Page 22 of Slap Shot Daddies

Then she exhales a sigh, a whisper of resignation. "Yeah. My parents are, well, let’s just say they’re on the extreme end of traditional."

I raise an eyebrow, intrigued. "How extreme we talkin’? Catholic guilt or full-on Amish?"

She snorts, a sound that’s both amused and exasperated. "Somewhere in between. Think old-school fundamentalists. The kind that believe women should be seen, not heard."

I wince at the thought. "Oof. That explains a lot."

Kenzie sighs again, rubbing her temple with her good hand, as if trying to massage away the weight of her thoughts. "They mean well. They think they’re doing what’s best for me. But…I don’t exactly fit the mold."

I exchange a glance with Braden, who is now watching her intently, his freckled face alight with curiosity. There’s something in her statement, a hidden depth that suggests there’s a much bigger story waiting to be told.

Kenzie gazes out the window, her fingers rhythmically drumming against the bandaged section of her hand. The bandage, a stark white against her skin, wraps around her fingers like a soft cocoon.

“They wanted me to stay in Ohio, marry some nice church-going man, pop out a few kids, and live the perfect small-town life,” she says, her voice carrying a hint of sarcasm.

“And instead, you ran off to the big city to wrestle macaws for a livin’?” I quip, a teasing smirk playing on my lips.

Her laughter rings out, genuine and unrestrained, filling the car with warmth. “Pretty much. Though, I prefer ‘licensedveterinarian for exotic and domestic animals’, thank you very much,” she retorts, a playful glint in her eyes.

I chuckle, nodding. “Fancy title.”

“Damn right,” she replies with a satisfied nod.

Ambrose guides the car into his driveway, the tires crunching against the snow-packed pavement.

The house looms before us. The porch light casts a soft halo against the frost-covered steps, each crystal sparkling like tiny diamonds.

Kenzie shifts in her seat, bracing herself as if preparing for an unwelcome confrontation, but I continue to watch her closely.

“So, that why you left?” I ask, aiming for a casual tone. “Wanted to get away from all that?”

Kenzie exhales deeply, her breath visible in the cold air. “That’s part of it. Minneapolis gave me freedom. A chance to start over. To be my own person,” she explains, her voice laced with a mixture of relief and resolve.

That, I can understand. I left home too, but I did it on my terms. Kenzie, though, something tells me she didn’t just leave. She escaped.

Braden, apparently picking up on the undercurrent, nudges her gently. “Well, for what it’s worth, we think you’re cool as hell.”

She snorts, a sound filled with both amusement and disbelief. “That’s because you don’t know me well enough yet.”

I grin as Ambrose turns off the engine, the soft hum fading into silence. “Oh, don’t worry, doc. We’ve got time.”

Kenzie rolls her eyes, yet I catch the faintest trace of a smile tugging at her lips as we step out of the car into the crisp evening air.

Braden shakes his head, leaning back against the plush seat of the car. “Damn, that’s a bummer, but I get it. Some families are just like that.” His voice carries an edge of understanding,tinged with a hint of something unsaid, but he casually waves it off. “Reggie’s family is uptight too, and I still don’t get how he tolerates them.”

I let out a low chuckle, shaking my head with amusement. “They’re not uptight,ya eejit. It’s called tradition. And besides, most of ‘em are back in Scotland, so if I don’t feel like listenin’, I don’t.”

Kenzie smirks at that, shifting in her seat, her eyes glinting with curiosity. “Wait, your dad is traditional? I thought you said he was a drunk?”

I flash her a wicked grin, feeling the cold metal against my fingers as I pop open the car door. “Lass, it’s tradition in Scotland to be a drunk.”

Braden bursts into laughter as we all step out, our shoes crunching against the thin layer of snow that blankets the driveway.

The air is crisp and biting, filled with the distant scent of chimney smoke wafting from nearby homes.

Kenzie pulls her coat tighter around herself, her breath forming small clouds in the cold night air like little puffs of smoke. I hold the door open as she steps inside, watching the way her eyes flick around, absorbing the cozy warmth and inviting glow of the house.

The moment we step inside, the house's warmth envelops us, gently replacing the biting chill from outside with a comforting embrace.

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