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CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

Dozer

The next morning we get up earlier than I’d really prefer—because it’s my day off and I traveled yesterday and I’d really like to just sleep in and laze around naked with my girlfriend—and head over to Marissa’s parents’ house.

“Thank you for going along with this,” she says in the car on the way there.

I glance over at her, brow furrowed. “Of course. Why wouldn’t I?”

She shrugs, wrinkling her nose in that adorable way she does. “My parents can be … a lot. Dad’ll probably try to suss out if he considers you a ‘real man,’ so just be prepared for that. When Gabby brought Jonathan home for the first time, he ran that poor guy through the wringer.”

Chuckling, I shake my head. “You don’t think being a professional hockey player who’s known for fighting will help with that?”

“You’d think so, yeah, but …” She shrugs. “With Dad, it’s hard to say.”

Squinting, I refocus on the road. “So basically no one lives up to his standards?”

She lets out a shocked laugh. “What makes you say that?”

“Well …” I shift in my seat, hunching my shoulders as I consider the wisdom of what I’m about to say. “It just seems like there’s no pleasing him for anyone. You’ve mentioned several times that your dad treated you like the son he never had until his actual son came along. He treated you like a boy, though, even when he made it clear you weren’t the one he wanted to have work with him and someday take over his shop, right?”

I glance over at her, and she nods, squinting at me like she’s skeptical but curious to see where I’m going with this.

So I plow forward. “Right. And then when he couldn’t ignore the fact that you were growing up and developing an interest in ‘girly’ things,” I put air quotes around that with one hand, “he started to shut you out completely, making it clear that he didn’t think ‘manly’ interests like fixing cars and ‘girly’ interests like makeup and dresses could coexist in one person, despite the living evidence to the contrary right in front of his face.”

Now it’s her turn to squirm uncomfortably. “That’s … I’ve never put it so succinctly before.”

“Sorry,” I murmur, and she shakes her head.

“You don’t need to be sorry. Keep going. It’s interesting to get an outside perspective on this. I mean, I’ve thought similar things, but never laid them all out like that. But that’s just me. I’ve known I’m not what he wished for my whole life, pretty much, so none of that is really a surprise.”

Nodding, I move to the next sibling. “Now, I’ve barely met your brother, so I can’t speak from personal observations, but from what you’ve said, the great hope of his son was shattered when your brother refused to move back home and work at the shop, right?”

“Right. But that was Lance’s choice to disappoint Dad. It wasn’t something inherent about him.”

Pursing my lips, I shrug. “I suppose you could make that argument. But don’t you think Lance felt boxed in and like he didn’t have many choices? And one could also argue that it’s his inherent personality to follow his own passions rather than submit to your father’s mandates for the rest of his life.”

Chuckling, she shakes her head. “Fine. I see your point.”

“I don’t have as good of a read on your sister,” I concede. “But from my brief interactions with your family and things you’ve said, I’m guessing they’d hoped for a more, ah, traditional lifestyle for her. And while I feel like she probably didn’t get as many expectations heaped on her as you and your brother did, being that you’re the oldest, your brother’s the boy, and Gabby seems almost like an afterthought—” She snorts, and I glance her way. “What?”

“Sorry.” She shakes her head. “No, it’s just … I think you’re right. I’m not sure if Gabby was planned or not, to be honest. Or if they had her just because Mom wanted another baby to spoil. Gabby was indulged far more than Lance or I were, allowed to pick her own interests, which was music, and since that was acceptable for a girl, it was never an issue. I feel like if Lance tried to join the orchestra, Dad would’ve had a conniption. Even so, she had a tough time when Jonathan’s career was taking him to California and she wanted to be with him.” She stares out the windshield, gaze abstract. “Mom and I had to run a lot of interference with Dad, and Lance helped where he could, though he didn’t have a whole lot of pull right then since that was fairly soon after he decided to stay in Spokane instead of moving back home.”

“Yeah. That tracks. But you said your dad put Jonathan through the wringer when she brought him home, so obviously another musician didn’t live up to his exacting standards either. Did they give your brother’s wife any grief?”

She presses her lips together, squinting her eyes as she considers the question. “You know? Not so much. She’s a sweetheart, though, so they’d’ve been hard pressed to find things to give her grief about without looking like complete assholes. And then Lance would’ve told Dad off, taken Abby home, and refused to visit again. Mom wouldn’t let that happen. Not when grandbabies are possible.”

“Maybe they’ll decide to take a similar tack with me,” I suggest. “Maybe they’ll decide it’s not worth it to pick on me.”

She levels a doubtful look my way. “The person dating the great disappointment?” She scoffs. “Don’t count on it.”

When we park outside of her parents’ house, I lean over and pull her in for a kiss. “We’ll have fun. We’ll open presents. We’ll have some food. I’ll help out as much as I’m allowed. If they pick on me, I promise it can’t be worse than years of surviving locker rooms and clandestine hazing rituals. In a couple days, we’ll be back home, and everything will be perfect.”

She smiles and kisses me again. “I can’t wait.”