Chapter 29
Hunter
I thought putting the truth on paper would make it easier to breathe, but once Taylor took the letter, all I could do was wait for Catherine to decide whether my truth had come too late.
Isla asked three times if Catherine had answered.
The first time, I told her not yet. The second time, I told her patience was important.
The third time, she looked at my phone sitting faceup on the kitchen counter and said, “You should listen to your own advice.” So apparently my daughter had started heckling me in my own home.
By noon, Taylor texted to say Catherine had the letter and Isla’s card.
She gave no details or report on whether Catherine had read it, cried, thrown it into the pool, or decided I was still not worth the trouble.
I told myself that once, then realized it was only another way to prepare for losing her.
I was done doing that. I put my phone in my pocket, kissed Isla’s forehead, thanked the babysitter for coming early, and drove to the arena.
Cole’s truck was already in the lot. I sat there for a moment with the engine off, staring at the building that had been my second home for years.
I had walked into that arena after bad games, injuries, trades, losses, and wins.
This shouldn’t have felt so hard. Cole was in his office when I knocked on the open door.
He looked up from a stack of papers, and the second he saw me, his lips pursed.
“Got a minute?” I asked.
“Depends on what you’re here to say.”
“I’m not resigning,” I clarified.
A flicker of surprise crossed his face before he buried it.
“I’m here about Catherine.”
His expression hardened. “Then close the door.”
For a second, neither of us spoke. I had sat across from him countless times, talking lines, leadership, media pressure, locker room issues, Isla’s school fundraisers, his kids, my parents, everything.
Cole had been the man I went to when I needed advice.
Now I was standing in front of him because I had become the problem.
“I left that night because I was scared,” I started.
Cole watched me intently. “I told myself I was giving Catherine space. I told myself staying would make things worse, that there was no solution in that room, and walking away was the right thing to do.” I swallowed.
“That wasn’t the whole truth. The truth is, I saw how much this could cost her, and I panicked. ”
Cole’s eyes went flat. “So, you left her crying in her bedroom.”
The words hit exactly where he aimed them. “That’s what you want me to understand? That you were scared?”
“No. I want you to know I understand what I did was wrong.”
He leaned back, nothing about him relaxed. “Do you?”
“I hurt her. I made her feel like when things got hard, I’d walk.”
“You did walk,” he deadpanned, and that was the truth. I had been a fool.
“I know.” It wasn’t a proud moment.
He looked toward the window overlooking the empty practice rink. “She was devastated.”
My chest tightened. Hearing the words from him was so much worse than just picturing it in my head.
“I’m sorry,” I said quietly. “I love her. I love your daughter. I know that’s probably the last thing you want to hear from me, but I’m done softening it.
I love her, and I’m done quitting on her because I’m scared, she’ll decide I’m not worth what it costs to be with me.
You know what happened with Amy. You know my head has been messed up because of it for years, and I’m not making excuses now.
I’ve come to say that I want to be with Catherine and stand by her side through thick and thin if she’ll let me. ”
“That’s up to CC to decide what she wants,” he said.
“I know.”
“Then what are you asking for?” Cole stared at me for a long moment. His expression didn’t soften.
My throat tightened. “I’m asking for your blessing.”
His eyebrows lifted.
“Not because Catherine needs your permission,” I added quickly. “She doesn’t. She’s twenty-four. She’s smart and stubborn and fully capable of deciding what she wants. I know that.”
“Good,” Cole said, his voice flat.
“But you’re her father. You’re my coach. You trusted me, and I damaged that. I don’t want to keep building something with Catherine while pretending your hurt doesn’t matter.”
Cole’s jaw worked.
“I’m not asking you to be happy about it today,” I said. “I’m not asking you to forgive me right now. I’m asking you not to stand in her way if she chooses me.” The room went silent.
Cole turned away first. He walked to the window and stood there with his hands on his hips, staring down at the ice like it might give him an answer. I stayed where I was, because moving felt like a mistake.
“You know what the worst part is?” he asked.
I said nothing.
“I like you.” That hit harder than if he had yelled.
He looked back at me. “I liked you before this. I trusted you. I let you into my family because I thought you were safe.”
My chest tightened.
“I am safe. I would never intentionally hurt her,” I said.
“But you did.” His words hit like a blow to the chest.
“I know, and I plan to make it up to her,” I assured him.
“And you lied,” he added.
“Yes, and I’m sorry. We wanted time for us, but I know it was the wrong move.”
Cole’s eyes narrowed slightly. I held his gaze. “Catherine and I both made choices. I made the wrong ones when it mattered. I’m trying to make the right one now.”
“And what happens if this goes badly?” he asked. “What happens if the media finds out? If people start looking at her like she didn’t earn her place?”
“I know there needs to be a professional plan. I know Tatum needs to know. Dr. Patel and Wren probably need to know. I know Catherine can’t be involved in my treatment or evaluations or anything that makes her look compromised.”
Cole’s expression shifted, just barely.
“But I’m not going to management before I talk to her,” I said. “Not like this. Not before she tells me she wants that. I’m done deciding what happens to her life without asking her first.”
For the first time since I walked into his office, Cole did not have an immediate answer.
He looked back out at the rink. “She’s been miserable.”
My hand flexed at my side. “I know. I’ve been miserable without her too. I hate that I did that to her.”
Cole’s voice lowered. “Don’t do it again.”
“I can’t promise I’ll never hurt her. But I can promise I won’t run the next time it gets hard.”
He studied me. The silence stretched long enough that my pulse started beating in my ears.
Finally, Cole exhaled through his nose and rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. “I still want to punch you.”
“I know.”
“And I’m not giving you my blessing like this is some clean, happy thing I’m ready to toast.”
My chest tightened.
“But” he continued, and that one word nearly knocked the air out of me, “I’m not going to stand in her way. My daughter gets to choose. And if she chooses you, then you and I will figure out the team side after that.”
Relief hit so hard I had to force myself to stay still.
“Thank you,” I said, my voice rough.
Cole’s eyes flashed. “Don’t thank me. Prove me wrong.”
I nodded. “I will.”
“And Hunter?”
“Yeah?”
“If she lets you back in, you better understand what she’s giving you.”
My throat tightened. “I do.”
His expression was still hard, but there was something tired underneath it now. Something that looked too much like grief.
“She said you remind her of me.” His mouth quirked at the side. I had not expected that.
My hand tightened on the door handle.
Cole looked out the window again. “Made me want to punch you more.”
Despite everything, a rough laugh scraped out of me. “Yeah,” I said. “That sounds fair.”
His mouth twitched, but it was gone before it became a smile. I left before either of us could make the moment heavier than it already was. I was halfway down the hall when my phone buzzed in my pocket. I stopped dead. For one second, I could not make myself look. Then I pulled it out.
Catherine: I got your letter.
Four words.
My heart slammed against my ribs. Another text came through.
Catherine: I miss us too.
I closed my eyes, trying to regain my bearings. The thought of losing her had shaken me to my core. I typed back with hands that were not quite steady.
Me: Can I see you?
The dots appeared. Disappeared. Appeared again. I stopped breathing while I waited for her answer.
Catherine: Yes.
I stared at the word until it blurred. It wasn’t forgiveness. But it was a door opening, and this time, I was not going to be the man who walked away from it.