Chapter 13
CHAPTER 13
1 YEAR AGO
I loved french fries—waffle fries drenched in Chick-fil-A sauce to be specific. A large order of their fluffy golden goodness was heaven on earth after spending two hours in practice. It was my dad and I’s cherished tradition. Every Wednesday night, he’d pick me up with that godly white and red bag sitting on the passenger seat. Those car rides were our one opportunity a week to catch up. Without fail, he pulled away from the rink and turned left instead of right, taking the long way back to my apartment. When I was younger, he did the same. He carved out one-on-one time for me and I cherished it. A girl needs her dad, after all. We used to talk about homework and whatever drama was occurring in my friend's group. Now that I was in college, we talked about my future and swapped game strategies.
Tonight was no different. He pulled up at 8:45 on the dot, the red and white bag perched on my seat. A wide smile spread across my face, and I hurried to shove my gear bag into the trunk of his SUV. I hopped into the passenger seat, eagerly digging into the bag. I groaned when the salty goodness hit my tongue. The taste of the special sauce brought the entire thing home .
My dad barked a laugh at me and pulled out of the parking lot, turning left. “Some things never change, kiddo,” he said.
I nodded. “That’s a good thing, though.”
He smiled in response. It was raining tonight and the wipers on his SUV were working overtime to keep up with the raindrops.
“You need to buy new wipers, Old Man.” I pointed to where the wipers struggled to clear the windshield.
He sighed. “I’ll get around to it. You know how it is during hockey season--”
“No time for anything else,” I cut him off before he could finish.
“Exactly,” He smiled.
We drove quietly for a few minutes, the only sounds coming from the scrape of the wipers and the rain hitting the windshield.
“Hey,” he started. Internally, I groaned, knowing exactly where this conversation was about to go. “The coach for the US women’s team called me again.”
“Dad, drop it,” I continued to stuff french fries into my mouth.
The U.S. women’s hockey team started scouting me a few months ago. They offered for me to travel to practice in Utah and play a few road games with them. The coaching staff wanted to see if I’d mesh with the team before the Olympic trials. The issue? Women’s teams don’t have the funds to pay their player’s expenses. We were liable to pay for travel, not to mention my scholarship would disappear the second I stopped playing for BU. There was no way my dad could afford it. Even as a head coach, he made nowhere near enough money.
“Mace, this could be huge for you.”
This argument was getting old. We’d been doing it non-stop since the initial offer came through. The next Winter Games weren’t even for another 2 years. This was insanity. I wanted to play in college, go out with my friends, maybe get a boyfriend. The Olympics would change all of that. I was happy in my Bloomington bubble. Why couldn't he see that?
“Dad, I’m not Jackson. The Olympics would be amazing. I’d get some great swag, and who knows, maybe a small sponsorship, see my face on a Wheaties box, but then what? There are no professional women’s teams that pay. I’d derail my college career and who knows how much that would cost you?”
“Maci Anne Rae, do not put yourself down because you’re a woman. You are better than your brother, and we both know it. You have speed he wouldn’t dream of.”
I rolled my eyes, “Yeah, and because he was born with a penis, he will get signed into the NHL, while what? I get some cool stories to tell in a bar?”
“Maci, knock it off. This doesn’t have to be?—”
Headlights came out of nowhere. The force of an oncoming vehicle knocked our SUV sideways. The entire vehicle shook and my body swayed right while the car moved left. Time slowed down and my waffle fries seemed to move in slow motion as the SUV went airborne. Someone was screaming.
Was it me?
I felt us hit the ground and subsequently felt every roll thereafter. Time felt suspended as the car turned over and over. Tires squealed and metal crunched. The seatbelt dug into my chest while glass and other debris hit me in the face repeatedly. I couldn’t feel my right arm anymore. My head pounded. Every time it hit a new target, my brain rattled.
When the car finally stopped moving, the world was upside down. My vision blurred and raindrops came through the shattered windshield. It took a moment for me to realize that we were hanging upside down. Frantically, I searched for my dad, but he wasn’t in the driver’s seat anymore .
Blood dripped down my cheeks, and I attempted to move my arm to wipe it away. My arm wouldn’t move. Why wasn’t my arm moving? Was I paralyzed? The taste of hot metal filled my mouth and my vision blurred to black. Shaking my head, I forced myself to remain conscious. What was I doing? Right. Dad. Where is Dad?
“Daddy?” I croaked, trying again to search for him.
Waffle fries littered the floorboards. I strained to hear anything above the roar of the rain. Panic slammed into my chest. I distracted him. He wasn’t looking at the road. Dad blew a red light. My vision dimmed, and I shook my head. We were fighting. My mind buzzed, and I tried to move my arm again.
“Dad?!”
This was all my fault. Someone was screaming now. The roar of sirens became louder and louder. My eyes drooped as my adrenaline wore off.
“Daddy?” The taste of salt mixed with metal in my mouth.
My last thought before I went unconscious was that I had killed him. I killed Dad.