Chapter 11 #2
He considered all the things McKenna had told him about her dad, how he’d been an absent parent, contributing only money to her upbringing.
Then he recalled his coach admitting he’d been a lot like Tank when he was young, how he’d been a skirt-chaser, swaggering and cocky at the beginning of his hockey career.
Now, he understood her two dating rules.
And how fucked he was.
She wasn’t just avoiding a workplace relationship because of her asshole ex. She was avoiding a relationship with a hockey player…one who was exactly like her dad.
“McKenna’s father is the only one who calls her Kenny,” Tank said.
Coach looked surprised to discover Tank knew that. However, before the man could reply, Tank turned when he heard someone else calling his name.
McKenna was at the end of the hallway, walking toward him. “Tank. I was afraid I’d missed you,” she started, pulling up short when Coach Fields, who’d been hidden from her view, stepped out of the locker room.
“Oh. I, um…” She glanced at the coach—her father—then turned her gaze back to Tank. “I didn’t mean to interrupt.”
“That’s all right, Kenny,” Tank said. “We were talking about you.”
McKenna’s eyes flew to Coach Fields, who sighed.
“I slipped up on your nickname,” her dad said quietly.
McKenna nodded, peering back at Tank cautiously. “I was going to tell you,” she started. “Tonight, actually.”
“He’s your dad?” Tank asked stupidly. Because of course he was.
She bit her lower lip. “Yeah.”
“Guess that explains why you’ve been riding my ass lately,” Tank murmured to his coach.
The matching guilty looks the father and daughter duo sent him might have been funny, if Tank wasn’t still reeling from the disclosure.
“No one knows?” he asked McKenna. “About the two of you?”
“Hugh and Benny do,” she replied. “I asked them to keep it a secret because I didn’t want anyone to think I’d been hired simply because my dad was the coach.”
Tank now understood what drove McKenna to work so damn hard.
Obviously, she was worried that people would think she only got her job because she was Dean’s daughter.
If that fact had been revealed when she’d first started working here, that was certainly what he and his buddies would have thought.
But now, after seeing her do the job, there was no question McKenna had been the best candidate for her position.
“We agreed Monday night that we were finished keeping it a secret,” Coach Fields said, “though I didn’t mean to drop it on you like that.”
“Monday night?” he asked.
McKenna sighed. “I might have lied about the headache…that night,” she hastily added. “I really was sick the rest of the week though.”
“You’re feeling better, right?” Coach asked.
McKenna nodded at her dad. “I am. Much. I was glad you didn’t get sick, too.”
Tank watched as Coach stepped over to her, giving her a hug and a fatherly kiss on the head. “I was worried about you,” he murmured. “You got the soup I left on your porch?”
She nodded. “I did. Thank you.”
“Your mom told me it was your favorite.” Releasing her, Coach Fields gave Tank a long, hard warning look, then said, “I’ll leave you two alone.”
Neither he nor McKenna spoke as Coach Fields walked back into the locker room, the door closing behind him.
“What are you doing here, Mouse?” Tank asked.
“I was hoping we could talk.”
While Tank had been on his way to initiate a conversation of his own, he was now nervous, because he wasn’t sure if it was good or bad that she’d decided to seek him out on her own.
“Okay. Wanna come back to my place?” Tank offered.
McKenna hesitated just long enough that his worries became full-blown.
“Or we could talk at your place if you’d prefer,” he said, wondering if that would be a more amenable option to her. He hoped she’d go for that because he didn’t want to have this conversation in public, preferring privacy as he bared his soul to her.
“I’d come here thinking we could just talk in my office but…maybe my place would be better,” she said, looking as lost as he felt.
Her office?
Tank couldn’t help but think that didn’t bode well for him.
“Your place,” he said, refusing to continue treating this thing between them like it was just part of their jobs.
“Sure. Meet me there?” she asked.
The fact they weren’t riding together was another huge red flag, and Tank felt as if she’d punched him in the gut. She obviously wanted him to have his own car so he could leave after she said whatever it was she had on her mind.
Unable to speak, thanks to the weight now pressing on his chest, he merely nodded.
The two of them walked to the parking lot in silence.
“See you in a few,” he said, as she climbed into her car.
Tank walked to his own vehicle, his heart lodged in his throat. Maybe never falling in love hadn’t been such a bad way to live his life, he decided, as he drove to McKenna’s townhouse. Because at least he’d never had to feel this heavy, agonizing, relentless pressure.
McKenna, who’d snagged the parking spot in front of her townhouse, was waiting at the door as he walked down the block toward her.
“Come on in.” She led him to the living room. “Would you like something to drink?” she offered, as he took a seat on the end of her comfy couch.
He shook his head. “No.”
She dropped down on the other end, leaving way too much space between them.
“So Coach Fields is your dad,” he said, choosing to start with a safer topic.
He was aware he was simply prolonging the pain, but he hadn’t seen her, hadn’t touched or kissed her in days.
If she was determined to break things off with him, he was damn well going to steal every extra second he could sitting here next to her.
“Yeah. He was twenty-one when he found out he had a daughter, right at the beginning of his hockey career with the Stingrays.”
“So it was Dean who was sending gifts and child support all those years,” he said, recalling that conversation by the waterfront.
“Yeah, and for most of my life, that was all it was. He’d hung up his skates and started coaching by the time I was in high school. On a bit of a whim, I invited him to my graduation, and he came. It was the first time we’d ever met in person.”
Tank’s eyes widened. “You invited him?”
“Yeah,” she said, as if that shouldn’t be so surprising to him.
“I’ve experienced a million different feelings toward my dad over the years, but I’ve never hated him.
Maybe that was because Mom never said a negative thing about him.
And the money he sent…well, it was kind of a lot.
I mean, he could have denied I was his and just walked away without looking back, but he didn’t.
He made sure I was financially cared for.
And then, when I invited him, he showed up. ”
“So what’s your relationship now?” Tank was still struggling to believe she was Coach Fields’ daughter, but as he played through certain things—like the coach pulling her aside at the gala and then dragging them apart on the dance floor—it started to make sense.
“Evolving,” she replied. “After graduation, we started talking more. Mainly just phone calls and the occasional short visit, never anything super heavy. When I was at college, he asked me about my classes, my friends, my hobbies. Eventually, he started telling me stories about his life, which I had to admit were super entertaining. He’s met all kinds of famous people, and he’s a funny guy.
When all that shit with Eddie went down, and I knew I needed to get away, Dad stepped up and made it happen, helped me find the job and this place to live. He’s been great,” she said, smiling.
Tank couldn’t help but smile, too, because it was so her. McKenna was open and loving. There were probably plenty of kids who would have rejected Dean, would have resented him for walking away, but McKenna only saw the good.
Hell, once Tank had stopped acting like such a dick around her, she’d even started finding the positives in him, things he hadn’t even managed to see in himself.
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about our relationship sooner,” she said. “I know he’s been giving you a hard time.”
Tank shrugged. “My biggest issue with all that was not knowing what I’d done. Now that I do…I get it.”
“I guess you understand now why I’ve been so adamant about not dating hockey players and coworkers.”
McKenna had told him from the very beginning what her lines in the sand were. He was both, and yet, he’d been arrogant enough to think those rules wouldn’t apply to him. Maybe he hadn’t changed as much as he thought.
Tank nodded. “I tick all the wrong boxes.”
“I’m also sorry I didn’t stick around on Monday. I…” She sighed. “I saw you with Lara, and some of the insecurities I thought I’d kicked after Eddie came roaring back to the surface.”
Eddie, her prick of an ex, had chosen a Barbie Doll over her, while lying to her about his fidelity. Seeing Tank walk into Pat’s Pub with Lara had hurt her more than she’d let on.
Tank reached out, taking her hands in his. “I swear it was just a ride from the arena to the pub. I’m not interested in Lara. At. All,” he stressed.
McKenna squeezed his hands back. “I believe you, Tank. And even if I didn’t…”
Tank wasn’t sure where she’d been heading with that last statement, but he knew she wasn’t going to finish the thought.
She released his hands, tucking hers in her lap, wringing them nervously. “I let things go too far, Tank.”
Fuck. She was going to break things off.
He should have told her from the start that none of this was fake for him, but he’d been too afraid of losing her. Instead, he let her believe this was all a game to him, because his reputation had been working against him.
“Mouse, I need to say something—” he started, desperate to let her know how he really felt.
“Please,” she said, cutting him off. “Let me go first.”
He shook his head, unwilling to hear the words. He considered himself a tough guy, but he would fall apart completely if he had to hear her say the words “it’s over.”
“Mouse. McKenna,” he added, hoping his use of her real name would somehow let her know how serious he was.
She turned toward him, refusing to give way. “Tank, I need you to know—”
“Dammit, Mouse!” he said, reclaiming her hands, tugging her closer, determined to make her listen.
In the end, neither of them gave way, each speaking over the other at the exact same time.
“It was never fake to me,” he said.
“It wasn’t fake for me,” she said.