“Come help me, son,” Will says firmly, and my insides tighten. Dammit. Is this going to be a lecture about being a good man, a good husband… maybe even a father? Honestly, I could use a good lecture, because when it comes down to it, what the hell do I know about any of those things? I don’t even know my damn father.
As we walk, I scramble for something to say, but Will fills the silence. “How’s Elaine?”
Great. We’re going there—the unconventional way I was raised—and maybe that’s enough for him to want his daughter far away from me.
“She’s doing well,” I say. “I’d love for her to move to Boston, be closer. I worry about her.”
He gives me a warm, fatherly smile. “Soon enough she’ll be family.” My pulse kicks harder. Jesus, what the hell are Jaylynn and I doing? How can we deceive these nice people? He winks. “But just so you know, we all keep an eye on her anyway.”
My heart jumps. “You do?”
“Don’t be so surprised, son. This is a small town. We look out for our own.”
“That’s… really nice, Coach. Uh, I mean, Will.” When I really think about it, he’s right. It is a small town, and during my high school and Providence Grizzlies years, he did look out for me. But suddenly that gives me pause. Was he responsible for the hamper baskets that miraculously landed on our steps at Christmas? What about the new skates he ‘found’ at an estate sale, two towns over? New skates that were exactly my size.
Why has it taken me so damn long to put that together?
You’re dense, obviously.
“You’ll both come for Christmas dinner.” A statement, not a question. With a nod, he walks behind the bar, opening the fridge to pull out a bottle of champagne.
“I can ask her. We usually have a quiet Christmas at her place, but… cats,” I add with a cringe.
“Yes, yes. I heard she turned one of the rooms into a cat sanctuary.”
“My room,” I clarify.
Another wink. “Not like you needed it. Not with you staying in the peppermint room.”
Holy crap, this man is tuned in. Despite being a grown man and Jaylynn and I both being consenting adults, heat creeps up my neck.
Then… he turns serious.
I brace.
“Penn,” he says, setting the champagne on the counter, “You were always a good kid. Grew into a good man. I’ve always liked you.”
I wait for the but.
Instead, he reaches for the crystal glasses hanging overhead, sets two on the counter, pops the cork with a quiet pop, and pours a splash into each. He slides one toward me. We clink. Sip.
“Do you have any idea why I waited so long to send you up?”
“No,” I say quickly. But in the back of my mind, I always knew. I clear my throat. “I wasn’t good enough,” I finally admit. What I don’t say is how hard I worked to be what they wanted and how difficult it was to always be the guy left behind. That I was—am—too afraid to do more. If I do exactly what is expected of me, play the game they want me to play, then I won’t be sent back. My value lies in what’s expected of me.
Will’s gaze doesn’t budge. “You were good enough a long time ago. But knowing it yourself? That’s the difference. There’s doing the job… and then there’s believing you can do more than the job.”
A knot tightens in my chest. “I’ve always done what was asked of me.”
“You’ve always fought for your team. That’s true.” His tone softens. “I was waiting for you to fight for you.”
I blink at him. “Fight for me?”
He leans in just slightly, voice low. “She saw it before any of us.” The way he says it—measured, deliberate—settles somewhere deep, but I can’t quite untangle the meaning.
I’m about to ask him what the hell he’s talking about when Judy sweeps over like a snowstorm. “Champagne!” she calls, breaking the moment as she pulls down more glasses
Will’s face shifts back to proud dad mode, but his words… Yeah, those stay lodged under my skin, louder than the holiday cheer bouncing off the walls.