Gavin

1

" O h. My. Fucking. God. DAD?"

"In the kitchen," I holler, trying to be heard over my daughter's screams as she barrels down the stairs. I think it's excitement. I hope it is, anyway. But who the fuck knows. Tori is a nineteen-year-old tornado. I can never keep track of her trajectory.

I wouldn't change that for the world, though. This past year has been rough on both of us, and for her mother. The divorce was long overdue, but Tori didn't realize it. Caroline and I sheltered her from that as best we could. In hindsight, maybe we should have given her a heads-up. We threw a lot at her in a couple of years' time.

Starting with our move from the East Coast to Seattle when the Blades picked me up in their expansion draft. Tori was sixteen. Leaving behind all her friends and her dumbass boyfriend, Richy, was a lot to ask of her. I can feel bad about ripping her away from her girlfriends, but not about Richy.

That kid was the douchiest of all douchebags. He had big dreams of being a DJ, but the kid couldn't keep a beat if it was hitting upside his stupid bleached-blonde head. I was tempted to dump her into therapy, convinced something major had to be wrong if that asshat was who she was bringing home for dinner. Caroline talked me down, saying he was "just a phase".

A phase Tori cried over for two weeks after our move. Luckily, her eye caught some new guy when she started high school here and things eased up.

Until she graduated and Caroline chose to leave me and move back to New York. Tori went with her, but she's back now. After a gap year, she's decided to go to school here in Seattle. I think she feels bad about the attitude she's given me since the separation from her mother. She shouldn't, but I won't complain about whatever reason sent her back to the West Coast. I love having her around.

Maybe she's making a mistake not attending school in New York. She is studying fashion, after all. But the school she was looking at there has a satellite program here in conjunction with one of Seattle's universities. So, she can always transfer if it doesn't work out. Though I'll miss her face if she does.

Professional hockey is a hard life. I've missed so much of her childhood by being on the road. Now that I'm close to retirement, it's hitting me hard just how much I wish I would have been there for.

"Oh my god!" It's definitely excitement in her voice when she slides on socked feet up to the breakfast bar.

"What's up," I ask, looking over my shoulder as she sets her laptop on the counter, flipping it open.

"You have to see this."

"Let me finish this up," I say, cracking a few more eggs into the bowl. "You want ham and cheese?"

"Yes, please."

Continuing to make our omelets, I smile when I hear her chanting under her breath.

"Oh my god, oh my god, oh my fucking god."

Victoria has always been animated and theatrical. A trait I think she picks up from her mother. Her determination is from me, though. One hundred percent. There has never been anything in her life that she wanted and didn't work hard until she got it. She's privileged, sure. My career offers a lot of financial comfort. Her being an only child meant she was fairly spoiled her whole life. But she's never been a brat about it. If we put limits on things to help her grow into a responsible adult or evoke some work ethics, she never complained.

She's a smart girl. Smarter than her old man, that's for sure. That's probably something she got from her mom, too. Caroline was supposed to attend Michigan State University after high school. She'd earned a full academic scholarship, wanting to go into biomedical sciences. That changed because of Tori.

Caroline maintains that her decision to become a mother instead of a college graduate was her decision, and her decision alone. That's never stopped me from blaming myself, though. My career path didn't really allow me to be the primary caregiver for a child, leaving her to take that roll on. I've tried to get her to go back to school on numerous occasions, but she always declined.

"I'm a full-time mother until she's an adult," she'd say every time I brought it up. How else could I respond to that but with acceptance? Tori has always come first. Motherhood wasn't on the top of Caroline's to-do list at eighteen years old. Of course, it wasn't. But from the day she found out she was pregnant; the baby was the most important thing in her world. Mine too, despite everything.

The day she told me is a day I'll never forget. I didn't know shit about being a dad. Fuck, I didn't know shit about being an adult, a man. You learn quick when you're suddenly responsible for another human. Or two. And I was responsible for both Tori and Caroline. Her whole world altered because of sex with me; I wasn't about to abandon her. She's been my best friend since we were seven years old. You don't turn away from a friendship like that. And although I may have been a dipshit teenager, I was never the type of guy to turn my back on responsibilities.

Well, mostly, anyhow.

To say I've always made the right decisions would be a boldfaced lie. There are regrets, things I wish I could change. But I have never been malicious. I've always cared about the people around me. Despite the circumstances, I think I've been a good dad and was the best husband I could be to Caroline.

"Oh my god, oh my god."

I chuckle as I fold over her omelet. My skills in the kitchen aren't many, but this shit, I have down. When I take Tori out to breakfast, she never orders omelets because they don't make them as good as mine. It's a small thing, but my dad-ego swells every time, like she's just handed me the Stanley Cup of parenting or some shit.

She'll be moving into her own place in a couple of weeks. One closer to campus since she doesn't like driving in Seattle. I can't blame her; this whole city was built on a cliffside. I'm going to miss having her here. It's been nice not being alone. I've always had nights to myself when I'm on the road, but until Caroline moved out last year, I'd never come home to an empty house. The adjustment wasn't the easiest.

Cillian, my teammate, tried to convince me to get a cat. It doesn't seem right to leave a little furball home by itself while I'm away for days on end, though. Maybe I should buy some plants—I can name them and talk to them like they're real-life friends.

Jesus. Is this what loneliness does to a person?

Looking back, I've been lonely in certain ways for a very long time. It was something I never focused on, though. Instead, I'd push the thought to that dark spot in your mind that you only peek into when absolutely necessary. It became necessary when Caroline left. Or inevitable, anyway.

I'm thirty-eight. Evaluating things I have avoided is imperative now. I'm young, but old for the sport, so this will be my last season. This time next year, I won't only be a divorcee and the father of a grown daughter, but I'll also be unemployed. Or retired. Whatever. It feels like the same thing. It feels like I'll be useless. Purposeless. Not needed.

There is no plan after retirement. Some may look forward to that sort of life. One without plans or structure. The only part of it I look forward to is waking up without an alarm. The rest feels daunting.

Who am I if not a hockey player, a husband, and a dad? I'll always be Tori's dad, but it's different now that she doesn't need me on a regular basis.

I plate the omelets and turn to my girl. Her mass of dark hair is a nest atop her head. What looks like a messy bun to me is really something I know she spent at least fifteen minutes on. I like it when she wears it up, though; it lets me see her face better. It also shows off her new tattoo. A sample of black leaves creeping up from her shoulder and stretching up her neck. It's pretty and reminds me of her mom, who has a similar tattoo on her side.

"All right, what's all the excitement about," I ask as I push her plate next to her laptop.

"Oh my god, Dad, you'll never believe this," she starts off dramatically. "You know it was, like, the weirdest decision to come to school here instead of attending in New York. Or even in Los Angeles."

"I do," I admit. "And I love having you here, but I won't be mad if you decide you aren't getting out of it what you need."

"I know," she says, rolling her eyes because we've gone through this abundantly. "And I told you that this decision felt right. Now I have confirmation that it was."

"How could you possibly have confirmation when school hasn't even started yet?"

"Because they just emailed us all to let us know of some major staffing changes and a new mentorship program that they're rolling out this term." Her eyes sparkle with the same enthusiasm her voice carries. "They've hired an industry professional to basically work as an advisor for us this year. Someone who will check in with us on at least a weekly basis to give us pointers, or whatever. And at the end of the year, we'll have our own student fashion show that will be filmed and streamed to industry insiders."

"So, something like a university version of Project Runway ?" I may be a big bad hockey player, but I sat through every season of that show with Tori.

"Exactly. They're promising that not only will design houses see it, but fashion magazine editors, celebrities, and celebrity stylists, too. Like, everyone! It could land us jobs straight away. The exposure is huge."

"This is only for the Seattle campus?"

"Yep, they're trying it here first since we don't have the same access to the industry as the New York campus does. I think they want to establish a better rep for this campus or something. I don't know. I don't really care the why, you know? I'm just so excited!" She pauses to eat a few bites of her breakfast, happily humming around every fork load. "This is really good, Dad. Maybe you should open a breakfast spot or a food truck. That could be fun."

"For who?" I ask with a grimace. Sleeping in is the best thing I have to look forward to. After retirement, I'm only getting up early to make breakfast for her, if she's here. No other reason.

"Yeah, I guess that's a lot of stress," she considers. "But you'll need something. Golf, maybe? A lot of your teammates like that."

"No, thank you." That's never been a favorite pastime of mine. Tori isn't wrong, many of the guys play golf during their downtime. Or video games. Mine was spent with my kid and doing whatever she wanted to do. Even if that meant tea parties where she made me wear shiny plastic necklaces or letting her play beauty parlor and dotting my hair with seventy-two tiny ponytails. Because of that, other than workouts and crime documentaries, I don't have much in the way of a hobby.

"You could just throw yourself into dating," she hedges. I haven't done any of that since the divorce. Honestly, it's a daunting idea. I wouldn't even know how to go about meeting a woman. Other than the ones who hang around the team in the hopes of catching one of our eyes. They've been coined "puck bunnies". Mostly they're no different than band groupies. They're fans. They just happen to be fans that are maybe actively looking to bed a pro athlete.

Many of them do. The younger single guys take them up on their offers often enough. I've done it a few times since the divorce. Each time was weird, the first, especially. I'd only ever been with two women, and I've been with Caroline since we were fifteen, minus the short break up we had before her pregnancy. Even then, I'd thrown myself into another relationship and fucked it all up. I don't know how to be single.

I'm not even sure I know how to navigate a casual, sexual relationship. My dick doesn't have a problem with it, but my head does.

"Why do I need to date?"

"Mom is," she says, albeit with hesitation.

"That's good, Tori. She deserves that."

"So do you." She sounds far stronger than I know she feels. This hasn't been easy for her. Caroline and I put on a good show. From anyone's perspective, we had a great marriage. We were a solid team, working well together to create a great home. But as a couple…we lacked a lot.

"My schedule is crazy," I remind her. "Who has the time?"

"Dad…"

"Tori," I say, mimicking her slightly annoyed tone.

"Fine. But you at least need a hobby."

"I bought a book the other day. Maybe that will be my new hobby."

"You going to start a BookTok?"

"I don't know what the hell that is."

"You're getting old, Dad." She rolls her eyes dramatically, but a wide smile plays on her face.

"If you stop getting older, so will I. Deal?"

"Yeah, sure. Deal," she answers easily.

"How did we end up talking about me anyway? We're supposed to be talking about you, future Miss Fashion Designer." I reach over the kitchen bar to tap her nose, something I've done since she was a toddler. Another thing I'll miss now that she's growing into an independent young woman.

"Do you really think I'll make it?"

"Of course. Why wouldn't I? You've been making your own clothes for years and nobody has the style you do."

We bought her a sewing machine when she was eight. It's been upgraded twice over the years, and added to with other contraptions that I don't understand the function of. She can make garments from scratch, but she prefers to dive through "the bins" at Goodwill. Tori enjoys finding that diamond in the rough, or whatever, and turning it into something on trend. Or ahead of it? I don't know.

I do know that she is extremely talented, and I don't think that's my bias talking. The kid always looks amazing, her friends and random strangers we run into while out are constantly complimenting her. That's got to count for something.

"But of course, you'd say that. You're my dad, you have to."

"Have I ever lied to you?"

"No," she says thoughtfully. "Though, you could have, you know? It was fucking hard being the only kid that didn't believe in Santa and the Tooth Fairy."

"You survived it," I say, laughing. That was more Caroline's idea, but I backed the decision wholeheartedly.

"I did," she agrees. "But still. I'll be more convinced of my future if Odette likes me."

Odette. That name. I haven't heard it in years. I knew an Odette once. A long time ago, when I was young. When I thought I was free to know her. When I thought I'd finally had a chance.

Before Tori.

"Odette who?" I already know the answer, but I ask anyway. There is only one Odette in the industry who could cause this type of reaction from my daughter. There's only one Odette in the world that could have my heart cartwheeling in my chest by just the mention of her name.

"Dad," she sighs. "She's only the hottest celebrity stylist. Like, ever. Odette Quinn."

Fucking hell.

"That's your new mentor?"

"Yes! It's so exciting. Isn't it?"

Yes. It sure is fucking exciting.