Chapter 31

THIRTY-ONE

Canyon

I've just gotten back to my hotel room after a game when my father's name flashes on my phone's screen.

Great.

Just what I need.

He doesn't call often, and if I don't pick up, he'll just keep calling back.

"Hey, Dad," I say by way of greeting.

"Canyon." His deep voice is brusque. "Where are you? On a road trip?"

"Dallas today," I reply. "Phoenix tomorrow."

"The team's been playing well. You could very well make the playoffs."

As if I don't know.

"We're planning on it."

"I read somewhere you're dating some supermodel."

"Her name is Saylor. And yes, we've been seeing each other a couple of months." That's probably a slight exaggeration, but my father doesn't need to know the details of my personal life.

"She's beautiful."

"I think so."

"A little older than you. What's that about?"

"Age is just a number, Dad. Look at you and Fiona." His new wife is almost twenty years his junior.

He ignores my jab. "Is it serious?"

"It's a little early, but we're heading in that direction, yes."

"What about the girl?"

"The girl? You mean, Ally? Your granddaughter?"

He grunts. "I haven't seen her in nearly ten years. Her mother ended our relationship, so I lost my granddaughter a long time ago."

"That's not Ally's fault."

"I realize that, but come on, son, what are you trying to prove here?"

"I'm not trying to prove anything. I'm giving a scared little kid who has no one else a home."

"Canyon, I respect what you're doing. I do. You've grown into a good man. But think about this. Think about your life. Your future ."

"What about it?"

"As someone who raised two kids, I can tell you it's not easy. Everything changes. Your life isn't your own. And even if you're ready to give up your freedom, your way of life, and all of that, there's more to raising kids than just providing food and shelter. As you saw with Carly, sometimes you can do everything right—and it's still wrong."

"Carly had issues," I acknowledge, "but they weren't your fault."

"Of course they were my fault!" he says. "Who else's fault could it be?"

"She was her own person. She made a mistake and got pregnant, but she's not the first teenager to get knocked up by a deadbeat. It happens. You weren't responsible."

"Not directly, but obviously, I was a shit father to a girl. I did okay with you, but girls are different. And you're not even Allison's father. Do you really think you can raise a little girl? Seriously, son, your mother and I let her down. Her mother let her down. The system is letting her down. How many more people are going to let this kid down? Do her a favor and find some nice, suburban couple to adopt her. Raise her. Give her a real family. If you care about her, that's the best thing you can do for her."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence," I grunt.

"It's not about confidence," he says. "It's about reality. Practicality. Think about it, Canyon. You're a pro hockey player. You're gone all the time. You've had to hire a nanny, right?"

"Two of them."

"So the nannies are going to be raising her. Not you. Two strangers. How is she better off than with a real family?"

"Tons of guys have families," I protest. "They make it work. That doesn't make them bad fathers."

"Those guys have wives. The mothers of their children. It's not the same."

"Dad, I don't want to argue about this. I'm not giving Ally up. She's Carly's daughter. To me, there's no question of whether or not I can do it—it's just a matter of figuring out the best way to do it."

"And what about your girlfriend? How does she feel about the ready-made family? She probably wants kids of her own. You're only twenty-six and at the height of your career. You really want to be distracted by a woman and a hormonal pre-teen?"

"Saylor isn't a distraction. I'm in love with her. She's the best thing to happen to me in a long time. And I'm playing better than ever, so what's a distraction in your eyes has actually been pretty damn good for me."

My father sighs dramatically.

"I'm trying to give you the benefit of my experience, son. I know how hard it can be and stepping in as both mother and father for this kid, well, you're setting yourself up for a lot of hurt."

"Maybe you should meet her before making up your mind about what's going to happen."

"I don't even know what I would say. Does she know what a piece of shit her father was? Or that her mother didn't believe what he did to her?"

"No. She's eleven. How am I supposed to tell her that? The therapist thinks we can leave that alone unless and until we have a reason to tell her. She was two. And it doesn't appear she has any memory of it."

"Thank fuck for that." He snorts. "Well, it's your life. You're a grown man. You've never taken advice from me before, so I don't know why I thought you'd start now. But be prepared, Canyon. I mean it. The girlfriend, the kid, it's going to be all-encompassing, and this is your first chance at a championship. You don't need to be distracted."

"I'll be fine. Okay? I know what I'm doing."

He seems to give up at that point, and we talk for another minute about inconsequential topics before we end the call.

My father changed after my mother's death.

I get it, but I also don't.

I have great memories of him as a kid. He was a good father, a good husband, and a caring man. Something inside of him broke when he lost my mom, but I refuse to be the kind of man he's become since then.

I'm going to do right by Ally, even if it kills me.

And some days it feels like it might.

But none of us truly fought for Carly, so I'm going to fight for her daughter.

* * *

The team meets for breakfast the next morning, and I sit at a table with Gabe, Jensen, Ivan, Marty, and Connor. We've become pretty close this season, despite the age difference since Connor just turned nineteen and Gabe will be thirty-seven this year. It's a good group, though, and the fact that the women in our lives are close, minus Marty's wife, makes it that much better.

"Harper is planning something special for Saylor's retirement," Gabe tells us once we've gotten our food.

"She's retiring?" Marty asks.

I nod. "She wants to paint and run her gallery full-time, although she's open for acting jobs since the money's good."

"What's the plan? Jensen asks.

"She's going to do a private, catered breakfast the morning after the Alexa Humboldt show. We have to leave for the airport by eleven to meet up with the team, so she's planning it early. She and Chey are working on getting as many people Saylor's worked with in her career as a kind of toast/roast, along with a slide show of the highlights of her career and a bunch of other stuff. I don't know the details, just that we need to be there for the beginning and then we can head out when we have to."

"Oh, she'll love that," I say, nodding.

"Sounds like fun," Ivan agrees.

"I think Alexa is going to present her with some kind of lifetime achievement award because Saylor has modeled more Humboldt dresses than anyone else."

"I never thought I'd be excited about fashion shows and shit," Connor says, "but if it's important to you guys and the ladies, I'm in."

He's grown up a lot this season, and we're proud of him.

"Hey, can I join you?" Philippe comes in, late as usual, and drops down into the one open chair at our table.

Fantastic.

Breakfast with our least favorite dickhead.

But Coach is at the table right next to us, and we can't very well say no.

"Sure," Gabe responds diplomatically.

Phil puts his phone down and looks around. "I need coffee, man."

"The coffee station is over there." Ivan points.

Phil nods and heads in that direction.

"Do we have to wear tuxes?" Connor asks. "I own one now and haven't had a chance to wear it."

"Tuxes?" I ask, frowning. "Saylor didn't say anything about a tux."

"Maybe we should surprise them," Gabe suggests. "The ladies like seeing their men in tuxes."

"What the—" Marty's staring at Phil's phone. It buzzes on the table. Then buzzes again. And a third time. Marty reaches down and touches the screen, and though I can't see any specifics from here, I can tell it's a picture.

"What's wrong?" Ivan asks him.

"Mother fucker!" Suddenly, Marty's on his feet, racing across the hotel restaurant. Phil has just turned around with his coffee when Marty pulls back his fist and clocks him. "You son of a bitch!"

"What the fuck, man?" Phil's coffee cup shatters on the floor and a few guests gasp.

Marty doesn't respond, instead, lowering his shoulder and ramming it into Phil's chest, pushing him backward until they go topping over the nearest table.

Phil is pushing at him, defending himself, but Marty is relentless.

Coach Vanek is on his feet, yelling for them to knock it off, but they're oblivious.

"You're fucking my wife!" Marty yells. "You homewrecking piece of shit—I'm going to end your sorry ass!"

"Fuck you!" Phil yells back. "You're a shitty husband. She needs a real man to take care of her!"

Marty nails him in the jaw, and I see a splatter of blood.

"Fuck!" Gabe's on his feet chasing after Jensen, who's the biggest guy on the team.

"Come on, stop it." Jensen tries to grab Marty's arm but he's running on fury and slips away, catching Phil in the stomach with his knee.

"Stop it!" Coach Vanek grabs for Phil, but Marty's unstoppable right now. Swinging, kicking, cursing, and making a huge spectacle in the restaurant. Someone's called for security, but Jensen finally has Marty in a choke hold.

"Come on, man, he's not worth going to jail for," he growls.

"Motherfucker!" Marty tries to swing again, but Coach and Ivan have pulled Phil out of his reach.

"Jesus," I breathe, grimacing as the scene continues to unfold.

"She never wanted kids!" Phil yells. "But you knocked her up anyway. Three fucking times. She hates you!"

"That seems to drain the fight out of Marty, and he wilts against Jensen, his eyes blazing with a combination of hurt and disbelief.

"That's right." Phil shakes off Coach and glares at him. "She's just been waiting for the right time to tell you. She wanted to wait until the season was over, but fuck that. She's leaving you now, and she's going to be with me."

Marty appears shellshocked, no longer fighting or anything else.

He's just staring at Phil.

"Shut the hell up," Coach Vanek hisses. "You realize this whole god damn thing is being recorded, right? All your dirty laundry is about to hit the internet. So shut your fucking mouths and get up to my room. Now. Or you're both suspended."

Jensen walks with Marty while Gabe nudges Phil.

"Whose side are we on?" Connor whispers to me.

"I'm pretty sure we side with the guy who didn't cheat, ruin a family, or embarrass himself in front of the team and this entire restaurant."

Connor nods. "Jesus. Does this happen a lot in hockey?"

"More than you'd probably expect."

"What do we do?"

"Everyone, we apologize for the spectacle." Coach Vanek looks around. "We'll pay for any damage. And Phantoms, finish your breakfast and get out to the bus. You have fifteen minutes."

There doesn't seem to be anything else to do, so those of us that are left sit back down and go back to our breakfast.

I have a feeling there's a team meeting in the near future.