Page 101 of Dirty Pucking Player

And it’s starting to wear on me.

Stamina on the ice is one thing. Sitting here, watching someone die is completely different. My entire body aches, and I stare out the window at a town I never thought I’d come back to.

The last time I was here was for Mom’s funeral. Even though it was only a few years ago, it simultaneously feels like an eternity and only yesterday.

While burying her felt like losing a piece of me, the thought of putting dad in the cold ground Dad feels more like a release of something I’ve been holding onto for so damn long that I won’t even know what it’s like to live without that weight.

Saying goodbye to him won’t be hard, but still, I would’ve liked to know why he wanted to see me—what was so damn important that he asked to see me after all these years. But if it doesn’t happen, if he never wakes up long enough to say whatever it is he needs to say, I won’t hang on to any regret where he’s concerned.

The only reason I came was so he could get whatever he needed to say off his chest before he died. The fact that I would get to speak my piece where he’s concerned was just an added bonus—one I’m sure I can live without if need be.

Leave it to Dad to get me to fly home to see him then never even talk to me.

The old bastard.

I glance back at the bed and freeze. Amber eyes, the same color as mine, stare back.

“You came.” His words are soft and barely audible, but they roll over me like an ice-cold wind in a whipping blizzard.

Goosebumps pebble on my skin, and my throat tightens. I approach slowly, with as much reluctance as the years have left weighing on my shoulders, and stand behind the chair I just vacated. “You wanted to see me.”

He nods slightly and motions toward a glass of water sitting on the table next to his bed. I grab it and hold the straw to his lips. He takes a sip, then closes his eyes again.

Shit.

For a second, I almost thought this was it. I set the Cup back on the table, and his eyes flutter open to meet my gaze.

“Why did you want to see me?”

He sucks in a shallow breath. “To apologize.”

I snort and shake my head. “For what?”

The list of his sins and things he should be apologizing for is so long, there isn’t enough paper or ink in the world to write it all down.

“For what I did to your mother. For what I did to you and Jameson and Rachel.”

Something tightens around my chest, and I wrap my hands around the back of the chair and squeeze to try to relieve some of the tension building in my body. “A little late for that, don’t you think?”

He nods and lets out a rattling cough. “I wanted to say that for a long time, but I knew you wouldn’t talk to me.”

Probably right.

If he had called, I wouldn’t have answered, or I would have hung up.

“And your brother isn’t coming.”

“I know.”

“Where’s your sister?”

“She went back to your house to sleep for a few hours, but she’ll be back. She hasn’t left you.”

“I know.” He offers a sad smile. “She has your mother’s heart.”

I squeeze my eyes shut and grit my teeth. “She loved you, even though you treated her like fucking garbage.”

“I was stupid, Sebastian. I was arrogant and angry.” He coughs and then regains his breath. “I let hockey be my life instead of all of you. And I brought my anger from the games into our home. I only wish I could’ve seen it then the way I do now.”

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