Page 13 of Falling Offsides

I hesitate on what to do for a beat.

“Hold on,” I finally tell Delilah. “It’s my dad. Let me talk to him real quick.”

I hold our FaceTime call and accept Dad’s voice call.

“Hey, Dad,” I greet him.

“Courtney…” His voice isn’t angry exactly, but it’s tight. Clipped. “You didn’t wait for me.”

“There was no need to make any more of a scene.”

“Tig, I had to hear it from Doc. From the players.”

I exhale slowly. “I was fine, Dad. Auguste drove me home. Doc said it was minor.”

“Don’t bring up his name.” Now, he sounds pissed.

“It was an accident.”

“It better have been a fucking accident?—”

“Daddy… I was in Auguste’s blindspot trying to get an action shot and the puck went astray. If anything, it’s my fault.”

“Yeah, well, that’s not the point. You should’ve waited for me. I should’ve been the one to take you home.”

“I just needed to get out of there. I didn’t want to make a big deal about it. You were busy and I’m used to looking after myself.”

There’s a long pause.

“I get that,” he finally says, quieter. “But I’m your father. Let me be there for you, Court.”

My throat tightens. Shame coils in my gut.

This is why we can’t live together. Why we need to take our time reconnecting. Because I don’t want to say things that are going to hurt him. It’s not why I’m here. There isn’t a part of me that resents him.

“I know,” I whisper. “I’m sorry. I should’ve told you. I didn’t meanto shut you out, it just… happened so fast, and I panicked. I didn’t want to be the girl who cried for her dad on her first day.”

“Court… honey, I would’ve shown up for you.”

“I know,” I say again, voice smaller.

That’s what scares me about all of this. Being here. Letting him in. He’ll be the parent I’ve needed since Mom took me back to Washington after filing for divorce. When she was too angry and bitter at her choice to leave him. Then when she married Martin a year later.

What happens when I leave LA? When we’re on different coasts again?

“Lunch tomorrow,” Dad announces in a stern tone that evokes no arguments. “My office. I’ll handle it all, you just need to show up.”

“Okay.”

“Next time?—”

“There won’t be a next time.”

“If there is, I want you to call me. Please, Courtney.”

“Okay.”

“Promise me. I know how seriously you take promises, so?—”

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