Page 12 of Home Ice

“Of course it matters. You said you wanted to meet, and we’re doing that. You reached out for a reason, and I’m sorry I didn’t see it then, but I’m here now. Tell me what you want from me, and you can have it.” Because honestly, if I’d thought my dad had known about me my whole life and not reached out, I’d probably be mad too. “Let me prove I didn’t know. I’m an open book. Ask me anything.”

He crosses his arms. “How much money do you have in the bank?”

The brazen question stumps me. “What?”

“I asked how much money … do you have in the bank?”

“A … a lot.”

“Cool. If I can have anything, I want brand-new equipment. New pads, new skates, new helmet and stick.” He counts the items off on his fingers. “Oh, and I’ll be driving in a few years, so feel free to drop them off in my new car. Something cool that will impress my friends. A Beemer, maybe. Newest model.”

“You want … a car?”

“And hockey equipment, yeah. You’d know what a goalie needs, right? Being a big, important professional player?”

“Kasen—”

“You said anything.”

“I’m not buying you a fucking car. I meant you can ask me anything you want to know. You can tell me what you need from me. I’m only new at this. I don’t know what I’m doing or where to start, and I think I’d actually like to get to know you better.”

“You think, huh?” He laughs again, but it’s even drier than the last time. “I told you what I need. Everything else you’re offering … I don’t want it.”

I could tell him that he doesn’t have a choice, but what’s the point? He doesn’t want a relationship with me, and up until I saw him, I didn’t think I wanted one either. So why fight it?

“Will child support make you happy?” I ask, feeling defeated.

“No,” Kasen answers. “But it will make me rich. So that’s close enough.”

Chapter Four

TAI

I’m half-asleep when my phone goes off, and I’m in that groggy haze of sleep and wake where I’m not sure if it’s actually ringing or if I’m dreaming it.

I fumble for my nightstand, blinking the screen into view, and it takes way too long to register the words that are glowing there.

Derry’s bar.

The fuck?

I have to be dreaming. What the hell would Derry be doing calling me at eleven at night? I trained his kid for a couple of years, and before that, I was a regular asshole at the bar when I was first legal to drink, but outside of that, we’re not friends.

“Hello?” I croak, assuming it’s the wrong number.

“That you, Tai?”

Okay, not the wrong number. “Yeah, what’s wrong?”

“I have your friend here. You better come pick him up.”

“My friend?” I’m trying to work my sleepy brain. “Who?”

“Jensen Hawke.”

That’s the last name I’m expecting. Sure, we went out together there a few times when we were twenty-one, but it wasn’t long after that Hawke left. How the hell does Derry even remember that? “He’s not my friend.”

“Well, he’s here, drunk off his face and causing issues, so if you don’t come and get him, I’ll be forced to call the police.”