“McKnight,” the man says on the other end of the phone. “I’ve got the requested information. When you’re ready for it, let me know.”
I pull my notes app up and confirm that I am and he can continue. “2301 Celeste Drive, Las Vegas, Nevada.”
I suck in a breath. I’m looking at Dad’s current address. I had Kelsey put me in contact with this guy to try to figure out where Wayne was living now. He never stays in one place for very long. Once he dries up the people around him, he hauls ass out of town. I put the address into my Google Maps and see that it’s in a trailer park in Vegas.
“Thanks, man,” I reply. “Appreciate you being so quick.”
“You’ve got my number. Let me know if there’s anything else.”
I thank him again and hang up. For some reason, seeing his physical address makes him feel more real to me. Less like the fictional boogeyman I’ve been pretending he is for the last few months.
This man has been making my life miserable since the day I was born. Broke my mom. Ruined herfinances and her mental health. Literally ran her into the ground until she was barely a shell of herself. He takes and takes and takes some more. He’s a bully and he always has been. I’m done letting him get away with ruining my life.
The NHL will investigate this and they’ll find nothing, because thereisnothing. If he’s faked something to try to prove a point, he won’t be able to hide it. I believe that. The truth always surfaces eventually.
But in the meantime, he’s made my life a complete mess, screwed over my career and humiliated me in front of my peers, my coach and the woman I love.
It’s that last one that gets me. What am I going to do? Start a life with Monroe, then continue to look over my shoulder, waiting for him to burn that to the ground, too?
No, fuck that.
I glance down again at the address on my screen.
Then I book a flight to Las Vegas, Nevada.
* * * *
While the plane is taxiing, I type out a couple of texts because I’m too chicken shit to call anyone.
On my way to Vegas to murder my father, nobody panic. Be home soon!
It’ll be received well, I’m sure. I copy the text to Coach, Beck, and Sloane. I leave my mom and Paul out of it, as per usual. Sloane will fill them in, or not. I usually leave it up to her on how much to disclose about my life. That’s our agreed-upon system. We’venever talked about it officially, but she has a different relationship with her parents than I do. It’s better this way.
To Monroe, I start typing. Then delete it. I try again. Delete again.
Finally, I settle on a quick,Will be gone for a day or two.Taking care of a few things.
I hate it. It doesn’t sound like me, but I can’t find the words for what I really want to say. I want to be able to tell her that I did it. I figured out my shit, I took care of the problem, and she can count on me. Not just for this kind of stuff, but for all stuff. I want to prove my worth to her.
I turn my phone on airplane mode so I don’t see any of the angry texts come through.
The bubble of isolation is blissfully quiet. No more notifications. I close my eyes.
I’ll deal with everyone later.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Monroe
It’s early, before the clinic. The show must go on, and all that.
My mind should be on the kids coming in this morning. They only have one week of clinic left, and they’re making so much progress. Rhodes and I have been like proud parents watching them skate. I look up at a clock on the wall. Seven-thirty-six. Twenty-four minutes until the chaos begins.
I replay Rhodes’ last text to me.
Will be gone for a day or two.Taking care of a few things.
My texts in response have gone unread, and I’d be completely lying if I said it wasn’t stressing me out. My dad did help fill in some of the blanks, but none of us are totally sure how serious Rhodes is about physicallytaking down his father, so everyone is concerned with him being out of reach.