Chapter 12 #2
“By torturing me with early morning runs?” I tease.
Leaning against the wall, Troy is talking on the phone, looking stressed. I feel badly for everything he’s dealing with. He may not have been named, but there’s still people that are calling him, I expect.
“He may need to make a public statement,” Dad murmurs once we’re past him.
“It’s so unfair,” I sigh. “If that’s something he wants to do, great. I just hate that it’s forced.”
“That’s life in the public eye,” he says. “There’s pros and cons to it.”
The suite has two bathrooms, so we are both showered, dressed, and packed in record time. Dad ushers me downstairs, and treats me to a big breakfast of eggs, ricotta toast, and potatoes.
“Mmm. I’ll probably be full until dinner,” I say, sighing happily at the end of the meal.
“Good. We’ll be driving today. I want to swing by the store first so that I can buy you a butt pillow,” he says as he pays the bill.
My cheeks heat as people turn, while I shake my head in embarrassment. The weeks have passed by so quickly. We didn’t really decorate for Christmas, and now it’s officially January.
I haven’t stopped moving long enough to mourn the lack of holiday spirit. I also have had too much going on to really think about it.
“Thanks, Dad,” I murmur as his eyes sparkle with mirth. Yeah, he knows exactly what he did.
“If your dad can’t embarrass you, then who can?” he chuckles, standing.
“Wonderful reasoning,” I say, standing. “I really do want that butt pillow though.”
“Figured you would,” he says, leading us out.
Even with as much as he teases me, I’m enjoying every moment of our time together.
One week later
“Let’s go! We play the Scorpions again in three days!” Dad yells.
I didn’t think I’d miss this stadium as much as I have. We have three games in New Orleans before we have an away game. I don’t remember this rigorous a schedule when I was in high school, but maybe it’s been long enough for my mind to forget.
Santo and I are still talking in messages, and he’ll send me photos with Levon occasionally now too. They’re cute together, and I can see how well they get along. I still don’t know where I fit as their scent match, but I suppose I’ll need to find out soon.
Dad moves over to sit by me, his eyes on the ice and his players.
“Tell me what you see,” he says urgently, lips pursed.
“I see a coach that’s stressing too much,” I say mildly.
He gives me a thumb down, making me roll my eyes.
“Fine,” I murmur, watching as the team scrimmages. “Troy is about two seconds delayed on his reaction time. He’s distracted. Conroy is a freaking demon, and he’s helping Troy pick up the slack it seems. Number…fifteen? Crap, his name is escaping me. His footwork could be tighter.”
“Anything else?” he grunts.
Getting comfortable, I give him a running commentary, knowing I can take the break from recording. I have enough content from practices.
“Okay,” he breathes. “I can work with all of that.”
“Dad, they’re doing great,” I tell him. “I’d tell you if they weren’t.”
“Hmm,” he says, standing. “Alright, let’s call it! Troy, can I talk to you for a second?”
Inwardly, I wince. I heard Troy arguing with his wife on the phone a few days ago.
I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but I was walking by and he was yelling.
His wife, Ella, doesn’t believe that he was taken advantage of.
Somehow, someone from the hotel staff leaked that there was evidence of duct tape in the room.
While this is true, it wasn’t for the kinky fuckery the sleazy media rags are pretending it was. Shuddering in disgust, I begin to put my stuff away. The Zamboni comes through the practice rink as we finish up, and I mindlessly watch it until my dad drops a bag beside me.
“Lace up,” he grunts, before talking to the assistant coach.
Ugh. Is this his version of a heart to heart? Are we making this a thing now?
Opening the bag, I pull on my skates, nodding at the Zamboni driver as he leaves the rink. The ice is polished and perfect, waiting for me to mess it up.
Dad sits down and pulls on his skates quickly in jerky movements, as if he’s angry.
“What is going on?” I ask, confused. His scent even smells burned, which is a sign that he’s not simply annoyed, but really upset about something.
“In a second,” he grumbles. “On the ice, let’s go.”
Dad follows me on the ice as I begin stretching my muscles slowly. Rolling my neck muscles slowly as I skate, I begin releasing any bad energy I may be feeling, despite the angry alpha skating behind me.
He’ll talk when he’s ready.
“The Scorpions are playing near New Orleans tonight before they play against us tomorrow,” he says slowly.
“Mmhmm,” I say, deciding to make him work for it.
“You’re such a shit,” he groans.
“I’m aware,” I sing, picking up speed to jump and crash back down.
Dad picks up speed so that we’re side by side, and I wait for his next words.
“It’s about a forty minute drive,” he continues.
“You should offer that information and see if they want to meet up. I’m not saying I like any of them, but scent matches are important, Cae.
Just be sure to also let them know I’ll remove their knots from their bodies with your knife if they hurt you. ”
“Um…What?” I ask. “You…I…”
“I’m not hitting you in the back of the head like I do my players when they’re broken,” he warns with a smile.
“Oh my God!” I exclaim, dropping my head back as I laugh. “So I’m scheduling my first date, I suppose?”
“Ugh, I don’t like that either. Maybe I should call Miles and threaten, ah… talk to him instead,” he mutters.
“You’re not making him ask me out,” I squeal. “Why is this so complicated?”
“Because you’re my daughter,” he shrugs simply.
“Who's taking out Caelia?” a voice yells.
Glancing over, I see that Troy is already showered and ready to go to the hotel until it’s time for him to play. Rolling my eyes, I shake my head as I skate around the rink in his direction.
I’m not as scared as I used to be of him or most of the Dragons. I don’t know what they think of me, which is why I try to stay out of their way.
“Dad,” I groan, looking at him with a beleaguered expression.
“I didn’t get to tease you in high school,” he says. “I’m just living my best life.”
I keep myself from stomping, but only barely. Falling on my ass wouldn’t be a good look.
“We’re currently discussing the complicated scent match triangle Cae has found herself in,” Dad says, unable to hold back his smile.
“I think a triangle isn’t the right term,” I say, blowing out a breath.
Move back in with your father. You’ll save money they said, it’ll be fun they said…
No one mentioned wanting the ground to swallow me whole too.
“Bah,” Dad says, his booming laugh bouncing off the walls.
Troy watches him as if watching an entirely different person in awe. I suppose Dad is for me.
“So who are you being set up with?” Troy asks. I suppose when your life is imploding, it’s more fun to listen to someone else’s life. I don’t blame him.
“I doubt you’ll like them,” I say, skating ahead to let my dad talk with him.
Troy is slightly glaring at me by the time I make it around the rink again.
“I told you so,” I say, turning to skate backward.
“You’re really good on a pair of skates,” he yells instead as I pass him.
“I had a really good teacher!” I call back.
“So, Scorpions, huh?” Troy asks, waiting until I make my loop around.
I slide to a stop, the ice spraying as I do.
“Biology is a bitch,” I mutter. “I still don’t know what to think about it.”
Dad is standing on his skates in the bench area on the phone, and I shake my head at him as he turns his back on me.
“Who is he on the phone with?” I hiss.
“Sorry, kid. He’s on the phone with Coach Miles,” Troy smirks.
“Awesome,” I sigh. “Well, we can mark down setting me up on my first date as something else my father is adept at.”
“That’s probably why he’s doing it,” he says. “Good luck.”
I nod as he leaves, shrugging as I go back to skating. Dad’s got this call on lock.
Damn, my life is so odd.