Chapter 38

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Niko

Two hours earlier

My phone rings right in the middle of post-hockey-practice math homework. When I see who is calling, I leave Ayana and Paul in the dining room and head out to the lanai for some privacy.

"Hello, moy khoroshiy ." Katya's warm greeting hits my ears and I feel like I am twelve again, visiting Ivan and Katya's home for the first time.

"Katya. It is so good to hear your voice."

"You act as if we have not spoken in years," she says with amusement.

"I know. I..." I trail off, not sure what to say now that I have her on the phone.

Ever since Ayana presented me with that photo the other day, my mind has been swirling with all manner of regret and second guessing. I have spent so much time staring at it, I have every detail memorized. It now rests under all the contents of my sock drawer to keep me from obsessing over it any longer.

In a moment of weakness yesterday, I called Katya, almost relieved when I got her voicemail since I had yet to form a concrete reason for calling. As it turns out, I am no better off a day later.

Katya waits for me to continue, and when I do not, she sighs. "Talk to me, Niko. You do not sound like yourself. What is troubling you?"

"Nothing," I lie, deciding she does not need to be burdened with my problems. "I was only calling to check on you." I turn back to the glass door to see Ayana perched on her knees on a dining chair, tongue clenched between her teeth in concentration as she leans over her math homework.

"Ivan always said you were a bad liar because you did not have enough practice at it."

I cough out a rough chuckle. "I am not so sure about that. Perhaps he was just easy to fool."

Katya laughs, the sound lilting and bright. She sounds like her old self, which is relieving. "That is a good one, Niko." She is right, of course. Ivan was as sharp as they come. Sobering, she continues, "Out with it. And I want the truth this time. Allow me to help you for once."

"You and Ivan have both helped me more than enough," I remind her.

"Oh, Ivan wanted your success more than you did, I would wager. You should have seen him preening around town bragging about you."

"Ivan did not preen," I insist, picturing my old coach, lines etched into his stern face and his posture permanently set in battle mode.

"Stop evading, Niko. I keep telling you it was just a rough few days and you do not need to worry. My neighbors and Safiya check on me so often my doormat is worn thin."

"I am glad."

"You are a good boy."

I cannot remember the last time anyone but Katya referred to me as a boy, and it takes me back to early days.

"I am not so sure about that." My eyes drop to my bare feet on the stamped concrete surrounding the pool. Here goes nothing. "I am struggling with a...situation." My voice sounds strangled, even to my own ears. "I think I made a mistake."

I hear a sharp gasp from the other end of the line and wonder for a split second if Katya has injured herself. My concern is invalidated when she exclaims, "It is a woman!"

"What?! How did you...I never said–" I sputter, my eyes flashing back to Ayana behind the glass. But she remains at the table, oblivious of my conversation with Katya.

"Nothing makes a man sound so confounded and desperate as love."

My voice drops to a whisper for some reason. "I certainly never said anything about love!" Although that very sentiment is written all over that photograph, despite all my efforts to deny it.

"So, who is she?" Katya ignores my protests and forges ahead. "Has she met Ayana yet?"

Since she clearly cannot be dissuaded, I exhale loudly and give in, getting straight to the heart of the matter. "She is Coach Bowman's daughter."

I half expect Katya to lose her shit and fall over laughing at the irony, however, she does nothing of the sort. Instead, she is silent for so long, I wonder if our connection has been broken.

"Katya?"

"My darling boy," is all she says.

"I crossed a line and tried to go back...but now I fear there is no going back." My eyes close, the heavy weight of disappointing either of my mentors resettling on my shoulders like a familiar cloak.

Katya sighs. "You have spent so much of your life repaying imaginary debts, Niko. But you are your own man–a good man–and the best way to honor those you hold in high esteem is to allow yourself to be happy. And to share that happiness, instead of miring yourself in that strict sense of duty you cling to." As if reading my thoughts, she continues, "If Ivan and I had been blessed with a daughter, I cannot think of anyone we would trust her with more than you."

"Katya." My voice is suddenly hoarse.

"Was Coach Bowman's daughter happy when she was with you?"

"I think so," I admit before anticipating her next question. "And I know I was happy with her."

"Then honor everyone–including her and yourself–by living your life to its fullest. You only live once, my boy."

Her words conjure more images of Ivan. He certainly lived his life to its fullest, that cannot be denied. And then another coach's face takes Ivan's place in my mind as adrenaline begins filtering into my bloodstream.

"Katya, I need to go."

She must like something in my tone because her response is, "Bring her to visit next time you come home, yes?"

Instead of confirming or denying, I thank Katya and hang up. It is time to get a sitter for Ayana and get my ass across town.

Forty minutes later, I am knocking on Coach Bowman's front door.

He takes one look at my expression and swings the door wide to usher me in with an inexplicable, "I've been waiting for this visit." My confused expression goes unacknowledged as Coach leads me to his study and goes straight for the liquor cart. "Vodka?"

I nod absently, one hand going to the back of my neck and the other diving into my pocket as Coach pours our drinks. I wonder for a moment if Chloe has confided in him, but it matters little. I am here to say something I should have said weeks ago, so I forge ahead, intent on explaining myself and coming clean.

Instead, however, I simply declare, "Love is mean. You may fall in love with a goat."

The hand holding Coach's glass of bourbon freezes halfway to his mouth. "Excuse me?"

I shake my head, realizing I have cocked things up with another of my Russian idioms that does not translate quite as well as I had hoped. This situation calls for straight honesty, however, not metaphors or flowery speech.

"I am in love with your daughter."

The bourbon glass finishes its journey to Coach's mouth while his eyes stare into mine. He pulls in a sip and holds it before swallowing and lowering the glass. "I know." He hands me a crystal glass with my vodka, and I pull my hand from my pocket to accept it with wide eyes.

"You know?"

Coach gestures for me to sit in one of the matching wingback chairs while he takes the other. "Everyone knows."

Fuck. How is this possible? I did not know myself until a few days ago.

I realize then that one corner of Coach's mouth is quirking. He is...amused? "I am sorry, sir, but why are you not angry with me right now?"

"Why should I be angry that you love my daughter?"

My eyes widen again as I sputter, "You have been..." I clear my throat, something suddenly clogging my words. "...like a father to me. I owe you so much. Chloe is your daughter?—"

He cuts me off, all traces of amusement gone now. "Niko, I'm honored that you think of me that way, and I can tell you the feeling is mutual. But Chloe is forty-two and knows her own mind. As far as I can tell, she can decide for herself who she dates or falls in love with."

At its core, this makes sense, but there are extenuating circumstances. The adrenaline that began flowing after my talk with Katya surges again, and I spear frustrated fingers through my hair. "I fear Chloe would be wasting her time with me, sir. I have Ayana. I have family to care for. I have another year of hockey and then who knows what else. I tried to break things off before it progressed to something more serious."

When I see his responding frown, I hurry to explain myself before I dig this hole any deeper. "Chloe deserves to find someone she can have a real relationship with. She deserves better than me. She deserves someone like her—someone kind and optimistic and compassionate who can and will always put her first and lift her up."

"And you're nothing like that?" Coach Bowman asks, leaning forward in his chair. "Then why would she be interested in you in the first place?"

"Circumstances, perhaps?" I shake my head. "It was supposed to be..." I search for a word that would not embarrass either Chloe or Coach, but all I come up with is, "Casual. She does not know me."

"Right. Casual," he repeats, a definite tic in his jaw–not that I can blame him. "But you know her ?"

"Yes. She is all the things I said, and more." I exhale, picturing Chloe's face covered with flour. "She laughs at herself and brings joy with her wherever she goes, even when she is faced with a challenge or forgetting why she walked into a room." I lift my eyes to Coach's face, searching for words that could adequately describe his daughter and knowing I will never find enough to do the job. So, I settle for, "She looks at life like a ripe piece of fruit to be devoured and savored at the same time. And she makes everyone around her do the same."

Coach nods. "So, during this casual thing, you spent all this time with her and know so much about her—not only who she is on the outside, but you know her heart. And you don't think she knows exactly who you are too?"

I set my untouched vodka on the edge of Coach's enormous wood desk and clasp my hands together. "Sir, I did not mean to be disrespectful when I said it was casual. I just mean...well...she probably only thinks she loves me. But she cannot. Should not."

But he shocks me by bursting into laughter in the next moment. When my frown intensifies, he oddly says, "I promise you'll think it's funny one day too."

I open my mouth to ask him what the hell he is talking about but he beats me to it. "Niko, I know few men as good as you. My father, my college coach, and maybe Roman when he's not buffing his fingernails. You have honor, integrity, and a sense of loyalty I've never witnessed in another man."

That object clogs my throat again, and I find I cannot speak. So, instead, I shift forward uncomfortably in my chair, resting my elbows on my knees.

"All of this is to say that If you're who my daughter wants, then I can only think of one reason you and Chloe shouldn't be together in a way that's not casual."

I nod, knowing exactly what he means. "My obligations that would prevent me from giving her all the attention and focus she deserves. My...surliness. My controlling nature. My dishonesty with you." I take a breath to continue since the list is endless, but Coach throws out his palm and sets his own glass on the desk.

"Stop. The only reason you shouldn't be together is if you don't love her with all your heart. If that's the case, I'll respectfully ask you to step aside."

I swallow thickly past the lump in my throat, heat suffusing my chest and belly and my pulse quickening. But the heat is not from anger or anxiety or self-loathing...it is from the overwhelming emotion filling me at just the prospect of being free to love and care for someone simply because she makes me happy. To love...Chloe.

Still. "But, Coach, I . . . she deserves . . . more.

His lips tug in a half smile. "Why don't you let my daughter decide what she deserves? In case you haven't noticed, she's not only bright, she's independent as hell."

"But Ayana," I begin again before shaking my head to better organize my words. "Ayana will always come first, and that is not fair to Chloe."

"Just like Chloe always came first for me when she was a child. But children eventually grow up—usually before their dads are ready. Besides, the Chloe I know would be suffocated by a guy who hovered over her day and night and had no other interests or obligations. Frankly, that sounds a little creepy, if you don't mind me saying so."

Before I can even begin thinking of a reply, he waves me off again with a short laugh. "I'm joking. But have you seen Chloe and Ayana together? They're two peas in a pod. In fact, you may have to fight your daughter for Chloe's attention in the end." A grin tugs at my lips even as I will it away, along with the burgeoning hope working its way through my chest. "Speaking of Ayana," Coach says with a lift of his eyebrows. "You think you're doing right by that girl walking around like a miserable lone wolf?"

My eyes narrow at his characterization, and I finally reach for my vodka and take a sip. The sharp liquor sears my throat. "Benny called me a bear. And a hyena. It seems I must add wolf to the list."

Coach chuckles knowingly and retrieves his glass as well. "Listen, Niko, I know I've never talked much about my personal life, and now I regret it. Because you could learn from my mistakes." He takes a small sip and swallows. "Dawn and I dragged out our marriage way longer than we should have, thinking we were doing right by Chloe in staying together. Then Dawn jumped right into an ill-conceived marriage while I remained single and threw myself into work and Chloe's hockey. Before I knew it, she was off to college and got hitched right after that. Dawn and I both messed up. Kids need examples of balance and healthy relationships so they can find both for themselves later on."

One of the reasons Peyton and I divorced was that I did not want Ayana to grow up with parents who were constantly at odds with each other. But I had not thought further than that.

"In the end, all we taught Chloe about relationships is that they're painful and not all that rewarding. I suspect she settled when she and Josh got married. Thinking back, I wonder if she just threw up her hands and thought, ‘Well, he asked, so I guess this is what people do.'"

I do not like hearing this—or hearing that my behavior may be negatively affecting Ayana—and my responding frown indicates as much.

"I'm not saying he wasn't a decent guy. He was. I just think he wasn't the right guy." He sends me a pointed look that is impossible to misinterpret.

"And you think..." I can't finish the question, I am so taken aback.

Coach nods. "If you want to be."

I study his face for a few moments before dropping my eyes shut. A flood of emotion fills my entire body as memories from the last several months wash over me. When my eyes open again, there is nothing but conviction in my voice.

"I do. More than anything."

"Then what are you waiting for?"