Chapter 11
Chapter Eleven
Dean took a deep, steadying breath, aware he couldn’t stall any longer. Reaching for the knob, he opened the door before McKenna could knock a second time.
“Hey, you two,” he said, looking from her to Tank, working overtime to paint a smile on his face.
McKenna had texted him earlier, asking if she and Tank could stop by with dinner.
If he hadn’t known why she wanted to see him, he probably would have come up with some excuse.
He was not going to be good company tonight.
He’d gone home from Pat’s Pub yesterday after breaking things off with Vivian and put one hell of a dent in a bottle of bourbon. As a result, he’d woken up today with a killer headache in addition to the unbearable pain in his chest.
Okay—his heart.
Work had been an experiment in torture as he’d run the team through a series of situational drills. Adulting really did suck, because today was one of those when he would have loved to shut down his alarm, roll back over, and blow off the whole fucking day.
However, thanks to his eavesdropping yesterday, he suspected this visit was so that McKenna could share her happy news with him, so he’d said yes to dinner.
McKenna held up a bag from his favorite Thai place. “Pad Kra Pao and Thai fried rice. Hope you’re hungry.”
He was touched that McKenna knew his order. She was a kind, sweet, thoughtful woman. Ellie had raised her well. That familiar pang of guilt snuck in.
“Sounds great,” he lied. Last night’s abundance of bourbon hadn’t just gifted him with a headache. It had left him queasy as well.
McKenna and Tank walked into his house, heading straight to the kitchen. They were no strangers to his place, so they were familiar with where the plates and utensils were.
Before she started dating Tank, McKenna ate here with Dean at least a couple times a week.
Once she and Tank became an item, those visits were cut down to once or twice a month and Tank always tagged along, joining them for takeout.
Afterward, they usually watched a movie or caught up on House of Dragons.
Once they had plated up their food, they carried it to his dining room.
The only time he used this table was with these two.
Most nights, he ate alone in the living room, balancing his plate on his lap.
The dining room table was reserved for stacks of shit—mail, folded laundry, and a bunch of other crap he never managed to put where it belonged.
After McKenna called, he’d come in and cleared it all away, aka, stacked it on the bed in the guest room.
“So,” McKenna started, glancing in Tank’s direction with a sweet smile and slight blush that told Dean just how much she loved the man. “We have some news.”
Tank was an affable guy with a big personality, and, prior to dating McKenna, he’d had quite the reputation as a playboy.
Dean hadn’t been thrilled to discover they were dating.
He was worried about his daughter dating one of his players.
And to be honest, Tank would have been top on his “hell no” list, because Dean had been enough like Tank when he was younger to know he wasn’t someone he wanted for his daughter.
Dean’s initial concerns had been laid to rest over the past seven months. He’d never seen a man more head over heels in love than Tank. Then, Dean reconsidered that fact—because he’d caught traces of the same look reflected back at him in the mirror the past month or so.
“Hit me with it.” Despite his own pain, Dean could see how happy McKenna and Tank were, and it was helping to lighten his mood. Sort of. Maybe having dinner tonight was just what the doctor ordered.
McKenna held out her left hand, revealing one hell of a diamond. “Tank proposed, and I said yes.”
Dean stood at the same time McKenna did, the two of them hugging.
He didn’t let her know he’d already overheard.
“Oh, Kenny. I’m so happy for you.” He meant that with all his heart.
As they stepped apart, he reached out, shaking Tank’s hand.
“I’m going to assume I don’t need to offer any warnings,” he said, only half joking.
Tank laughed. “No warnings needed, Coach. If I ever hurt my sweet little mouse, I’ll kick my own damn ass.” He hesitated for a moment. “I spoke to Ellie last week to get her blessing. I hope you don’t mind I didn’t ask your permi—”
“Let me stop you right there. Ellie was the right person to go to. And while you don’t need it, you have my blessing as well.”
McKenna wrapped her arm around Dean’s waist, giving him a sideways hug. “It’s not a question of needing it. We wanted it.” She briefly rested her head on his shoulder. “Thanks, Dad,” she whispered.
McKenna tended to alternate between calling him Dean and dad.
Typically, he was Dean at work, which he knew was McKenna trying to keep things professional.
The latter came out whenever they were in more serious, more emotional conversations.
There weren’t words to describe how good it felt when she called him dad.
He seriously felt as if he could take on the world in those moments.
They sat back down, eating their dinner.
While they always said they weren’t going to talk about work, it was hard not to, given all three of them were part of the Stingrays’ organization.
It was what they had in common, so it was natural for them to fall into a discussion about the next two games.
From there, they talked about Blake and Erika becoming parents, McKenna sharing that they’d stopped by her office yesterday to show her pictures of their first ultrasound.
Dean noticed that Tank, who had been playfully giving Blake a hard time in the locker room about sleepless nights and shitty diapers, suddenly looked almost envious as McKenna explained that Erika and Blake were going to keep the gender a secret until the baby was born.
“Have you given any thought to when you want to tie the knot?” Dean asked.
Tank and McKenna had obviously given it a lot of thought.
Apparently neither of them wanted a super-long engagement, but as Tank said, the nuptials would have to take place after the season, because he was determined to take McKenna away for a long honeymoon.
McKenna described her dream wedding, how it was going to take place in June, and how she’d already started putting feelers out on venues.
“I was also hoping you and Mom would give me away,” she said.
Dean was so touched, it took him a moment to respond. “Kenny. I would love that more than I can say, but if you’d rather just your mom—”
“I want both of you,” McKenna interjected in a determined tone. “And Mom agreed with me.”
Dean was overwhelmed by gratitude toward Ellie and McKenna, who had both openly welcomed him into their lives, no criticisms, no hard feelings. Just flat-out acceptance.
“I’d be honored.”
He smiled. It was a good smile. Genuine, even. But something about it must not have resonated the way he’d hoped. McKenna had become annoyingly good at reading him over the past year and a half.
She smiled, bending forward to give him a kiss on the cheek. “You okay?”
He nodded. “Yeah.”
“Liar,” McKenna retorted, one eyebrow raised, while Tank snorted.
Dean rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. “I’m fine, Kenny.”
She shot him a classic “don’t kid a kidder” look. “Something’s bothering you. I can tell.”
Dean’s gaze slid over to Tank, who gave him a sheepish shrug. “I might have said you were a bit off today at practice,” he admitted. “And when you opened the door a little while ago…”
“You looked like someone had just killed your dog,” McKenna added.
“I don’t have a dog,” Dean said, striving to make a joke and divert his too-astute daughter.
Tank bumped shoulders with McKenna. “I’m going to grab us all something to drink. Meet you in the living room?”
“Sure,” McKenna answered for them, as Dean tried to figure out how to proceed with this conversation. It was apparent neither of them was planning to drop the subject.
McKenna led the way to the living room, while Tank detoured to the kitchen. She claimed the couch as Dean sank down in his recliner. For several seconds, neither of them spoke.
“Kenny,” he started.
“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to. It’s just…you’ve helped me so much since I moved to Baltimore, I was hoping I could repay the favor.
The first time McKenna had called him dad was during a rough patch at the beginning of her relationship with Tank. She had shown up here, seeking his comfort and advice, and it had felt amazing that she’d sought him out.
He sighed. “I’ve been seeing Vivian the past couple of months.”
Of course, Tank chose that moment to walk in. He stopped mid-stride. “Vic’s sister? Jesus. You might be the bravest man alive.”
As terrible as he felt, Tank’s words landed just right, and Dean chuckled.
“Or the dumbest,” he corrected.
Tank handed Dean a beer, then joined McKenna on the couch, giving her one of the White Claws that Dean always kept in his fridge just for her. Personally, he couldn’t stand the sweet drinks.
“You’ve really been dating her for months? I wonder why she didn’t tell me,” McKenna mused.
“Viv asked that we keep it a secret. She hasn’t dated anyone since her husband passed away and she was worried about introducing a man into Pip’s life,” Dean explained.
McKenna frowned. “Pip knows you.”
“As Victor’s coach. Not as Vivian’s…” His words faded away because, while he’d wanted the role of her boyfriend, he’d never let himself think that word.
“Boyfriend?” Tank added. “Guess I understand why you’re still alive. Is that what’s bothering you? Dropping this bomb on Vic?”
Dean shook his head. “Victor knows. Or maybe I should say, he knew. I broke things off yesterday.”
McKenna looked crestfallen. “Oh. Why? You two are perfect for each other.”
Dean couldn’t deny he liked that McKenna thought so. He lowered his head, focusing his attention on the bottle of beer in his hands. “I can’t be who she needs.”