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Standing up, Garrett slaps his hands together and rubs them briskly. “I love it. A devious plan. ”
“Exactly,” I say with a grin. “Let’s get to it. ”
***
Garrett just left my apartment and we have worked out a solid plan, which in my estimation will put Sutton in a position where she has no choice but to take me back. We had to call Glenn first, to make sure he was on board, because he’s instrumental to the plot.
The little dude was not happy to hear from me, which was beyond adorable. I mean, I’m his hockey idol, but he worships the ground Sutton walks on far more than he does my terra firma.
When he got on the line and I told him “hello,” he said, “You hurt my sister and I don’t want anything to do with you. ”
I had to do some fast talking so he wouldn’t hang up on me, but thankfully he listened, and after much groveling on my part, he finally agreed to help me. Garrett had his part of the scheme secured and planned on meeting Glenn tomorrow for the handoff.
He gave me a fist bump and a grin before leaving, saying, “This is going to be so much f**king fun. And you know you’re going to get an ass-chewing from the management, right?”
“It will be worth it,” I told him, and it would be so worth it.
Now the only thing left I had to do before I reclaimed what was mine and what I so foolishly let get away, was to make a very important phone call.
My dad answers on the second ring and he sounds coherent, which is excellent, because I really need him to hear what I have to say.
“Hi, Dad. ”
“Alex…buddy…what’s going on?”
He sounds jovial and clear, which is a good sign. I take that to mean that he’s staying sober, a concern I’ve worried over every single day since he visited a few weeks ago.
“Just calling to check in on you. So how are things going?”
“They’re going fine,” he says nonchalantly.
“You’re not drinking, are you?” I have no choice but to ask point-blank. I hope I can detect the truth of his answer.
“No way. I’ve been sober thirty-five days now. ”
I’m silent because he sounds truly happy about that. I’m truly happy about it, but it doesn’t mean that he’s won the battle.
“That’s fantastic, Dad. Is it tough?”
I can hear my dad take a deep breath and let it out, then he says quietly, “Hardest thing I’ve ever done in my life. ”
“You can do it,” I assure him. “I know you can. ”
“I appreciate the vote of confidence,” he says with a chuckle. “The AA meetings really help and my sponsor is a great guy. I call him if things get too rough. ”
The tightness in my chest eases up a bit and I allow myself the permission to let go of some of this worry. I have to remind myself, and accept, that whatever path my dad chooses, it’s out of my control. All I can do is support him when he’s standing tall, and reach a hand out if he falls.
“Listen, Dad…there’s another reason I called. ”
“What’s up?”
“Remember when you asked for my forgiveness when you came to visit?”
“Of course. ” His words are soft and appreciative.
“I didn’t mean it when I told you I forgave you,” I tell him bluntly and then hold my breath for his reaction.
“I see,” he says sadly, and I can tell he’s hurt.
Before he can say anything else, I tell him what he really needs to know. “I said those words to you because you asked for them. Because you needed to hear them…not because I wanted to give them to you. ”
“Alex—”
“But,” I cut him off quickly, so I can hurry up and get the words out and ease his pain. “I want to say them to you again…right now…and let you know that I want to give them to you. I need to give them to you and I very much mean them. ”
I can hear my dad take in a shaky breath and his voice quavers slightly. “That means a lot, buddy. And I do understand there’s a difference. Now you’ve truly forgiven me. ”
“Yes,” I tell him softly. “I really do forgive you for the things you did to me. I want you to have peace with that, because I do. ”
“Thank you, Alex,” my dad says sincerely. “You make your old man proud. You’ve reached some pretty amazing achievements in life and I didn’t think I could ever be more proud, but you’ve outdone yourself. I think this shows the true measure of what type of man you are, and God help me, I did nothing to create that. You did that on your own and it’s the proudest I’ve ever been of you. ”
I can feel my eyes sting because my dad has offered me words that I never thought I’d hear. My heart constricts almost painfully but then it immediately unwinds, and I swear I can literally feel darkness releasing outward.
“Thank you for saying that, Dad. ”
“Sure,” he says simply and with that, we’ve done as much father–son bonding as we can handle.
“I need to tell you something else,” I say quickly as I want to finish this conversation off with probably the most important reason I called. “You were wrong about Sutton…that it would be a waste of my time to focus any attention on her. That my career was more important than anything I could have with her. It’s because of Sutton that I forgive you. It’s because she’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me in my life, and in order to have her, I need to move past my pain. I can only do that by letting it go…forgiving you. If I didn’t want her so bad, I probably wouldn’t be having this conversation with you right now. ”
My dad is quiet for a few moments, but then he says, “Sounds like my son has become my teacher now. ”
I swallow hard, because those words also pack a punch. “I was stupid and cut her out of my life, but I’m going to get her back. Forgiving you was just one of the steps I needed to take. ”
“Is groveling another?” my dad jokes.
Chuckling, I tell him, “Fortunately, she’s not that type of woman. But I do intend to wow her with my apology. ”
“Well, one thing I know about my son…there is nothing that can stop him from reaching success when he puts his mind to it. ”
“That’s right,” I agree softly with my dad. “And that is definitely something you taught me. ”
Chapter 30
Sutton
I’m uncomfortable, sitting here in the front row, right on the glass to the left of the Cold Fury’s bench. I didn’t want to come to this game. Hell, I don’t want to go to another hockey game ever again, because the memories are too bitter.
And damn that Garrett Samuelson. He sent two tickets to Glenn, which I thought was the sweetest gesture ever, and assumed Jim-Dad would go with him. But Glenn begged me to go.
I resisted at first, telling him I had just lost my interest in hockey. I certainly wasn’t going to tell him my heart was broken and I didn’t want to be anywhere in the vicinity of Alex Crossman. But he kept at me, finally threatening to give the tickets away to friends if I wouldn’t go with him.
And of course, I capitulated. I didn’t want Glenn to miss this opportunity because—let’s face it—Garrett was going to fade out of the picture. He developed a pretty great bond with Glenn over Thanksgiving and has been in touch with him a few times, but now that Alex and I are over, I’m sure Garrett’s attention on Glenn will dissipate.
I tried to surreptitiously find out from Glenn if he was upset at all that Alex wasn’t around anymore, and he surprised me by showing anger. I had been honest that Alex had called it off, and that’s apparently all Glenn needed to know in order to cut ties with his hockey idol.
He didn’t understand all of the underlying issues. He had merely said to me, “He hurt you, Sutton. I don’t like him anymore. ”
So here we sit at the Cold Fury’s arena, with Glenn’s face pressed up against the glass waiting for the teams to come out for a warm-up. Just to show he really had cut tie
s with Alex, he didn’t even wear his jersey that Alex had given him, choosing instead to wear a simple black Cold Fury sweatshirt to the game.
I, on the other hand, had no problem showing my support for Alex as a player and wore the jersey he gave me. I was here to see a hockey game with Glenn and “when in Rome”…
Loud rock music blares from the speakers and a small cheer goes up from the visitors’ fans when the other team takes the ice for warm-ups. This starts my pulse pounding because I know within just a few minutes, the Cold Fury will be out and Alex will be just feet away from me.
I don’t even think I can bear to look at him, and I sure as hell hope he won’t see me. I doubt it. Even though we are sitting at the glass, most of the hockey players don’t even look at the fans as they are so focused on their game.
Still, I sit back in my chair and keep my eyes on my cell phone while I browse Facebook and Twitter, trying not to acknowledge the frantic pounding of my heart.
You will not look at him, you will not look at him, I tell myself over and over again.
A deafening roar goes up from the Cold Fury fans, and I know that means the team is coming onto the ice. From the periphery, I can see Glenn banging on the glass and yelling out Garrett’s name, so I know he’s at least on the ice now. I manage not to look up, but I sure as hell don’t see a damn thing on my cell phone as my vision is a bit blurred from trying to restrain my eyes from involuntarily seeking out Alex.
I start to realize something isn’t quite right when Glenn goes still and is no longer yelling. Even as I peer hard at my cell phone, I can see his body turn to look at me, so there must be something wrong if he’s not focused on the ice action.
Then I hear a rapping sound…it’s one I’ve heard before…a stick beating on the glass. And if I thought my heart rate had been racing before, now I can hear the thunder of its beat pulsing deep within my eardrums.
The rapping sound comes again, quicker…more insistent.
Against my better judgment, against the pledge I made earlier to myself not to do it, I drag my eyes slowly upward and look at Alex Crossman standing on the ice directly in front of me.
His gaze is soft and his brow is furrowed just enough for me to know that he is worried. About seeing me, about communicating with a “fan” rather than warming up…I’m not exactly sure, but he looks ill at ease.
He just looks at me, in such an intimate way, that the sounds of the arena seem to die out and there is only blessed silence cocooning the two of us.
I have no clue what he wants. I search the emotion on his face and I try to figure it out, but I just don’t get it. He’s an enigma to me, bewildering me so profoundly, I can do nothing but return his stare.
Movement to the side causes our gaze to break and I slide my eyes over to see Garrett skate up and come to a stop a few feet from Alex. He rests his arms on top of his stick and looks at me with a sly grin.
Then Alex moves and my attention is back on him. He throws his stick and gloves down to the ice and bends down at the glass, doing what, I have no clue. For a brief second, he’s gone from view and then he stands back up. He skates backward a few feet and I’m stunned to see he’s holding a stack of poster boards in his hand.
He smiles at me and my face flames red as I realize that he’s getting ready to do something in a very public arena in front of several thousand people. I look quickly left and right, and sure as shit, everyone in the vicinity is looking right at Alex in curiosity.
A brief look at Glenn shows him grinning like a fool, and I realize that I’m probably going to murder my little brother later. My gaze slides back over to Alex, and it’s clear he is patiently waiting for my focus to remain on him.
Holding the boards up in front of this chest, he pulls the first one away and tosses it to the ice, revealing a board underneath with writing on it.
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