Chapter 32
Grady
“Hey! There you are!”
As I skid to a stop on the black ice coating the sidewalk, and my teary eyes lock on my father standing at the back of his truck parked in front of my apartment building, it’s hard not to think the universe is out to get me. I wipe at my eyes and sniff.
“What are you doing here?”
He pulls down the tailgate and looks up at me, startled by my tone. “Sorry. I shot you a text, but I figured maybe your phone was dead, so I didn’t wait for a reply.”
My phone. I search my pockets. It must be at Landon’s house.
“Yeah. Guess it’s dead. I crashed at Landon’s. No power here.” I can’t seem to form full sentences.
“Mom saw that on the news. Heard half the coast was blacked out, so I wanted to help,” Dad says and pulls something out of the back.
It’s big and black, and I recognize it immediately as a portable generator.
I rush to the truck because I know that thing is heavy as fuck, and Dad’s back is not great. I stop him from pulling it down.
“I can’t have a generator on the deck, even if we could somehow get it up the stairs, it would be against the building’s safety code,” I explain. “But thank you anyway. Just go home. I’ll be fine.”
Dad and I stare at each other. Looking at him can be trippy because it’s like looking in a mirror that shows the future.
I’m his slightly taller doppelganger, from the ginger hair to the hazel eyes to the wide nose and dimpled chin, not that you can see mine under all the face fur.
I know it’s like looking in a mirror for him, too, because he reads me like a book.
Always has. Today, in the hazy attempt at sunshine poking through the winter clouds, he cocks his head. “What’s wrong?”
“I’m fine.”
I step away, pushing the generator back into the tail of the truck and closing the gate. “You’ve been crying.”
See? He sees everything.
“I don’t want to talk about it.” I walk to the front of the truck and turn toward my building. “I appreciate your attempt to help me, but from now on, if you don’t talk to me directly, please don’t just show up.”
“Okay, but you’re my son, and if I think you need help, you won’t be able to keep me away,” he says and starts walking toward me. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing.” My tone is hard as nails, but inside I’m dying to tell him. To have someone to share this with. To be raw and honest about myself and this fucking insane situation. But I have no one, except Harlow, who has her own drama right now with her brother. My isolation is my own doing.
I get to the stairs, and I guess the guy who was hired to clean them hasn’t yet because they’re coated in ice and snow. I swear. Behind me, I hear Dad say, “I have a shovel. Hold on.”
He walks past me a minute later with a big metal shovel that must have been in the back of his truck, and he starts on the first step. I snap out of my spiral, let go of my luggage, and take the shovel from him. “I’ve got it. Thanks.”
“I’m not an invalid.”
“No, but you have rods in your back. I don’t,” I remind him.
Dad’s hockey career ended when two vertebrae were destroyed by a vicious hit in a college game that sent him headfirst into the boards.
Mom told us he’s lucky he’s walking, and that has never left me and never will.
“Plus, I’m younger and it’s my shitty apartment. ”
“It’s actually a pretty nice place, G,” he says quietly. “I’ll go get some salt.”
He walks back to his truck, and I start on the next step.
It’s actually cathartic to pour all my energy into this.
Dad doesn’t say a word as I shovel stair after stair, hurling the snow off the stairs like it personally assaulted me.
He just follows behind me with a bag of salt cradled on his hip like a toddler, reaching into it and sprinkling some on the icy layer left on each rung.
When we get to the top, I’m sweating, and my coat has been discarded halfway down the stairs. Dad has used almost the whole bag of salt. “You go inside and see if your power is back. I’ll return the shovel to the truck and get your suitcase.”
I nod. He walks down halfway, grabs my jacket, and hurls it up to me.
I dig my key out of my pocket and unlock my front door.
As soon as I step inside, it’s like I left all the windows open for a week, that’s how cold it is.
I huff out a breath, which I can see, and storm over to the fireplace in the living room.
It’s gas, so it’ll work no matter what. Technically, I could have slept on the floor in this room last night.
It would have been uncomfortable, but I could have done it.
But I wanted Landon, and not because his place was more comfortable, but because he is my comfort, even when I’m too stupid to admit it.
After I flip it on and it roars to life, I try the light switch in the hall for the chandelier. Nothing.
Dad appears in the open front door, my suitcase trailing behind him as I pound the wall with my fist in frustration. My fist smarts, but luckily I don’t dent the wall. “Come home with me. You can stay warm. Mom will feed you. You can decompress.”
“No thanks.”
“I’ll drive you back later tonight.”
I shake my head and storm into my kitchen.
I yank open the door to the fridge. It’s not entirely warm inside, but I should still throw out some of the stuff, like the milk.
I grab the carton and walk over to the sink, opening the carton and begin pouring it out.
“Dad, thanks, seriously, for trying to help, but I just need time to myself.”
“Something is wrong.”
Our eyes meet. “Yeah, but you wouldn’t understand.”
He nods slowly and shoves his hands into the front pockets of his jeans.
His eyes move around the space. “Do you want to talk to one of your uncles? They understand professional hockey stress. They’ve been there.
Jordan is home right now. Call him. Or Devin.
He’s traveling. I think he’s in New York covering their game tonight for his network job, but he’ll make time to chat. ”
I watch the last of the warm milk swirl its way around the sink and down the drain, and it occurs to me, my dad thinks I won’t open up to him because it’s about hockey.
And he doesn’t have that frame of reference because he never made it.
He doesn’t look sad or offended. He just looks resigned.
Like he knows he’s inferior and he’s accepted it. I am such a complete and utter asshole.
“You deserve a better son, Dad,” I blurt out.
His eyes widen, and I can see his breath catch before my stupid eyes blur with tears.
I blink and fight them. “I don’t need my uncles.
You’re enough. Even if this… even if my problems were just about my shitty record so far this year, you’d still be the person I would go to.
The fact that you think I don’t… see that.
Well, fuck I’m sorry if I made you feel that way.
I’m a fucking asshole. You deserve better. A son you won’t have to defend.”
“Whoa.” He walks right over and takes the now-empty milk carton from my hand and puts it on the counter, then he grabs me by my shoulders and gives me the tiniest shake.
“Grady, I don’t care how big you think this is, whatever it is, tell me right now.
I am not going anywhere, no matter what you say. ”
I blink and swallow down a sob. Why am I falling apart? “I’m fine.”
“The fuck you are.”
I try to step out of his grip, but he won’t let me. That makes the tears unstoppable, and now I hate myself. “Dad. Just go. I’ll be fine.”
He doesn’t move. “Grady, talk to me. You’re scaring me.”
“I may have…” I shake my head. “I didn’t. So this is irrelevant. I don’t know why I’m so fucked up. It’s not… I didn’t.”
His pale red brows pull together, and the deep grooves that have developed between his eyes over the years get deeper. “You’re not making any sense.”
“Landon’s ex-girlfriend…” I whisper, and he grows still. “She… is pregnant.”
He stares at me. Blinks once. Opens his mouth. Closes it. “Okay. Why does this have you so upset?”
“Because…” Because I’ve been accidentally falling in love with Landon and now we’re entirely fucked.
And there’s a smidge of a possibility I’m the dad.
So yeah. Hi. Your son is gay, has threesomes, and forgets condoms. Bet you regret saying you won’t go anywhere now.
You want to run as far from me as you can now. “Never mind.”
I finally break free of his hold and manage to get by him and out of the kitchen before he can grab me again. He follows me into the living room, but I turn my back to him and stand at the fireplace, like I’m cold and trying to warm up. Truth is I feel nothing. I’m numb.
“So… you’re upset Landon is going to be a dad?” he questions calmly.
“We don’t know if Landon is the dad, but, yeah, he probably is,” I say vaguely.
“We don’t know?” he repeats. My dad is much smarter than he looks. “Who else could be the dad, Grady?” He doesn’t even pause long enough for me to respond. “Could you be the dad?”
“Doubtful,” I say quickly.
“But… not impossible?”
I don’t want to answer that, so I don’t, which I know is an answer. I close my eyes when I hear his sigh. If I turn around, he’ll look at me with disappointment. He’s never looked at me with that before. I don’t turn around because I don’t want to see it. I’ll never be able to unsee it.
“So you’re…” He pauses, and I wait to hear a million different things I expect, like how I’m an idiot, a fool, making the biggest mistake of my life.
But he says the one thing I could never have expected.
“So you’re freaking out because you might be a father?
Or is it because of Landon? Does he know you’re a potential father? ”
“Yeah. He knows. No, he doesn’t care. I mean, he’s not angry at me.”
Somehow, this is the truth, at least part of it, but it’s making me feel worse telling it to him. I try to take a deep breath, but my lungs forgot how to expand. I hear Dad move. His hand hits my shoulder. “Okay, so this isn’t the end of the world.”
He gives my shoulder a reassuring squeeze that fills me with guilt and anger.
Because now he thinks without a shadow of a doubt, I’m straight.
And that’s going to make it even harder to tell him the truth one day.
And if this kid is mine… on the off chance…
how do I explain their conception to them when I’m older?
Yeah, so I’m gay, but I agreed to a threesome with your mom because I had a crush on her boyfriend. What a fucking clusterfuck.
I jerk away from his touch, turning to face him. “Gram and Gramps are going to fucking disown me, and probably you and Mom and Shelby for good measure.”
“My parents will be over the moon to have another grandkid,” he replies. “And to be honest, Nancy and Phil have been itching for a reason to disown your mother since she started dating me. The failed hockey goon with a den of sin.”
He cracks a small smile, but when I don’t return it, it fades from his face. “Look, Grady, we’re getting ahead of ourselves. First things first, you need to find out if the child is yours. Then, if it is, you have to decide what that means.”
“It would mean I’m going to be a dad,” I say stupidly. The words feel like a foreign language on my tongue. Like, I don’t quite know how to pronounce them.
“And have you ever thought about that moment?”
I nod. “I want kids. I’ve just kind of convinced myself I’m not a guy who will get to have them. And I mean… I never thought that if I did get to have one, it would… be now. Like this.”
He smiles again. “I wanted to start a family about two years into my NHL career. After I won the Calder trophy, but before I won the Stanley Cup. I really wanted a picture of my kid in the Cup.”
“You got that.”
“Yeah.” His smile dims a little. “I have a picture of Shelby in the Cup after Jordan won it when she was one, and another with you in it after Luc, Jordan, and Devin won it together when you were three. Not exactly what I planned, but you know what? I still fucking love those photos. And you and Shelby. No matter how or when you guys happened, I’m still glad you did.
And if this kid is yours, eventually you’ll feel the same. ”
I know I will. But whether I’m the father or not doesn’t matter. This baby has blown up my life as I thought I knew it. Because if it’s Landon’s, I have to walk away. I have to let him and Angie reconcile.
“You don’t look like you feel better,” he says. “Not even a little.”
“It’s just… complicated.” I finally find a way to get air into my lungs and then exhale slowly. “I appreciate that you aren’t disgusted with me, Dad. I do.”
“I’m shocked,” he admits. “I had no idea you were involved with anyone.”
“I’m not involved with Angela. It was a one-time thing.”
He nods. “I’m not going to scold you for a one-night stand. I get these things happen.”
“And now… It’s just fucked.”
“It could be worse. Landon could hate you,” Dad says.
“I mean, he was with that girl a while, wasn’t he?
I saw her in the profile the NHL Network did on him when he was battling cancer.
She was his high school sweetheart. So the fact that he’s not murdering you for hooking up with her after they broke up is… lucky?”
Dad looks skeptical, like he’s trying to put together a puzzle with a piece missing.
And before I can think of something logical and not at all incriminating, the light in the hall flickers and then comes back on.
I glance through the pass-through into the kitchen and see the clock on the oven flashing. Finally!
“Dad, I’ve had a wild couple of hours and I don’t have practice or anything today, so I just want to crawl into bed and try and sleep,” I tell him. “I appreciate you being here for me. You’re more supportive than I deserve.”
“Stop saying shit like that,” he demands and pulls me into a hug. “You’re my kid. I love you no matter what, and you deserve that unconditional love, Grady.”
I fight the urge to tear up again with how much I wish that was true. He lets me go and pulls his phone out of his pocket. “Before you nap, we’re calling mom. I can’t keep something this big from her.”
“But I don’t even know if it’s mine!” I say and start to panic again. “Please, Dad. Just let me figure it out. I’ll tell her if I need to. Please.”
He relents, shoving his phone back in his pocket. “I can give you ten days to figure this out, Grady, and then I really have to tell your mom. We don’t keep secrets in this family.”
I nod. Maybe he doesn’t, but my whole life has been one.