Page 68 of Pucking My Grumpy Roommate
My father nodded politely, but I could see he’d already categorized her work as less important than professional sports. “Interesting hobby.”
Kate’s smile remained perfectly pleasant, but I saw a flash of steel in her eyes. “It’s actually my career, not a hobby. Much like how Austin’s hockey is his profession rather than just a game he enjoys playing.”
The subtle correction was delivered so smoothly that it tookmy father a moment to register the pushback. When he did, his eyes narrowed slightly.
“And does your...career allow for the flexibility that supporting a professional athlete requires?” he asked, cutting straight to his real concern. “Austin’s schedule is demanding, especially during the season.”
“I imagine all meaningful careers require sacrifices and accommodations from partners,” Kate replied evenly. “Just as Austin has had to accommodate my late nights in the lab and occasional bacterial emergencies.”
“Bacterial emergencies?” my father repeated skeptically.
“You’d be surprised how dramatic antibiotic-resistant superbugs can be,” Kate said with a smile that somehow managed to be both charming and challenging. “Though I suppose they cause less immediate excitement than a playoff game.”
Our drinks arrived, giving me a moment to marvel at Kate’s handling of my father. Where I would have become defensive or shut down in the face of his judgment, she was navigating the conversation with remarkable poise.
“Austin tells me you were a coach,” Kate continued after taking a sip of her wine.
“Twenty years at the college level, another five with juniors,” my father confirmed, his posture straightening as the conversation turned to his favorite subject. “Now I provide commentary for regional broadcasts.”
“That explains Austin’s disciplined approach,” Kate nodded thoughtfully. “His rehabilitation protocol for his knee injury has been impressively rigorous.”
My father’s attention sharpened. “You’ve been involved in his recovery?”
“Only peripherally,” Kate said. “Though my research does include applications for tissue regeneration. Some of the compounds I work with show promising effects on recovery rates for soft tissue injuries.”
For the first time, my father looked genuinely interested. “Performance enhancement?”
“Not in the way you might be thinking,” she clarified. “More like optimizing the body’s natural healing processes. For instance, certain bacterial enzymes can break down scar tissue formation, potentially allowing for more complete healing after injuries.”
I watched in amazement as my father leaned forward, actually engaged. “And this could have applications for athletes?”
“Absolutely. In fact, some of the compounds I’m studying might have helped Austin’s ACL recovery if they were further along in development,” Kate explained, seamlessly connecting her work to the one thing my father truly valued. “The science behind recovery optimization isn’t so different from the training methodologies I’m sure you implemented as a coach—it’s about creating optimal conditions for performance.”
“Fascinating,” my father said, and to my shock, he sounded sincere.
Our meals arrived, and I watched the conversation continue to unfold like I was witnessing some kind of miracle. Kate had not only held her ground against my father’s interrogation but had somehow managed to find common ground with the most difficult man I’d ever known.
When she excused herself to the restroom after our entrées, my father turned to me with an evaluating look.
“She’s not what I expected,” he said, which from him was practically effusive praise.
“Kate’s full of surprises,” I replied, unable to keep the pride from my voice.
“Smart,” he acknowledged. “Driven. Not intimidated easily.”
“No, she isn’t.”
He studied me for a moment, then said something I never thought I’d hear from his lips: “She’s good for you.”
I nearly choked on my water. “What?”
“You’ve always been too rigid, Austin. Too controlled.” He smoothed his napkin on his lap, avoiding eye contact in that way the Callahan men did when emotions threatened. “You need someone who challenges you, not someone who simply accommodates your routines.”
“That’s...not what you told me when I was with Melissa,” I reminded him, referencing my college girlfriend who he’d deemed “too independent” for a hockey player’s partner.
“You weren’t ready then,” he said dismissively. “You hadn’t established yourself. Now you have the luxury of complexity in your personal life.”
I bit back a retort about how backwards his thinking was. Instead, I simply said, “Kate isn’t a luxury, Dad. She’s essential.”
