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“How bad are your parents?”
“They’re intense.”
I waited for more of an explanation, but he only shrugged and opened the door for me.
“I hope she comes home tonight,” I muttered as I locked the door.
“Me too,” Mac echoed.
“Mr. Connor, it’s so nice to meet you.” I shook his hand and turned to Mac’s mother. “And Mrs. Connor—”
“The delight is mine.” She offered her hand and smiled as I kissed the back of it.
His parents seemed perfectly fine. It was just like Mac to exaggerate and make them seem worse than they actually were.
The four of us sat down, Mac visibly uncomfortable. I reached under the table and put my hand on his thigh. Even if he was melodramatic, he didn’t deserve to be this nervous. He froze and for a second, I thought he might push me away.
Instead, he squeezed my hand and didn’t let go as his father addressed him.
“That loss last week—had to be rough—”
A muscle in Mac’s jaw jumped. “We’ve won three times since that match.”
“Yeah, the Evergreens are on a winning streak right now,” I added, taking a sip of water to hide my confusion.
It was clear Mac hadn’t seen his parents in a while and I thought they would have asked how he was doing before launching into an analysis of his stats.
Sure, hockey was a huge part of his life, but it wasn’t the only thing he had going on.
“It’s the losses that everyone remembers, not the wins.” His dad tilted his head, his lips pursed in such a condescending manner I wanted to reach across the table and smack the look off his face.
Mac and I needed to work through our own shit if we were going to prove to Em that we could both be there for her. The last thing I wanted to do was deal with Mac’s asshole of a father.
“The wins—” I cleared my throat. “Are actually what we focus on. Hockey’s pretty aggressive—”
“Richard doesn’t need to be schooled on hockey, honey,” Mac’s mother, Joanie, drawled. “He played in college.”
“Oh, did he now?” Another sip of water to stop myself from saying more.
Mac was playing at the top of his game on a team that was on fire. Yes, they lost a game last week, but holy shit, no one won all the time. It wasn’t feasible to even expect that. And it was a downright rude statement.
“Are you staying out of trouble?”
“Of course,” Mac muttered, quieter than I’d ever seen him.
“Christian Milo from Ottawa got into trouble with some strippers and—”
“I’m not in any trouble.”
“Guys like you get cocky. They think just because they’re on a winning team, they’re invincible, but you’re not.”
“I thought it was the losses that matter?” I said, unable to help myself.
Mac smirked, and I bumped my leg against his, sharing a secret smile.
“That’s not how these guys see it, though.” Richard narrowed his eyes and watched Mac as if he was on trial. “They think they can get away with anything, but reputations are ruined every day.”
Mac didn’t respond, and I studied the menu, incapable of finding a response nice enough.
