Page 46 of Lucky Hit

Like I did with Lily, I offer her father my hand and wait for him to take it. He takes my hand almost immediately and grips it tightly. I smile and shake his hand firmly. He nods his head in approval.

"It's nice to finally meet you, Mr. Layton," I say in a firm, steady voice, my nerves dissipating.

"Nice to finally put a name to the face, Oakley," he says roughly. "Hope you're hungry. Lily made enough food to feed an army." He drops his hand to his side and stands next to his wife, his other arm tight around her waist.

"Um, hello? I'm still here. Nice to meet you, Oakley," Ben jokes. He shakes my hand with a firm grip, like his father.

"Likewise."

"Okay, introductions are over. Help me set the table, Ben," Lily orders.

Ben rolls his eyes, and I feel an immediate fondness for him. "Why do I always have to set the table?"

???

With food piled on our plates, we eat in a comfortable silence. Ava stares at me through her lashes, a small smile lighting up her face. I lift a brow and raise my glass to my lips.

"Oakley, Ava told us you play hockey. Is that something you're serious about pursuing permanently?" Lily asks with genuine curiosity, tearing my attention away from her daughter.

"Yes, I do. And absolutely. Hockey is something that I want to do for as long as I can," I reply, my voice strong and steady.

"So you plan on making it to the big time? You want to play in the major league?" her dad asks, unhelpfully.

I can't say I didn't see this one coming.

"Yes, Sir. Quite a few teams have already approached me. It's been my dream since I was little," I admit. His jaw clenches as he leans closer to the table, his fiery gaze unwavering.

"You and Ava have talked about what's going to happen when you're jetting off all over North America while she's still in college then? You're serious enough about my daughter to come back for her?" His words are harsh, and I don't miss the annoyance in his tone.

I turn to look at Ava as her fork clatters on her plate. Her hands are shaking, cheeks pink. I rest my hand on her thigh and rub my thumb back and forth in an attempt to soothe her.

"What is your problem?" she snaps at her dad through clenched teeth.

"I can assure you that I'm very serious about your daughter. I wouldn't be here if I weren’t," I promise, my hand still on Ava's thigh.

"Are you ready for that, Ava? Never seeing him because he's constantly hopping around from city to city? You deserve better than to be left in the dust until something better comes along," he says, blatantly ignoring what I just told him.

"Sir, with all due respect, I don't plan on leaving Ava in the dust. Nor do I plan on being gone for long periods of time. I'm also confident that I'm not going to find anyone better," I tell him firmly, trying very hard to reign in my rising temper.

"And we're supposed to trust you on that? I can't just believe what you say with blind faith," he snaps back. His words cut through me like knives as the room becomes dead silent.

Lily stares at her husband, open-mouthed as Sydney raises an eyebrow and takes a sip of her drink. Ava simply looks furious.

Ben glares at his father and shakes his head. "Dad, this isn't the time or place. Drop it."

"Ben's right. Now, if you'll excuse us, we'll be upstairs," Ava growls.

She shoots up from the table and storms out of the room, dragging me with her and leaving our half-eaten meals behind. Her breaths come out as short, angry puffs. I have no idea what to say. I simply follow her up a grand, spiral staircase.

I don't blame her dad for asking those questions. Yes, they could have been phrased differently, but I would have asked the same things if I were in his position. The part that sucks the most about what just happened is that he wasn't wrong about anything. Well, other than me finding someone better. I don't think that's even a possibility.

Ava comes to a stop outside of a white painted door at the end of the warm, inviting hallway.

"This is my room. Make yourself at home." She pushes the door open and I hesitantly make my way inside.

Her room is exactly the opposite of her other room at the apartment. The room is clean and sleek, without a single thing out of place. The walls are painted a cool teal—matching her bed covers—and every piece of furniture is white. A neat, tidy desk sits under the window. The two white doors on the opposite wall must lead to a closet and bathroom.

My eyes follow Ava as she crosses the room and flops onto her bed. I sit down beside her on the edge of the bed and rub her leg.

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