Chapter 17

Chapter

Seventeen

GRACE

I stayed by his bedside all night long. Then I hear the phone ring—it's his cell. Sometime late last night, Reid delivered it. He left it with me and checked up on Otto. I could tell he was worried, and I told him everything I knew.

Reaching for the device, I notice that it says Maman . Oh god. His mother probably only speaks French. I wonder if I should just let this call go to voice mail. But then I glance at the strong man lying in the bed. The man who looks like a shadow of himself, almost small and frail in that bed.

Except I know he's still strong as shit, inside and out, and I know he wouldn't want his mother to worry. So, that's why I slide my finger across the screen and lift the phone to my ear.

"Hello?"

"Otto?" she asks, her voice soft and airy. I can hear her French accent in just that one simple word.

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Larsson, but there's been an accident."

I hear her gasp, then her bloodcurdling scream. I try to calm her down. I call out her name, but she just screams in my ear. Then the phone is taken from my hand, and I shift my gaze over to Otto, who rolls his eyes to the ceiling before his baritone voice fills the room.

" Maman ," he grunts once, twice, then three times.

"I'm okay," he says. "There was an accident. It happened on the ice during practice. A puck hit me right in the cheek. Split it open, fractured and broke all kinds of shit. I'm held together now with pins and metal."

Wincing, I think about the fact that his face was broken. I hate that. And Reid told me that it was because my father angrily shouted his name and distracted him. Forrest was already midswing and couldn't stop his movements. The puck went flying right into the side of Otto's face.

He retells the whole story to his mother. I listen unabashedly, loving the fact that he switches between French and English. I don't think he even realizes that he's doing it. Then he clears his throat.

"Yes, that was Grace. She hasn't left my side."

Pressing my lips together, I roll them a few times. My face feels warm, and I know that my cheeks are probably bright red.

"I haven't heard yet. Yes, I'll come visit you, and I'll bring Grace."

He ends the call, then holds out his phone for me. I take the device from him and place it on the little bedside table next to him. I open my mouth to ask him about his mother when the door to the hospital room flies open, and there stands my asshole father.

He doesn't say anything immediately. Instead, he moves into the room, the door closing behind him. His gaze finds mine, and he narrows his eyes on me. I watch as he makes his way straight toward us but then shifts to Otto's bedside, completely ignoring me.

I don't give him the satisfaction of a response.

Instead, I stare at him, waiting to hear what he has to say. But as he speaks, I realize that I'm going to be sorely disappointed with him, which really isn't that surprising. My father has disappointed me so much in my life that I'm always shocked when he doesn't.

"Doctor says you're out for six weeks," my father grunts.

"I'm sorry, Coach. I didn't even make one game," Otto grumbles.

"Your position is still locked in. Don't worry about any of that. I did want to talk to you about something," he mumbles.

"Is it about Grace?" Otto asks, lifting his hand to gesture to me since I'm just a few inches away.

My father doesn't even look at me. He keeps his focus on Otto and only Otto. "Yes, it is," he grinds out.

Otto has no clue what the conversation between me and my father entailed. I haven't had a chance to tell him anything yet. I didn't want him to get upset. But I can see now that I should have said something. That I should have warned him about what my father thinks of our being with one another.

OTTO

I shouldn't ask Grace to leave us alone, but I decide that in order for me to talk to her father man to man, I'm going to need to do it without her by my side.

"I'll only be gone a few minutes," she whispers.

Following her with my eyes, I watch as she stops at the doorway, looking back over her shoulder at me. I dip my chin in a single nod, my gaze still on hers. I try to communicate that I'm good. That this is okay. She must accept that because she tugs the door open and slips through, leaving the two of us alone in the room.

"You wanted to speak to me?" I ask, shifting my attention to Coach Burns.

Burns takes his ball cap off, then runs his palm over the top of his hair. His eyes shift to his feet, then slowly lift to meet mine. "I don't want to talk badly about my own family," he begins. "Especially my daughter?—"

Holding up my hand, I stop him from speaking because I don't think I want to hear his words. They're just gonna piss me off. I know they are. I can tell by the way he ignored Grace the moment he walked through the door.

There is nothing about this conversation that isn't going to enrage me. But I have to relax my shit because it's not like I can get into a fistfight right now, and that's exactly what the fuck I would want to do to this asshole if he says something bad about Grace.

"She's just like her mother. I think it's my duty to warn you about her."

He ignores my palm facing him. He doesn't give a shit that I don't want to hear it. He is going to tell me no matter what.

"I'm sorry you feel that way. I really like Grace. I think she's sweet."

Burns snorts. "It's fake. Everything she says and does is fake as fuck."

Instead of asking for details, I choose to ignore his words because I don't care. At all. Not even a little bit. He can fuck himself completely and wholly. Arching a brow, I stare at him, and after a long moment of silence, he clears his throat.

"You done?" I ask.

He grunts. I guess that's his response, that yes, he is finished. Goddamn, what an absolute fuck. "Thank you for your warning, but I don't give a fuck."

Burns smirks, and it's not the response that I thought he would have. He leans forward, his gaze searching mine. "Then be prepared to take care of her financially. Because I am cutting her off. I don't want her to ruin your life. It will be easier to just let her go, Otto. You aren't in love. She's just a succubus."

"You're going to cut your daughter off because we're dating?" I ask.

The whole concept seems so foreign to me. My parents would never cut me off in any way. I don't think there's anything I could do that would warrant that from them. Especially my mother. I think she would die before she cut me off.

"She needs to learn how to take care of herself. She wants to be money and power hungry? Wants a handout? She won't get it from me."

I stare at him. Blinking and unsure that I've heard what I have. Grace is only nineteen. She's not some grown-ass adult with the means or education to do what he's demanding of her. I can't fathom what he thinks she would do.

"You know why she was expelled from college, don't you?" he asks.

"I do," I say.

"And you still want to be with her? You athletes are fucking stupid. Too many hits to the head. You're a hell of a defenseman, but you're an idiot of a man."

And that's it. I've had enough. I don't need to sit here and listen to him say things about Grace to my face that I know simply are not true, and then to add salt to my wounds, he's talking about my personal intelligence and the hits to the head, today's being his fucking fault.

"I think it's time for you to go, Coach."

He shakes his head once as if he finds me completely unbelievable. I find him the same way. I just have the respect for his position, not him as a man, though, to not call him out on it.

"You'd be making a mistake if you went after her. Sure, she's pretty, like her mother. That blonde hair, big doe eyes, and brick shithouse of a body. But it's not worth it because she will only ruin your life. I regret every fucking day that I married that woman."

I decide not to respond to that because it's not worth my response. This man isn't worth it to me. Watching him for a moment, I wonder if I can even play for him any longer. I don't respect him at all.

Granted, I don't think I have a shot of getting picked up by anyone else right now. The doctor has made it very clear that I won't be playing for another six weeks. He's also instructed me to get a caged mask, which I'll be wearing from now on for games and practices. Because I do not want to do this shit again.

It's not the pain or even the surgery. It's the weeks out of the rink that kills me. It's letting my team down. It's feeling like a piece of shit for not being the best player that I can be for my brothers.

"This is my personal life, and my mistake or not, it's mine to make, not yours to dictate my moves. In the rink, you are my coach. In my personal life, you are not."

I've said my piece. Burns either respects it or he thinks that he won't be able to talk me out of it, which would be correct. Grace isn't a bad person, she's not a gold digger, and she definitely isn't a mistake by any means. At least not that I can tell, and I pride myself on being a good judge of character.

"I expect to see you in the gym at least working out when you can. On the ice when you get a doctor's clearance."

"You will," I confirm.

Although in the back of my mind, I'm pretty sure I'll be on the lookout for another team. Which I fucking hate because I love my teammates, but if my dating and falling in love with Grace is going to be a problem, I don't plan on working with him much longer.

Thankfully, he turns and walks out of the room, leaving me alone with my thoughts. And those turn to Grace. I try to find even a modicum of the woman who Bruns described. I find absolutely nothing. I just don't see it. Grace Burns is perfect for me.

Then she walks into the room, and any doubt I had disappears simply at the sight of her.