Page 92 of The One Night Dash
“Wait, you had an abusive stepdad and father?” he asks.
“Huh?” I ask, confused.
“That night in Sofie’s ride after all that shit went down at the bar, you said your old man was a dick. That he thought child support was paying for time to abuse his kids.”
I don’t have to think about that conversation too hard at fucking all. “Davidson, my father, wasn’t my old man. Hell, he didn’t live long enough to become an old man. Mom’s second marriage lasted a year. My ‘old man’ convinced her that he had to adopt us so we could be covered under his health insurance. He was great to us then, so yeah, it made sense, even though it crushed me, but I knew how hard shit was even then. When his true colors shone through, and she filed papers to divorce him, get back our names, and be done, he demanded visitation. And, of course, money talks, and the courts granted that shit. Fucker didn’t mind paying child support that she didn’t want so that he could knock me around. Smart bastard, at first. Drills to improve my game were his punishment; emotional fuckery with the girls if I complained.” I laugh.
“But you all know I can talk shit, so yeah, I got big, I pushed back, made him lose it at the rink, caught on camera. That wasn’t enough, so I did it at a practice with an audience. Mom moved us to New York. So, yeah, my old man was a dick, but father was a fucking prince.”
“He your coach?” Killer asks.
I nod. “Best revenge was making pro.”
Walking out of practice,Koa jogs up beside me. “You good?”
“Yeah. Why?”
“Took you till senior year to share any of that with me.”
“You’re still my favorite, Kok,” I joke. “They got the diluted version.”
“Understandable. Just … you may want to give it to Noelle full strength. The shit that fucked up Nalani and I could have been avoided if she had just trusted I could handle it.”
I nod and change the subject, because there is not much I can say on the subject. I’m over my shit. Making the pros shut off the self-doubt that fucker had tried to plant in me. Noelle’s wounds, which she worked to heal, have now been reopened. I’m not going to make this shit about me.
“Thanks, man.” I nod toward the waiting SUV. “Headed that way now.”
I shoot her a text.
Me
Good to head your way? I want to take you out to dinner tonight.
Noelle
Just ending a meeting. Could use a meal.
I walkin and spot a handful of people tucked back in the little reading area, the same space I crashed in last night when I couldn’t bring myself to leave her. They’re all perched on chairs, notebooks balanced on knees, a few balancing coffee cups, like this isn’t just a workplace but a gathering spot. Love that for her.
Noelle’s at the center, relaxed, not overly commanding, more like they’re her team. Love that for her, too. She introduces them one by one—new Pembrooke books fam. I catch names, trying to make sure they stick, because they are important to her. When she wraps things up, they gather their bags, shuffle papers into folders, sling laptop cases over their shoulders, and file out withpolite goodbyes, each tossing her a last grateful smile before disappearing.
The second the door closes behind the last of them, she exhales hard and sags back in her chair.
I head over and pop a kiss on her cheek. “Rough day?”
She smiles and shakes her head. “Just not used to delegating or wanting to disappoint them. They all need hours, very specific hours to match their school and home schedules. I think we’re going to open Sundays and Mondays just through the holidays. Makes sense.”
“Retail.” I nod as I sit across from her, too far away, but realize I can’t just pick her up and plop her on my lap like I want to. Not yet, anyway.
“They did amazing while I was gone.” She rubs the back of her neck. “I just don’t want to burn them out.”
“Or get burnt out yourself,” I add.
“Oh my God, yes. I mean, this is not anywhere close to being the size of Sofie’s media company, but her life is chaos, and I don’t want to ever live like that.”
“I need a team roster.” I chuckle. “Then I can try to help come up with a playbook.”
She grins. “Yeah?”
