Chapter 10

Adam's POV

I never talked about my dad to anyone. Not the teammates who had seen all of me in locker rooms, or the women that spent days and weeks in my bed and in my jerseys. The reason was I never felt like anyone would ever understand. I didn't want to come across as ungrateful of the privilege or of the man that he turned me into.

Honestly, without my father I would not be on the billboards. I would not be on the ice with everyone screaming my name and carrying placards with my face.

So I remained silent. I pretended to like him for the public eye and when I was done pretending, I simply avoided him. But never talked about him to anyone.

Somehow with Eli sitting across the room, I felt the need to open myself up in this way. To show him a part that I had never shown anyone. The raw, messy, ugly part of me.

“What do you mean he pushed you too hard?” Eli pulled the chair and sank back into it. His lips were drawn tight, like he expected what I was about to say.

I exhaled. “He came in here and we had an argument, and I could not sit down here and let him talk over me one more time. So I talked back.”

Eli raised a brow. “Did he hit you?”

I stared at the wall. I wished he did. Mayhe that would further justify the anger in my heart.

“No, he didn't. But only because I am in this situation.” I scoffed.

“He has done that before?”

“Yes, a lot of times.” A wry smile played along the lips. “ Me. My mother. Neighbors who tried to intervene. He loved hitting people.”

Eli swallowed.

“I don't know what to say.” He finally said.

“I would like to say it was an excuse to be a bully in high school, but I really don't have an excuse for that.” I chuckled. “I'm so sorry.”

“You really need to stop apologising.” Eli said, reaching for my hand.

“I don't know how I am supposed to pretend like everything is okay. He currently runs an academy for young boys, and I know that those boys are going through hell, the same way I went through hell.”

Eli leaned in.

“My father always wanted to be a hockey player. He played in high school, but when he got to college, he could never make it to the team for some reason. He always says he had some vendetta with the coach, and the coach did not like so it was personal and had nothing to do with his talent.”

“Do you believe him?”

I licked my lips. “I do. He might be a terrible man but he is talented. I am evidence of that because he literally moulded me to be him. The problem is everybody saw right through the talent and saw the kind of shitty person he was, and nobody wanted to play with him.”

I laughed like I always did when talking about his misfortune.

“The moment I could walk, he put me in skates. When children my age were focused on building a snowman, I was skating on ice until my little legs gave way. I have been on a diet all my life because I needed to have an athlete's physique.”

Eli’s eyes landed on my arms and I flexed them. We both laughed.

“Before I could understand that people ate food for enjoyment, I was already counting calories and macros and protein goals and chugging down nasty protein shakes.”

Lips twisted when I remembered the taste of the protein shakes. I laughed beneath my breath, even though there was nothing funny about it. I don't remember a time of my life when I wasn't playing hockey, I said. Eli watched me. He didn't move. He didn't say anything, and somehow that encouraged me to keep on talking. People would say I am lucky. Hell, my teammates think I have the best dad in the world, because he puts me on a path they wish their parents put them on. They see the billboards, they see the interviews, they go on G****e and see my net worth, but they don't know what it took to get there. Eli's expression softened. Adam. No, it's fine. I just want you to know this, because I think you deserve to know who I am. His brows— his eyebrows pulled tight. You don't owe me an explanation for who you are. I looked down at our hands together. They looked beautiful. I know. I just want to tell you. For a minute, neither of us spoke. The only sound in the room was the sound of the machine connected to me and our breaths clashing with one another. I remember being seven, I said slowly. I came home from school one day. I had an injury on my knee and my arms were bruised. I could barely lift them above my head, and I told my father that I did not want to skate anymore. Eli looked at me. What happened? He took the skates from me, and then he put them on the kitchen counter next to my dinner and told me that if I don't take the skates back, I would not eat dinner. I stared at that plate for a while and stared at the skates. I was hungry, and I didn't understand what I had done wrong. I thought there was a choice in this, so I apologized, and I took the skates and I had dinner. I can remember my mom begging for me, and that was the first time I saw him hit her. And I remember living with so much guilt that it was my fault that he had hit her. So I never brought up not skating again. He never asked me what I wanted to be when I grow up. He told me. He commanded me. He drilled it into me who I was supposed to be: a hockey player. Eli exhaled. No, not just a hockey player. The best. Anything less was failure, and failure attracted consequences. When I was 13, I missed a shot during a game and we lost by a goal. He didn't speak to me for a week. Do you know what that does to a 13-year-old? He would walk past me in the same house and reply to my greetings with a grunt. I sat down at dinner one night and I cried because I wanted him to speak to me. My chest tightened, and my hands started to tremble. At that point, I would have preferred if he yelled at me, or hit me, shoved me against the wall, threw me on the ice without a shirt. But I just wanted him to stop pretending like I did not exist. Eli's eyes were suddenly covered with a film thin of tears. I still wanted his approval, and as much as I hate to admit it, I think that I still truly want his approval right now. I just want to hear him say that he's proud of me. But I'm sure he's proud of you, Eli said softly. He has to be. I've never heard it from him. I laughed. I don't know what it is with this man, but I'm scared that one day I am going to look in the mirror and I'm not going to see myself anymore, and I'm just going to see a reflection of Derek's pain.