Page 159 of Pucking Around

“And your stepfather kept you?”

He huffs, shaking his head. “Juhani was never my stepfather. Mother never married after Halla.”

“Then—”

“He was her neighbor,” he replies before I can ask my question. “My mother grew up in the house next to the Kinnunen’s. She and Juhani were the same age, they went to school together before he started his junior hockey career. They were friends.”

I lean against his shoulder, letting my fingers brush down his bare chest. “Were they sweethearts?”

He glances down at me, his arm going around me with his hand on my head, fingers stroking my hair. “They never discussed it with me openly…but I think not.”

“Why?”

He shrugs. “I believe Juhani has no interest in women. Even now, he has never married. He was at mother’s funeral. He was already playing for the Liiga at the time. He helped me sell mother’s house. I moved in with the Kinnunen’s that summer. Just before I began with the Liiga, I took Juhani’s name. I haven’t looked back.”

“You call him your father? He raised you?”

“Not quite,” he mutters. “I knew him through my youth, certainly. We saw each other at holidays and family events. But he didn’t raise me.”

“But…you told Halla he did,” I say gently, my fingers now stroking his arm.

He goes still. “I don’t want to talk about Halla.”

But I’m not ready to let this drop. It’s so rare that Ilmari opens up. And I need to know. Need to understand. “He abandoned you. In the divorce, he left?”

“Yes.”

“Did you never see him again?”

“I never wanted to,” he replies, shifting away from me.

“Mars—”

“He began reaching out in earnest after I joined the Liiga,” he says, getting off the bed. “He wanted to know why the money he sent every month was no longer being accepted. Mother took care of it, you see. I never knew he sent money.”

I roll onto my knees facing him. “But surely, the fact that he never stopped supporting you financially—the fact that he’s reaching out now—”

He turns sharply around to face me, still gloriously naked. “Is he?”

Shit. “Mars—”

“Is he reaching out, Rachel?” he presses. “He’s certainly not reaching out to me. So, I must assume he is reaching out toyou. Is Halla asking about me?”

Letting my shoulders drop, I shrug. “He just wants an update—”

“I donotwant a relationship with that man,” he growls, snatching his boxer briefs off the floor and slipping them on.

“I haven’t told him anything,” I quickly assure him. “I wouldn’t do that without your permission, Mars. Never—”

“But you want to,” he huffs. “You want to tell him of my progress.”

“My parents split too,” I say. “Divorce is always awful. And parents can make terrible choices. But I know that if I never gave my dad a second chance—if I didn’t learn to forgive—”

“You want me to forgive Halla for abandoning me?” he growls. “He deprived me of ever having a father.”

“And he will carry that shame and that pain to his death,” I say quickly, tears in my eyes. “But Mars, Iknowhim. I’ve worked closely with him for two years. I’m not saying you have to forgive him, or let him in. All I’m saying is that life is long…and the hate you carry is a heavy burden. Maybe there’s hope for a future where you learn to put it down.”

“You want me to forgive him,” he says again, his face a mask of frustration.