Page 24 of Where It Begins
“What do you think I should do?” I throw it back at him.
He looks from Miller to me and back again. Miller just shrugs, but I can see the same concern echoed in his eyes.
“I don’t want to upset her. And I don’t want her to think I’ll end up being exactly like my dad.” He bites his thumbnail.
Most of the time Randy has it together, but his relationship with his parents can be tough. I sigh. “There’s a fundraiser coming up and we need help putting together the prizes. You two will spend your time off the ice helping with that. Not as a punishment, but so I know where you are and what you’re doing, and so you can give back to the hockey community in a meaningful way that isn’t using your promising professional hockey career to get into girls’ pants.” Randy is a year ahead of Miller and he’s already been drafted. As soon as the school year ends, he’ll be playing for the farm team in Toronto.
They both nod and mutter their agreement. Randy apologizes, tells Miller he’ll see him tomorrow, and leaves.
Miller waits until the front door closes before he speaks. “I’m really sorry, Dad. I didn’t mean to mess up your date.” He chews on the inside of his lip.
“What were you thinking?” I blow out a breath. “Never mind. I already know the answer. Look son, I understand that you’re getting a lot more attention from girls now, and that’s only going to increase once you’re drafted, but lying about your plans and then bringing girls home is not a good way to show maturity.”
“I know, Dad. I’m sorry. It’s just…Millie’s been coming to a lot of games lately and my room is more private and comfortable than the back seat of Randy’s truck.”
I choke down a laugh. I honestly don’t want to know how often they’ve used the back of Randy’s truck to pull this kind of shit. “What are the most important rules for dating women?”
“Come on, Dad.” His cheeks flush and he drops his head.
“Oh, so you can bring girls up to your room and Randy can entertain his in my living room, but you don’t want to talk about the important stuff.”
He blows out a breath. “No means no.”
“That’s right. And...” I make a go on motion.
“She can change her mind at any point. Doesn’t matter how close I am to getting the puck in the net, if she’s not comfortable, then I can get sent back to the bench.”
“Correct. What else?” I find using hockey terminology helps make sex talks easier and less awkward.
“Score her goal first before I score one for me.” He bites his bottom lip and fights a grin.
I don’t even want to know what that’s about. I wave him off. “Go to bed. You have a game at eight.”
He heads for the stairs. “Dad?”
“Yeah?”
“Sorry I ruined the end of your date.”
“You didn’t ruin it.”
“Well, you brought her back here, and you weren’t expecting us to be here, and then she had to drive Millie and Claire home, so we kinda cockblocked you.” His eyes go wide. “Shit. That’s—sorry, Dad.”
“You didn’t—” I shake my head. “Go to bed Miller.”
“’Kay.”
He disappears up the stairs and I head for the fridge and crack a beer, guzzling half of it in three swallows as I cross through to the living room. I pause at the fireplace mantel and pick up the photo of my late wife and our toddler son. I took it before the cancer diagnosis. Before all her hair fell out from the chemo and the weight loss.
Remembering her doesn’t hurt as much as it used to. But the hollow pang is still present, still real. Miller doesn’t really remember her, which is probably good because the final months were tough. “I’m trying my best. I’m sorry you had to witness that tonight.” I scrub a hand over my face, set the photo on the mantel, and flop down on the lounger.
Inviting Skye over was probably premature. Randy’s and Miller’s antics saved me from moving too fast. We definitely have chemistry, and that dress. Good God, all I wanted to do was peel her out of it. At least I know I can have a three-hour hard-on without the help of chemicals.
I slide my phone out of my pocket and message Skye to see if she got the girls home okay. I need to send her a thank you and apologize. But she doesn’t get back to me right away.
I finish my beer, drop it in the recycle bin and go upstairs to get ready for bed. Miller’s light is off, so I’m hoping he’s asleep. I strip down to my boxers and head for the bathroom. Once I’ve brushed my teeth, I turn off the lights and climb into bed. It’s been more than half an hour since I texted Skye and she still hasn’t responded.
I scroll Skye’s social media and come across a picture of Skye on vacation with her parents and her daughter. She’s wearing a bikini. I’d like to say I keep scrolling, but I don’t. Instead, I go to her albums and search for one labeled Beach Vacay.