Gavin

3

" I cannot believe you didn't tell me," Tori chastises me as she bounds through my front door, using the key I told her to keep when she moved out last week.

I cannot believe she's already moved into her own apartment just a couple of blocks from school. It doesn't seem right; she was just born. Or so it feels like. Time moves too fucking quickly for my liking.

In a couple of years, I'll be forty and she'll be old enough to have a drink at my birthday. How in the hell did this happen?

"I mean, she's huge in the business. I've talked about her with you and Mom, and neither of you said anything. Not even when I told you she'd be my mentor. What's up with that, Dad?"

"That's complicated, kiddo," I say, attempting to dismiss the conversation altogether. I should know better than to think she'll so easily drop it.

"I'm not a toddler, I can handle complexities."

"You're a complexity."

"I'm not, I was the easiest kid, and you know it. Now quit diverting, Dad."

"That's true, except when you were three and started bossing us around like you ruled the roost," I say, trying another route away from her destination.

"Odette Quinn. Spill the tea or I'm going to jump to all the wrong conclusions," Tori demands.

All her assumptions would probably hit closer to the truth than not, though. Telling her the story of her dad being an asshole to the kindest girl he ever knew isn't something I want to do. I've made a lot of mistakes in my life, ghosting Odette is the biggest. It's the one that keeps me up at night, even now, thinking of all the ways I could have handled the situation.

All the ways I should have.

I wasn't upfront and honest with her. And now I'm not being either of those things with the most important person in my life. Again.

I'm not sure how Tori will handle the whole story. Will she feel guilty for her unwitting part in the story? I'd never want that. I've never wanted her to know the truth of our family and those we've hurt along the way.

Then again, maybe Odette didn't drown in the same sea of sorrow I did. She was strong, so independent. She had the world waiting to fall at her feet. Maybe that's what happened. I've long tortured myself with the idea that she moved to the city, made a name for herself, and had some wealthy, well put together man who'd follow her wherever she wanted to go. Odette deserved nothing less. I wanted to be the man who gave her everything. Or everything that she couldn't attain by herself, anyway.

"I cared about her once. A great deal and a long time ago," I finally say, unwilling to lie. She'd see through it anyhow.

"Before you and Mom?"

Fuck.

"No, kiddo. Not exactly."

"Not exactly? What does that mean, Dad?"

"It means that for a time before your mother and I were married, we weren't together."

"How much time," she asks, more concern in her tone now than the disgust that was there a moment ago.

"A couple of months. For the summer before we moved to Boston."

"Why weren't you together then? I thought you'd been together since you were fifteen or something."

"Your mother and I," I start, then think better of what I was about to say. "We were young, Tori. We had plans for colleges in different states. Maybe she never told you, but she had a scholarship to Michigan State. Our plan wasn't for her to follow me around the country watching me play. We made the decision for a clean break at the beginning of the summer."

"And that's when you began to care about Odette?"

Began? No, that's not so accurate. She'd always been there, somewhere in the periphery. Always noticeable and unforgettable. I was damn near obsessed with her, but I kept that to myself.

"We spent a lot of time together those months," I say. "She was different than anyone and everyone in our town. Confident, but awkward. Beautiful, but strange. Smart, but quiet about it. And so fucking ambitious it rivaled my own dreams of the future."

Every spare moment I had that summer, I wanted to spend it with her. Watching her sew or draw, listening to her ideas and plans. She was the first real feminist I ever met and made it clear she didn't need a man in her life, though she'd smile playfully at me as she said such things. It was like a form of foreplay for her. A cat and mouse game where I was the mouse. Fuck, I loved that; knowing that she could just as easily spend her time alone but instead chose to spend it with me.

She taught me to be more grounded, less excessive and showy. Odette appreciated quality over quantity, a novel concept to a spoiled teen like me. She labored over every purchase, even the small ones, like what to have for lunch. Taking anything for granted was beyond her.

"I learned a lot from her. About myself, people, and life in general. I'm sure she'll teach you even more."

"You loved her," Tori says in a quiet gasp, her eyes shiny with tiny pools of sympathy.

"There wasn't enough time for all that," I dismiss, but it tastes sour on my tongue. I didn't know what love was then, I guess I still don't understand that kind of love. It's not what Caroline and I had throughout our marriage. I love my ex-wife; I have since we were very young. But it lacked the passion and yearning I imagine a marriage is supposed to have.

I know fatherly love, which mostly consists of stress and the thought that I'd put myself in front of Victoria to protect her from absolutely anything. Being a parent changes you, or it should. If it doesn't, you either started out a fucking saint or a complete piece of shit.

Brotherly love, I know well, too. I feel it for my teammates. As one of the older players, many of them have become like younger siblings to me. Being an only child myself, it's been great to have a sort of family with me no matter where we are.

But romantic love? That's something I only came close to once.

"Did Mom know about her?"

"Your mother and I have never had secrets, kiddo."

"Then why did you get back," she starts to ask the question. "Oh."

"Kiddo," I hedge, watching her face fall.

"Mom was pregnant." Tori's hand starts to rub at her chest. "You guys got married because she was pregnant with me."

"Hey," I say, pulling her to the couch and wrapping my arm around her. "It's not a decision either of us regret. We'd make the same one a hundred times over."

"But you weren't in love. It all makes so much more sense now."

"In love? No, maybe not that. But we did love each other. We still do. She's been my best friend for most of my life. We've had a great life, Tori. Haven't we?"

She pulls her knees up to her chest, hugging them to herself as she snuggles further into my arm.

"We have. You guys are the best," she says. "Is that why she wanted the divorce? Was that always the plan? To split when I grew up."

Possibly that's what we both thought when we went into it, but it wasn't something we discussed.

"The only plan we had was to raise you the best we could. We'd been broken up for weeks when your mom realized she was pregnant. She immediately knew she wanted you and that college wasn't as important to her. I thought the best way to take care of you both was to get married right away. It gave us some special privileges on campus in Boston and later with the NHL. We didn't consider anything past that. Past you."

"Why didn't you tell me this when she filed for divorce? I was so mad at you."

She was, and that was pure hell for me. The divorce wasn't either of our faults, it was the natural progression of things, really. Tori couldn't understand without us telling her the rest. But then we risked her being mad at Caroline, and placing blame on herself, too. I preferred to take the brunt of it, knowing it would pass eventually.

"It was a big change for all of us, you, especially. We didn't want to add to it with our messy past."

"But I'm part of that messy past."

"No, you aren't, Tori. You're the best thing that ever could have happened to us." I press a kiss to her crown. "You believe me, don't you?"

"Yeah," she says, her voice a little shaky still. "But what was the cost?"

"What do you mean?"

"Did it cost you your happiness? Or Mom hers? What if you both missed out on the love of your life?"

"You're breaking my heart, kiddo," I say into the dark messy bun atop her head. She smells like she always does, some combination of fruit and sugar. "Don't you know you are the love of my life?"

"You know what I mean, Dad."

"Listen really carefully, Tori. I could not have been happy if I wasn't coming home to you while you were growing up. Your mother has always felt the same. Okay?"

The last thing I want is for her to wear any blame or guilt. Our life has been great, regardless of how it all started. It's why we always sheltered her from the hard truth that Caroline and I haven't had the most traditional marriage.

It wasn't an open relationship or anything extreme. But it was more of a partnership than any sort of love match. That doesn't mean we didn't find happiness in it. There was camaraderie, caring, and a shared sense of something bigger than us. We had fun as a family.

"I just want you to have someone," she tells me, peering at me so she can read my expression better. "The thought of you here all alone bothers me. You should have a partner. You should have love, Dad. A real relationship."

"Do you tell your mother these same things?"

"No, she already knows. She's already looking."

Tori maps my face, looking for signs that I'm concerned about this news. But I'm not. Caroline deserves to live the rest of her life with someone she loves and who loves her back equally. She's still my friend, even though we've tried not to be too reliant on each other anymore. We don't speak daily but several times a week. Which is probably still too much, but habits are hard to break, and we do share a daughter.

She hasn't mentioned dating to me, though. I can't figure out a reason why she'd omit that from our conversations. Maybe she shares some of the same concerns Tori has about me. This is my first attempt at bachelor living, and they don't seem confident in my ability to thrive in it.

I've done okay, though. Caroline always handled the household since I was the one bringing in the income. I have a housekeeper who helps me keep up on this place, but I do know how to clean my own toilet. Jasinda comes in twice a month to scold me and laugh at my novice abilities. At least I try, she always tells me. And sure, I suck at cooking, but I'm getting the hang of it. I've nearly mastered baked ziti and can unbag a salad with the best of them.

Some of the team wives looked after me when Caroline left. I had a freezer full of prepared meals that lasted me a month and gave me time to settle into a new way of life. Tori suggested I hire a chef but my days of being that dependent on someone else for my most basic needs are over.

I want to take care of myself more. Maybe even take care of someone else, if the right woman comes along.

My mind immediately conjures images of Odette Quinn. Except they are images of her at eighteen, not who she is today. I don't know that version of her at all. Would I feel the same way about her now as I did then? Even if I did, would she give me a chance?

Doubt it.

I fucked up. I know I did, and I can only blame my age and circumstances for so much of it. The biggest problem was me and how poorly I handled the situation. Odette deserved more.

Maybe I'm the man now that I should have been then. Maybe I'm enough.

Maybe she'd never give me a second chance to prove that, though. Who could blame her?

That's even if she's single, which doesn't seem likely. Not at our age and not with who she was. Odette probably has always had a trail of men standing in line for her attention. Not only because she's gorgeous, but because she's different and caring. Or was. Is she still?

Regardless of whether she is or not, a relationship with anyone isn't my priority just yet. The season starts next week. My team and my performance this season are my top priorities. It's my last season, after all.

Fuck.

That will never sound right to me. Later, I'll have a lot of changes to face, but I'll also have the time to devote to a partner. There's time. At least, I hope so.