Page 119 of Cold Feet
"It doesn't take a hockey genius to see what's happening there," my father continued. "And I should know. I am one."
"Don't forget modest," my mother said, playfully pinching my dad's cheek.
Despite everything, a small laugh escaped me. My father's confidence had carried him through twenty NHL seasons and three Stanley Cups. It was both infuriating and comforting that he applied that same certainty to my love life.
"But the scandal," I said, sobering quickly. "You've seen the news, right? What they're saying about me? About us?"
"We've seen it," my mother confirmed, her expression darkening slightly. "Those vultures don't know the first thing about you or Cameron."
"I don’t know. Maybe I should resign," I admitted, the words feeling like stones in my mouth. "Maybe I don't deserve this job in the first place. Maybe this is just... karma. For creating an image that wasn't real."
"Lana, stop." My father's voice was firm, the same tone he'd used when coaching his players through a slump. "You've always belonged in hockey. Not just because you're a Decker, but because you've got the sharpest mind in the sport."
I looked up, surprised by the vehemence in his voice. Frank Decker was notoriously stingy with praise, even with his own children.Especiallywith his own children.
"But…"
"No buts," he interrupted, leaning forward with the intensity he usually reserved for third-period playoff situations. "You think I don't know how hard you've worked? How many barriers you've broken? How many times you've had to prove yourself because of your gender or your last name?"
He tapped the table for emphasis, his knuckles hitting the wood with the same rhythm he used on the boards behind the bench. "I'm proud to pass the Decker torch to all my kids – not just to Zayne and Drake. You've always had the best instincts. Seeing all the possibilities, doing what's right for the team and the players, even when it costs you personally. That's what makes yougreatat your job."
My throat tightened with emotion. In all my years working in hockey, I'd never heard my father speak about my career with such pride.
"The Decker name in hockey isn't just about who can skate fastest or shoot hardest," he continued, his voice rough with emotion. "It's about understanding the game – all aspects of it. The strategy, the psychology, the business. And nobody gets that better than you do."
He reached across the table, his calloused hand covering mine in a rare gesture of physical affection. "You don't just belong in hockey, Lana. You're leading in hockey. And someday, maybe sooner than you think, I see you running the whole damn team."
The words landed like a slam drop – unexpected, powerful, knocking the air from my lungs. I'd always seen myself as an adjunct to the real action, the support staff behind the scenes. But my father was talking about me as if I were the future of the organization itself.
"You really believe that?" I asked, my voice small.
"I know it," he said with characteristic certainty. "Champions aren't made during the easy shifts – they're forged in the penalty kill after a five-minute major. This scandal is just your time in the box, Lana. The game isn't over; you're just waiting to get back on the ice and show everyone what you're made of."
My mother squeezed myother hand, her touch gentle but firm. "Your father's right." She shot him a fond look before turning back to me. "And there's something else we need to talk about, Lana."
I knew what was coming, and part of me wanted to flee the conversation. But I'd already laid my professional life bare; what was left but to confront the personal?
"Cam," I said softly.
"Cam," she agreed. "We know why you felt you couldn't tell us the truth about your arrangement. But I think the person you were really lying to was yourself."
I opened my mouth to protest, but she continued, her voice gentle but insistent.
"We've watched you light up every time Cam walks into a room. You're the only one who thought you were faking it." She smiled, a knowing look in her eyes. "Everyone else could see it – you two are meant to be together."
"But the trade… "
"Trade offers come and go," my father said with a dismissive wave. "Good ones get rejected all the time."
"And what if he takes it?" I asked, voicing the fear that had been gnawing at me since the meeting. "What if he leaves?"
"Then you'll face that challenge too," my mother said simply. "But not by running away or hiding how you feel. By facing it together."
The simple wisdom in her words struck a chord deep within me. I'd spent so long protecting myself, building walls, keeping my feelings locked away where they couldn't hurt me. And where had it gotten me? Alone, heartbroken, contemplating resignation from the job I loved.
"I'm scared," I admitted, the words barely audible. "I've never felt like this before. And if he leaves..."
"Then at least you'll know you were honest," my mother said. "With him and with yourself. That's all any of us can really do."
