Page 113 of Shutout
“Of course. Yes. To you as well.”
Silence.
I take another sip of the eggnog. Now that I know what to expect, it doesn’t hit me quite as hard. Though it’s still funny how a chilled beverage is warming me up so fast.
Liv smacks my thigh with the back of her hand and I jolt.
“Right.” I place my glass back on the counter. Why is this harder than the prospect of playing professional hockey players in a couple of weeks? I tap my fingers on the cool granite counter surface, and talk to them rather than to my dad. “So, um. I wanted to apologize. For last time.”
Even more silence.
I dare a peek at my girlfriend. She’s nodding at me, short hair brushing her jaw with the motion. I’ve already said my due, so it’s probably fine if I whisk her upstairs for some of the teddy bear cuddling she claims to want, right?
But Dad makes a raspy sound from his throat. “I should be the one apologizing.”
“Huh?” My head whips up.
“Your father has been doing a lot of thinking after your phone call.” Lauren draws circles on Dad’s chest with the palm of her hand. It occurs to me then that she’s doing the same thing Liv’s doing with my knee. Soothing me. As if Dad was nervous too.
Huh?I repeat in my mind. What the hell does he have to be nervous about?
“I… I had no idea you felt that way.” Dad leans his hands on the counter, and I notice he’s tapping his fingers too. “You’ve always been so independent. I thought—I thought you didn’t need me. Which in hindsight makes me even more of an asshole.”
“You’re not an asshole, honey,” his wife counters.
“I am. My therapist said I used that as an excuse to pull away from Brooklyn because he reminds me too much of Natalie.”
Lauren’s appalled. “Did your therapist call you an asshole?”
“No—”
“You go to therapy?” Liv squints at him, trying to picture it.
I latch onto something else entirely. “How in the freaking hell do I remind you of my mother? I couldn’t be more different from her.”
“I know, Brooklyn. I know.” He runs a shaky hand through his hair, darker than mine. “It’s just your face. You look so much like her.”
That lands like a kick from Manny Pacquiao to the solar plexus. I open and close my mouth, but only air comes out.
“That’s entirely a me-problem,” Dad says, raising the palm of his hand. “And I took it out on you without even realizing it until you yelled at me. I’m…” His voice softens. “I’m so sorry, son.”
Ah, shit.
I hang my head, squeezing my eyes tight. I freaking refuse to cry over this.
But then Liv’s closing her arms around me. I bury my face in her chest and she hides me from the world.
Apparently Dad’s not done yet, though. “And you were so right. I’ve been a t-terrible father.” He pauses and I hear a sniff. Two. He clears his throat and his voice comes out stronger now. “I know it’s too little, too late, but I’m working on this with my therapist. I hope you can give me a chance to make amends when you’re ready.”
“Good job, Bryce.” Lauren whispers to him, though not low enough that I miss it. “Aren’t you glad we rehearsed?”
Liv’s chest rumbles with her voice. “But you didn’t know we were coming.”
“No.” Lauren’s laughter twinkles. “But Bryce was planning to deliver this speech while seeing Brooklyn off at the airport next week.”
Liv and I snort at the same time.
That sign of amusement makes her pull away. She smooshes my cheeks between her hands and runs her thumbs across them, wiping away the moisture her clothes didn’t catch. Her sweet little smile makes my chest do something funny.
