Warner Park

✨ Chapter Ten | Hockey

-- Vince --

I was in a haze this Sunday morning, and as I cooked breakfast for the girls, I knew they'd notice. I'd already burned two rounds of toast by setting the toaster to "bagel," and I nearly set the dishcloth on fire flipping the bacon.

I felt like an idiot.

I grabbed four more slices and loaded them into the oversized toaster while stirring the eggs, absentmindedly grabbing a fresh fork instead of the one I'd already used. It was right there on the counter next to the sink, but apparently, my brain wasn't functioning.

Oh well. I'd probably be the one doing the dishes anyway. Kaitlynn always said I did too much for the girls, but how could I not spoil them? They were both moving out soon. This was it—the end of raising kids for me. The last few years had been filled with sporadic weekends and text messages, and now even that would slip away.

I felt like a bad father. I always felt like a bad father.

I would do anything for those girls. They could walk all over me, and I wouldn't care.

What was I doing again? Oh, right. Eggs.

And, crap... making sure the toast wasn't on the damn bagel setting for the third time in a row. I dashed to the toaster, hitting the "cancel" button just in time to send all four slices popping into the air. They were seconds away from being charcoal. Jesus, what was wrong with me?

Andy was what was wrong with me.

Somewhere along the way, I had fallen in love with Andrew Parker, and I couldn't stop thinking about him.

At first, it had been about how gorgeous he was. I'm not proud of it... I'm vain. Always have been. I don't go after men, but Andy distracted me. His hair, his tight outfits, his piercing blue eyes. The fact that he didn't care who I was.

The attitude he gave me when we first met was... hot. It was so fucking hot. I wasn't thinking with my brain much back then. I was driven by something lower, something... dumber.

But things changed. Somewhere along the line, our friendship deepened. I don't even know when it happened. All I know is that it's bad now: daydreams that won't quit, thoughts spiraling into fantasies that aren't just about the bedroom anymore. They've turned into something worse.

Romance.

The way he laughed when I said something stupid, condescending but somehow kind. The way he'd look at me afterward, wide-eyed and soft, like he was surprised I could make him laugh in the first place.

The way he genuinely listened when I went off about books, even when he didn't know what the hell I was talking about. How he'd come up with something clever just to make me laugh.

The way he smiled. Smirked. Rolled his eyes like he was annoyed, even though he couldn't hide the grin that came right after. Every single one of his smiles melted me, and they played in my head on a loop.

Did I put salt in the eggs? No clue. I threw some in, then pepper for good measure.

I liked the way he called me a dork.

I liked the way he told me things, real things, secrets, and trusted me to hold them. How he listened to mine without flinching, no matter how awful they were.

I liked how his eyes lit up when I asked dumb questions about his yoga studio plans, even though I didn't understand half of it. His ambition, his passion, his drive to be more.

God, he was incredible. And somehow, I didn't feel worthy of him.

I had money. Connections. Maybe looks, if you squinted... None of it felt like enough. My career was a joke, and Andy never pressed me about it. He knew better than to ask directly, instead teasing me about my "laid-back lifestyle" like he didn't want to hurt my feelings.