Page 36 of Puck to the Heart
“That would be nice. But if you’re both going to be here, I do have one condition.”
Oh, hell, this is it. This is when he tells me to fuck off and keep away from his daughter. If he Googled me or keeps up with sports at all, he knows who I am. And fuck, there’s no way she’ll go against what he says, they’re too close.
Mr. Barnes kept speaking, oblivious to my panic. “I’d like to meet you, Ash.”
Nothing could’ve preparedme for Ash Wilder. Even after his initial startled shock after speaking to my father, he snapped into motion, securing a place for me on the team flight before I could protest.
My father wasn’t the sort to resort to ridiculous displays of overprotective dominance over the few dates I’d brought home over the years, so I wasn’t worried about that. But when he met Alex, they’d both instantly taken a strong dislike to the other. I wasn’treallyconcerned about Dad disliking Ash, but I was a little surprised to find that I wanted him tolikeAsh. It wasn’t about his approval as much as I wanted them to get along in the future.
Thefuture—what a terrifying, amorphous concept. I hated unknowns, but Ash’s declarations made me wonder what our future might look like. And it made me think a future might be possible.
There was no chance to ask him about it on the flight, though, because he regretfully told me on the ride to the airport that he needed to prepare mentally for the games. Pressure weighed heavier on him than before; with his new look came an unexpected gravity, drawing fewer smiles and quips from his mouth.
After boarding, I sat in the seat nearest the aisle, lamenting having to return to commercial flights, while Ash sat propped against the window with a stack of books in his lap and game footage rolling on his phone. At least he accepted my offer of sour Skittles, though he turned his attention right back to his work with half a smile.
If meeting my dad was contributing to his stress, he didn’t mention it. When I tried to tell him we could reschedule, he flashed a sparkling grin at me, nearly making me forget my own name. “Barnes, there’s not a chance in hell I’m missing out on meeting the man who raised you,” he said, making the grip he had on my heart grow.
Somehow his thoughtfulness left me unsteady like we were on the ice again and all that held me up were his strong, capable hands.
I still had to rely on him not to let me fall. Especially since we never picked up on the conversation my father interrupted. I wasn’t sure if that was a blessing or a curse. Things remained unresolved between us, and as much as it pained me not to know where we stood, maybe I was better off keeping my distance, at least for a while, while he sorted out his goals.
Flying, at least, provided the perfect distraction, even without Ash’s attention. Dante, Ash’s teammate and fellow defender, sat across the aisle from me, and when he saw me sharing candy with Ash, he promptly held out his hand for some, declaring us friends, to the extent that we exchanged numbers after about ten minutes. Dante was a few years younger than me, with warm brown skin and sweet amber eyes, and if he’d been a year or two younger, I would’ve pinched the dimples in his adorable cheeks and sent him off to recess with a juice box. We talked about movies and music, and we didn’t have much in common, but he was vivacious and friendly enough that it didn’t matter. As confused as I was by him, when I asked about our so-called friendship, Dante shrugged and said “You have candy, and you seem cool. We don’t have to have a lot in common to be friends.”
Huh.
Somehow, my only two friends were a septuagenarian and twenty-two-year-old hockey player. Because Ash fell into his own category, especially after his declarations. But he never quite fit into the neat little boxes I tried to stuff him in, did he?
* * *
Ash only hada couple of hours between press and warmups before the game, so I rented an SUV to pick up Dad for breakfast at the hotel. We planned to eat at the hotel restaurant, but so many people caught the team coming in the night before, we decided to have room service in Ash’s large hotel room.
Dad still looked beat to hell and back when I picked him up. A walking boot encased the lower half of his broken leg, but the wrenched knee still needed a stabilizing brace. With the broken arm, he was only able to use one crutch out of the wheelchair, which he grumbled about constantly. At least he moved around with more stability, now, and he wasn’t nearly as wan as when I’d last seen him in person.
“Good morning, sunshine.”
“Morning, Dad.” I squeezed in close, trying to hug him without squishing him in the passenger’s seat.
“Where did you say we were going?”
Nerves tightened my throat, worried about his reaction. “I didn’t.”
“So where are we meeting this boy?” His beard split with a goofy grin as he drew out the last word to a ridiculous length.
“Oh my God, Dad. We areadults.” I bumped him with my elbow.
“Ouch!” he hollered. “I’m injured!”
“Shit! Sorry!”
“Gotcha.”
“Daaaad!”
“Lighten up, Livy, you’re so tense.”
But I didn’t know how. The extent of his injuries still sent my heart skittering at a frantic pace whenever I thought about them.
In the elevator, I explained that we didn’t have much time with Ash’s schedule, but he made a point to set aside time for us. “He doesn’t have much time, but we can meet for breakfast.” I avoided looking at my father in the mirror, not only his new frailty making my chest ache.
