His tone had been mild, but she lifted her head slightly. “Your mother beat you?”

A small muscle throbbed in his jaw. “My parents weren’t exactly into modern child-raising techniques. They were backwoods people, teenagers when they had to get married. They both pretty much resented being stuck with a baby.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to look so sad. It got better when I was older. My father was real proud of me once I started to play ball.”

She experienced a flash of rage toward a father who had needed a scoreboard to measure out love. “What about your mother?”

“She was an alcoholic. On her good days, she was proud of me, too. They were killed in an auto accident my freshman year in college.” She understood what it was costing him to reveal so much of himself to her, and she remained silent so he could tell this his own way.

“If you want to know the truth, I felt like I’d lost them a long time before that. It’s strange. A couple of months ago, this guy was tailing me.” He told her about Ray Hardesty, the Stars’ player who had been cut from the team, and his father’s apparent vendetta against Dan. “I haven’t seen Hardesty since, so I assume he came to his senses. But when I had that man up against the side of his van, I felt like I was looking into my old man’s eyes all over again. It was obvious that Hardesty had never made anything of himself, and he’d been living his life through his son. He wasn’t grieving for Ray; he was grieving for himself. That’s sick.”

She shuddered at the idea of Dan’s having someone stalking him.

His voice grew gruff. “That’s why— It’s a hard thing to explain, but family’s important to me. A real family with kids and parents who care about each other.”

“Was that why your marriage broke up?”

“Val never had any interest in kids. I’m not blaming her because things didn’t work out, you understand. It was more my fault than hers. I should have gotten my priorities sorted out before I married her. She always said I was jealous of her career, but that wasn’t it at all. Val’s dedication to her work was one of the things I most admired about her. But I wanted her to care about family, too, and I can’t ever let myself make a mistake like that again with a woman. I don’t want my kids growing up with the kind of parents I had. I don’t want to be the kind of father who makes his kid feel as if he has to score a touchdown before he can get any affection. And I want them to have a mother who’s a real mother.”

She gazed at him as he turned into her drive, trying to understand what he meant by that. Was he simply sharing his past with her because she’d told him about her own, or was there a deeper meaning behind this conversation? The intimacy between them was too new and fragile for her to ask.