Chapter 36 Ava #2
His eyes glisten, and a tear slides down his cheek. He swipes it away quickly. “You called me Dad.”
“I—” My voice breaks. “I did.”
“No one’s ever called me that before. I like the sound of it.”
The admission cracks me wide open. I’m almost ashamed to admit it, even to myself, but sharing this moment, having something that is ours and ours alone, is a balm to my bruised and battered heart.
He pulls me into his arms, and I let myself collapse against his chest. He’s solid and warm, and he smells like peppermint and pine. This right here is what I’ve been missing my entire life.
“I have to tell you something.” I hate that I have to put these thoughts out there, but if we’re going to move forward, I need to be honest. I can’t continue to bottle up my feelings and expect him to know what I’m thinking.
“Even though I know it’s not your fault, that you had no way of knowing about me, there are some days that I’m just so angry you weren’t there.
And as much as I love Knox, it hurts to see that you two have the kind of relationship I wish we had. ”
“Oh, Ava. I’m so sorry I wasn’t there for you,” he whispers into my hair. “It’s my biggest regret. I know your mom didn’t think I could handle a child, and she was probably right at the time, but I will never forgive myself for missing so much of your life.”
Until this moment, I wasn’t sure I could either. But maybe this is what we needed all along: an honest conversation. A chance to grieve the loss of what might have been…together.
“You couldn’t have known,” I say, my voice muffled against his shirt.
“That doesn’t make it hurt any less.” He pulls back just enough to look at me, his hands still gripping my shoulders.
“I know we can’t get those moments back.
But I desperately want to be in your life.
To have a real, meaningful relationship.
To be your father. I just—I’m lost. I’ve never had a daughter, and I feel like I’m constantly screwing up.
I don’t always know the right thing to say or do, but I’m trying.
From the moment you came into my life, all I’ve wanted is for you to be happy. ”
“If you want me to be happy, you have to accept me for who I am and respect my agency,” I say gently. “That includes my relationship with Knox.”
He sighs heavily. “I know. And I do respect your choice. After seeing how hard Knox fought for you this week, I know he’ll take care of you and treat you with the respect you deserve.” He pauses, then adds with a slight smile, “But if he doesn’t, I’ll kick his ass.”
We both laugh, and my tears finally break free, cutting a path down my cheeks.
“That’s why I made the stupid rule about hockey players,” he continues. “I didn’t want to see you unhappy, constantly saying goodbye, spending half the year alone. You deserve someone who can be there for you and who won’t miss all the little moments that are so easy to take for granted.”
I get what he’s saying, but…
“Knox isn’t you, and I’m not my mom.” I wipe the tears from my cheeks. “I know it will be hard with all the travel, but it’s my choice to make. I choose Knox.”
“I know you do.” He smiles, and there’s understanding in it. “Will you give me another chance? To be your dad?”
“Yes,” I whisper. “Of course.”
“Thank you. I promise not to screw it up, at least not intentionally.”
We both laugh at that because, yeah, there will probably still be missteps, but at least now we know how to talk them out.
“Are you coming to Thanksgiving tomorrow?” he asks tentatively.
I nod. “I’ll be there.”
His face lights up, and even though I didn’t actually do anything, I swear it’s the proud dad look. “Good. I’m looking forward to our first holiday together.”
“Me too.” And it’s true. I’ll miss Mom and Nana, but I deserve to make memories with my father too.
We hug again, tighter this time, and something shifts between us. Our relationship isn’t perfect—we still have a long way to go—but it’s a start.
“I’d better get out to the ice before the guys run amok,” he says, pulling back reluctantly.
“Go.” I offer what I hope is a reassuring smile. “They need you.”
He heads for the door, then pauses and looks back. “I’m proud of you, Ava. For standing up for yourself with Banks. For negotiating with Towers. For setting boundaries with me. You’re a strong young woman.”
Fresh tears prick my eyes, and my throat grows tight, but I manage a quiet, “Thank you.”
He disappears into the hall, and I’m left standing alone in the locker room.
I look around, not quite seeing the messy stalls and discarded gear.
This night has been full of surprises.
I’m getting everything I want. My dream job. A relationship with my father. Knox.
And I did it by advocating for myself, by putting my needs first, and expressing my feelings, regardless of how messy and chaotic they are.
By finally breaking free from the good girl trap.
The door opens again, and I expect to see one of the assistant coaches or trainers.
Instead, Knox walks in, helmet tucked under his arm.
“You’re still here?” I blink at him in surprise. “Shouldn’t you be on the ice?”
“Yes, but I wanted to make sure you’re okay first.” He crosses the room in three long strides, drops his helmet on the bench, and cups my face in his gloved hands.
“I love the game, darlin’, but I love you more.
I know the difference between my career and my life.
I will always choose you. I will always put you first.”
He truly means it. If I had any lingering doubts, they’ve been erased.
“I love you,” he says again, conviction in every syllable.
“I love you too.” I smile up at him, my heart so full it might burst. “And you know what? I think I just might believe in fate after all.”
He grins. “It only took five years, eight weeks, and low-key extortion.”
I laugh and swat his chest. “I can’t believe you and the rest of the team took on the GM for me.”
“There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you,” he says simply.
The admission warms me from the inside out. And as much as I want to stay here in this moment with him, he has a responsibility to the team. A team I’m just as invested in as he is. When the game is over, he’ll be all mine again.
“Then you better go kick some Devil’s ass.”
He kisses me once more, hard and fast, then strides toward the tunnel.
I watch him go, but the sight doesn’t fill me with sadness or longing. It fills me with hope. Hope for the future. For the life we’re going to build together. This is who we are. Hockey brought us together, and there will be times it separates us, but Knox will always come back—to me.
And we’ll be stronger for it.