Chapter Forty-Seven
Forty-seven
Scarlett
My dad thinks he’s slick, but I know I’m feeling the wrath of Coach Kilner right now. Shane Kilner would have showed up to my dorm, found me after class and made me talk, but Coach Kilner isn’t like that. He lets you walk through your own disasters and waits for you to crawl back when you’re ready.
The guilt is heavy and acidic, sitting right under my ribs. But even that doesn’t compare to the hollow pit in my stomach that’s been gnawing at me since Kian and I talked. It’s the reason I find myself parked in my parents’ driveway, ready to shed my cowardice.
This time when I look at my phone, I’ve gotten two texts from my mom.
Mom: I see you in the driveway.
Mom: Come inside, anak.
The minute I step out of my car, Mom’s wrapping her arms around me. I try to tell her I’m fine, but she hears the way my voice cracks.
Inside, she slides over a hot chocolate, just like she used to when I was a kid. One for her, after Victor had been especially angry, and one for me, for sitting through it.
“Never knew you were interested in hockey,” she says.
“Mom—”
“I’m kidding! Your father told me about Kian,” she says, her fingers circling her mug. “You know, I’ve known that kid since freshman year. He’s good, Scarlett. Drives your dad a little wild, but good.”
I laugh, thinking of how his personality has always been intact. No matter if it’s freshman year or senior year, Kian’s always been himself.
“Is Dad mad?”
She gives me a look that says I should know better than to ask.
“He looked so angry that morning, Mom. I’ve never seen him like that.”
“Scar, he loves you. The man hasn’t been able to say no to you since the first moment he met you. He’s not mad.”
“Disappointed?” The word claws its way out.
She pauses. “Not in you. More with how it played out. The sneaking around, the shock of it. He didn’t love seeing his right-winger’s hands all over his daughter.”
The blood drains from my face and I groan. “Did he say that?”
“He might’ve used the word mauled. I took some liberties.”
“He must hate me.” The words fall flat, brittle.
“No,” she says, firmly this time. “He’s been blaming himself for how he reacted that morning. You’re his whole world, Scar. He could never hate you.” She comes around the counter, her hands warm as she cups my face, her thumb brushing beneath my eye. “He’ll be home soon, you can talk to him.”
Suddenly, I can’t do it. All that cowardice I came here to shed climbs right back on, and I’ll carry it like a backpack if it means I don’t have to look into my dad’s eyes and see his image of me completely altered. “I think I should go.”
She doesn’t stop me as I head outside and into my car, getting ready to pull out of the driveway. That’s when headlights cut across the quiet street and Dad’s truck turns the corner. His tires crunch against the gravel as he pulls in beside me in the driveway.
My breath hiccups, and I reverse without looking at him.
He doesn’t shout my name. He doesn’t wave me down or storm over. He just…stands there. Hands in his jacket pockets, the lines around his eyes deeper than I remember, watching me leave with a sad little smile on his face.
I step on the brake, pull back into the driveway, and shift into park.
The passenger door creaks open, and Dad slides inside, shutting the door gently, like he’ll startle me and I’ll speed off.
“Kian Ishida, huh?” His voice is quieter than I expected.
I brace myself. “Dad, I’m sorry—”
“No,” he cuts me off, finally turning toward me, his jaw tight and his eyes soft. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t’ve reacted that way,” he says, like he’s been carrying this around all week. “But I walked up and saw him—my player—with his hands all over my daughter, and every instinct I had lit up.”
He pinches the bridge of his nose. “You’re my little girl, Scar. I didn’t know what to do.”
I blink, tears hot at the edges of my eyes. “I know I shouldn’t have kept it from you. I’m sorry.”
“If I know you’re safe,” he says, “I sleep at night. That’s all that matters to me. Are you safe with him?”
My throat clenches so tight I can barely breathe. “When I’m with him, there’s not a single thing I worry about. But I don’t want this to ruin your relationship with him.”
His eyes close briefly, pained like he’s recalling the way Kian’s hands ran over my body in broad daylight. My insides recoil. “That’s not for you to worry about. That’s between me and him.”
My throat feels heavy. I did this. I made Kian lose someone he looked up to like a father. It wrecks me.
“I was the one who suggested we keep it quiet. People have opinions, Dad, and I didn’t want it to seep into this part of my life. I never wanted it to get to you.”
“I don’t care what anyone says about you. I only care about what you think of you.” Those words loosen the coils tightening in my chest. His hand squeezes my shoulder, gentle, rough, every version of love he can manage.
“It’s really not his fault. And besides, we’re just friends now.” I don’t know what we are, but I want to salvage this for Kian. I need my dad to see him for who he is, who he’s always been.
My dad doesn’t say anything, and it makes the weight on my chest heavier.
When we head inside, my mom is waiting for us. We’re only inside for a minute when my mom hands him an envelope. I recognize it immediately, and my heart jackrabbits out of my chest again.
It’s got “Return to Sender” stamped on it in big, bold letters, but I’d recognize it anywhere. It’s the same letter that Kian had read, the one I still ended up mailing to Victor after he refused to see me.
“We’re not mad,” my dad says, shedding that Coach Kilner demeanor he had earlier and returning to my soft dad. “But this came in the mail and we’re just hoping you had an explanation for it?” My dad asks, handing the letter to me.
“When—how do you have this?”
“It got sent back, and you put the house address on it. We got it a few weeks ago. Your mother and I were waiting for you to come to us.”
“Mom. I’m so sorry—”
“Scarlett, do you know why I didn’t want you to see him?”
“You don’t have to explain it to me. I know I’m in the wrong, I saw what he did. I told everyone what he did. He’s a terrible person.”
But my dad stops me. “You can want to see him.”
“I did.” I close my eyes, peeking out of one to see their reactions.
“We know,” my mom says. “You left your phone in the kitchen, and I saw the call.”
“Well, you guys were right. I shouldn’t have gone to see him.” I take in a choppy breath. “I’m sorry if I made it seem like I needed him. I don’t. I only ever want you to be my dad. You’re what I’ve always wished for.”
My dad’s eyes glisten, but then his jaw tightens. “What did he do?”
Of course he would focus on that part. “He was just everything I hoped he wasn’t.” I keep the worst of it to myself. It reminds me of how gentle Kian was with me after, how he listened despite simmering in rage.
My mom shakes her head. “Don’t put it on yourself, Scarlett. It’s not the kind of thing you can fix. I spent years believing that I could, and I won’t watch you do the same.”
The lump in my throat gets harder to swallow.
They both come around me, cooing soft words in my hair as they pull me into their arms. “But you don’t ever have to wait for love, Rosie. You’ve got so much right here, we’re drowning in it. We’re practically miserable without you here.”
I let out a weak laugh. “Is that why I found dumbbells in my room?”
They deny it, blaming each other as I smile. And for the first time in weeks, I let myself believe it’s gonna be okay. That for once, I don’t feel like I need to escape.