“I didn’t, but maybe now I do.”
“Losing a mom is shitty, mostly. I lost mine when I was eight.”
“Huh, all your brutish behavior makes sense now.”
“I wish that were why,” he says. It’s my turn to frown. Do I follow that up? It seems too personal for what we are.
Right … moving on.
“Point is, Dad’s not likely to show up, and if he does, I’m prepared.”
“Prepared how?”
“You. If Dad shows and we fight, I’m running straight to you.”
“Good answer, princess.” He rests his forehead against mine. “Unfortunately, I can’t find a reason to say no.”
“What do you mean, unfortunately?”
“The last thing I want is your ass around a bunch of hot, drunken young men and women.”
“I can be trusted.”
His thumb lands on my plump bottom lip, brushing feather light. Instant soothing.
“I’m not worried about you; I’m worried about them pawing at you. Murdering college students isn’t a good look, even for me.”
“I guess I can’t completely promise that.” It’s like the air being let out of a balloon. My brain whirrs off on a tear, trying to figure out how to host a party as the president that I can’t attend.
“Don’t do that,” he says.
“Don’t do what?”
“Worry. That’s my job now, McKinnon.”
“How did you?—”
“Your face is all scrunched up. You can go to the party. No drinking.”
“Of course. I wouldn’t have any way. I’m officially in-season now, Professor. Mom taught me well.”
“Mom?”
“Yeah. I know, I know. It’s usually Dad out there on the ice at four in the morning with his kid, but Mom was the hockey star of the family. She taught me everything I know.”
“She’d be proud of you, McKinnon.”
“Maybe.” Fuck. I need to change the subject in a big way. “But speaking of pawing …”
I lift one of his bear paws, gently running my fingers over the battered knuckles. Fuck. They’re bad, worse than they were. Aren’t they in agony? Dammit, I’d planned a sexy remark, instead, worry curls my gut.
“Are you still…? Why?”
He doesn’t answer at first, just lets me cradle his hand like something precious. Like I’ve got the power to heal it.
“Don’t look at me like that,” he says, voice gone a quiet kind of rough.
“Like what?”
