Before I can beg him to bang me on the disgusting arena floor, I walk away through one of the tunnels to get back to my office. I forgot the power he wielded when I wasn’t in his bed on a regular basis. The way my body begs for me to stop fighting him. I need to do one thing and that’s stay away from Kane Burrows.
The next night, I’m sitting on my couch with a bowl of popcorn, watching the exhibition game against Oregon.
The announcers are obsessed with talking about Kane and our team because, as they put it, my father decided to take a team who had every element to win and set a bomb to it. Kane is too young to coach, I’m not equipped to run the team, blah, blah, blah.
By the third period, I shut off the commentary.
But that doesn’t stop my brain from running their judgments and predictions through my head. Are they right? Maybe I can’t run a professional hockey team.
Thankfully, my phone rings. I answer for the distraction alone.
“Hey, Dad.”
“Why aren’t you at the exhibition game?”
“Well, hello to you too. How is the cruise or whatever trip you’re on?”
My mom snatches the phone away. “Sweetie, we’re good. The ocean is amazing. You really should’ve come.”
“She can’t come. She’s running the team,” my dad says in the background. “Give me back the phone, Charlotte.”
“I can talk to my daughter. I gave birth to her, you know.”
Oh boy, here we go.
“Hours upon hours of waiting for her, taking her time to come out. Just because you like to think she’s a mini you doesn’t mean she’s not part of me too.”
“I’m going to the bar,” my dad says farther in the background, and I hear the cabin door shut.
“Already tired of one another?” I ask wryly.
“He tries to tell everyone how to do their job. I mean, your father doesn’t know the first thing about boats this big, but he tells the captain what he thinks he’s doing wrong, and he complains about their liquor all the time.”
I hate this part of my parents’ relationship. Being an only child, I’ve had to play referee many times over the years. I know they love one another, but I knew this day would come. I had hoped it would take longer, but I’m sure eventually my dad will find a pet project and my mom will go back to enjoying her brunches with friends and her time alone.
“Just enjoy one another.”
“Oh please, your father doesn’t understand foreplay.”
Oh, sweet Jesus. Can we please not go there? She once asked me where I buy my vibrators. Something a mother should never ask her daughter.
“Mom.” I sigh.
“I know, I know. You don’t want to hear about us in bed, but I can’t talk to your aunt Ginny about it. According to her, Uncle Phil still goes down on her. Your father stopped that years ago.”
“Mom!” I screech. Oh god, now I have visions of Ginny and Phil running through my head. Make it stop.
“I don’t know how you do it. No sex ever.”
I tilt my head, and thankfully, the game goes to commercial. “I’m sorry?”
“You never have a boyfriend. I get that toys can help and sure, sometimes I prefer them over your dad’s quickies, a.k.a. let me get my rocks off and leave you unsatisfied, but you have to miss the real thing.”
I pull the phone away from my ear, wishing my dad could stop this conversation from going any further. “I hate to alarm you, but just because I don’t date doesn’t mean I’m not having sex.”
“You hire escorts?” Her voice rises about ten octaves.
“Uh… no.”
“Then what?”
“Listen, I gotta watch the game. Continue having fun.”
“Did you not hear me? There is no fun—”
“Just try, Mom. It will be an adjustment having Dad around more, but you can do it. You and Dad never get away. There has to be something you love about him since you’ve stayed married to him this long.”
“His money. That’s what I love about him.” She laughs, but there have been times in my life that I believed that might be the only reason she stuck around.
“The bar is closed. What kind of boat is this?” My dad has obviously returned to the room. “Are you still talking to Jana?”
“We’re hanging up right now.”
“Let me just talk to her quick.”
They wrestle like children and eventually my dad wins. The first thing I hear is his breath over the receiver.
“Are you watching the game? I can’t get it anywhere. This place is like a black hole.”
“We’re down by one. Third period.”
He blows out a breath. “I told Burrows we had to start strong. First exhibition I wanted a win.”
I open my mouth but decide to say nothing. I thought I was the owner now.
“I mean, that’s what you should be expecting. Are you having meetings with Burrows? You have to stay on top of him with the expectations for this team. He’s new and I’m sure he has his way of doing things, but that doesn’t mean they’re right.”
I listen to my dad. He’s right to a certain extent, but instead of really grooming me for this position, I feel like my dad just tossed me into the water and expected me to swim as though it’s instinctual or something.
“I’m sure he wants to win,” I say, because who wouldn’t? I doubt Kane would try to lose.
“He might think he wants to feel out the team. Change lines. Every coach has their own way of doing things, but the owner is responsible for keeping the coach’s collar just snug enough that he knows he can’t go rogue.”
“Oh. Okay.”
“That’s all you have to say? Where is the pit bull I knew would get this job done?”
“She’s right here, Dad. Go enjoy your vacation. I’ve got this handled.”
“Text me afterward and tell me the score.”
“Okay. Love you. Night.” I hang up and drop my cell phone on the couch.
Now I have the analysts’ and my dad’s words running on repeat through my head.
I turn up the volume on the television. There aren’t but two minutes left and we’re still down one goal.
Kane switches out Aiden Drake, our starting center, for Cory Freeman. They’re both great centers, but Drake has the experience Cory lacks.
“What are you doing?” I whisper.
Cory has the puck, and the time on the clock is slowly dwindling. Warner gets free, but Cory passes it to Ford, who at least has the common sense to pass it to Warner, who has the angle for the shot. But Oregon already knows what’s happening because they have their veterans on the ice. Warner’s shot gets blocked, and the puck goes flying into an Oregon team member’s stick on the other side of the ice.
Cory chases it and Maksim tries to defend, but it all goes to shit in a matter of seconds when the puck gets by our rookie, Matt McIntosh, and the red light shines, making Oregon up by two.
There’s one minute left on the clock. Kane calls time-out.
Why would he not have kept Drake in?
It goes to commercial, and I sit on the edge of my sofa, waiting for this to be over. My dad’s words about winning this game and needing to show our competition that we’re still the team to beat this year rings through in my head.