Page 34 of Tough Score
If I have a choice, Reeve will never find out about my dad. I couldn't stand Reeve seeing me differently than he does now.
The front door closes, and Reeve turns around with his crutches and sees me heading for the kitchen.
"Got it," he smiles, holding it up.
"Perfect, thanks," I say and then pull open the freezer, grabbing an ice pack out. "It might take a few hours and I need to run an errand or two but I’ll bring back dinner before I head to Oakley’s tonight to help out after the home game–” And then I realized what I just said.
Reeve’s expression just barely drops and I know he’s hiding his disappointment on my account, which I hate.”Shoot, I’m sorry,”
“It sucks but it is what it is. I wish I could be at the game at least but Phil and Sam want me to stay home for a few more days to heal first. Sam told me that security has been advised not to let me in if I show up.”
“Sounds like they know you very well and they’re serious about you resting and healing. Do you want me to call someone to be here with you today or tonight?” I ask, walking the ice packs over to the living room and setting up the pillows that I left out here for him.
He heads in my direction, staring down at the pillows and the ice pack that I have set up for him.
“No, I’ll be fine. Dinner would be great but you don’t have to do that either if you’re settling in next door.”
“Is pizza okay? It’s fast and there’s a good place by my uncle’s house.”
“Sounds good to me.”
We exchange phone numbers in case he needs me to pick anything up and then I’m out the door and headed for my uncle’s place.
Chapter Ten
Reeve
After Keely leaves, I sit down on the couch and start icing my knee.
Missing tonight's game is the stark reality check that if I don't do everything I can to recover and rehab, then two nights ago might have been my last night as a professional hockey player.
Keely's right to say that my recovery should be our primary focus. If I want to play again, I need to put everything I have into getting back to playing at my highest level.
My phone rings and I glance down at the caller.
Dad calling…
"Hey pops," I say.
"Reeve. Hi, son. How are you feeling since I talked to you yesterday? You're home from the hospital, right?"
The last time we talked, I was still waiting in my hospital room to be discharged, and then last night, when he texted to check in, my phone was on silent while Keely and I spent the evening together.
"Yeah, and the Hawkeyes already hired me a physical therapist who they moved into the building to make sure I have the best shot at rehabbing my knee, so you don't need to pay for one, but I appreciate the offer."
Not that he would have needed to with the money I make, even if the Hawkeyes weren't covering it. But my dad did well for himself and he's always offering to pay for anything I need. Maybe it's his way of making up for not being in my life as much as we both wanted him to be.
He started out as a roughneck in Alaska at eighteen for an oil rigging company, and then by the time I was six, he had worked his way up the company far enough that they offered him a position to run his own oil field in Texas, and that's where he still lives with my stepmom, living in an upscale gated community, driving golf carts instead of vehicles around the premises.
"I know you don't like the idea, but what about an in-house caretaker? I could pay to have someone around to run errands and make food for you. Maybe do laundry... that sort of thing."
"I'm fine pops, I promise."
"You'll let me know if you change your mind?"
I can hear the worry in his voice.
"I will," I assure him.