Page 65 of Ice Cold Heart

I sighed and waited for him to tell me to move in with Cole or something ridiculous.

“You should talk to your dad.”

All the sass drained out of me. “What?”

“I did his interview, remember? He’s a nice guy. Gave me his number and said to call if I ever need anything.” He leaned forward and met my eyes, completely serious for once. “And he thanked me for being a good friend to his daughter.”

His admission hit me square in the chest. Dad and I had been on better terms since Christmas Eve, but I still suspected he was counting the days until I found a place of my own. We never talked about anything serious, and other than the time he got annoyed when I told him I planned to move out, he never seemed to care if I came or went.

“We talk,” I insisted. “We don’t have much to say to each other though.”

“Have you considered there’s a lot more going on under the surface with him, but he doesn’t know how to express it?” Marco gave me a pointed look. “Sound like anyone else we know?”

“I express myself.” My brain helpfully supplied a montage of the times I kept my thoughts to myself, which was almost always.

He held up his hands. “I think you could benefit from realizing you two speak the same non-language and finding a way to communicate. He cares about you a lot, Avery. Give him a chance.”

“I’ll consider it.” It was the best I could offer.

“I like your claws,” he said to my back as I climbed the stairs.

I waved over my shoulder and kept going. The pressure built inside me from all the emotional forces demanding my attention. As usual, I kept the maelstrom locked down until I was alone on the drive home. Exactly as Marco expected me to react.

There was nothing wrong with thinking before reacting, but as I worked to actively ignore Scott’s harassment, Cole’s growing importance, and the potential of a better relationship with my father, I admitted I might avoid thinking so I didn’t have to react.

I freely admitted I wasn’t entirely good when it came to my mental health, but I had a therapist—I was working on it. Mostly. I pulled into the driveway at my dad’s and frowned as I realized I never thought of this house as home. When I wanted comfort, I went to Cole’s place. His room was where I felt like I didn’t have to hide behind layers of protection.

Shit. Marco was right about Cole. My head dropped to the steering wheel for a second and I groaned. Was he right about my dad too?

25

Marco’s assessment wouldn’t leave my mind as I walked into the house, acutely aware of the hickey on my neck. I expected him to ignore the bruise like he did most things about me, but what if he didn’t? A small part of me hoped he commented, made a scene, something. At least I’d know he cared on some level.

It wouldn’t be unusual for me to head directly up to my room, but Marco made me curious. If I gave him a chance, would Dad surprise me? I found him in the kitchen making hot chocolate. Everyone at the arena assumed his thermos was full of coffee, but the man had a raging addiction to cocoa.

“What’s for breakfast?” I quipped, fully aware it was early afternoon. Had he even noticed I wasn’t here this morning?

Dad set his spoon in the sink and leaned against the counter to study me. “I can make eggs if you want.”

A noncommittal reply, as expected. Instead of accepting his bland response, I came all the way into the kitchen to mimic his position, facing him with my back to the island. Then I tried Marco’s way.

“I’m not actually hungry, but Marco said we should talk and I’m bad at conversation starters.”

His brows went up, and he took a slow sip. “What are we supposed to talk about?”

“Us?” I didn’t mean for it to be a question, but Dad seemed to understand.

“Do you want to talk?”

His question took me by surprise. I’d prepared myself for a quick rebuttal that everything was fine. It never occurred to me he’d ask what I wanted. I studied him studying me, watching as his gaze landed on the hickey and his brows pulled together slightly.

The subtle expression was enough for me to push forward a little more. “I think I do. A lot has changed for me the last few months, and I’m ready to be an active participant instead of simply reacting to all the shit raining down on me.”

He nodded slowly. “What do you want to talk about?”

Questions flooded my mind, jockeying for space. In the end, I didn’t choose one. It simply slipped out.

“Why did you leave?”