He was proof of that. His path had been to prove the naysayers—especially his dad—wrong about his ability to make it to the NHL. And he’d done it. Next, he’d do what his dad couldn’t and make his post-playing career mark in coaching. After that, there was just a big old blank spot, but who cared. He’d figure it out. Eventually.

“We all have more layers than that—even you,” his mom said with a chuckle. “So what are you doing now?”

He stared down at the empty suitcase lying open in the middle of his bed, dread crawling up the back of his neck like a parade of ants wearing ice picks for shoes. “Packing for the team road trip.”

“I thought you weren’t going until after the doctor cleared you?”

“Change of plans.” Yeah, that was one way to put it. As for him, he just called it Grade-A Bullshit. “The team wants to do a whole ‘brothers bonding on the road’ thing, and I’m stuck doing it.”

“Oh, that’s wonderful,” his mom said without an ounce of sarcasm in her voice. “I think this is a great opportunity for you and Alex.”

“Mom!” he exclaimed, almost dropping his phone. “How can you say that after what happened?”

“Because it wasn’t his choice to be in this situation any more than it was yours.”

The calm understanding in her voice was enough to push him right over the line. Heat blasted up through his body, setting every nerve ending on fire until he swore he could practically smell smoke.

“But. He. Lied,” he said, slowly over-enunciating each word.

His mom made a huh sound. “Did he or did he not get lost in trying to figure out how to tell someone he cared about something that he knew would hurt him—sort of like how your father confessed to that affair and others when he thought coming clean could save our marriage but not to having another son.”

How could his mother, the strongest woman he knew, come at him with questions like that? It made no sense.

“He lied.” God, he hated how his voice broke on that last word. “They both did.”

“Ian, you are so stubborn sometimes that you remind me of your father.”

“God forbid.” There wasn’t a damn thing of his father’s that he wanted. Even if the hockey gods came down and offered to give him every one of his dad’s on-ice skills, he’d turn them down flat.

Fuck David Petrov.

“I know you’re mad,” his mom said. “I was, too—for a very long time—but you know what I learned? It’s not worth it. We are each the determiners of our own destiny, and I refuse to cede that power to someone who hurt me. That is my power. It’s yours, too.”