Page 100 of If All Else Sails
Wyatt nods once. “Many people travel this way in fall and winter. The weather’s much more pleasant.”
“But you had school.”
“And hockey.”
“Did you start playing hockey when you were really young?”
“My dad wanted me to take over the restaurant group,” he says, and I open my mouth to say something because this isn’t what I asked, but Wyatt continues. “From the time I was, oh...about eight. When other kids were playing tag outside or reading picture books, I was learning how to use spreadsheets, being hammered with information about portfolios and investment capital. He made me sit in on business meetings wearing a little suit. One time someone laughed—chuckled, really—and made a comment about me playing dress-up. It wasn’t mean. Just a statement about a kid looking out of place in a board meeting. Which I did.” Wyatt pauses. “Dad fired him.”
I want to laugh. I want to cry. It’s ridiculous and so,sosad. My throat feels too tight, not unlike the way it did when I had my poison oak encounter. But this feels worse.
A boat passes by, sail billowing, and a gray-haired woman on deck in aviator sunglasses and a tank top waves. We wave back, Wyatt still clutching the Cool Whip container in one hand, my other arm still locked around his waist.
He waits for the boat to move away before he continues. “Hockey was my way out. I’m not even sure why my father allowed me to play, but I fought for it.” He pauses, and I can see how difficult it is for him to swallow. “Mom fought for it too. Fought for me—maybe one of the only times she stood up to him.”
It’s hard to imagine the vivacious woman I met who tricked me into a shopping spree being cowed by anyone. Then, I think about a man who would fire someone for making an innocent comment about a child being a child.
“And then I wasgoodat hockey. I thought it would just be an escape, but my father decided he didn’t want a son with a divided focus. He saw it as a character flaw. So, he moved on to Peter.”
“What do you mean,moved on?”
Wyatt is quiet for a moment. “I mean, it’s like I didn’t—and don’t—exist to him anymore. Peter got all of Dad’s attention, focus, and training. At home it was like I wasn’t there. At least not to anyone but my mom.”
“Wyatt,” I whisper. Stunned. Horrified. Aching for the boy he was, the man he is. The surge of protectiveness almost bowls me over.
“And your brother went along with it?”
“Not at first,” Wyatt says, and I catch him rubbing his thumb on the edge of the plastic container in his hands. His voice is steady, carefully blank, but this motion continues, almost like a tic. “But Dad didn’t want me being a bad influence, so he discouraged our relationship.”
Discouraged our relationship.
This is the kind of thing a parent might say when their child is dating someone sketchy or hanging with the wrong crowd. Not something a father should do with his own sons. And most certainly not because of something like Wyatt wanting hockey as a break from the serious business stuff he was too young to be doing anyway.
“So, hockey became who I am,” he finishes. “And it was the start of my summers with my uncle.”
I want to tell Wyatt it’s okay, thathe’sokay. I want to tell him his dad really, really sucks. I want to tell him he’s more than hockey.
But Jib runs up, issuing a sharp bark and a little butt wiggle. I drop my arm as Wyatt steps back, the thick emotional tension of the moment lifting like fog.
“If you’d learn to use your fake grass like a good girl, you wouldn’t be so desperate for us to get going,” he tells her, then bends to scratch her behind the ears.
Then he disappears below deck, leaving me alone with my thoughts and a dog dressed as a pirate.
Chapter24
We Can Manage
Josie
It’s a bad idea.
I know it’s bad,reallybad, even as I tell Wyatt, “It’ll be fine.”
He turns his back to the hotel desk and the frazzled woman on the other side of it. The one who had trouble locating our reservation.
Lowering his voice, Wyatt asks, “Are you sure there’s nothing else?”
Hecertainly doesn’t look sure. Jaw clenched, shoulders rigid. Gray eyes flintier than usual.
