Page 94 of On Thin Ice

“Get what?”

“I get why you hated me. Easier to blame me than to blame yourself.”

Morgan said nothing for a very long time, just stared out at the ice, towards Finn, but Jacob didn’t think he was really seeing his son, because Jacob knew that look. Understood it intimately. It was a man unwillingly seeing the past play out in front of his eyes and yet unable to look away.

“Should really punch you for that one,” Morgan finally said, quietly. “But I won’t, because Finn said no blood, and despite what you think of me, what you think of me as a player and afather, I do love him. I want what’s best for him. And if you’re it, you fucking asshole, then that galls me but I’ll get over it.”

“I know.”

“Don’t fuck this up,” Morgan warned.

Oh, don’t worry, I’m already doing that. Regularly. With relish.

“I’ll try not to,” Jacob said.

Morgan’s gaze didn’t move, but Jacob thought he might actually be seeing Finn now. Finn as he was now, not Finn as a kid, and not as he imagined Finn might be. But Finn as he really was.

“You think he’s really good?” Morgan said quietly. So quietly Jacob barely caught the words.

“Of course I fucking do,” Jacob said, annoyed now. Because of course Morgan was questioning that. Why else would Finn have all these complexes? His father was the fucking origin of all of them. They’d probably blossomed from hisownand of course, Morgan had never thought, not once, that he should protect Finn from them.

And heshouldhave. He should have been a father first and a hockey player second.

“Good, it’s not just me, then,” Morgan said.

“What?” Jacob glanced over at him now, shocked. “You—”

“He’s going to be so great, and I’m so terrified of it. Of what it’ll do to him. Over time. If he’ll end up like me, like . . .”

“Like?” Jacob prompted, because he was too stunned to say anything else.

“If he’ll end up thinking that the best thing he ever did was on that ice and that nothing else matters,” Morgan said flatly.

Well, that answeredthatquestion.

Jacob supposed that he shouldn’t be surprised that Morgan had put up a smoke screen of happy success post-retirement. Or that it was all complete fucking bullshit.

“Well, that’s stupid,” Jacob pointed out.

Morgan glared.

“I mean it,” Jacob continued. “’Cause from where I’m sitting, the best thing you ever did is out there right now, thinking that you don’t believe he’s good enough. That he’lleverbe good enough.”

Morgan swore under his breath.

“Yeah,” Jacob agreed. “Itisfucking bullshit.”

Morgan was quiet again. And maybe Jacob should let him sit here in that terrible, awful silence, contemplating just how he’d fucked his son up, but Jacob had to go work, to do the work to build Finn back up again. They didn’t have unlimited time, and he wasn’t going to give a minute more of it to Morgan.

“Listen,” Jacob said, “I know you don’t like this, but make your peace with it, because it’s helping him, and youknowthat. You were too good of a player to not see it now, even if it’s Finn that you’re looking at.”

“I see it,” Morgan said flatly.

“Good.” He rose, but a hand on his arm stopped him, the grip firm.

“Wait,” Morgan said. “You really aren’t doing this to fuck with me?”

“Morgan, I promise, not everything is about you. In fact, almostnothingis about you.”

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