Page 29 of Something to Prove (Smithton Bears #2)

TY

You know the 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 by this 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.

If Ketchum was curious about the stranger at his sister’s house, he didn’t show it.

I got the feeling he was used to being taken off guard now.

He had no defenses. Where he’d once been cunning and controlled, he was guileless and unmoored.

Like a frayed rope stretched to its limit.

Eventually he’d snap and float away or fade to nothing.

I supposed we all did, but fuck me…it was unbearably sad.

Eventually, we said our good-byes, piled our bags into the trunk of the rental, and drove a solid mile in silence along a solitary country road.

I wore sunglasses to shield my eyes from snow glare and kept my gaze forward. I wasn’t good with tough emotional situations, but Walker was vibrating in the passenger seat, his fingers scratching at the seam of his winter coat. I had to try.

Say something, Ty. Say anything.

“What happened to him?” Shit . Maybe not that. I winced and tried again. “Obviously, you don’t have to answer. I’m just curious. Ketchum…I wouldn’t have recognized him and—sorry. Never mind. Want to listen to music? I didn’t bother hooking my cell to the audio, but feel free to use yours if you?—”

“It’s okay, Ty.” Walker shifted to face me, piercing his bottom lip with his teeth. “Addiction, depression, and brain damage from multiple concussions.”

“CTE.”

“Yes. I’ve done some research, and every case is different. It can’t be properly diagnosed until the person is…gone. According to my aunt, my father exhibits classic symptoms like memory loss, severe mood changes, loss of cognitive retention, and depression.”

“Fuck, I’m sorry.”

“Me too.” He sighed. “You probably noticed that he doesn’t acknowledge me as his son. Or anyone special.”

“I…yeah, I noticed.”

“ Hmm . I used to think it was a cruel remnant from his feud with my mom, but Aunt Kay thinks it’s a defense mechanism and that guilt and brain fatigue created a new file in his system where I might be anything from his nephew to a family friend or someone who works at the orchard named Sunny.

He called me that when I was little. I used to think it was special, but… it’s not.”

I didn’t know what to say. “I’m sorry.”

He went quiet till we neared the highway. “The reason I don’t advertise who he is to me is—well, I have major anger issues with him. He was a terrible father…absent, unreliable, and selfish. The thing that makes me so mad is that I didn’t need much. I just wanted him to show up.”

I reached for Walker’s hand and squeezed it as I navigated Toronto traffic. “It’s okay.”

He swiped at tears with his free hand and sniffled.

“I know my mom was difficult, but he never fought for me. Never. He gave up custody and only came to visit once in a while. I used to sit at the window waiting for him…like an idiot. If he’d shown up, maybe we’d have some sort of relationship instead of…

whatever this is.” More sniffling. “I feel bad. I do. But he was a real jerk…out there having lots of fun. He hated her and she hated him. Maybe they had good reasons, and I was collateral. An inconvenient mistake…waiting for one of them to notice me. Pathetic.”

“You’re not pathetic.”

“Don’t be so sure. You know, I used to scour news about him.

There were always photos of my father with a beautiful woman on his arm and a drink in his hand, living his best life.

And I still thought, that’s okay. Maybe he’ll come tomorrow.

Fucking asshole.” More sniffling. “I saw him that holiday that Aunt Kay came for me when Mom was in the Middle East. Four years had gone by with no contact. That’s a lifetime for a kid.

He didn’t have much to say and I was too young to understand that he was already declining, on the brink of retirement and dealing with debilitating depression.

Now…here we are. It’s never going to get better. ”

I saw his shoulders shake in my periphery and panicked.

“ Um …” I dug into my pocket and pulled out a tissue. “Here you go, baby. It’s okay.”

Walker blew his nose. “Sorry. This happens every time. Every. Time. I would have warned you if I’d known he was coming by. That was probably very disappointing. He’s not the Ketchum Clomsky you rooted for as a kid.”

“No, he’s not,” I admitted.

“He’s not well.” Walker dabbed at the corner of his eyes, adding, “And I might not be his biggest fan, but he can’t defend himself now, and I have to figure out how to stop wishing he was someone he never was.”

I veered toward the airport exit and stole a peek at Walker.

There was a queue of cars in the rental return line. I idled behind a gray Explorer, aware that I’d officially run out of time. I couldn’t in good conscience get on a plane without telling him what I knew.

“They know about him, Walker,” I said, my voice too low and a little wobbly to my own ears.

He didn’t react at first.

“What do you mean? Who?”

“Some PR person with the Jackals dug up info on you and found the connection with Ketchum Clomsky.” I swiveled to face him. “I swear to you, I didn’t say a word. I wouldn’t do that.”

“I…” His licked his lips, squinting across the console as if trying to fit puzzle pieces together. “When?”

“My agent told me before the holidays. I didn’t want to text you, so when we talked?—”

“I invited you and…you came here to tell me.” He barked a humorless laugh, continuing in a barely audible self-deprecating tone, “I thought you came for me. Stupid. So stupid.”

“I did come for you,” I growled. “I did. I’m here because I wanted to be with you. That’s the fucking truth.”

Walker met my gaze and held it. I wasn’t sure what he saw, but I hoped like hell he believed me.

He gave a short nod.

We got lost in the shuffle of returning the car, dealing with customs and security before finally commandeered two seats at our gate. We set our carry-ons on the floor in front of us as if marking territory, then I left Walker for a few minutes to use the bathroom and hunt up a few plane snacks.

I dropped into the chair next to his and handed over a bag of M&M’s.

Walker’s lips switched. “My favorite.”

“I know.”

“Thank you.” His smile was weak, but it gave me hope.

I bumped his elbow playfully. He slipped his arm through mine, opened the bag of candy, and laid his head on my shoulder.

This time, my heart soared. I’d never been this publicly affectionate with a man. Maybe I should have felt a twinge of panic at the newness, but it didn’t occur to me to feel anything other than grateful he was mine.

Okay, not really mine, but close enough.

We were attached at the hip all the way home.

I carried Walker’s luggage, opened his car door, and drove us to Smithton.

It was a long ride, and we were exhausted and hungry by the time we’d stumbled in the house.

I ordered takeout, then joined him in the shower.

We ate Greek salads and gyros and sat side by side on his sofa, watching some weird documentary about migrating caribou.

Later, I undressed him slowly, and for the first time in my life, I made love to someone with intent. There was so much I couldn’t say, but I wanted Walker to know I cared. I cared a great deal. I wanted him to know I wasn’t going anywhere.

I moved inside him, thrusting deep as we kissed and stared into each other’s eyes. Could he feel this too? This was something, right? It was special. I knew it.

And I couldn’t help thinking we were going to be okay.