Page 99 of Sweet Thing

“Not as fancy as burgers at the club,” he murmured.

“Damn, those burgers were fine.”

He leaned over and swiped at my chin, then sucked on his thumb. That little move, so comfortable, made me shiver.

We continued eating, chatting about Mabel, about last night’s game, about my latest video on Peyton Bell’s various cellies. It was easy, and I loved every minute.

I pushed the plate aside and rubbed my stomach. “That was so good. Did you really make that sauce from scratch?”

“Carla’s recipe.” At my curious expression, he added, “Dad’s second wife. She taught me how to cook.”

He hadn’t talked about his childhood much beyond that initial panic about his suitability for fatherhood. But Sven’s ghost hovered over everything, making Lars doubt. Was he good enough to be Mabel’s dad? Could he offer her the best possible life?

“You liked her?” If she was teaching him recipes, then there had to be some affection there.

“I did. She lasted about eighteen months? Age ten until my twelfth birthday. Probably the most stable time of my childhood.” He paused before adding, “Sven fucked it up as usual.”

“How so?”

He rubbed a finger around the rim of the wine glass. “He hit her.”

It shouldn’t have shocked me. I knew he was a piece of work, between the gambling and substance abuse, but to hear he also abused a woman he supposedly loved took him from pitiful addict to total asshole.

“More than once?”

A slow nod. “They both drank a lot, so there were a lot of fights. They sometimes got physical, so I think Carla excused most slaps as a ‘takes two to tango’ kind of deal. But on that day—my birthday—he was pissed at me because I slept in. Typically, I’d be up at five for practice, Carla didn’t wake me because …”

“It was your birthday.”

“Right.” He grimaced. “But Sven didn’t care. He—” He broke off, the emotion of the memory obviously affecting him deeply.

“Hey.” I jumped up, circled the table, and took a seat on his lap. “You don’t have to tell me but I’m here for you if you want to share.”

“No, it’s okay.” He rubbed a hand along my thigh, a move that seemed to soothe him. I’d noticed him rubbing Mabel’s back when he was upset. “He dragged me out of bed and beat the living shit out of me. Carla tried to intervene, and he hit her so hard it knocked a tooth out. That’s when she decided she’d had enough.”

My heart dropped. “And she left you? With him?”

He frowned. “She had her own stuff to deal with. Her own healing to complete. And I got a decent spaghetti sauce recipe out of it.”

She abandoned a child to an abuser. This reminded me of Lars’s concern for Vicki, that she might be in a tough spot with her husband. He understood about a woman’s need for self-preservation after his experience with his stepmom. “Did he continue to hit you?”

“I told him I’d quit hockey if he got physical with me again. It was the only leverage I had so I used it, though the idea of giving up hockey killed me. It was my way out. I called his bluff, and he caved. The odd slap here and there but nothing that left bruises. I could handle that.”

My eyes welled. “Lars, that was so unfair.”

“Hard to say if it was or not. It shaped me, gave me grit, built character.” He swiped at my tears. “Don’t be sad for me, enkelini. I’m okay.”

But was he? I’d grown up with so much and it wasn’t right that Lars didn’t have the same. Mabel was truly a gift. With her he could finally appreciate the miracle of a close-knit family.

I was still pissed at a dead man, though. “Then he almost got you kicked out of the league before you’d even started.”

His lips twitched, probably amused at my defensiveness. “I was furious at how he tried to throw me under the bus. It definitely left a bad taste. I’d always felt like I was of use to him for one thing—to make him look good—but once he tried to blame me for his mistakes, I knew we could never be a real family. Luckily hockey has no shortage of mentors.”

Like my dad. They were closer than I had imagined, becoming even tighter in recent months. It made what we were doing so much more reckless.

“Aurora says you need someone to love, something to give you focus other than hockey. She seemed to think Mabel would be the making of you.”

“Did she now?” He considered that for a moment. “Your family have been good to me, this last year especially. I wasn’t in a great place when my dad died. Everything was unresolved. Your dad pulled me back from the brink, your mom welcomed me at her table, and your great-gran makes the best martinis on the planet.”

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