Page 51

ETHAN

“You know, if you stayed in New York...” Rocco trails off.

We sit in a line of cars waiting to pass the Control Building at Rikers Island.

“I can’t, and neither can Jackson. We both have contracts.”

“The New York hockey team will take you back. They’d take you both. They’d be crazy not to.”

It’s not that I haven’t thought about it. We’d have a semi-normal life here, far from Kyle and publicity. We’d be blissfully isolated for the most part, but... “I don’t want to join the family business, no offense.”

“None taken. You’re right where your father wanted you to be. The war of his generation is over. No one is asking anything of you, but we enjoy seeing you.”

After being cleared through the gates, we drive past the Control Building and Ward Visitation Center to the Men’s Correctional Facility.

Barbed wire fencing surrounds the outside, and it’s not much better on the inside. The group cells we pass in processing remind me of cages—humans confined in dingy cages.

Maybe this is why he never wanted me. This is no place for a child.

We sit on a bench bolted to the floor in a brightly lit room. I drum my fingers on the metal table, and my knee bounces.

Do I call him Vincenzo or Enzo? Certainly not Dad.

The door opens, and a man in an orange jumper enters. He has salt-and-pepper hair and pale skin, as if he hasn’t seen the sun in years. He’s several inches shorter than me and much less bulky. He appears healthy for seventy, not heavyset but not starved.

He looks older than the pictures I’ve found online, but there’s no mistaking who he is.

The door shuts and locks behind him. No officer comes in, and he’s not in cuffs as I expected.

He sits opposite me. “Wow. I never thought I’d see the day.”

I nod, my head bobbing ever so slightly. “Yeah, me either.”

We stare, taking each other in. It’s strange seeing my eyes on someone else.

My father casually rests his cheek on his hand, elbow on the table, giving me his full attention. “So, tell me about yourself. Rocco says you’re divorced, took a job in LA, and have a model girlfriend.” He smiles, brightening his eyes. “Sounds glamorous.”

He has my dry humor—or I have his, rather.

I scoff. “Not at all. Marriage wasn’t for me. I accepted the coaching position to distance myself from my ex.”

Rocco pushes his phone across the table to my father. “His girlfriend, Aurora.”

I crane my neck to see a zoomed-in image of a bikini centerfold of hers. “Really? That’s the picture you show him.”

“I have a current photo.” A wide grin spreads over his face. “Calm down.”

He slides his finger along the screen, flipping through pics of Aurora, some professional, a few at the loft, until he lands on one of us from this morning. She’s snuggled in my lap, my hand cradling her stomach, my lips pressed to her forehead.

“Where are you getting these?” I ask, unable to hide my annoyance.

“The twins. I wanted a photo with you two together.”

It’s the perfect picture, and Aurora would love it. “Send it to me then erase the rest. You don’t need pics of my girlfriend.”

My father chuckles, his deep, hearty laugh echoing in the small, barren room. “I see why the marriage didn’t work. She’s gorgeous. Young.”

“Yeah, she’s twenty-two.”

“You love her?”

I answer without hesitation. “More than anything.”

“How far along?”

“Five months.”

“Know what you’re having?”

“A boy.”

His intense gaze never leaves me. “You turned out better than I could’ve imagined. I’m sorry about your ma.” He inhales deeply and exhales slowly. “I really am. We tried to help her.”

I give a half-ass shrug. “Yeah, me too. There was no saving her.” Not while he was in prison.

It’s twisted how fate works. Here I am, once again, attempting to save someone else from addiction. I couldn’t save my mother—I wasn’t enough—but I’ll do everything in my power to stop from losing Jax too.

“You’ve got the job, the girl, and a kid on the way. What else?” he asks, his eyes glassy.

“It’s...complicated.”

“Love always is.”

“She dated one of my players, Jackson. They were separated when she and I slept together, but they rekindled things before I knew she was pregnant. Long story short, the three of us are in a…relationship.”

“A relationship...?” He scowls, his eyes darkening—another similarity.

The tips of my ears burn. I don’t know why I care about what he thinks. He has no influence on my life, not when it comes to Aurora and Jax. No one does.

“As in, we’re both with her. We plan on living together and sharing a future.”

Understanding dawns on his face, and he strokes his trimmed beard. “I see.”

“Like I said, it’s complicated. Jackson has had it rough.

His father is a corrupt police commissioner in LA.

He thinks the baby is Jackson’s. He’s harmed Aurora while pregnant, threatened her, had us followed, confronted me about her and the baby, and you,” I add.

“He’s destroyed Jax, and I…I don’t know what I’m asking.

” Emotion grabs me, my eyes sting, and I lower my head.

“For you to protect them, I guess.” I blink away the wetness and swallow the hard lump in my throat. “I’ll never ask for anything else.”

Rocco slides over some documents I can’t read.

My father’s eyebrows shoot to his receding hairline, and he lets out a low whistle. “This his?”

“Yup. Met with him earlier this week.” Rocco leans back and crosses his arms over his chest. “We’re working on getting it in Ethan’s name. He’s engaged to Aurora, and eventually, he wants it split between the two, but ultimately, it’ll be with us.”

“Shit. Yeah, that type of money will corrupt weaker men.” With a confident posture and a sly smirk, my father cocks his head at me. “So, you sought help from one criminal to deal with another?”

I match his smirk. “Pretty much.”

They both laugh at my candor, and the tension melts.

“You care for him.” My father doesn’t ask it, only states the obvious.

“He’s a good kid—crazy—but he loves hard.”

“You get the baby, and he gets the marriage, huh?”

“Something like that. I don’t need the marriage, just the girl. I never imagined having any of this, honestly.”

He nods in contemplation then hands the stack of papers back to Rocco, simply stating, “Protect our investments.”

My curiosity is piqued, but they dive into discussing business and family, and I remain quiet.

They casually chat and joke, as if my father hasn’t missed a thing. Their relationship is close, and I find myself a little envious.

At the end of the visit, he gives me a firm hug. “I’ll keep in touch with Rocco.”

“I’ll see you soon.” The words fly off my tongue without a second thought, my voice strained.

He pulls back yet holds on. “You don’t have to.”

“I want to.”