But I was the father of a Jase Kelly fan, one of the organizers of the low stim nights, and the ex-boyfriend of the man prominently displayed on a huge poster in my damn living room. There was no avoiding him or his hockey team or his name emblazoned across one of the jerseys my kid liked to wear, though she’d quietly stopped wearing them over the last week since she’d found out Jase and I had split. I felt like crap for that. I wanted her to keep wearing those jerseys and being a Jase Kelly fan.
I never should have dated him. So many things in Dallas’s world came with heavy limitations, including hockey, and she was a tough kid who made the best of what she could have and what she could do. What the hell kind of dad was I to ruin something good in her life?
A dad who’s been lonely too long and thought Jase might be different.
I cleared my throat a couple of times and shook myself. Now was not the time to break down. I had work to do, and I had a miserable kid down the hall who didn’t need to see me getting teary-eyed while she knuckled through her umpteenth migraine. I could cry after I’d gone to bed. For now…
I stared at my laptop and the emails Richard had sent me about the accessible hockey events. He was enthusiastic about it, and so were the players and sponsors. I was too, or at least I wanted to be.
But damn, it was hard tonight.
In my emails, I managed to make myself sound more enthused than I felt right now, so as long as we didn’t take this to a phone call or a Skype chat—or, God forbid, meeting in person—no one would be the wiser. And there would be calls and meetings in the near future, so I really needed to get my shit together.
Or I could quit. Should I quit? I should quit.
Except no, I’d committed to it, and I intended to see that commitment through. If I bailed, there was no guarantee someone else would step up and keep the program rolling. There was no guarantee that person would have any actual experience with sensory issues. This was my chance to do this and make sure it was done right. Dallas wanted to be able to go to games, and it turned out there were a lot of kids and adults who couldn’t attend regular games for various reasons. If I quit, it was entirely possible the program might be dead in the water. It would be a dick move to pull the plug on the whole thing just because things were awkward between me and one of the Snow Bears.
I closed my eyes and pushed out a breath. Jase and I would be adults about this. The next time we saw each other at a Snow Bears event, I’d feel him out and see how awkward things really were, and we’d go from there. Yeah, this fucking hurt, and no, I really didn’t want to see his face again any time soon, but I could get a grip and deal with it when the time came.
I sighed and rubbed my hand over my face.
Okay. I needed a break. And I really needed to check on Dallas.
I put my laptop aside and got up. Moving as silently as I could, I walked down the dark hallway and carefully opened her bedroom door. She didn’t move or make a sound, so I slipped in and tiptoed to her bed.
I couldn’t see very well, and I didn’t dare turn on a light, but from her soft, steady breathing, she was out cold. I sighed with relief. The day had been a rough one, and when I’d checked on her an hour or so ago, she’d still been awake and miserable. At least this meant the pain had receded enough to let her get some rest. Hopefully she’d sleep the rest of the night, and we’d play tomorrow by ear.
Tony was curled up beside her, a black lump on the light-colored comforter. I gave him a little scratch behind his ears, which made him purr, but he didn’t lift his head.
With my daughter and cat sleeping peacefully, I stepped out into the hall and carefully shut the door, though I left it open a crack in case Tony wanted out. Once I was alone again, I exhaled and