The Puck Drop by Jaqueline Snowe

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

Naomi

I wasn’t a pretty crier. My face became puffy, and my eyes stayed red for at least a day. Plus, my voice got scratchy, and my throat hurt something fierce. Two weeks post-Michael, I was a mess. He wouldn’t answer my texts and didn’t look back at me once the last two games. I knew I fucked it all up, but why did it feel like I couldn’t breathe? My laptop had two percent battery, and my wrists hurt from working at this awkward angle. Given my inability to sleep or be happy, I threw myself into the stats project.

Numbers were therapeutic and didn’t have feelings. Someone knocked on our door, and for a split second, my heart leapt in my throat.

“Want me to get it?” Mona said, reaching out from next to me and running a hand over my shoulder. She’d been watching season five of How to Get Away With Murder. We both had insane crushes on Viola Davis and the guy who played Dean Thomas, and focusing on fake drama was what I needed.

“No, I’ll get up.” I brushed crumbs off my shirt and knew as I walked toward the door that it couldn’t be Michael. It was Saturday. Post-game. He’d be with my dad all day doing hockey business.

I ground my teeth together at the third time my dad blew me off on the project. He dissed me in front of Cami, refused to spend time alone with me, and I was sick of it. Speaking of Cami… I opened the door, and my sister stood there wearing an overly large white cut off sweatshirt.

“You look like shit,” she said, frowning as she walked right into my apartment. “God, your place is great. Smells like cookies.”

“Because I made some,” Mona said, pausing the show and eyeing Cami with a protectiveness that made me almost smile. “We’re still in the moping phase if you’d like to join us.”

“Absolutely. I’m great at moping.” Cami flashed a grin at Mona and situated herself on the single chair to the right of where I was sitting. “You’ve avoided my calls the past two weeks, and I remembered how you got in junior high. Pouty. Recluse. I figured I needed to come over to pull you out of it.”

“It’s not that simple.”

“Yes, it is.” She leaned onto her knees, and a dark, intense stare crossed her face. No trace of the beauty-pageant sister. “Fix your issues with Dad, then talk to Michael.”

“She’s right,” Mona said, wincing as I turned to her.

“Excuse me?” My heart raced, and my face warmed. “Issues with Dad?”

“Look, I love you. Things have been weird with us, and we’re working on it, but I’m sure Mona would agree. Your shit is with dad, not Michael. Not hockey. Dad was a horrible husband and a crap father to two girls. I know you think we have a special bond, but there’s a lot you don’t know.” She pushed her hair out of her face. “Dad is a dick, and I see it more and more since you told me how you felt. Confront him. Demand an explanation. Because girl, you’re not ever gonna be able to open your heart if you got all this drama in there.”

Mona put her arm around my shoulders and squeezed. “You started this internship because of your dad. Has it gotten better?”

I shook my head.

“Worse?”

I nodded.

“And that’s okay with you? The Naomi I know would never let a middle-aged man make her feel inferior. Who cares if it’s your dad? Stand up to him. Outsmart him. Show him that you know you’re worth loving.” Mona sniffed and hugged me tight. “I think you need to let the idea of you two healing go and instead, work on showing him the real Naomi. Because if he doesn’t want you in his life, then why are you trying so hard to stay in his?”

Fuck. I hung my head as a heavy, deafening silence followed.

They were right. One hundred percent right. My sister and my best friend. Another wave of tears hit me, and the taste of salt rolled into my mouth. Was this heartbreak with Michael because of my issues with Dad? Was I the reason this had fallen apart? The truth hit me in the side of the face, hard.

I’d fucked up.

“So, are we thinking uh, now? I need to talk to my dad today?”

“No.” Cami patted my knee, awkwardly. “When you’re ready. But… the sooner, the better. I’ve seen a really grumpy and sad assistant coach walking around.”

Michael. The guy I loved.

I let him down. The guy who’d been through so fucking much. The guy who told me I was his best friend here.

I squeezed my eyes as pain radiated through me. The thought of confronting my dad scared the shit out of me, but I’d do it for Michael. I owed Michael that—to open up this wound that made me drive him away. Maybe this would be enough for him to forgive me.

“Today. I’ll do it today.”

* * * *

My dad always wore a polo on game days. It was that way growing up and no different now. He muttered something to himself as I stood outside his office a few hours later. I wore my favorite jeans and hoodie along with an orange beanie. It was getting colder outside, and my teeth shook from a horrible combination of chills and adrenaline. I knocked on the doorframe hard, and he looked up.

“Naomi, what are you doing here?” He glanced at his watch. “We didn’t have a meeting, did we?”

“No, because every time I’ve set one up with you, you’ve bailed. Which, you’re really good at bailing on me. You’ve been doing it my entire life.”

He stood straighter than I’d ever seen and set the papers down on his desk. “Something on your mind, kiddo?”

“Clearly,” I said, crossing my arms and refusing to sit on the chair he pointed to. “Do you know why I wanted this internship?”

“Uh, for your class project, right?” he said, his face flushing as his eyes moved back and forth from me to the doorway. “Should we shut the door for this or…?”

“Jesus. Worried about the team? Of course you are. That’s legit all you care about. The fucking hockey team.” I pinched the bridge of my nose as my eyes stung.

“Naomi, look—”

“I took this internship because I was sick of hating you. I wanted to fix our relationship before I graduated because then we’d just do the awkward holiday calls. But you know what? I don’t care anymore. You’re selfish and cruel. You dismiss me every chance you can. Not with Cami though. No, you make time for her.”

He blinked and swallowed so hard his throat made a clicking sound. “I-I don’t—”

“I’m not done,” I yelled, my face almost on fire. “I worked my ass off for this project. The player profiles and team dashboard are next level.”

“I know that,” he almost shouted. “Michael walked me through them. Told me how good you are and how incredible they were! I made a change last week on the line up because of the one you did for Erikson!”

Michael showed him? Told him how good I was? A thrill went through me, giving me some extra courage.

“Which you should’ve. Told. Me. About,” I said, my teeth clenched together.

The mention of Michael caused my stomach to ache, but I powered through. This was the mother of confrontations, and it was like a dam of emotion unleashed. My head pounded and my palms sweat. My hands shook, and I paced the room, gripping the back of a chair as anger wrapped itself around me. I couldn’t stop my thoughts and feelings toward my dad.

“You pawned me off to Hank or Michael. You cancelled plans. You’ve let me down so many times that I can’t recall the last time you haven’t.” I laughed out of sheer adrenaline, not that there was anything comical about the situation. “I used to think I hated hockey, but the truth is you’re a shitty dad.”

“You don’t think I know that?” he yelled back, his eyes almost popping out of his face.

“You know that you’re a shitty dad?” I asked, completely dumbfounded. I blinked a few times, repeating the words. There was no way he admitted it. None. My heart raced like I went up five stories of stairs. I could feel my heart pound against my ribcage in a painful way as I stared at him.

“Yeah, fuck.” He ran a hand over his face a few times, causing his face to become redder. “I don’t know how to act around you because I’m so terrified of making things worse, so I avoid you.”

“But with Cami…”

“Your mom always made me go to Cami’s things. As a kid until now—because your mom hates sports. All of them. Blames them for our divorce and her unhappiness. Athletics is how I know to bond, and honestly, Cami doesn’t look at me like she hates my guts. I don’t have to… Look, Naomi. I’m sorry. I’m sorry for what I did to your mom, to you. If I could go back, I’d change everything. But when the marriage ended, I had nothing else but hockey. Do you see that?” His eyes were wet, and his voice shook. I was so used to the stern guy or the charismatic coach, but this… the absolute shame and regret etched onto his face was a lot to take in. I nodded before he continued.

“I got a do-over on the ice. I could guide these kids without them despising me. I get guys like Michael who look up to me and don’t see a failed husband and father. They see me like a good coach.”

“I never hated you. Not really,” I said, my voice weak and quiet. “I lost everyone. Mom, Cami, and you. I just wanted someone to care about me.”

“Fuck, come here.” He shoved a chair out of the way yanked me hard against his chest. He smelled like stale coffee and stiff laundry, and my eyes stung as he hugged me so tight I couldn’t breathe.

“I’m so sorry, Naomi. I’m so fucking sorry you felt that way. Of course I love you. I’m so proud of you. I just didn’t know how to talk to you.”

The dam broke. All the hate and anger… all the regret and wondering if I was enough. This. This was why I wanted to intern with him. Sure, I didn’t envision us screaming at each other, but we finally had the confrontation we needed. I cried against him as relief rushed through me. He held me and patted my back for a good five minutes before we broke apart.

His brown eyes looked a little misty as he gave me a half-smile. “Do you want to get some food? Or not, if you have plans. I just… I’m so happy you came here and yelled at me.”

“I can’t believe I did.” I wiped my nose on the back of my sleeve.

“I can. When you’re passionate about something, you go all out. I remember once you were intent on saving this family of ladybugs, and you wrote an entire rulebook for the family on how to take care of them. You made us all sign an agreement page, and you were eight, maybe nine?” He laughed, the lines around his eyes deepening. “I promise you, right now, that I will never put hockey above you again. There might be emergencies, but us, this… this matters more. I want to be in your life, kid. Could I have another shot?”

I nodded before he even finished the sentence and pulled me into another hug.

“Yes. I think I’d like to try again.”

“So, about that dinner?”

While the thought of us eating together was appealing, I had another person in my life who deserved the truth. “I can’t tonight. There’s something else I need to do.”

“Okay, then before you leave, let’s check my calendar to make sure we get something down.”

He pulled out his phone and clicked his tongue as his fingers moved across the screen. “Tuesday night work for you?”

I nodded, nervous about this new arrangement but willing to give it a try. My dad had work to do to get me to trust him, but our relationship already felt different. Yelling at him and clearing the air gave me peace of mind, and I chewed on my lip as he finished putting the details in his phone. While the wound was still fresh, the motivation behind this confrontation still hadn’t left my mind. Michael.

“Um, how has Michael been doing the past few weeks?”

My dad’s gaze snapped to mine, wide and full of understanding. “On the ice, fine. I have a feeling that’s not what you’re asking.”

Okay, we were getting right to it then. I put my hands on my hips and exhaled all the nerves. “We were together, kind of. I ruined it before we had a chance to try.” I cleared my throat as emotion clogged it—I had a hard time accepting the fact my heartbreak was my fault. Yes, he chose hockey because it was an amazing opportunity. But it was my beef with my dad that had me too scared to give him a chance.

Love meant taking a risk, and I’d been a damn fool. Michael had too big of a heart to intentionally cause me pain. He communicated openly, where my dad never did. I hated knowing I hurt him. “I love him. I’m in love with him. He works for you, and we have issues we need to deal with, but I can’t let those excuses rule me anymore. You can hate it, but frankly, I don’t care.”

“I can’t think of two people better suited for each other, Naomi.” He gave a hesitant smile and lifted one shoulder up in a shrug. “I figured something was going on. Look, you’re human. We all make mistakes. I do constantly. But don’t be like me. Don’t be afraid of admitting you fucked up. If I got over myself and my self-pity, we wouldn’t be where we are now. Talk to him.”

Don’t be afraid. He was right. I didn’t want to be like my dad or be a hypocrite. I’d been so afraid of falling for Michael and coming in second place that I ended up putting him second. Second to my fears. Courage was a weird thing that I rarely felt because I always considered myself the opposite of brave.

But that was false. I’d opened my heart to my sister. I let Michael in. I confronted my dad. I could be bold, and it was time I used it to repair the relationship with the guy I wanted to be with—hockey and all.

“I gotta go, but… I’m glad we’re… okay.”

“Me too, Nana.” He used my childhood name. Hearing it made the stinging in my eyes come back again. “We’ll start slow and figure out how to be in each other’s lives again. I promise, alright?”

I nodded and was already out the door. The brief flare of courage morphed into fear, paralyzing fear as I marched toward Michael’s place. Each step weighed a million pounds, and the unanswered texts from him had me questioning everything.

Was I too late? Would he forgive me? Did I hurt him so badly that he hated me now?

Cars raced down the busy road, the loud sound of their engines giving me a focal point. Logic helped me. So, I made the plan in my head.

Not talking to Michael wasn’t a choice. So, no matter my fear or the outcome, I couldn’t hide back at my place and pretend I was fine. I’d go to him and put it all on the line.

And if he tells me to fuck off?

Then I’d deserve it.

I tripped over a curb from my shaky limbs. Even though my toe stung, I smiled. I’d have to tell him to add another point to my klutz score. My mind played the horrible what if game the rest of the walk, until all too soon, I stood outside his apartment door.

I should call him. See if he was even home. He could’ve been out or—a woman laughed. 

Someone was inside his place. A female.

It could be Freddie’s sister or mom or friend or…

The door opened, the sound of the door handle turning as the female voice said, “Michael, my god, you’re too much right now.”

Here I was, standing with my fist in the air about to knock when the door opened all the way, and another woman stood there.