“How about if we go grab some food or something? I can get you to the airport instead of you having to take the team bus.” He took a few steps away, as if they were going to follow him. “I was always starving after a game.”

Neither Ian nor Christensen moved.

“I’m fine,” Ian said.

His brother nodded. “Me too.”

David’s steps stilled and he turned, the dear-old-dad easiness gone from his stance, and he pointed at the two of them. “Look, I know you’re upset, but we’re a team. You two have to move past what happened before.”

Ian and Christensen looked at each other.

Christensen raised an eyebrow: The fuck?

Ian tilted his head to the left: Fuck if I know.

Christensen rolled his eyes: What a dick.

Ian snorted: Agreed.

Conversation complete, Ian dead-eye stared at their dad. “How are we a team?”

“You’re my boys.”

As if that made a difference.

“So you donated DNA,” Christensen said. “What’s the point?”

The man everyone thought they knew, the beloved scoring machine disappeared completely. “I was there for you from the beginning,” he said, his top lip curling. “I provided for both of you. Neither of you wanted for anything.” He tossed up his hands in frustration. “And what do I get in return? Both of you acting like petulant children. That reflects badly on me.”

“And there it is. The real reason you’re here.” Ian laughed. Loud. Hard. Without a single ounce of joy. “So your legacy’s taking a hit, huh?”

David stiffened. “My records still stand.”

“For now,” Christensen said with all the cockiness a future Hall of Famer could deliver. “Is there anything else?”

“Just cut the poor-me-my-feelings-are-hurt shit and toughen up, boys.”

Christensen looked at Ian and shook his head. “Damn, can you believe I used to dream about getting life advice from my dad?”

“Really?” God, Ian had spent his life trying to get the advice to stop. “He’s total shit at it.”

Their dad let out an angry huff. “You two take after your mothers.”

He and Christensen looked at each other, relieved grins on their faces. “Thank fucking God,” they said at the same time.

And that’s when he spotted Shelby walking straight toward them, a hesitant slowness to her step as if she wasn’t sure if she’d be welcome. He was halfway to her before he thought about it and realized what that would mean. By the time he reached her, it was too late.

His dad transformed as soon as he spotted her. Gone was the snarl and the palpable disgust, replaced with that easygoing charm that had always been David Petrov’s costume.

“Hi there.” He stuck out his hand. “David Petrov.”