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He fidgets with the cuffs of his sleeves, one of his nervous habits, and lowers his voice. “Everything I do is to keep you safe. I couldn’t keep your mother safe… I won’t put you at further risk. That’s not a gamble I’m willing to take.”

My jaw tightens. “But you already placed your bet, didn’t you? You brought me into this the second you asked me to place a bet against my team. Now they think I’m crooked. Everything I worked for since I was six years old may be gone because of you.”

“Damn it, John, I did what was necessary. It wasn’t about me.”

“Then who the fuck is it about? Yourself or…”

His long-hardened fingers clamp down on my shoulders. “You don’t get it. I couldn’t say no to Giacomo Saccone.” His voice is thunderous, and his body is shaking.

At first, I can’t believe my ears. Saccone, Stella’s father. Dad’s eyes widen for a split second—he knows he’s slipped. I don’t dare let my reaction show because I never expected her dad to be involved. He’s a music mogul.

I school my face just in time. “And why is Stella’s dad so interested in the Gamblers? You owe him money or is it something else?”

He removes his hands from me. His veil of self-control snaps back into place, but I see the sweat beading up along his forehead. “Forget what I said. If anyone finds out—about this, about him—none of us are safe. Especially you.” His voice threatens me to heed his warning.

Playing the part of the good and loyal son, I say, “Okay.” The word hesitates on my tongue. “Listen, I need to get to the locker room and figure out what to say to the team.”

I begin to walk away, my heart ticking in the quiet as I go through his words. What did he mean about Mom? My feet falter and almost stumble when I turn back. “Dad, what do you mean you couldn’t keep Mom safe?”

His hands make a tent over his nose, then he drops them with a sigh. “I cheated on your mom with Saccone’s first wife, and he said he would make sure I never played hockey again.” His eyes fill with tears. “I loved your mom, John, but I wasn’t a good or faithful husband. When Giacomo Saccone found out, he killed your mother out of revenge and… he threatened your life and mine if I didn’t go along with whatever he needed done.”

His head drops, his shoulders sag, and he sobs. For the first time, I realize my dad is only half-asshole. He’s truly trying to keep me safe. I drag him to a seat in the stands as I glance at the clock on the wall. Three hours until game time.

“I thought she died because of internal bleeding?” I ask, confused by all the confessions and how I feel about each part of them.

“She did. She was beaten so badly, her spleen ruptured, and then she died from internal bleeding.” His words are brittle and fragmented.

Fury builds inside me. Stella’s dad or his cronies killed my mom, but I have to ask one more question. “Then why are you sleeping with his daughter, my former girlfriend?”

“Stella’s my handler.” He lets out a heavy sigh. “By you dating Stella, marrying Stella, it would ensure our loyalty to Saccone and our safety. I was hoping she would betray her father.”

“So you sent Stella back every time we broke up?”

“No, her dad did. Then he gave me the audacious ring for you to propose.”

“Dad, that’s one thing I will never do. I will never marry her, no matter what. In fact, I’m asking Becca to marry me next week. I’d love for you to be there when we play the Notes,” I say to keep up the loving son act. But after hearing this, maybe I do believe him.

All this time, I thought he only cared about himself. And don’t get me wrong, he’s as self-centered as they come, but most of what he has done is in the name of keeping me safe and keeping us both alive.

“If I’m alive, I’ll be there. Now get out there on the ice and show the world who the best Basilio is. Cause it’s you, son.”

This time, the embrace is warm, and tears fall from our eyes. When we break apart, I ask, “Do you know how those photos of Becca and I were taken and leaked to the press?”

“Saccone has eyes everywhere, but it was probably Stella that leaked them. She has the connections.”

This time, the embrace is warm, and tears fall from our eyes.

It’s not until I get to the locker room and undress that I realize that the FBI heard everything. And now, I don’t know if that’s good or bad. Will Becca, the baby, and I will be safe once this all comes out?

I’m the only one in the locker room, so I round the corner to the hallway where the staff office is located and rap on Coach’s door. “Hey, got a minute?”

He frowns and huffs, making it clear he’s not happy with me betting against our team. He waves his hand to come in, and I shut the door behind me. My phone buzzes with a message from Mr. Cross. “We got it all. Good job.”

I don’t respond because I’m still processing. I hand my phone to Coach and let him see the text. He gives me a quizzical look and says, “What for?”

“You’ll have to ask the Commish. It’s above my pay grade, but I want you to know I am all-in on this season with this team. I would never throw a game. I watched the game against the Gamblers for the past two days, and I put together twenty-four minutes of highlights. I included each time they scored and where I was on the ice. How I fought for my teammates like I always have for the past decade. Watch it and decide for yourself, but I did not throw the game. I love this game more than the air I breathe.”

He watches for a few minutes and says, “Get out of here. You have a game to play.” But he keeps my phone,