Page 72 of Passing the Red Line
This is something I thought about. I say how much pain Eliana was when she told me about all the shit that her dad put her and her mom through, so a big part of me is inclined to hate the man, just as much as I hate Bradford. But Shawn Anderson is one of the reasons why I wanted to stay with the Knights. He’s a legendary player but he’s even more so as a coach. He has been with our team through the good and the bad and never talked down to any of us because of our performance. To a lot of guys, he's like a father figure, even though he wasn’t able to give his own daughter that.
I give him an honest answer. “It won’t. I may not like the type of father you’ve been to Eliana since her mom got sick and died. Nobody deserves that, but that doesn’t stop me from respecting you and doing what you tell me to do. I’m still one of your players and I will continue to be for however long I’m on this team.”
He nods, and gives me a wave with his hand, dismissing me.
I know there’s more he wants to say, but I don’t push it.
I’m not two feet away from the chair, though, when he stops me again.
“Some words of advice, Christian,” he starts, causing me to turn and face him again.
“Sure,” I tell him.
“Don’t do what I did. Learn from my mistakes. Don’t make hockey your top priority. No sport is more important than your wife or your daughter. I made a lot of wrong choices when I became a head coach, and if I could go back I would. I would fight for my wife when she asked for a divorce, I would have asked for leave when she was diagnosed. I would have been there for my daughter as she lost one of the most important persons in her life. I would do it all over again in a heartbeat, but I can’t and look where it’s got me. Don’t do what I did. Make Eliana your number one priority if you see a future with her. She is worth every inch of life and love that anyone can give her.”
There are tears in his eyes as he tells me all of this.
“Have you told Eliana that?” I ask.
He nods. “When I talked to her last week. Now that she’s here, I’m going to try and be a better father.”
“She would appreciate that.”
“I hope so,” he says, letting out a sigh. “Don’t let her bust your balls too much. Her mother was the same way. I honestly don’t know how she put up with me for so long.”
“Because she loved you. She didn’t give a shit about anything else, she just cared about you.” I answer, not knowing where the hell that even came from.
“And does my daughter feel the same about you?” He asks, raising an eyebrow.
“I don’t know. Probably not yet, but if she ever does, then I would feel the same way about her.” And it’s the truth. If I didn’t think it would be moving too fast, I would have told Eliana by now.
“Don’t hurt her, Rodriguez.” He states as I start walking toward the door again.
“Don’t have any plans to.”
And he better not have any plans to do so either.
CHAPTERNINETEEN
Eliana
“Stop worrying.”Christian says, from where he stands in front of the mirror in the bathroom. He’s currently making sure that his tie is tied absolutely perfectly, all the while I’m in our walk-in closet, trying to figure out what to wear today.
“It’s my first away game!” I yell as I pull a dress from its hanger and drop it on the floor after deeming it unworthy.
“It's an exhibition game.” Christian says, coming to stand at the closet door, leaning against the door jam, looks all hot and sexy in his well fitted suit. I absolutely love the hockey dress code even if I don’t like anything else.
“So? It’s still my first time traveling with the team, I have to be presentable,” I say, grabbing a pair of gray colored pants and trying to decide if these will work. I can pair it with a white top and a jacket that I can put on the ground to be able to take pictures as all the players arrive at the plane.
Perfect.
Like the players, I also have to abide by the business professional dress code when getting on the team plane. This is my first time traveling in this capacity, so I’m slightly freaking out.
“Wear what you wore last game,” Christian throws out, which gets him daggers shooting out of my eyes.
“I can’t wear what I wore last game.” He doesn't get it.
“Why not? The black pants fit your ass so perfectly,” he says, coming into the closet, closing the distance between us and pressing his body against mine.
