Page 44 of How to Puck Your Boss (L.A. Hawks Hockey #3)

“Yes, of course. He’s in the common room. You know the way, right?”

He nodded and led Dax down the sterile white hallway.

“Jack?” Dax said quietly. “Where are we?”

“In a nursing home.”

“I got that, thanks. But what are we doing here?”

Jack sighed and rubbed his forehead. “I wasn’t in New York over Christmas to sort out my old contract, Dax, I was there to…arrange for them to move my father to LA”

Dax stopped abruptly. “Your father? You don’t talk to your father.”

He raised the corner of his mouth cynically as he pulled Dax along. “There’s not much to talk about, Dax. He barely remembers me. He has advanced dementia. But he has no one but me, so I got him this place and…yes.”

“Your dad is here?” Dax asked incredulously.

He nodded.

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Because I didn’t want to remind you of your own dad.

Because I had to deal with it myself. Because I didn’t want pity or questions.

Because I was afraid you would make me feel guilty if I told you…

how much I still hate him even though he’s just a heap of misery.

But I’m tired of keeping secrets.” He sighed heavily, narrowed his eyes, and paused in front of the open door to the common room.

“Dax, do you remember that time I told you that you had to become indifferent to your dad? That only then could you be happy?”

“Yes. It was the best advice anyone has ever given me.”

He felt a tug at the corners of his mouth. “Well…I never became indifferent to mine,” he murmured and nodded to the right. “I was never good at following my own advice. He’s the one in the red armchair.”

Dax opened his mouth in shock. “ That’s your dad?”

He nodded again…and Dax’s reaction was justified.

His father was slumped in the red armchair next to a plastic potted plant, staring into space.

He had no hair left, but he had a big belly.

His skin was saggy, his eyes were tired, and he kept picking at the pompoms on a pillow that he had placed on his lap, as if he thought it was a cow’s udder.

“He doesn’t look good,” Dax muttered sheepishly.

“No,” Jack admitted quietly. “But I don’t care. I’m still angry with him, Dax. I have so much hatred for him, even though he’s going to die soon. Even though he deserves nothing but pity. So, no, I can’t control my anger. I…don’t seem to have any control over anything.”

He searched Dax’s face, waiting for his brother to finally understand what was so wrong about him— but Dax just smiled broadly. “I still hate my father too, Jack.”

“What?”

Dax shrugged. “For me, indifference never meant that I wasn’t angry with him anymore, it simply meant that he no longer occupied my thoughts every second.

That it no longer made me bitter and sucked the joy out of my life.

But if I met him on the street, he would probably be on the ground just as quickly as M?kel? was today.

It’s okay that you’re still angry with him.

” He shrugged. “He was a lousy dad. You can’t forget things like that. ”

Jack stared at him, his mouth open. “But look at him, Dax! He’s a miserable pile of rubble.”

“Yeah, sure. But you’re not angry at the demented old man. You’re angry at the bastard he used to be. There’s a difference. And, to be honest, I envy you a little.”

“What?” Jack asked, flabbergasted.

“Well, you have a chance here that I’ll probably never get.

At least you can talk to a halfway reasonable version of your father.

You couldn’t have said a word to your old dad without your head exploding.

But with this one…maybe you can. Stay angry at the old version, the one who can’t make up for what he did to you in a hundred lifetimes, and talk to this one.

Then you’ll have some kind of relationship with a version of your father.

That’s better than having none at all, believe me. ”

Jack’s whole body suddenly stiffened. “But how? How do I talk to him?”

“By opening your mouth. Wait, I’ll show you.” The next moment, Dax crossed the room and sat on one of the chairs opposite Jack’s father. “Hey, Mr. West,” he said, crossing his legs. “We’re here to visit you.”

The old man frowned and looked at Dax critically. “I don’t know you. How do you know my name?”

“From him, over there,” Dax said, pointing to Jack.

His father turned and narrowed his eyes, but didn’t seem to be able to see Jack properly. So, Jack gritted his teeth and walked slowly across the room. “Hey…Dad,” he said quietly when he reached him and sank down next to Dax.

“Dad?” his father replied, astonished, before laughing. “My dear, you have me confused with someone else. I have a son, but my boy isn’t even five years old!”

“Really?” Dax asked, leaning forward. “What’s your son like?”

“Oh, he’s a talented hockey player,” Mr. West Senior replied immediately. He sounded proud. Jack, however, couldn’t remember him ever having been proud. “Already a high-flyer.”

“Hm,” Dax uttered, “but surely not as good as Dax Temple?”

“Dax who?” his father replied.

Jack suppressed a smile. “Not important at all,” he replied hastily. “What…what else does your son do?”

“Not much, I don’t think…” he said, bowing his head. “To be honest, I don’t see him enough. But he’s…he’s strong. And smart. Counts my beer bottles better than I do.” He laughed again…and the knot in Jack’s chest loosened a little.

It was oddly simple. All he had to do was stop trying to be a son but rather be a stranger, someone keeping this man company for a while.

Dax was right. He couldn’t forgive his father.

He should have known from the beginning that it was an impossible undertaking.

But could he still build some kind of relationship with him?

A completely new relationship that had nothing to do with the old one?

The son Jack might only have heard that his father drank too much. The stranger Jack, however, heard that Mr. West was proud. It wasn’t much…but at least it was something.

They spent another half hour with Mr. West – not his father, but Mr. West – before walking back to Jack’s car.

The sun was shining on their faces and Jack felt strangely light.

It was okay to be angry with his old life, with the man who had raised him so miserably.

And it was also okay to just leave that part of his life behind. Not to forget, but just…to start over.

“Thanks, Dax,” he murmured, opening the car. “You know, Penny told me to just tell you but…I couldn’t get it out. So thank you for making it easier for me.”

“Hm. Smart woman, that Penny,” Dax said, clicking his tongue. “Makes me wonder why she ignores you so thoroughly that you feel compelled to knock down a hockey player to get her attention.”

He snorted. “That’s definitely not why I knocked him down! Besides…” He sighed. “She’s afraid she won’t get the job if there’s a scandal following her.”

“It’s a valid concern.”

“Yes. I also believe she thinks she’s doing me a favor by staying away from me.”

“Why?”

“Because I have so many secrets, Dax, that I want to keep to myself. Because the press could dig into my past and discover every single one.”

Dax blinked, perplexed. “But you don’t care. You don’t want to keep the fact that we’re siblings to yourself anymore.”

“I know.”

“But…” Dax frowned. “Why didn’t you just tell her that? Why don’t you tell her I’m the only one who doesn’t want to make a big deal out of it?”

Jack looked at his hands and turned the car key over in them. “Because I don’t deserve to place the blame on you, Dax. Because it’s your right to make that decision.”

Dax snorted. “Okay, enough of the self-purification. Seriously. I know I was mad at you, but that’s over. I’ve forgiven you.”

Jack raised his eyebrows in surprise. “You have?”

“Yes. I’m…I’m not mad anymore. You’re my brother. It’s all good.” Dax waved it off.

Jack’s mouth went dry, and his annoying eyes started to sting again. “That’s…good,” he said in a hoarse voice.

Uncomfortable, Dax frowned. “Don’t start crying! Or I’ll take it back. And…okay.” He groaned loudly. “What the hell. Tell the press we’re siblings.”

Jack dropped his hands in shock. “Seriously?”

He nodded. “If it gives Penny one less thing to worry about and gives you, poor bastard, another chance…then it’s worth it to me.

Besides, we don’t have much of a family, Jack, and we should appreciate what we do have.

It’ll be uncomfortable, but it will get easier.

We just need to talk to Anna, first since it will affect her too. ”

“Thank you,” he whispered before pulling Dax into a hug. “Thank you for forgiving me and for letting me be part of the family.”

“Yeah, yeah, it’s fine,” Dax replied, clumsily patting him on the back. “But you’re going to hold the press conference! I’m definitely not sitting on stage when you announce the good news.”

He grinned and let go of him. “Deal. I’m the Saint. They can’t really blame me for lying to them for the last ten years, can they? Do you think Lucy could organize a press conference for me?”

“Oh, shit. Lucy.” Dax’s face turned pale. “Yeah, we need to talk to her anyway. Thank God she has had an emergency plan on standby for months in case the whole thing came out.”

“Really? So she…will be okay with us telling the press?”

Dax sighed and nodded. “Yes. She’ll probably even be happy to put her plan into action…”