I stare at the dessert tray and set it aside.
“I came here for hockey.” I admit.
His brows pull to the center. “From where?”
“Novadia.” Admitting this part feels neutral. Safe. “It’s in Eastern Europe.”
He throws his head back. “The men’s team won gold in the Olympics, right?”
I scoff, “Yeah, fifty years ago. How did you know that?”
“When I was a freshman at Michigan, it was an Olympic year. I remember a graphic popping up with all the gold medal teams and one of the guys asked, ‘Where in the hell is Novadia?’”
He drops his head and his body sags. I can see that even the mention of Michigan and hockey still makes his stomach churn.
I slap his leg. “You have a good memory.”
“So are you here on a visa or do you have a green card?”
“No. My mom is American, so I came here to play at a prep school.”
His head bobs, and he swipes his tongue through the seam of his lips, mulling something over in his mind. “So, if you were good enough to play at a hockey prep school, why didn’t you play in college? Texas has a team.”
“That’s a long story.”
“We’ve got all night.”
I chew on my lip, deciding how much to say. “Let’s just say, I love the energy of America and there’s more opportunity than in Novadia.”
“Don’t you miss your parents? Are they in Novadia or here?” he asks, his brows creasing and causing his eyes to narrow.
Nerves race up my spine and I shrug him off. “They live in Novadia. My dad was my hockey coach, but acouple of years later the prep school reached out so I came here.”
“So that’s why you don’t have an accent?”
“I’ve worked hard to lose the accent. You know, to try to fit in.”
He tips his chin like he’s trying to arrange puzzle pieces. “Why do I feel like there’s more to your story?”
He gives me time to compose myself. “My dad…” I pause, trying to anchor myself, deciding whether to tell Parker my story, but I can’t force the raw emotion threading through my words. “Well, let’s just say I don’t get along with him.”
Parker tilts his head, twists his mouth causing the bridge of his nose to wrinkle. “Why? Obviously, he taught you how to play hockey at a high level.”
I can’t look him in the eye.
I can’t say what I want to say.
But I need to give him something, so I give him the quickest version. No details.
I decide to tilt the conversation. “That’s a story for another time.” I chew on my lip for a second. “But I did earn a scholarship to Michigan. Weird right?”
His eyes round and a wavy line creases across his forehead. “Michigan? So, we would have met?”
“That’s pretty safe to say, but I was just tired of it.”
“Is that the whole story?”
I shake my head no. That’s all I’m giving him tonight and maybe ever.