Page 89 of Daddies on Ice
“Don’t you dare finish that sentence,” I warn, my voice low and dangerous. The Christmas tree lights seem to flicker with the intensity of my rage. “Don’t you dare judge me, Trent. You have no idea what I’ve been through, what I’m dealing with.”
“I know exactly what you’re dealing with!” he shouts back. “You’re dealing with the consequences of your poor choices, just like always. First Mica, now this. When are you going to learn?”
The mention of Mica’s name hits me like a slap. “That’s not fair, and you know it. I was young and stupid. This is completely different.”
“Is it?” Trent’s eyes are blazing now, his face flushed with anger. “Because from where I’m standing, it looks like you’re making the same mistakes all over again. Getting involved with dangerous men, putting yourself and Becky at risk.”
“Ash and Jake aren’t dangerous!” I protest, though even as I say it, I think about the anonymous messages, the sabotage, the feeling of being watched. “They’re good men who care about me.”
“Both of them?” Trent’s voice drips with sarcasm. “How convenient. And what about Carl? Are you sleeping with him too? Going for the whole damn team?”
The crude way he says it makes me see red. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I know that Ash is my best friend, and you’re going to ruin that,” Trent says, his voice cracking slightly. “I know that you’re going to tear this team apart if you continue this. And I know that when it all falls apart, I’m going to be the one left picking up the pieces, just like always.”
His words cut deep because there’s truth in them that I don’t want to acknowledge. The fear that I’m being selfish, that I’m hurting people I care about, has been eating at me for weeks.
“I never asked you to pick up my pieces,” I say quietly, but Trent’s not done.
“You never had to ask!” he explodes. “When Mom and Dad died, who took care of you? When you got pregnant and had to runfrom Mica, who helped you disappear? I’ve been there whenever you needed me!”
The words hang in the air between us like a physical presence. I can see the moment he realizes what he’s said, the way his face pales slightly, but it’s too late. The damage is done.
“So that’s what I am to you?” I whisper, my voice barely audible over the soft Christmas music still playing in the background. “A mess to be cleaned up? A burden you’ve been carrying?”
“Tish, I didn’t mean?—”
“Yes, you did.” Tears are burning behind my eyes, but I refuse to let them fall. “You meant every word. You resent me for Mom and Dad dying. You resent me for needing your help. You resent me for existing.”
“That’s not true,” Trent says, his voice low and urgent.
“Isn’t it?” I stand up straighter, drawing on every ounce of strength I have. “You think I don’t know? You think I don’t see the way you look at Ash and the other players sometimes? Like you wish you were out there instead of stuck dealing with your screwed-up little sister?”
Trent’s face goes white, and I know I’ve hit the mark. The truth has been sitting between us for years, unspoken but always present.
“I never asked you to give up hockey,” I continue, my voice getting stronger. “I never asked you to sacrifice your dreams for me. You made that choice, Trent. You don’t get to blame me for it now.”
“You were nineteen!” he shouts. “You were a kid! What was I supposed to do, leave you to fend for yourself?”
“Maybe!” The word tears out of my throat. “Maybe that would have been better than spending the rest of my life feeling guilty for ruining yours!”
The silence that follows is deafening. We’re both breathing hard, staring at each other across a chasm that feels impossible to bridge.
The Christmas tree lights continue to twinkle merrily, a mockery of the holiday spirit that should be filling this room.
“I love you, Tish,” Trent says finally, his voice broken. “You’re my sister, and I love you. But I can’t watch you destroy yourself again. And I can’t watch you destroy my friendship with Ash.”
“So what are you saying?” I ask, though I’m afraid I already know.
“I’m saying you need to choose. Stop playing games with these men’s hearts. Pick one and let the others go…or walk away from all of them.”
The ultimatum hangs between us like a sword. I think about Ash’s protective strength, Jake’s playful charm, Carl’s steady presence. How can I choose between them when each one fills a different part of my heart?
“And if I don’t?” I challenge.
“Then you’re on your own,” Trent says quietly. “I won’t be there to pick up the pieces this time.”
The threat hits me like a physical blow.
