Page 132 of Goal Line

“Do you think anyone else is suspicious?”

He chuckles. “Preston definitely was at first, but Tucker and Tristan convinced him that, of course, you’d been secretly dating the whole time because you’re, and I quote, ‘whipped enough to go along with whatever Eva wants.’”

I cough out a laugh, then wash it down with a sip of water from Eva’s water bottle. They’re not wrong about the last part.

“I’m sorry you had to learn the truth this way, though,” I say.

“I understand why you kept this to yourself. The old adage is true: two can keep a secret, if one of them is dead.”

My lips creep up at one corner. “So who’s killing who in this scenario?”

Dad just shakes his head at me, his pink cheeks roundingas he smiles. “I’m old enough to keep your secret until Iactuallygo to my grave.”

“Well that’s fucking morbid, Dad.” My whole body tenses at the thought. Dad’s old, yes, but he’s a giant of a man, metaphorically speaking at least, and it’s impossible to imagine our family without him.

“I’m not getting any younger, so I’m glad to see you settled before I go.” He pauses and then says, “And for the record, Eva is family. As far as I’m concerned, you are the only father that Gigi has or will ever have.”

I nod and feel some tension that I didn’t realize I was holding release.

“I’m glad you leaned on your brothers for help with this,” he tells me. “And I’m glad you told me the whole truth.”

“You don’t mind keeping it to yourself, though, right? We’re not planning on sharing that story with anyone else.”

“You’d be shocked at the things I know and have kept to myself over the years. Speaking of keeping things to yourself,” he says, “let’s go back to your story and address what you overheard in AJ’s office.”

“I know,” I say, shaking my head. “I should have said something right away.”

“How in theever-loving hellcould you think that I didn’t want you on the Rebels because you weren’t good enough? How could you think it was anything other than what it was: me wanting to be your dad, and not your boss?”

“Dad, you’re everyone’s boss. Did you ever regret having Preston, Tristan, or Tucker working for you?”

“Working for me and playing for me are two very different things.”

“How so?”

“Because if I want to influence the decisions they make in their role, I just do it. If I need them to do things differently, I tell them. Hockey—and the Rebels franchise—is different. I have no power over how good you are at your job, nor can I do anything to help you improve. And unlike Hartmann Enterprises, which isn’t a publicly traded company and therefore not subject to stockholders’ whims, the decisions made for and about the Rebels players are mostly out of my hands. That’s AJ’s realm of expertise. She handles hiring, trading, firing, and pretty much everything in between. I didn’t want it to look like the Rebels acquired you—or kept you on if you underperformed—because of nepotism.”

“But itwasn’tyou who asked for me to be traded to the Rebels.”

“Outside the organization, I’m sure most people assume you were acquired because you’re my son. And I never wanted my role as your father and owner of that team to come into conflict.”

“I appreciate that, actually. And I’m sorry that I jumped to the wrong conclusion.”

“Remember how your mom always used to say eavesdroppers never hear anything good about themselves?” Dad teases, lightening the mood.

“Yeah, but I wasn’t trying to eavesdrop, and once I heard my name, I hightailed it out of there.”

“Thus not getting the whole story.”

“What would I have heard had I stayed, or announced myself?” I ask curiously.

“Exactly what I just told you, because that’s what I told AJ. You should have at least asked your brother if you didn’twant to talk to me about it,” Dad says. “The fact that you didn’t feel like you could come to your family about this...”

I can feel my cheeks heat under his gaze. “I was embarrassed. I was already a wreck over how I’d played in Game 7, I felt like I’d let everyone down—the fans, my team, and, worst of all, my family.”

“Son, there’s nothing you could do that would make me love you less. You know that, right?”

I swallow the lump that rises in my throat when I hear the words that my dad used to say all the time when I was a kid. If I ever got in trouble, got a bad grade, lost a game, his response was always the same.