Page 40

CHAPTER 40

DALLAS

I ’m a pretty big guy. I’m a professional hockey player, for God’s sake. Hell, I stand in front of flying pucks most nights. There’s not a lot that scares me. But Emily’s dad, Frank… he scares me. Terrifies me, if I’m being honest.

Frank is one of those old school guys. The silent type. He doesn’t say much, but at the same time, his silence speaks volumes. Take now, for example, as we stand in the garage behind the house, a dim light dangling overhead, Frank doesn’t say a word as he sits on a stool by the workbench at the back, eyeing me over the covered car that divides us, and honestly, it’s taking all I have not to run back inside the house and hide behind his daughter.

My gaze darts about the space, cautiously scanning the various items that could be used as potential weapons. It’s a garage. It’s full of makeshift instruments of murder.

“You like cars?”

I look at him to check he’s talking to me, and when I confirm that he is, I nod. “Yeah, I love cars.”

“I mean real cars,” Frank says. “Not that Hot Wheels looking thing parked out the front of my house,” he adds with a scoff .

I bite back my smirk. “Uh, yeah. I’ve got an ’88 F150 that I’ve been doing up every time I go back home. All original.”

Frank looks momentarily impressed, but it’s gone quickly. He places his beer bottle on the workbench behind him and moves to pull the cover off the car between us. Once the whirlwind of dust settles, I get a good look at the all original ‘69 Dodge Charger.

“Holy shit…” Taking a step backward to get a good look, I rub a hand over my chin. I glance at Frank to see him regarding his baby with a revered smile, and it makes me grin.

“Had her since seventy-nine,” he says proudly. “Completely rebuilt.”

“She goes?” I ask, surprised. She’s so dusty, I assumed she was a project.

Frank chuckles. “Hell yeah, she goes.” He glances over his shoulder, out the garage door and to the house as if to check we’re in the clear. Then, patting himself down, he pulls a ring of keys from his pocket and opens the driver side door with a loud creak before sitting inside.

Moments later, the deafening roar of the V8 engine floods the garage, followed by the overwhelming stench of petroleum fumes. I stand, arms folded over my chest, watching on as Frank revs the engine.

“What do you think?” he yells over the rumble. “Think she could beat your Lambo?”

“With me driving? Probably.”

Frank barks a laugh at that, grinning to himself as he continues pressing the gas, and I can’t help but smile because I can tell he’s loving this. The guy has two daughters who clearly aren’t into cars. I feel like he needs this. And if I can be the guy that he gets to take into his garage and let loose with, then I’ll happily step up to that plate. Hell, I’ll even brush up on my baseball knowledge if that’s what it takes to get this guy to like me.

When Frank hops out of the car, he locks her up and I help him secure the cover. And just when I think we’re about to head back to the house, I’m stopped by his unexpected question.

“You’re serious, aren’t ya?”

I glance at him, arching a brow.

“I’ve done my research,” he says with a wry smile. “You’ve got quite the reputation…”

With a heavy sigh, I drag a hand down my face, considering my response, but before I can give him one, Frank continues.

“I’ve seen my little girl sick. I’ve seen her hurt. I’ve seen her broken. But probably the hardest part of everything I’ve had to see Emmy go through is when I saw her lose her spark after what that… dog shit excuse for a man did to her.” He looks down, shaking his head. Arching a brow, he meets my eyes. “She told you about her ex?”

I nod, my jaw clenching at the memory of the horrible things Emily told me about him and what he did to her.

“Emmy wasn’t herself for a long time. We almost lost her to cancer, and then we almost lost her again after what happened with… him .” The contempt in his tone when he mentions her ex almost makes me smile because, bro, same.

Frank continues, “But over these last couple of weeks, her mom and I have seen glimpses of the old Emmy. It’s in her smile and the sound of her laugh. Her dry sense of humor is coming back, the sarcasm she gets from me.” He smiles, and it’s infectious. “I can only assume that’s because of you. But I need you to promise me right now that you’re the real deal. That you’re here for the right reasons, because I can’t see my daughter break again. Frankly, son, I don’t think she’s got another break in her.”

I swallow the lump that’s made its way into the back of my throat. “I love your daughter, sir.”

His eyes widen at my words and for a few seconds he just stares at me. “You’re ten years younger than her…” He looks me up and down. “Are you sure about that?”

“Yes, Emily is just over nine years older than me,” I correct. “But she’s everything I never knew I wanted. She’s honest and real. She’s determined. She’s funny as hell. She makes me think about things I’ve never even considered before. She makes me feel good about myself. When I’m with her, I feel like I’m more than just some guy who’s good at protecting a hockey net.

“I’ve never felt this way about anyone before. Never. And I know this is new, and it’s fast, but when I think about my life without Emily in it—” I pause to consider my words, feeling a wave of unsteadying emotion rack through me because this is the first time I’m voicing this to anyone. “When I think about my life without Emily in it, I feel like the walls are closing in on me, and I… I can’t breathe.”

Silence ensues, and it’s heavy and thick as both Frank and I look at one another.

“I love your daughter, sir, with all that I have,” I say again after a few moments. “And I’m not saying I’m perfect. But she is. To me, she’s everything. And I promise, you have my word, that I will never intentionally hurt her. I’m not saying I won’t fuck up every now and again by… hell, I don’t know… having a few too many beers with the guys after a game and coming home late. Or… maybe, like, leaving the toilet seat up or something. But I will fight to the death for that woman.” I point toward the house, knowing my girl is in there right now. “She is my favorite person. And I exist only for her now. Without her? I don’t know if that’s something I can even imagine.”

Frank removes his glasses and rubs his eyes before replacing them and getting a good look at me, scratching his chin. “Well, I hope for your sake you’re being honest, kid. Because all it takes is a shovel and a garden bag and a quick stop off on the Verrazano Bridge.”

My eyes widen at the thinly-veiled threat. I’m pretty sure he’s joking, but I barely know this guy; I can’t be entirely certain. He does give off mob vibes, if I’m honest.

“I’m seventy years old.” He smiles, but it’s almost menacing. “If I have to spend the rest of my days in some penitentiary upstate, then so be it. ”

I swallow hard.

“I will not stand by and let my girl get hurt again.” He arches a brow.

I lift my chin a little higher, meeting his unwavering gaze with one of my own as I say, “Neither will I, sir.”

He nods at me, seemingly satisfied by my response, offering his hand. I shake it, and he pulls me close, slapping me on my back, and I know the ice between us has thawed. But when he turns to head back to the house, I release the breath I’ve been holding because holy shit this guy is intense. But Emily is his whole world, so I get it.