11. Sara

SARA

My blood is simmering as I ride the elevator to our apartment. I know Dad means well, but his interference in my relationship with Emile is infuriating. I understand his protectiveness, I really do. He's been my rock since Mom died, and I'm all he has left. But I'm not a child anymore. I'm a grown woman capable of making my own decisions, even if those decisions involve messy, complicated feelings for a hockey player.

Bursting through the door, I find Dad in the kitchen, pouring himself a finger of scotch. He looks up, surprised by my sudden entrance.

"Sara? Everything all right?"

"No, Dad. It's not all right." I cross my arms, my voice tight with suppressed anger. "Why did you warn Emile away from me?"

He sighs, setting down his glass and turning to face me. "Sara, we've talked about this. I don't want you getting involved with one of my players."

"And I told you, I'm not a child. I can handle myself."

"I know you're not a child, pumpkin. But these guys…" He trails off, shaking his head. "They're not known for their commitment. They're young, they're in the spotlight, and they've got women throwing themselves at them left and right. It's a recipe for heartbreak."

"So, what? You're going to dictate who I can and can't date? What if I fall in love with a doctor? Or a lawyer? Are you going to threaten them too?"

Dad runs a hand through his hair, his expression weary. "Sara, you know this is different. You're all I have left. After your mom…" His voice cracks, and I see the raw grief in his eyes, the pain he's carried with him for years.

My anger softens, replaced by a wave of empathy. I walk over and hug him, feeling the familiar comfort of his embrace. "I know, Dad. I miss her too. But Mom wouldn't want you to shut yourself off from the world. She wouldn't want me to either."

I pull back, looking him in the eye. "Dad, since Mom died, your whole life has been about two things: the team and me. And I'm so grateful for everything you've done, for how you've always been there when I needed you. But… maybe it's time you did something for yourself too."

He looks at me, confusion etched on his features. "What do you mean?"

I reach out, taking his hand in mine. "Dad, you're still young."

"I'm old."

"You're not even fifty. You're fit, good-looking?—"

"I am neither of those things," he scoffs, he pulls his hand from mine and runs it through his graying hair.

"I'm serious, Dad. You're still a catch. And Mom would want you to be happy."

"Don't pull that card on me." He picks up his drink and takes a sip, his eyes avoiding mine. "This isn't about me, Sara."

"But it should be," I insist. "You deserve to find someone who makes you laugh again, Dad. Someone who reminds you that there's life beyond the hockey rink. Emile and I—we can handle ourselves. You've taught me how to be strong and brave, to never give up, and to always fight for what I want. Maybe it's time you took some of that advice for yourself. Maybe it's time for you to be strong and brave."

He's quiet for a moment, his gaze distant. Then he sighs, his shoulders slumping slightly. "I don't know, Sara. It's been a long time. I'm not sure I even know how to date anymore."

I reach out and give his arm a squeeze. "You'll figure it out. Just like I'm figuring things out with Emile."

"You're serious about this kid, huh?"

I nod, my heart swelling with a love that feels both terrifying and mind-blowing. "Yeah, Dad. I am. I'm in love with him. And I'm pretty sure he's in love with me too. I know it might be hard to believe, but he looks at me the way you looked at Mom in your wedding pictures. And he sees past the glasses and the bookish exterior. He sees me, Dad. And I've never felt anything like it."

"It's not hard to believe, Sara. I see how special you are."

"Then why are you trying to stand in my way?"

With a sigh, he looks into the glass held in his hand. "I want to give you my blessing here, sweetheart. I do. But you know I have a hard time trusting hockey players. I've seen too many of them hurt the women in their lives."

I tilt my head slightly, looking him straight in the eye. "Dad, you were a hockey player once yourself. Did you ever cheat on Mom?"

The question seems to catch him off guard, but he answers without hesitation. "No. Never. She was my world."

I smile softly, feeling tears well up again, but for a different reason this time. "Then maybe I'll be Emile's world. Maybe he'll be mine. But we'll never know if you won't stop this nonsense and give us a chance."

Dad looks at me, really looks at me, and I can see the moment he starts to understand and back down. He pulls me into a hug, holding me tight. "When did you get so wise, huh?"

I laugh, hugging him back just as fiercely. "I learned from the best."

We stay like that for a while, just holding each other, and it feels like a weight has been lifted off my shoulders. When we finally pull back, Dad has a thoughtful look on his face.

"OK. I'll back off. I'll let you and Emile... do whatever it is you're doing. But I have one condition."

I raise an eyebrow, a little wary. "What's that?"

"You come work for the Nighthawks. In the marketing department, just like we talked about."

I blink, surprised. "Dad, I don't want to work for the team just so you can keep an eye on me and Emile."

He shakes his head. "That's not why I'm asking. Sara, you're brilliant at what you do. And we could really use someone with your skills and passion to travel with the team and manage their social media. We sell a crazy amount of merchandise and tickets that way, and I just know you'll be amazing at it. It would be a dream come true for me to have you working alongside me. Not because you're my daughter, but because you're an asset to any team."

My dad's expression is earnest, hopeful as I consider his words. A part of me has always dreamed of making my own mark, separate from the shadow of the Nighthawks' and my father's legacy. Yet another part can't deny the allure of having my cake and eating it too. If I take this job, I'll be working in my chosen field, and I'll get to stay in the same city as Emile, and even travel to away games with him too. It's a win-win.

"OK," I finally say, the words carving out a new path in front of me. "I'll do it. But on my terms. I want real responsibilities, and I don't want any special treatment because I'm your daughter. I need this to be about my skills and what I can bring to the team, not just about keeping me close."

Dad nods, his eyes bright. "You got it, pumpkin. You'll earn your keep, just like everyone else. Welcome aboard."

"Not so fast. I have one more condition."

He chuckles. "What's that? You want me to pretend I don't know you in front of your co-workers?"

"They all know we're related, so no. I want you to promise to start living for yourself a bit more, maybe even putting yourself out there again. You know, you could always ask that cute physical therapist out for coffee?"

He blushes, actually blushes, and it's the most adorable thing I've ever seen. "Sara!"

"What? I've seen the way you look at her. And the way she looks at you. She thinks you're a silver fox."

"She does not!"

"Does too," I tease, nudging him playfully. The grin that finally claims his face tells me I might have won this round. "Just think about it, OK?"

He shakes his head, still smiling. "You're impossible. You know that?"

"I learned from the best," I repeat, grinning.

And as we head to the living room and settle into the couch, Dad unmuting the TV so we can watch the recap of their last game together, I feel like everything is finally starting to fall in place. I have a job I'm excited about, I have a man I love, and I have a dad who's finally starting to understand me. It's a far cry from where I thought I'd be just a few months ago, but somehow, it's darn near perfect.