Page 58 of Home Ice

But I’m so scared it won’t. What happens if all this does is prove to him that work isn’t an option? What if he fails and it sends him into another spiral where he refuses his antidepressants, and we go back to that dark, scary place where he stops trying?

Sure, the canvases clogging up the house are inconvenient, but they’re also hope.

That’s something we both need.

I’m so focused on my conversation with Belli that I completely forget to worry about seeing Hawke again.

Until I pull up in the parking lot and find him leaning against his rental. He’s wearing branded St. Louis athletic gear, strong legs extended from his shorts and hands tucked into the front pockets of his hoodie.

He looks incredible, as usual, and some of the twisted anxiety threatening to overwhelm me settles.

I park next to him, turn off the car, and climb out. “Kasen’s class isn’t until three,” I tell him.

“I know. Figured your students would get a kick out of having a professional player stop by.”

“You’d be right.” I predict that there will be more jersey signing than training today. Considering how my brain seems to have leaked out of my ears, I can’t say that’s a bad thing. “So you’re going to hang around all day?”

His hazel eyes are slow to meet mine. “You’re a busy man. Can’t really be friends again if we don’t spend time together.”

It’s a relief to hear that it wasn’t only the orgasms talking the other night.

Hawke cocks his head. “You okay?”

“I’m …” I suck in a lungful of morning air. “Torn.”

“About me being here?”

I laugh. “Everything’s got to be about you.”

“I’m kind of a big deal.”

He really is, and joking or not, I hope he knows that. “Over Dad, actually.”

Hawke’s expression immediately tightens. “Did something happen?”

“No, not …” I’m about to sound like a complete idiot. “He talked to Belli about working in the cafe. It sounds like they’re going to take it slow, and I’m so fucking happy that he feels like he can do this, but I’m terrified that he really can’t.”

He whistles, long and slow. “What makes you think he can’t?”

“A decade of experience,” I answer dryly before I decide to get really honest. “I just know how this is going to go. I don’t doubt that Dad can do it, but I do doubt that people will give him the space he needs to adjust properly. He gets frustrated and down on himself so easily, and I know he won’t be able to brush it off if he fucks up.”

“Maybe he won’t fuck up.”

I stare Hawke down. “How did he look to you the other day?”

“Like Ben.”

“Really? Exactly like the Ben you knew?”

Hawke sighs and surprises the shit out of me by pulling me into a hug. His strong arms hold me tightly against him, and at first, I want to struggle against the restricting feeling that consumes me, but then I process his scent, his warmth, and my brain catches up with the fact that he used to be my safest person in the world.

The tension eases out of my muscles, and my hands find his lower back.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs.

“Yeah, me too.” I stay there, face on his shoulder, until the worries don’t feel like they’re going to strangle me. “It’s hard to let go.”

“I bet.”