Over the Line

Chapter 1

GARRETT

October

Flying always made me a little nervous, but that wasn’t the reason my heart was in my throat as the plane touched down at Pittsburgh International Airport.

For the entire ninety-minute flight from Chicago, I’d been a mess. Sweaty palms. Pounding pulse. A million worst-case scenarios replaying over and over in my head.

Not because I was scared of the plane going down—I was nervous about how the next week would play out.

As we taxied toward the gate, I sent a text to my son Chris.

Just landed. Meet at baggage claim?

In seconds, he replied with a thumbs-up emoji.

I closed my eyes and pressed my head back against the seat.

I had no idea how this week was going to go.

We’d been spending a lot of time on the phone and FaceTime in between texting, and he’d sounded excited when we’d made our plans.

He even wanted me to come to his home games while I was in town; prior to now, I hadn’t been to any of his pro games because I hadn’t wanted to be a distraction while we were getting back on the rails.

I cringed and gazed out the window, watching the airport draw closer. I’d missed so damn much, and I had no one to blame but myself.

Well, my ex-wife shared some of that blame, but the vast majority of this was on me.

So many things I could’ve handled differently.

So many times I’d let anger, pettiness, and vindictiveness take the wheel when I should’ve used my damn head, and it had, for far too long, cost me my relationships with all four of my adult kids.

In the years since the divorce, I’d managed to salvage things with Nick, my eldest, and Katie, my youngest. My second, Ally, still wanted nothing to do with me. I hoped to work on that in the future, but for the moment, she’d asked for no contact, and what could I do but respect that boundary?

Chris was my third child, and he hadn’t spoken to me until about two years ago.

His younger sister had—on her own—persuaded him to at least have a conversation with me.

One conversation had turned into several, and we’d been talking semi-regularly for the past year and a half.

Tentatively at first, always with the sound of eggshells straining beneath my weight, we’d reconnected and found our stride.

We’d worked through some things, and we were on much better ground now, but there was still a lot to be done.

Still so many ways I could fuck this up and wind up estranged from him again like I was from Ally.

It would be Chris picking me up at the airport this afternoon, too. I would finally see him face to face for the first time in over half a decade.

Nervous? Yeah, just a bit.

We reached the gate, and before I knew it, I was deplaning.

I sent up a little prayer to anyone who might be listening.

Then I followed the other passengers out into the concourse.

Outside baggage claim, I paused to check the screen with the carousel numbers, committed mine to memory, and continued toward baggage claim.

Halfway down the escalator, though, my mind went blank.

There he was.

My son.

I’d seen photos of him, and I’d watched him play hockey on TV, but holy shit, there he was—in the flesh.

Hockey had always kept him lean and lanky, but he’d filled out in some ways, too. His baby face was long gone, his skin had cleared up, and he was broader now. He still looked young—he’d just turned twenty-three—but he definitely didn’t look as much like a kid anymore.

Not that I was feeling old or anything, realizing just how much my third child had grown up.

And just how much time I’ve missed.

I shook that thought away. It was time to move forward, not wallow in the recent past.

I stepped off the escalator and approached him. Even as he smiled, I could tell he was still guarded, and I didn’t blame him.

Chris swallowed. “Hi, Dad.”

“Hi.” I paused awkwardly, unsure what to do next.

Chris gave a quiet laugh, then stepped closer and hugged me.

Closing my eyes, I returned the embrace and tried not to fall apart right here in the airport. I wasn’t an overly emotional guy—not demonstratively, anyway—but this was my kid. Who I hadn’t seen in six long years.

And he was hugging me as if he’d missed me too.

“It’s good to see you,” I said, my voice coming out thick.

“You too,” he whispered. “It’s been too long.”

Fucking hell. He was going to make me cry right here in baggage claim.

We separated, and though he tried to be subtle about it, I caught him wiping his eyes. I didn’t say anything about it.

He cleared his throat. “Do you, uh, have any bags?”

“Yeah. It’s carousel…” I racked my brain. “Shit. I can’t remember.”

Chris laughed, and we found another screen with the carousel assignments. Then it was maybe ten minutes before bags started arriving. We collected mine and headed out to the parking lot.

I should’ve known—and on some level, I’m sure I did—that he wouldn’t still be driving that battered old Toyota we’d given him for his sixteenth birthday. I was definitely surprised, though, when he pressed a button on the key fob, and the taillights flashed on a black BMW SUV.

I whistled. “Wow. That’s one hell of a car.”

Chris beamed with pride. “I know, right? I bought it when they re-signed me with the one-way deal. I love it.”

“Nice. How long is the new contract?”

“Three years.” He pursed his lips. “I wanted a longer extension, but my agent thinks he’ll be able to get more money for me after I’ve had more time to really prove myself. Plus I’ll be really be in my prime then.”

“Smart man.” I hoisted one of my bags into the trunk. “A longer track record at this level will give you more leverage.”

“Let’s hope.”

We got in the car, and Chris took us out of short-term parking. The scenery around us barely registered as the freeway whipped by; I was just so overwhelmed to be here next to my son.

My son, the professional hockey player who was making a name for himself in the top league.

That wasn’t much of a surprise, though. He’d been drafted twelfth overall the year after his mother and I split.

We’d been estranged then, so I’d watched his career from afar.

He’d spent most of that time developing in the minors, getting called up now and again when the team needed someone.

Last year, toward the end of his third season, he’d been called up and hadn’t been back down since.

This year, he’d been on the opening night roster for the first time, playing left wing on the third offensive line.

He’d made it. He’d busted his ass, and he’d made it to the big leagues.

I couldn’t have been prouder… or more ashamed of all the time I’d missed.

Not to mention how much of a distraction our issues had been at the worst possible time for a kid trying to break into his sport at this level.

That he was willing to reconcile with me was definitely a miracle.

Now that we’d made enough progress to spend time together, maybe I could finally make up for some of the time we’d lost.

“So, I want to ask about something.” I shifted in the passenger seat. “You don’t need to give me an answer now, and you won’t hurt my feelings if the answer is no. But I want to bring it up so we can talk about it while I’m here.”

Chris shot me a wary look before refocusing on the interstate. “Okay?”

I took a deep breath. “My company opened an office in Pittsburgh a couple of years ago. I’ve been offered an opportunity to transfer to it.”

He glanced at me again, eyes wide. “Like… moving to Pittsburgh?”

“Yes.”

“Oh.” He adjusted his grip on the wheel as he stared at the road. “Are you… Do you want to come here?”

“I’d like to be closer to you,” I admitted quietly.

“But… then you’d be farther away from Nick and Katie.”

“I would. But I’ve spent a lot of time with them over the past couple of years. I’d like to make up for some lost time with you.” I paused. “Like I said, though, it won’t hurt my feelings if you say no. I don’t want to encroach on—”

“No, no, it’s fine.” He tapped his thumbs on the wheel. “I’m not here much, though. At least during the regular season. We’re on the road a lot, and when I’m home, I’m at practice, games, media stuff…”

“I know. And that’s okay. I don’t want to be underfoot all the time, you know? But the opportunity to grab a beer or something sometimes…” I hesitated. “And… I’d like to be able to come to your games. If you want me there.”

“Yeah, definitely,” he said without hesitation. “I, um…” He swallowed, and a blush rose in his cheeks. “Like I said, I got tickets for you for the games this week. In the owner’s box.”

I couldn’t describe the rush of warmth and relief. “I appreciate that. I’m really looking forward to it. But I don’t want to be a distraction or anything, you know?”

“No, no, you’re fine.” He glanced at me, and he smiled flicker-fast. “It’ll be good having you here. I mean, for the week.”

“What about permanently?”

Chris swallowed. “It’s… I like the idea. I do. But you know I could get traded or something, right?” He looked at me again, brow creased. “I don’t have a no-move clause or anything. And I’ll be a free agent after three years. I’m pretty sure they’ll re-sign me, but like, anything is possible.”

“That still gives us some time, though.”

“It does. Do you… Do you want to uproot your job and everything? Even knowing I might not be here?”

“It’s been years since we’ve been in the same place,” I said evenly. “Quite honestly, I’ll uproot everything if it means I get to spend a couple of months with you.”

He swallowed again, harder this time. “It’ll be good to have you here.”

“Will it? Because you really don’t have to decide right now. I told my boss I’ll have an answer for her when I get back, so there’s no hurry.”

“No.” He shook his head emphatically. “I want you to come here. I…” He hesitated. “The last few years have been tough. I’ve… I mean, even when I was mad…” Some more color rose in his cheeks. “I’ve missed you.”