Page 10 of Second Chance with the Single Dad Goalie (Second Chance Hockey Players #2)

I let out a breath, trying to ease the tension.

"You say it’s not tangible, but it is. Brands, partnerships, collaborations - they’re all real, and they all pay.

” I gesture toward my laptop. “That’s the kind of job I do.

I work with brands. I have a community. This is work.

Just because it’s not a nine-to-five doesn’t mean it’s not real. ”

“You don’t have to get it, but this is my business. And I’m doing it, every day, with everything I have." I lean back, crossing my arms. "So no, Dad. I’m not playing. This is my job. And if you could just take a minute to understand that, maybe we could get somewhere."

Dad exhales softly, rubbing his temples. “We’re just looking out for you, darling. We don’t want you to miss out on something that could provide more stability.”

“But I am stable.”

The room is heavy with silence, but it’s not the kind of quiet that soothes - it presses in, suffocating, until I can’t take it anymore.

“I don’t get it,” I finally say, my voice a mix of frustration and something that feels a little too close to hurt.

“Why are you guys acting like my life is some kind of mistake? You’re all sitting there, talking about ‘stability’ but none of you are seeing the bigger picture.

This isn’t just a job to me—it’s my career. It’s my future.”

“Oh, please, Whitney,” Ed sighs, stirring his coffee like this conversation is exhausting him. “You are being stubborn again. What about the future? When you can’t do this anymore? What’s your plan then?”

I arch a brow. “And what makes you think I don’t have a plan?

” I lean forward, resting my elbows on the table.

“You think I just wake up every morning, post a few cute pictures, and hope for the best?” I shake my head with a short laugh.

“Newsflash, big bro, and family - I run a business. A brand. I have contracts, collaborations, and long-term deals.”

“And” I continue, “If it doesn’t work, I will adapt. That’s what I do, I figure it out. Just like everyone else does in their lives. In their careers. Just like you would if something in your field changed.”

Janet makes a noise of disapproval, setting her fork down a little too hard.

“No? Okay, so tell me,” I say, tilting my head.

“What job is guaranteed to last forever? Because last I checked, industries evolve. People get laid off. Companies shut down.” I gesture toward Rosa.

“What about you? If your job suddenly became obsolete, would you just curl up and give up? No, you’d pivot.

You’d figure it out. Just like I would.”

I turn to my dad who is deep in thought. “Dad, please…”

“Your mom is right, Whitney. Come home, be part of this family again. It’s not about you working in the office, Whitney. It’s about being close to us, where we can keep our eyes on you.”

“Keep your eyes on me? I’m not a kid anymore. And I’m not asking for permission to live my life. I’m just asking you to trust me. Is that so hard for you to do?”

The words hang in the air, a mix of anger and hurt in my chest, and I know they’re cutting deeper than they should. I can feel my heart pounding. “I came back to visit, not to stay. I told you that. Why do you guys insist on hurting me like this? Huh?”

I take a deep breath, forcing the frustration down, but it clings to my ribs. “Seriously, why do you all care about what I do now, huh? You’ve never cared before, so why start now?”

Silence. A flicker of discomfort crosses everyone’s face.

I let out a short, humorless laugh. “No, really. All these years, I’ve been the ignored one. The one you never worried about, never asked too many questions about, never checked in on. And now, suddenly, you have an opinion? Now, suddenly, I am a concern?”

Rosa shifts in her chair, and Keith looks down at his coffee, but no one says anything.

“Right,” I say, my voice tight. “That’s what I thought.” I cross my arms and shake my head. “You should just keep doing what you’ve always done - ignore me. Let me do what I want.”

Mom straightens, her lips pressing together before she speaks. “What do you mean by that?”

I close my eyes. Inhale. Exhale. I don’t answer.

Because if I do, I’ll say something I can’t take back.

I push my chair back, not caring if I’m being dramatic.

I am done with this conversation. Done with their constant pressure, done with the way they belittle what I’ve worked so hard for.

“I am a social media influencer, and I am so, so proud to be one. Please, I beg you, just drop this recurring conversation. I love what I do, and I worked hard to get here.”

Without another word, I grab my coat, my keys, turn on my heel, and storm out of the kitchen, not bothering to hear their protests.

The door slams behind me, and I let the cool air hit my face like a slap, a welcome sting.

I drive, not really caring where I’m going, just needing to get away. The wind is cool and light, but the world feels suddenly heavy—too heavy. I don’t stop until I park somewhere and I’m standing at the edge of the cliffs by the lakeside, staring out over the dark water.

Everything in me feels like it's been ripped apart. The family I love, the life I have built... it’s all tangled up in knots that I can’t seem to untangle. For the second time since I’ve come home, I have walked out on my family. Twice. All because… they just… I let out a deep sigh.

I stand there for a long time, lost in thought, before the sound of my phone buzzing in my pocket breaks through. I don’t answer it.

Why did I even come back here? I should have just gone along with my plan of coming home for the wedding.

This was a mistake.

I swallow hard, the weight of it all pressing on my chest. I try to push back the lump in my throat, but it doesn’t work. The tears slip out, one by one, as I stand at the edge of everything I thought I knew.

I don’t know how long I stand there, staring out at the vast, shimmering water below, but the ache in my chest doesn’t lessen. I wonder if they’ll ever see me the way I see myself, if they’ll ever understand that I’m not just playing around.

***Present***

“So, is everything good?" Blake asks again.

“Peachy,” I say, flashing a too-bright smile.

Blake lets out a dramatic sigh. "Yeah, that was really believable, Whit. Very convincing. Ten out of ten acting."

I glance at my shoulder, unimpressed.

“You know, you’ve always been good at many things, Whitney, but one thing you still haven’t learnt to be good at, is lying,” he says, shaking his head.

I scoff, crossing my arms over my chest. “Hey, I’ll let you know that I lie exceptionally well.”

His brow lifts like I just told him I moonlight as a brain surgeon. “Oh yeah?” He mirrors my stance, arms folding across his chest, a smirk playing on his lips. “Alright then, Miss Deceptive Genius, tell me something that happened and the lie you told to cover it up.”

I tilt my chin up, feigning offense. "Wow. First of all, rude. Second, fine - remember the time when Sarah and I skipped school?"

He nods and chuckles. "Yeah, I remember. Y’all thought you were slick."

I roll my eyes. "Well, we were - until some traitor snitched and got us caught." I pause to shoot him a pointed look, "And by 'traitor,' I mean you."

Blake holds his hands up in mock innocence. "Hey, I didn’t snitch! I may have confirmed it when asked, but that’s not the same thing."

"That’s literally snitching, Blake."

He grins. "Debatable. Anyway, what was your genius lie? I never really got to hear more about it after that."

Scoffing, I continue, "I told them I wasn’t skipping. I was doing an undercover school report on truancy."

Blake stares at me. Blinks once. Then twice. "You…, what?"

I nod seriously. "Yep. I told them I needed firsthand experience, so I went to observe real-life truants in their natural habitat."

Blake bursts out laughing, doubling over. "Oh my God! That is the worst excuse I’ve ever heard!”

I flip my hair. “I commit to the bit, Blake.”

“Did they believe you?"

I lift a shoulder, looking smug. "Well, we were let off that day."

He cackles. "No way. How long did it take before they called you out on your ‘ridiculous’ lie?"

I huff. "The next day."

He shakes his head, still laughing. "Look at you all proud of yourself! You lasted twenty-four hours and think you’re a mastermind."

"Hey, that’s a personal best," I say, flipping my hair dramatically.

Blake grins, shaking his head. "Whitney, again, you are many things, but a smooth liar is not one of them."

I smirk. "Maybe not. The world just isn’t ready for my level of deception."

Blake grins. “You mean lack of deception.”

I huff. “Details.” Raising my eyebrows at him, “Seriously, what are you doing here? You’re not even on the route to your house, Blake.”

“Heading home from practice. I decided to go for a drive. Good thing I did. Saw a lone figure up here and, being the concerned citizen that I am, I figured I should check it out, just in case.” He tilts his head. “Then I got closer and – shocker - it’s you. Looking like you could use some company.”

I snort, crossing my arms. “Oh, so you decided to play the hero, huh?”

“I know, right?” He grins. “I’ve got to earn my brave citizen’s award. Can’t let Keith have all the glory.”

“What are you? Six?” I ask and he shrugs.

"You didn’t even like Keith’s award. You called it ‘the most unnecessary display of heroism for an event that didn’t need saving.’"

"That’s not the point," he says, throwing his hands up. "The point is, I need one. Can’t have my best friend outshining me. It’s a pride thing."

I snort. “Your best friend would out-hero you.”

Blake gasps, hands over his heart. “Ouch. That hurts.”

“Truth hurts.” I shrug.

He chuckles. “You wound me, Whit.”

I roll my eyes, but there is an ease settling between us.

We sit on the rocks, the silence stretching in a way that isn’t uncomfortable. The ocean roars below, the salty breeze cool against my skin.

I chuckle softly.