Page 66 of Something to Prove

I was six years old, waiting at the door of another house for the big man with the fast red car. He said it matched my hair and it made me laugh. I wore a yellow jacket and shoes that lit up when I jumped. A Superman backpack doubled as an overnight bag. Toothbrush, underwear, PJs, and a book about hockey.

I couldn’t wait to show it to him. I was so excited and it was impossible to sit still. I could tell my mom was exasperated, but she was always exasperated with the big man. She didn’t like him, but I did. She didn’t like that he called me Sunny. I didn’t mind. We were going to do something fun. He’d said so. Go to the zoo, go to the fair, go to the rink.

I didn’t care. Anywhere was fine with me.

He’d never shown up.

But here he was now.

CHAPTER 21

TY

You knowthe saying about being careful what you wish for? Or the one about meeting your heroes?

Yeah, well…

It wasn’t that I was disappointed. I was…confused, and distracted by Walker’s obvious unease. It was like watching a foreign movie without subtitles. Or the words were flashing too fast for me to read. Also, a little advance warning would have been nice. It would have given me a chance to gauge Walker’s mood and probe into a topic he avoided like the plague.

I knew his dad upset him, but I didn’t have any details. And yes, it was why I hadn’t shared Toby’s bombshell yet. It seemed like insensitive news to deliver via text. I’d planned to tell him the day we’d talked on the phone, but the invitation to Toronto was even better. I hadn’t counted on it being so damn idyllic here, though.

This house and these cool, kind people were Walker’s happy place. His joy was genuine and contagious. He might gripe a little, but the dude loved the corny family games, goofy dogs, and endless stream of visiting cousins. Something told me he’d fit right in with the Czerniaks, and see, that was part of the problem. I’d been charmed off my ass and so taken bythis carefree side of Walker that I hadn’t dared ruin it. Any revelations about his dad could wait.

But Ketchum Clomsky was here now, and I realized within thirty seconds of meeting him that nothing would have prepared me for this moment.

The Ketchum Clomsky whose poster hung on my childhood bedroom wall had been a beast of a man. Fierce, ferocious, tough, and a touch maniacal. A six-foot-five monster with shoulders the width of the football field and laser-sharp eyes. Ketchum had a reputation for systematically taking out the competition on his way to the goal with steely resolve. He dismantled defensemen like they were toy soldiers and laughed in their faces every time he scored.

Yeah, he’d been a dick, but that had been part of the allure. I’d adopted his victory punch in the air as a kid, thinking, “One day I’m gonna be just like him.”

Now…I really fucking hoped not.

This version of Ketchum was nothing like the hockey star of my youth. He was thin and gaunt, practically swimming in a wool coat that was easily two sizes too big. His salt-and-pepper hair was wild and unkempt, and though he smiled a greeting, his eyes were vacant.

No, vacant wasn’t the right description. Maybe haunted was better.

Either way, Ketchum had the aura of someone wrestling with demons…and losing.

Something was wrong with him. Something was off, and everyone here knew what it was except for me.

Kay said something to the young woman standing next to her brother—a nurse maybe, then greeted him with a hug. His smile was warmer for Kay. But unless I was imagining it, Ketchum didn’t seem to know who Walker was.

“Hi, Dad.” Walker stepped forward with an awkward wave.

Ketchum frowned. He looked lost and more confused than I was.

Fuck, it was…awful. And so freaking uncomfortable.

Trust me, it didn’t get any better. Fifteen minutes of, “How have you been? Did you have a nice holiday?” followed by a series of noncommittal grunts and an occasional question aimed at Kay.

“Did you see the hummingbird feeder?”

Kay grinned. “I have a new one. Would you like to see it?”

“Maybe later,” Ketchum replied, finally twisting to stare at Walker. “Sunny. Your name is Sunny. I like your hair.”

“Thanks.” Walker’s chin bobbed precariously, but he recovered quickly and initiated a conversation about the weather. Supposedly there was a storm in the forecast and blah, blah, blah.

Everyone joined in. Even me.