Page 111 of Fall For Me
“No! You don’t get to decide that for me. I’ve spent my entire life trying to be the perfect daughter. Every decision, every sacrifice, every damn thing I’ve ever done has revolved around whether or not I thought you’d approve. But I. Am. Fucking. Tired, Dad. I don’t even know what parts of my life are mine anymore and what are just expectations I’ve been trying to live up to.”
“Hannah—”
He moves in closer, but I take a step back, holding up my hand.
“Stop, Dad! Just stop.” Throat tightening, tears spill over, and I swipe them from my face with the back of my hand. “I never wanted to let you down after everything you’d been through; losing Mom, giving up your career.”
“I didn’t give up my career. I pivoted.”
“Call it what you want. The point is I didn’t . . .” I close my eyes and take a deep breath. “This is my life, and I need to start living it how I want.IfI coach, it will be because I want to. Not because you back me into a corner.”
Taking off his ballcap, he runs a hand through his hair.
“Fuck!” He turns in a circle, seemingly frustrated with himself, before coming back to stand in front of me. “Hannah, I’m sorry. I thought once you saw how good you were, how much you loved doing it, that you’d decide to fill my shoes.”
“I can’t do this with you right now. I have a team that needs coaching, and I don’t want to look like a fucking idiot who got pulled from a game because she didn’t know what she was doing.”
“No one would think that. You’re incredible out there.”
A bitter laugh escapes my lips as I shake my head. “My goalie almost got in a fight with his own teammate on my watch. It doesn’t matter if that’s on me or not, I’ll catch the heat from that. I’m a woman in a man’s world. I’ll always be one mistake away fromproving to every misogynistic asshole out there that a woman isn’t capable of coaching an NHL team. Do you have any idea how terrifying it is standing in your shadow? Every eye watching me and dissecting every fucking play that I call?”
“That happens to every coach, Hannah. Everyone always thinks they can do it better. You know what you’re doing.”
“I gotta go, Dad,” I say, turning to leave.
“Sport?”
His voice makes me stop and look back over my shoulder.
“I know I don’t say it, but for what it’s worth, you always make me proud to be your dad.”
I know my dad loves me; I know he’s proud of me. But hearing him say it . . . heals something broken inside of me. No matter how angry I am at him right now.
“Thank you,” I say pushing through the locker room doors.
The entire way back to the ice, I use breathing exercises to clear my mind of the shitshow that just went down. The last thing the players need is for me to be a headcase. Cheers from the fans swallow me up, and as I step back behind the bench, I drown out the noise, place all my feelings into a little box, and force myself to lock in on what needs to be done.
“You alright?” Carter asks, handing me the tablet.
“Yeah. I’m good. I just need to focus.”
The second period turns into a war of attrition, and by late in the third, we’re tied three-three. Anaheim tries forcing another entry through Jerome’s side.
“Step up! Step up! Close the gap!” I yell.
Jerome strips the puck and feeds it up the boards to Trevor. Two quick passes and Aiden takes possession. He drops it back to Petrov. Petrov wires it top shelf.
“Hell, yes!” I scream, pumping my fist into the air.
“That was your play!” Carter shouts over the screaming fans, slapping my back hard enough to rattle my teeth.
Grinning from ear to ear, I turn and give him a fist bump.
“You know . . . You’re really good at this whole coaching thing.”
“Don’t start with me too, Carter Graham.”
“Whatever you say . . .Coach.” He beams, bumping my shoulder with his.
