Page 54 of Hooked On Them

His fingers tightened around mine, and I wondered if he’d ever talked to anyone about this before. Hockey players weren’t exactly known for their emotional vulnerability, and Dominic doubly so.

“You deserve better than sunrise emails.” I immediately cringed at how utterly useless that sentiment was.

“Yeah, well, I deserve a better father too, but we don’t always get what we deserve.”

My eyebrows shot up. “That’s surprisingly self-aware.”

“Don’t sound so shocked. I occasionally have thoughts that aren’t about hockey or food.” He released my hand to grab another mozzarella stick, but the absence of his touch left an unexpected emptiness.

“Why do you still talk to him if he’s so awful?” The question tumbled out before I could stop it.

Dominic froze mid-bite, cheese stretching in a sad, droopy string. The question hung between us like a live grenade with the pin pulled.

He stared at the mozzarella stick as if it might contain the answer. “It’s complicated.” He set the half-eaten stick down, wiping his fingers on a napkin. “He’s still my father.”

“That’s not really an answer.”

“What do you want me to say?” His voice wasn’t angry, just tired. “That I keep hoping one day he’ll wake up and be proud of me? That some pathetic part of me is still a kid desperate for his approval?” He ran a hand through his hair, mussing it in a way that made him look even more vulnerable. “I’m terrified I’ll turn into him.”

This massive man with his perfect jawline and NHL contract was sitting on my couch, terrified of becoming like his father.

“You won’t,” I said with more certainty than I had any right to feel.

His eyes met mine. “You can’t know that.”

“Actually, I can. You bought three different kinds of brownie bites because I was sad about running out. Your dad would never.”

His lips quirked up in the ghost of a smile.

“The fact that you’re worried about it at all means you’re nothing like him.” I nudged his knee with mine. “You get to choose what kind of father you’ll be. What kind of family we’ll make.”

Family. The word settled between us, heavy with meaning. We weren’t a family yet, not in the traditional sense, but in a few months, we would be connected in the most permanent way possible.

Dominic looked like he wanted to say something else, emotions warring across his face, but instead, he reached for the remote. “Mind if we watch something? My brain needs a break from the seventeen different feelings going on right now.”

I nestled deeper into the couch cushions as he flicked through streaming options before settling on a mindless action movie with explosions and improbable physics.

The first twenty minutes of the movie passed in comfortable silence. I was acutely aware of how Dominic’s body heat radiated toward me across those careful twelve inches of cushion. Then, without warning, he reached behind him and pulled the throw blanket from the back of the couch. “Cold?”

I wasn’t, but I nodded anyway. “Thanks.”

He draped it over both of us, his arm coming to rest along the back of the couch. On screen, a car flew in slow motion. Dominic’s arm slid from the back of the couch to my shoulders, and he tugged me gently against his side. A move so smooth it had to be practiced.

I should’ve tensed up. Should’ve maintained some distance. Instead, I melted against him, my head finding the perfect nook between his shoulder and chest.

“This okay?”

“Mm-hmm.” I was too comfortable to form actual words, the weight of the day finally catching up to me.

Dominic’s thumb traced small circles on my shoulder, and the steady rhythm of his breathing lulled me deeper into relaxation. My eyelids grew heavy as the movie’s plot became increasingly irrelevant.

The last thing I remembered before drifting off was the gentle press of what might have been lips against the top of my head and the quiet murmur of words I didn’t quite catch.

Chapter19

Fake Boyfriend

Miles

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