Adam.
My father.
The silence stretches between us, awkward and heavy. I shift my weight from foot to foot, suddenly unsure what to say.
“You should go,” I finally manage. “The game is starting, and the team needs you.”
“The assistant coaches know what to do,” he says quietly. “They can manage without me for a few minutes.” He pauses, his expression softening. “You come first.”
The words hit me harder than I expect. “It’s a little too late to play that card.”
He flinches, and I immediately regret my sharp tone. But I’m still hurt. He walked away from me at the hospital without hearing me out, making it clear I wasn’t his priority.
“I’m sorry,” he says, voice raw. “I’m sorry for the hurt I caused. That was never my intention, but I know I handled the situation badly.” He gestures vaguely, as if trying to encompass everything between us. “I’m still trying to figure all of this out. How to be a father. Where I fit into your life. How we can work together to support this team.”
The admission catches me off guard. Replacefatherwithdaughter, and I’ve wrestled with all the same questions.
Yet I never stopped to wonder if he was struggling too.
“How do you think I feel, Dad?”
The word slips out before I can stop it, and we both freeze.
It’s the first time I’ve called him that. Not Adam, or Coach, but Dad.
His eyes glisten, and a tear slides down his cheek. He swipes it away quickly. “You called me Dad.”
“I—” My voice breaks. “I did.”
“No one’s ever called me that before. I like the sound of it.”
The admission cracks me wide open. I’m almost ashamed to admit it, even to myself, but sharing this moment, having something that is ours and ours alone, is a balm to my bruised and battered heart.
He pulls me into his arms, and I let myself collapse against his chest. He’s solid and warm, and he smells like peppermint and pine. This right here is what I’ve been missing my entire life.
“I have to tell you something.” I hate that I have to put these thoughts out there, but if we’re going to move forward, I need to be honest. I can’t continue to bottle up my feelings and expect him to know what I’m thinking. “Even though I know it’s not your fault, that you had no way of knowing about me, there are some days that I’m just so angry you weren’t there. And as much as I love Knox, it hurts to see that you two have the kind of relationship I wish we had.”
“Oh, Ava. I’m so sorry I wasn’t there for you,” he whispers into my hair. “It’s my biggest regret. I know your mom didn’t think I could handle a child, and she was probably right at the time, but I will never forgive myself for missing so much of your life.”
Until this moment, I wasn’t sure I could either. But maybe this is what we needed all along: an honest conversation. A chance to grieve the loss of what might have been…together.
“You couldn’t have known,” I say, my voice muffled against his shirt.
“That doesn’t make it hurt any less.” He pulls back just enough to look at me, his hands still gripping my shoulders. “I know we can’t get those moments back. But I desperately want to be in your life. To have a real, meaningful relationship. To be your father. I just—I’m lost. I’ve never had a daughter, and I feel like I’m constantly screwing up. I don’t always know the right thing to say or do, but I’m trying. From the moment you came into my life, all I’ve wanted is for you to be happy.”
“If you want me to be happy, you have to accept me for who I am and respect my agency,” I say gently. “That includes my relationship with Knox.”
He sighs heavily. “I know. And I do respect your choice. After seeing how hard Knox fought for you this week, I know he’ll take care of you and treat you with the respect you deserve.” He pauses, then adds with a slight smile, “But if he doesn’t, I’ll kick his ass.”
We both laugh, and my tears finally break free, cutting a path down my cheeks.
“That’s why I made the stupid rule about hockey players,” he continues. “I didn’t want to see you unhappy, constantly saying goodbye, spending half the year alone. You deserve someone who can be there for you and who won’t miss all the little moments that are so easy to take for granted.”
I get what he’s saying, but…
“Knox isn’t you, and I’m not my mom.” I wipe the tears from my cheeks. “I know it will be hard with all the travel, but it’s my choice to make. I choose Knox.”
“I know you do.” He smiles, and there’s understanding in it. “Will you give me another chance? To be your dad?”