Before I can bolt for the door, my dad comes back into the dining room after his phone call.
“Who was that?”
He looks at his phone then back to me. “Just a friend.”
Nodding, I stay silent, the way I usually am around my father. There’s not much to say other than me telling him how angry I am for how he abandoned me when I needed him most, but I probably shouldn’t ruin Christmas with that, so I stay silent. Just like I have for the last twelve years.
“What time is your flight tomorrow?”
“Eight in the morning.”
“I can get you a driver.”
“I’ll grab a cab.”
Another nod. Another moment of awkward silence.
“The team looks good. You’ve been playing well.”
“You’ve actually watched?” Fuck. That question was clearly a jab at him and came out exactly how I meant it.
My dad’s head jolts back a bit like he was hit physically and not just with words. “Of course, I’ve watched, Evan.”
“I figured you stopped watching a long time ago. Like twelve years ago.”
What the hell is the matter with me? I’ve been able to keep this anger under wraps for a long time. I don’t know why I can’t contain it now.
“Just like you stopped being involved in any part of my life twelve years ago.”
Holy fuck. Stop. Talking.
“I was in a dark place then—”
“Oh, you were in a dark place? You were in a dark place? I was sixteen years old, and my mother left me, and then you did too!”
“I never left!” His voice matches mine.
“You may have still lived at the house in Indiana, but you fucking left. You buried yourself in work.”
“Of course, I did, Evan. That’s why she left me. Left us. I was trying to make up for it.”
“You stopped coming to my hockey games. You stopped being my dad, and the only reason you give a shit now is that I’m in the NHL and could potentially win the Cup this year. You’re as much of a gold-digger as she is, Dad.”
I don’t even believe those last words that came out of my mouth, but I don’t care. I’m angry, and for the first time in a long time, I don’t know how to control it.
“Who the hell do you think you are, talking to me like that? I didn’t raise my son to speak to people this way.”
“You stopped raising me a long time ago.”
“Evan—” My dad’s tone is utterly defeated, his lips turned down at the corners.
“Ev, what the hell?” Lindsey stands in the doorway between the room she was working in and the living room, staring at me in complete shock.
“I gotta go.” Standing from my seat, I slip my arms through the sleeves of my coat before tucking my ears into my beanie. I can’t look at my dad sitting at the table because too much guilt is rushing through me. Anger too.
“It’s Christmas. Where are you going?”
“To the Maddisons.” Ducking into the hall, I slam the door behind me and take a deep breath.
Fuck. That wasn’t supposed to happen. I wasn’t supposed to care anymore. I don’t need my dad to love me. I love myself, and that’s enough.
My body is bouncing with energy as I ride the elevator down to the lobby, and when the cold Chicago wind hits me as soon as I step outside, it does nothing to calm me down. I’m still fueled and fired up.
Needing to chill out before seeing Ella and MJ, I take a seat on the front step of my apartment building, my entire body slightly shaking, not because of the bite in the air but from the adrenaline coursing through me.
It’s been a long time since I’ve been unable to articulate my feelings in a level way. Anger rarely takes over, but I couldn’t help it tonight. I don’t know how he doesn’t see what he did.
At the root of it, I want him to apologize, and I want him to be the dad he was while I was growing up. I miss that man. I miss our relationship, and I hate admitting that I need him to love me like he used to.
The oxygen around me doesn’t seem to want to fill my lungs as I discreetly as possible try to inhale a deep breath, but it doesn’t work.
I thought I loved myself enough to stop caring about anyone else’s affections.
“Merry Christmas,” a soft voice says.
Looking up from my crossed arms, Stevie stands at the base of my steps with a beer bottle outstretched.
My lungs fill up with air.
“Merry Christmas.” A thankful smile finally slides across my lips. “You following me?” I teasingly ask.