“Sorry. I didn’t actually come here to talk about Chippy, and I’m sure you have work to do.”
He leans forward, as if preparing to stand, and my training kicks in.
“What did you come to talk about?” I ask, leaning back in my chair so he knows he’s got my full attention.
“You.”
My pulse quickens. “Me?”
Stay calm. There could be a million different things he wants to talk about.
Yeah, and one of those things could be the fact that I’m sleeping with his star player.
This is it. He’s going to call me out, and I’m going to get fired, and then what? I’ve never seen Adam angry. For all I know, he has a temper, and he’ll scream and rage and kick me out of the townhouse. No, he wouldn’t do that, would he?
He threatened to break his players’ fingers if they so much as touched you.
Adam clears his throat. “You’re doing a great job, Ava. The team is firing on all cylinders, and that’s thanks in part to you and the work you’re doing.”
The compliment should fill me with pride, but it’s all I can do not to sag with relief as Adam shifts uncomfortably in his chair.
“I know things were kind of rocky at the beginning of the season, and I said some things that were…well, they were insensitive and impulsive, and for that I’m sorry. It was never my intention to denigrate your work or to make you question your value to this team.”
Okay, I definitely didn’t see that coming, but it’s nice to know my father is the kind of man who apologizes when he makes a mistake…even if it takes him a while to get there.
He’s quiet, and I realize he’s waiting for a reply. Waiting for me to accept his apology.
I open my mouth and then snap it shut again.
I sit with the apology, considering. Despite what I was raised to believe, I don’t have to accept. Whether he meant them or not, his words were hurtful, and it’s the impact that matters.
On the other hand, the Rangers game was intense. The on-ice behavior was unprecedented, and tempers were running hot throughout the arena.
I can’t say for sure how I would have reacted in his shoes. I’d only been working with the team for a few weeks at that point, and I felt like a failure. I can only imagine how he felt as their coach.
More importantly, I can give grace. I don’t want this hanging over my head, or his, as we move forward.
“I accept your apology.”
His shoulders visibly relax, and I smile.
Oh, please. You don’t get to claim the moral high ground when you’re secretly dating one of his players.
That’s completely different, and now isn’t the time to dwell on it.
I shove the thought—and my guilt—into a box and seal it up tight.
“You know,” he says, shaking his head. “I wish we’d had the kind of support these guys do back in my day. Maybe if we had, things between your mother and I would have gone differently.”
I’d be lying if I said the same thought hadn’t crossed my mind, but this is the first time Adam’s said as much.
“It’s never too late. I’m here for you if you ever want to talk. Personally, or professionally.”
He waves the suggestion away. “I’m too old and set in my ways. Your energy is best spent focusing on the team.”
“Of which you are a part.”
“Only in the technical sense.” The corner of his mouth twitches, and I grin at the familiarity of it. After all, it’s mymouth too. “These young guys still have their whole careers ahead of them.”