Page 34 of For the Love of Skating
My blood boils because I know what he’s doing. A man with his power needs to test those around him to make sure they aren’t weak, or he’ll eat them alive and spit them out. Putting Kat on the spotlight does that, but she barely bats an eyelash as she holds my father's gaze in challenge. Damn, I’m proud of her.
“I don’t know why you would assume I’m pregnant. Did you ask us to dinner to share that you two are expecting another child?” she says calmly, her lips twitch once when my mother starts choking on her drink. “Granger was kind enough to offer me a place to stay for a little while. A relationship can bloom between two people who are attracted towards each other.” She hasn’t once looked away from my father. Instead, she holds his stare until he looks away, but I can tell he’s impressed.
“Can’t be too sure about a baby accident, we wouldn’t want that to happen with Granger being so close to finishing school and about to start working alongside his father.” My mother stares at me, her mouth downturned in displeasure. My fingers tighten on my glass steam at the extra dig she shoves my way by bringing up both subjects I refuse to talk to her about.
James comes in, interrupting our conversation, and I’m fucking thankful because the night is already spiraling down the drain. He places our plates in front of us—chicken and vegetables with a side salad. I’m glad as hell that they didn’t bring out duck and snails, that would have been way overboard and fucking disgusting.
Everyone is cutting into their chicken, enjoying the meal in peaceful silence, thank God. My father takes a drink of his wine and clears his throat before pointedly gazing at Kat, waiting for her attention as she finishes chewing.
“Tell me, Kathleen, what are you majoring in? Are you employed as of right now? Because I can’t seem to figure out why you are in such desperate need to live with my son. He’s on a path that doesn’t need interruptions, as he will be taking over for me one day. I didn’t catch your last name. Are you after his money?” My fist collides with the table on a bang, rattling the dishes after my father fires each question at her, treating her like someone beneath him.
Kat places her delicate fingers over my fist and looks at me with a sparkle in her eyes before turning her attention back to my father.
“Whitmore, Kathleen Whitmore, but everyone calls me Kat,” she says all smooth, like fucking James Bond over here. “I’m graduating in business management, but due to recent events, I’m going to be training for the nationals with the goal of heading to the Olympics. I teach figure skating at the Lynn skating rink downtown. As for me living with your son, my father is an abusive asshole, and Granger helped me by giving me a place to start over. I have a job, a goal, and money is not a problem because of the small inheritance my mother left me after passing away, even if it’s not much. Would you please pass me the dressing?” She smiles tightly, and it’s so silent, you can hear a pin drop as my parents stare at her in shock, their dinner forgotten.
Wait! She hasn’t told me about the training! My girl is going for Olympic gold metal, fuck yeah! If I wasn’t so upset with my parents, I’d be sweeping her off her feet and spinning in circles until we both puke.
“Your mother was Jennifer Whitmore,” my mother says slowly, her brows drawn down, looking at Kat with a hint of sadness which surprises me.
“Yes. Yes, she was, and Mark Whitmore is my father. Now that I’ve shared my most private secrets, I have a question of my own.” Kat places her silverware down and glances at both of my parents with a pose of confidence and not a hint of fear as she waits for their full attention.
I’m going to marry this girl.
“Have you ever been to one of your son’s hockey games?” she casually asks, but you can hear the undertones of her voice. She’s making it clear that she’s disappointed in them.
My mother sputters, clearly at a loss for words. It has bugged me in the past that all my trophies were a waste to them. While other parents would come to the games…mine would be in their offices. Now though, I just care about making a career out of hockey with or without their approval. I’m going to get drafted, skate for the Boston Bruins, and retire one day, knowing I chased my dreams.
“Of course not. Hockey is a waste of his time when he could already be in the office making millions. For some reason, he’s chosen to skate until graduation,” Father harshly says. He still doesn’t understand, and maybe he never will.
“That’s a shame. My abusive father wants me to work at the firm and marry me off so his company can grow. It’s a real shame I’m living the life I want and going for my dreams, instead of being in a relationship that was forced on me and bruises decorating my skin.” Kat’s smile is gone, and she’s staring at my father like he’s the bug beneath her shoe.
“Mark would… From the few times we met at the firm, he didn’t seem like the type to—I mean he couldn’t possibly—” My mother looks like she’s going to be sick as she clutches the pearls around her neck.
I’ve had enough. I should have grabbed Kat and left the moment we sat down. She’s standing up for herself and giving my parents lashing after lashing for not encouraging me to go after my own dreams.
I’m at a loss for what to do, I want to stand up and applaud her, but at the same time, I want to run because I have fucking feelings for her that go way past friendship. I need to tell her the truth, before someone else does and I lose her for good. Just not right now.
“Oh yes, he would. My mom died when I was young, but even then, she told me to never give up and go after my own dreams because it’s not for someone else to decide.” Her tone goes raspy, and she turns to me with watery eyes while reaching under the table to tap my cock once lightly through my slacks.
I nearly jump out of my seat at the touch, but I manage to stand calmly, my chair scratching against the wood floor and drawing everyone’s eyes towards me.
“We’ll be leaving now that you’ve satisfied your curiosity about meeting my Princess. The next time I hear from you, there better be an apology in there somewhere and a shit ton of the respect that my girl deserves. Pardon my French, Mother.” My hand clasps Kat’s, and I pull her chair quickly out so we can escape the dining room before they can say anything else.
Right before we turn the corner to exit, Kat tugs on my hand to stop and faces my parents with a determined look coming over her features.
“I’ll be saving you a seat at the games. The box office will have your tickets waiting for you.” She stares them down, watching my mother grasp my father’s hand with a small head nod.
Pleased with herself, she swirls around and races for the front door like her ass is on fire.
Once inside my truck and pulling away from the curb, she releases a huge relieved breath and sinks into her seat with her stocking feet on the dashboard.
“That was nice. Let’s not do that anytime soon. I only took a few bites of chicken, and I’m still starving.” She groans out loud, holding her stomach like she’s going to starve to death.
Reaching over the center console, I bring her fingertips to my lips and kiss them gently before turning my attention back to the road.
“Thank you, Princess. No one has ever done that for me before. No one.” My voice comes out husky. I’m thankful and shaken by how much she’s coming to mean to me.
I never thought I’d be able to feel anything for anyone after being so deeply burned.
“Anytime, Captain. Now feed me. Let’s go to the diner and see if Mary and Beast want to join us?” she asks with a relaxed smile and tips her head back against the headrest and stares at me with a little pout I can’t resist.
“Woman, you amaze me, I’ll take you anywhere.” She shakes her head with an eye roll because I’m being cheesy as fuck once again, but I can’t help it. I just want to see her smile always, and I don’t care if it makes me a laughing stock.
Staring out the window with the roads covered in snow, I drive in a trance-like daze, wondering if she sees me more than a fake boyfriend, because this feels truly real. It’s pretty fucking real to me.
