Kane (Arizona Vengeance 8)

My gaze snaps to the TV. Kane and Jim have managed to break away with nothing but clear ice between them and the Flash goal. They pass back and forth until the goalie focuses on Jim as the potential shooter. Jim fakes, the goalie starts to lean, and the puck goes to Kane for a wide-open net.

I start to raise my hands in victory, knowing he’s going to score, but they fall limply as the sound of the puck clanging on the pipe hits my ears before my brain comprehends that he missed the shot.

“My word, he’s playing terrible,” my mother comments with a tsking sound.

“Ugh,” I groan as I flop back on the carpet, narrowly missing smacking my head on the coffee table. It dislodges Samson from my lap, but he merely rolls to his side and falls back asleep. “This is all my fault.”

“Don’t be too hard on yourself, honey,” my dad says reassuringly.

“I’m glad you can see where the fault lies,” my mom says at the same time, causing me to shoot up to gape at her over the coffee table separating us.

“She can’t be responsible for how he’s playing,” my dad chastises, staking his side with me.

“But she is responsible for breaking his heart,” my mom retorts. “And that has direct consequences on his focus and concentration.”

“Well, her heart’s broken, too,” my dad gripes.

“But we’re talking about Kane’s play right now,” she replies ever so reasonably.

I settle in to watch my parents go back and forth. I’m not in the least bit offended that my mom agrees Kane’s horrible play is my fault. That does not mean she thinks my decision to take the Australia job is wrong.

My parents have bickered over the years. In their younger days, it sometimes got very heated, but it always ended with laughter and sexy kisses that made me want to hurl as I hurried to my room. Now they merely lounge in the recliner and on the couch while slinging mild arguments at each other.

It’s kind of cute.

I hear the end buzzer for the period, so I focus on the TV, getting a last glimpse of Kane as he skates off the ice. His head is hanging pretty damn low, and I know he’s going to be his own harshest critic. My heart hurts for him.

And for me.

Snagging the remote control from the coffee table, I mute the volume, which only makes my parents bickering louder.

“Okay,” I shout, snapping my fingers to get their attention. “That’s enough, children.”

They both glare, but amusement sparkles in their eyes. It’s time for some serious conversation, though.

Since I arrived home a day and a half ago, after making the almost six-hour drive from Phoenix, my parents have not weighed in with any opinion regarding my split from Kane.

Of course, I didn’t give them much opportunity to. I told them what happened, starting with the romantic proposal that had my mom swooning, to my all too logical response of wanting to go on this trip and expecting Kane to wait for me. They gave me no input because after I was done recounting what happened, I also told them I didn’t want to talk about it right then.

Since then, we’ve carefully tiptoed around the subject, my parents doing nothing more than being happy to have me home while periodically inquiring if I was sure I was okay.

But no… I was not okay.

I am not okay.

Nowhere close.

I feel like my heart has been shattered into a million pieces. I’m also pretty damn sure I made a horrible, awful decision in choosing the Australia trip over Kane.

Now, I’d like to hear what they say.

“Okay,” I start after taking a deep breath. “I thought I knew what I wanted, but now I’m having second thoughts. Should I or shouldn’t I go on this trip to Australia?”

My parents start a discussion between themselves, pointing out the pros and cons. I listen carefully, but they’re not saying much I haven’t already considered. My dad seems to focus on Kane’s inability to let me pursue this one last dream, while my mom feels like Kane is more important than any trip, and if it’s so important I stay, I should prioritize him above Australia.

When they both run out of steam, looking eternally grateful I asked for their opinions, my mom asks, “What are your second thoughts?”

“That nothing is as important as Kane,” I admit. “I was only thinking he was being selfish by asking me not to go. I was mad he was taking something away from me. But I was doing the same thing. I was taking something away from him, only that something was me. I just wanted a stupid trip to Australia. It seems petty in comparison. I should have given in.”

“I think,” my dad says with a tone that means he’s pouring all of his wisdom into his words, “you two should have talked more about this rather than make rash decisions. You shouldn’t have left like you did because if you’d have stayed and had time to think about it, you would have come to the same conclusion.”