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“I play for the man. I know exactly how he looks when somebody blows a defensive assignment. I can make an educated guess about how he’ll react when he finds out one of his players has been sleeping with his daughter.”
Her cheeks turn pink. “Maybe don’t lead with the sleeping-together part.”
“Wasn’t planning on it.”
“Good.”
“But I think it’ll be better if you’re not there for the first wave of his anger.” I cross the kitchen and stop in front of her, close enough that my thighs brush her knees. I reach for her hand. “And I think he’ll respect it more if I face him alone.”
She frowns. “Why?”
“Because I’m the one who crossed the line.”
“I was there too.”
“I know that.” I squeeze her fingers. “But from his perspective, I’m the hockey player he trusted around his daughter. If I show up with you beside me, it looks like I’m hiding behind you. Like I need you there to convince him not to kill me.”
Her mouth twitches.
“And honestly?” I continue. “If we walk in there together and you start defending me while he’s pissed, it’ll turn into you versus him. I don’t want that. I don’t want him thinking I’m putting you in the middle or using you as a shield.”
Her eyes search mine for a moment. “Dad is traditional like that,” she admits. “I guess you kind of are too, in that sense.”
“I am.”
“I just don’t like the thought of you going in there alone and me not being able to help you.” Her fingers tighten around mine. “And I don’t like hiding from him like a coward.”
“You’re not a coward.”
“It feels like it.”
I step between her knees and tug her a little closer to the edge of the counter. “Then don’t think of it as hiding. Think of it as letting me take the first hit.”
“The first hit?”
“Probably followed by a second. Maybe a third.”
“Wyatt.”
“Depends whether he has access to a hockey stick.”
She laughs despite herself, and I keep hold of her hand.
“This is just what makes the most sense if we want the least fallout. I go to him alone. I tell him the truth. I make it very clear that this isn’t some casual thing I’m doing behind his back and that I’m serious about you.”
Her expression shifts at that.
“Then we give him time to be pissed. Once he’s had a chance to process it, we set up another time for all three of us to sit down together.”
She considers that. “You really think that’s better?”
“I do. Because when you’re there, I don’t want the whole conversation to be him finding out. I want him calm enough to actually hear what we have to say.”
“And you think he’ll be calm the second time?”
“No.” I grin. “I’m aiming for less homicidal.”
She exhales. “Fine.”
