Page 73 of Dirty Play

I don’t say anything. I just let her talk. This is the first time she’s opening up to me, and I’m afraid to even breathe too hard in case I scare her.

“My parents didn’t want me to come to LA,” she admits. “They told me I’d fail. That I’d come crawling back, beg for a job at the ranch, and settle down with some nice, safe guy like I was supposed to.”

Her voice tightens, her fingers pressing onto the table.

“But I don’t want that life. I hate the idea of just existing, never pushing for more, never dreaming bigger.” She looks up at me. “I wanted more. So, I left. And if I don’t make this work, if I don’t prove to myself that I can do it, then I’ll be exactly what they said. I’ll be a failure.”

A beat of silence stretches between us, the city lights flickering in the distance as the sun sets. That explains her determination and her need to prove herself, no matter how big the room or the audience.

I stare at her, feeling something tighten in my chest.

Becausefuck. I know that feeling.

“I get it.” I drag a hand through my hair, exhaling slowly.

“Yeah, okay, Mr. Mansion with a Personal Chef.” She scoffs.

“No. I mean, I really get it.” I shake my head.

Livia stills, eyes searching mine as I set my chopsticks down.

“As you know, my parents were both doctors,” I say, my voice even. “Good ones. Respected. The kind of people look up to.”

Livia sets her food down and looks at me with a focus I’ve never seen. Shit. I force myself to keep going.

“They wanted Avery and me to follow in their footsteps, go to med school, have real careers. It didn’t matter to them that Avery wanted to keep figure skating, and I…well, all I ever wanted to do was play hockey. ” I let out a dry laugh. “To them, hockey was just supposed to be a hobby. Something to keep me busy. And when I started getting serious about it, when I told them I wanted to play for real, they shut that shit down fast.”

Livia watches me, completely silent.

“When I got my first AHL deal, they told me to quit,” I continue. “Said I was throwing my life away and threatened to kick me out if I didn’t turn it down.” My jaw flexes at the memory.

“So, I left first. I was young and cocky as hell. Playing hockey was all I wanted to do with my life.”

Her lips part slightly.

“The local media found out about the fallout, and they ate that shit up. They painted my parents as the heartbroken intellectuals and me as the reckless, spoiled kid ruining their perfect image. It almost ruined my career before it even had the chance to take off. Every interview turned into a fucking therapy session. Does it hurt that your parents don’t support you? Do you regret choosing hockey over your family?” I let out a bitter chuckle. “It shredded the last remaining hopes of me and my parents making up.”

“And then, one day, they tried.”

“What do you mean?” Livia tilts her head slightly.

“They reached out.” My throat tightens, but I force myself to keep talking. “It was years later, and I was already drafted into the NHL. I had made a name for myself in the league, and I guess…I don’t know, maybe they had regrets, maybe they wanted to fix things. They texted me that they were coming to my game. That they wanted to see me play.”

Livia’s expression shifts like she already knows where this is going. Maybe she does if she googled it.

I take a shaky breath, closing my eyes. I hate going back there.

“They never made it.” My jaw clenches. “Their car crashed on the way to LA. My father died at the scene, and my mother on the way to the hospital. And I played the whole fucking game, not even knowing.”

Silence. The kind that presses against my ribs, suffocating.

“Oh my god,” Livia whispers, her hand going up to her mouth.

“I didn’t even text them back,” I admit, my voice hollow as I fight to keep the tears in. “I saw the message, and I fucking ignored it. I thought it was too little, too late. And now?” I force a bitter laugh. “Now, I don’t even know what they would have said. If they were really proud, or if they just wanted to tell me, one last time, that I fucked up. And this…this guilt is eating me alive. I can’t stand it when people ask about them. I can’t stand any of it, Livia. It took losing them to realize that all the bullshit and stubbornness wasn’t worth it. That there’s not always going to be more time to make things right. At the end of it all, I loved my parents. But it was too late.”

I hate the way something in my chest feels like it’s cracking open under her gaze.

I clear my throat and take a deep breath.

---