Total pages in book: 43
Estimated words: 40046 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 200(@200wpm)___ 160(@250wpm)___ 133(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 40046 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 200(@200wpm)___ 160(@250wpm)___ 133(@300wpm)
"I didn't choose being a father over my career. There was no choice. You're my daughter," he growls. "You will always come first. And you will always be the crowning achievement in my life. A few more years playing a sport will never compete with that, Emilia. Your mother sure as hell didn't. You think I wanted to tie my life to someone willing to walk away from a child we created? You aren't the reason I lost her. You're the reason I found out who she was. I don't regret that, Emilia. Not for a second."
"Dad," I whisper, flinging myself out of my seat. I crawl into his side of the booth, snuggling up against him like I used to do when I was a little girl.
He drops a kiss on my forehead and then sighs. "It pisses me off that you don't know that already, kid."
"I know it," I say. "I just…"
"Just what?"
"I guess I'm just trying to understand why you're so dead set against me dating a hockey player." I glance up at him in time to see his brows slash together, suspicion ripping through his gaze.
Crap.
"Who the fuck are you trying to date, Emilia?"
"No one," I lie, sliding away from him. "I'm just curious."
"Why?"
"Because I don't understand you! You act like they're terrible guys who can't be trusted, but you love them. You've dedicated half of your life to supporting them. It doesn't make sense. I've spent time around them now, and most of them are incredible men. I mean, some of them aren't the greatest when it comes to relationships, but some of them are amazing."
"Give me a name, Emilia Anne," he growls.
I think about it. For about five seconds, I consider telling him that I'm in love with Nash. But I see the stubborn intractability stamped across his face and the fire in his eyes, and I know exactly how that'll end. He doesn't want a name because he's going to be rational about it. He wants one so he can put a stop to what he thinks is a mistake on my part.
He's never going to approve of this. He's never going to see reason. To him, I'm always going to be the little girl he needs to protect. I can work for the team. I can be an adult in that way. But in his eyes, I'll never truly be capable of making my own decisions for my life, especially if they involve a member of the team.
Nash will never be good enough for me as far as he's concerned, simply because he plays hockey. And the real irony of the situation? The part that's the most fucked up? He's the only one who has ever seen me for me instead of as my father's daughter. He's exactly the guy my dad would have chosen for me if he weren't so damn biased because he's on his team. But he'll never think Nash is good enough, simply because Nash plays this sport.
How incredibly demoralizing.
"There is no name," I mutter in defeat. "There's never been any name except yours, Dad. It's the only one anyone has ever heard. "
"What does that mean?"
"Why do you think I've never dated anyone? All they hear is your name, and suddenly, they either want to date me because I'm your kid, or they won't come anywhere near me because I'm your kid. Your name is all they hear. It's always about you," I sigh, sliding from the booth. "What I want never even enters the equation. It's never even been on the board with the equation. That's never going to change."
"Emilia–"
"I've gotta go." I lean down, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek. "See you at work."
"Emilia, dammit. Wait."
For the first time in my life, I ignore him. He'll never get it. I don't think he wants to get it. But, being the Coach's daughter sucks. Sometimes, well, sometimes it sucks sweaty hockey balls.
Today is one of those days.
By the time my workday ends, my nerves are frayed to the breaking point. My mind hasn't been on my work. It's been on my dad. It's been on Nash. It's been all over the freaking place.
The roar fades to silence as soon as Nash appears in the doorway, his eyes locking with mine.
I immediately jump out of my chair, rushing toward him.
"Fuck," he grunts, catching me with his hands on my ass as I practically leap into his arms, desperate to feel them around me. I don't even have to ask him to kiss me. As soon as I wrap my legs around his waist, he kicks my door closed, backing me up against it.
His lips come down on mine, his kiss hot and hungry. I thrust my hands into his hair, holding him to me as I kiss him back the same exact way. I want his air in my lungs and his hands all over me. Maybe then I'll forget what a coward I am.