Page 93 of Home Ice

His laugh is the first thing I hear when we walk in.

He’s leaning on a table, chatting to a couple sitting there, and I tug Hawke’s sleeve, pulling him toward a far table by the window where Dad hopefully won’t see us straightaway in the morning rush.

The knot of tension inside me loosens a tiny, tiny bit.

“You good?” Hawke asks, taking the seat across from me.

“Yeah, I think so.”

He sends a half smile my way. “We’re just going to order, eat, and go. That simple.”

I give him a doubtful look. “Think if you say that enough, it’ll work?”

“Who knows, but we’ll find out.”

Him being so relaxed and laid-back about this whole thing is rubbing off on me. I know Dad is amazing, and I know he works hard. He deserves to do this if it’s what he wants, and I really fucking hope it works out.

But …

I shove the thought away again. I told Hawke that I don’t operate on what-ifs when it comes to the past, so I have to stop letting them apply to my future as well. It’s hard to tell if the therapy helped at all, but I can’t deny it was good to get some of the worries off my chest to someone who isn’t the man sitting across from me.

In fact, we ended up talking about him more than anyone.

Including the fact that he won’t be around for long.

My therapist was right that I need to build a support system outside of him, but that starts with asking for help from people, and it’s not something I’ve ever been good at.

“I’ll go order,” he says, and I’m grateful for it. “The usual?”

“Yes, please.”

Hawke disappears, and I finally let myself glance over at Dad again. He’s dropping a tray off at the counter, and as soon as he sees Hawke, his face breaks into a smile. A smile that wavers slightly when he follows the thumb Hawke throws over his shoulder to point my way.

I hate that I’m the reason his happiness dimmed, so I force the most genuinely proud expression I’ve ever worn and send him a wave.

It takes a second, but the tension disappears, and he waves back before getting on with his job.

Hawke is back a few minutes later. “Looks like Belli’s made some updates,” he says, placing a bright red mug down in front of me. His is orange, and when I glance around at the tables, I see a mix of brightly colored items in amongst all the familiar white ceramic.

“Cool.” I pick up my coffee and take a sip, refocusing on Hawke and not keeping an eye on Dad to check he’s okay. “So when do you leave for your trip?”

“The wedding?” he checks. He’s mentioned his teammate getting married next week a couple of times now. “I’ll leave on Friday so I’m there in time and probably come back on Monday.”

It’s only a few days, I know that, but all it does is remind me that the next time he leaves, it won’t be for a weekend.

Hawke shifts in his seat. “Do you, uh … wanna come?”

“What?”

“To the wedding.” He shrugs, not meeting my eye. “I have a plus-one, and I thought it might be cool, you know.”

I’m not expecting the excitement that races through me. “You’d be okay with me meeting your team?”

“Are you kidding?” I finally have his attention as he leans over the table. “It’s long overdue.”

I lean in too. “And will you tell them that we’re fucking?”

“Depends.”