He won’t like her.
He won’t like her for the mere fact that she provides a distraction from my game.
Cocking her head to the side, Sutton must see the indecision in my eyes. “Is everything all right?”
I give her a tentative smile and step back from the door so she can come in. “Of course, it’s just…I have some unexpected company.”
Sutton steps over the threshold and I close the door behind her. When I turn, she and my dad are facing each other. Sutton has an open, easy smile on her face and my dad’s is stoically blank.
Running my hand through my hair and feeling as if I’m marching to the gallows, I say, “Dad…I’d like you to meet Sutton Price. Sutton…this is my dad, John Crossman.”
I have to give her credit. Sutton doesn’t even flinch. She knows he’s not supposed to be out of rehab, but she never reveals the depth of her knowledge. Instead, her smile gets even brighter and she steps forward, holding her hand out. “It’s so wonderful to meet you, Mr. Crossman. Did you just arrive?”
My dad shifts his gaze to me briefly and I can see a world of questions in that one look, but he is at least polite when he turns back to Sutton and shakes her hand. “It’s nice to meet you too, and yes…I just got in for a surprise visit with Alex.”
While my dad is courteous, the air is a bit frigid from the tone of his voice and Sutton can read the signals loud and clear. I suppose it’s a bit of a benefit that she knows a little about my history with him, and she never hesitates.
Turning to me, she says, “Look…let’s you and I get together another day to go over the outreach program and you just enjoy Christmas Eve with your dad.”
She lies beautifully because we had no intentions of discussing business tonight. My intention was to spend a few romantic moments opening gifts and then taking her to bed to f**k her silly.
She pivots back to my dad. “Mr. Crossman, it was nice meeting you and Merry Christmas.”
He nods at her with a smile and heads over to the couch to sit down. I walk Sutton to the door and when I open it, I lean in to murmur, “I’m sorry. He literally showed up like a minute before you did. I have no clue why he’s here. He should be in rehab.”
She gives me a sympathetic look and pats my chest. Sutton is a savvy girl and she knows just from what little I told her about my dad that he most likely doesn’t know about our relationship. Given what she knows about how he’s deterred me in the past from having any type of relationship, she’s playing it close to the vest and not giving us away.
“No worries. Call me later when you can.”
I nod at her and then watch her walk down the stairs. I don’t close the door until she’s out of sight, but then I do with a sigh and turn to face my father.
“Friend of yours?” my dad asks genially.
“Yeah,” I answer but don’t provide anything more.
“Seems like more than just a friend.”
“You heard her…we were going over some business together.”
“On Christmas Eve?”
Shrugging my shoulders, I say, “Sure, why not?”
“Why are you lying to me, boy?” my dad asks in censure.
“Because if I don’t, you’ll make a big deal about me having a girlfriend,” I say in exasperation.
“Girlfriend?” He actually wrinkles his nose in distaste.
“Yes! Girlfriend. And it’s none of your business. I’m an adult and allowed to date.”
My dad holds his hands up in surrender, but he’s not fooling me. I can see it in his eyes. Yet it is with seeming nonchalance he says, “Your life, not mine. Got any coffee for your old man?”
I lock eyes with him, dying to know what he really wants to say but dreading it all the same. Instead, I just nod and head into my kitchen to make a pot of coffee, making a mental note to call Cameron later to let him know I’ve found our wayward father.
As I busy myself pulling out the coffee and filters, I try to take stock of my feelings. I’m mostly pissed that my night with Sutton got canceled. Even though I had been having some dark thoughts earlier, there’s no doubt that my spirit was rejuvenated the minute I opened the door and saw her. She just does good things for my soul.
I am, however, oddly relieved that my dad is here, because I can gauge that he looks to be okay. In fact, I can’t remember him ever looking healthier.
The sickest part, though, the thing that means I should be checking myself into a mental hospital just for having the thought, is the fact that there is a part of me that is wanting to get my dad’s advice about my game. It’s still been sucking donkey ass and while I’m scoring again, I’m certainly not playing to the potential of the first line. I simply haven’t been able to regain complete convergence on my game, and it seems that my thoughts are all jumbled among Sutton, my dad, my brother and hockey. I know, without a doubt, that my dad has been following my progress and I’m sure the minute I ask, he’ll have a ton of advice to give.
Yes, I know it will be destructive and negative. Yes, I know I shouldn’t listen to a damn word he says.
But God help me, I can only think that this man made me into the great player that I was up until a few weeks ago.
Up until he went into rehab and went off my radar.
Up until he stopped dispensing said advice.
I want to knee myself in the nuts for even thinking that perhaps the reason for my crappy play is because I haven’t had my dad riding me these last several weeks, but to hell with it…I’m going there. I need to know what he would say.