Chapter 38

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

Riggs

I grin when I walk off the ice the next day and see Ella leaning back against the wall, her mouth tipped up and eyes staring me up and down.

"What's it about guys in hockey helmets?" she says, rising on tiptoe and brushing her lips over mine. "Ups the hot factor by a hundred."

"I thought you had to work."

"I had a cancellation and thought I'd peep in on my boyfriend," she says, dropping back onto her heels and glancing around. "Plus, I wanted to make sure you were good."

Because my dad is here.

Ever since that moment in the kitchen, when my dad stepped outside the asshole and said something halfway decent, things have been…weird.

I keep bracing, ready for the asshole to lash out.

Instead, he's been…almost affable.

And I don't really know what to do with that.

I slip off my gloves, tossing them to our equipment guy who needs to finish up his duties without waiting for me to flirt with my girlfriend, but when I turn back to Ella and touch her cheek, she wrinkles her nose.

"Whew," she murmurs, "I forgot about the glove funk. Ugh." She pretends to gag. "It's bringing back memories of being trapped in the car with Knox and his stinky ass gear."

" Chérie , I had them on for an hour."

The wrinkles in her nose grow. "And that's more than long enough."

I tug a lock of her hair. "Always got something to say, don't you?"

"Yup." But she's smiling. "Now," she says. "Are you really okay?"

"I'm sweaty and exhausted and Knox is going to kick my ass in the weight room after this in a way I'm so not looking forward to?—"

She opens her mouth.

"But—" I cup her jaw. "But I'm fine . My dad has been…" I shrug. "Fine."

"Super convincing." But there's something in her tone, a clue as to why she's here. "Fine. Fine. Everything's fine."

I tug that strand of hair again. "Well, I'm not going to lie and tell you that my dad and I spent the morning painting each other's nails."

She giggles.

"But considering how rough things have been the last couple of years…I'll take fine."

"That's fair."

I study her closely. Yeah, she's here because she wants to look after me, but also…there's sadness clinging in her eyes.

"How'd it go with Kit?"

She winces. "The same. I try to talk to him and he ignores me." She lifts a shoulder, allows it to drop just as quickly in a delicate, one-shouldered shrug. "I don't blame him. I just…"

Dammit.

I draw her close, hockey funk be damned.

"You just want to fix it."

Like she's trying to fix my relationship with my dad. Like she fixed Donna's loneliness and set up Nova with Lake.

Because she can't fix what happened to her.

"I know I'm overstepping."

God, I love this woman.

" Chérie ," I murmur, stroking a hand down her back.

"You give good hugs," she whispers, "even while dressed like a marshmallow."

"Hey now," I tease, letting her change the subject. "This is protective equipment. Hell, some might even say it's armor ."

She lifts her head from my chest and smiles lasciviously. "And you're my dirty-mouthed knight in said armor who will save me with orgasms?"

"With orgasms and apple fritters."

Her laughter—it's the best feeling in the fucking world.

But it doesn't last long, the sad creeping back in.

I lean down, the distance further than normal because of my skates, and press my forehead to hers. "Want to play hooky and go hang out at your spot? I'll blow off Knox and the old man. You reschedule your afternoon appointments." I wink. "Then we'll make some trouble."

I want the worry that's been eating at her about Kit, about me, to disappear.

But I also get it's not that simple, so I'll do what I can to distract her.

And the smile she gives me in response to my teasing words…

Well, I've accomplished that for a bit.

"I have a full highlight with my client, Cassie," she says. "She's getting married this weekend, so I can't blow her off."

I tap her on the nose. "Then we'll make trouble later."

Her smile grows. "That sounds like a plan. Well…I should go." She glances over my shoulder and I watch as her expression changes. Mischief to protective. "Want me to take the old man with me?" she asks, voice lifting enough to be heard by my dad who's coming up behind her. "I can touch up those grays, give him a fresh new cut to attract the ladies. Maybe then he won't be so grumpy."

My dad's laughter reaches my ears a second later, rough and a little rusty from disuse. "I don't think there's much that can help this mug," he says, scrubbing a hand over his face. "But if you want to dull your scissors on this mop"—he fusses with his hair—"then I won't stop you."

Shock has me rocking back on my heels.

Ella slips her hand into mine and squeezes, getting it in a millisecond, understanding exactly how fucking monumental this shit is.

Laughter? Self-deprecation? Offering himself up as Ella's haircut sacrificial lamb?

Obviously, she wouldn't fuck up his hair—especially since she's retired her clippers—but…

That my dad is going along with it? That he's putting himself in a vulnerable position and?—

I don't know this person.

Or maybe…I thought he didn't exist any longer.

"Ella!"

Heart pounding, I manage to pull it together as Evie runs down the hall. She's a spitting image of her mom, Ivy, aside from the brightness of her hair and the sweetness of her personality.

Ivy's hard, all barbed wired and crocodile-filled moats.

Evie is…sunshine on a cool spring morning.

Ella intercepts her with a hug, and they start talking about bows.

"She reminds me of your mother," my dad says quietly.

"Evie?" I ask. Her mom is our head trainer and the lead ass-kicker of the Sierra's player development department.

A.K.A. the director of high performance.

Which basically means that she gets us all in fighting shape…and then kicks our asses all over again, just for good measure.

"No," my dad says. "Ella."

My throat closes up.

This is fucking uncharted territory. We don't do this. Don't talk about my mom, don't discuss what she was like, don't mention the faint memories I hold tight to that are the only part of her I still have aside from the much-worn teddy bear in my closet at the house.

"Your mom was like Ella—she wouldn't put up with my shit. She'd dig in her heels, would call me on it, and do it all with a smile." He shakes his head wryly. "And before I knew it, I was doing exactly what she wanted all along just because I wanted to keep that smile on her face. She was special, your mom." A breath. "So fucking special and when I lost that…I didn't handle it well."

"Dad."

"I fucked up with you."

My heart lurches in my chest.

Remorseful eyes lock onto mine. "I fucked up in a lot of ways, too many to fucking count. I didn't see that before…or was too fucking lost in my own misery to understand. Not until Ella made me see—" Breaking off, his gaze goes back down the hall, and I see Ivy's joined Evie and Ella as he sighs. "Do what you need to do here, son. I'll look after your woman until you get home."

And then, like he hasn't just pulled the biggest personality change of all time, he just…

Strolls away from me.

He corrals Ella with a gruff, "You can't be late for your client. She's got a wedding to get prepared for, right?"

Man's got ears like an elephant.

I shake my head.

"You're absolutely right, Todd-o-Rama," she says before tossing me a wicked grin. "How do you feel about becoming Patches 2.0?"

Laughter in my throat.

My woman waves as the group breaks up—Ivy turning for the weight room and Evie skipping off down the hall to hang out in her mom's office like usual. The girl's hair is in a complicated-looking bun-braid combo that I have no idea how Ella managed to create in such a short time.

My woman can work miracles.

Creating gorgeous pieces of art.

Taming grumpy old men.

I wave back and then she and my dad are heading the other direction, disappearing down the corridor that will lead out to the parking lot.

I watch them go.

Then turn for the locker room to get changed.

But I don't miss Knox coming through the door before I get there, same as I don't miss him heading directly for the weight room…

Where Ivy is.

Hmm.

And then I wonder what kind of miracles my woman can work there too.