hockey coach at Luxton would approve of that.”

“You’re blackmailing me into staying away from your daughter?” I growl low, narrowing my eyes. “Really?”

He takes a step toward me. “Son, one day, you might have a daughter. And when you do, I promise you … you’ll understand.” Reaching out, he pats my shoulder, giving it a squeeze. “Good luck at Luxton. And I really do hope you’re in that five percent, son. I just can’t let my daughter stick around to find out.”

“I’ll leave her alone,” I utter, feeling my heart pumping with anger. “But it’s not because you’re a coward and blackmailing me. It’s because, more than anything, I want her to chase her dreams too.”

“Good,” he mumbles.

When he walks away from me, every bit of air leaves my lungs because I know what I have to do and it’s going to fucking hurt both of us.

A Few Days Later

After pulling on some clothes, I walk toward the window and drag in a breath, feeling like something isn’t right. And I feel this way because it’s the truth.

Drawing back the curtain, I peer across the street at the Sawyer’s house as I brush my damp hair with my free hand. Smith’s truck isn’t parked out front, but I suppose it could be in the garage.

For nearly two full days, he’s avoided me. Which is the opposite of how he was for weeks prior, when we were practically inseparable. With each passing day, he makes an excuse as to why we can’t hang out … and it’s a day closer to when he leaves for college and begins his hockey training in Connecticut.

I can’t stop myself from thinking it’s my fault that he’s ghosting me. I blurted out the wordsI love you, and he didn’t even say them back.

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