He never fully recovered from her death. At times, he’d wish that cancer would claim him too. It did.
“How?” Dylan’s head is shaking back and forth in denial.
Every player on my dad’s team had a place in his heart. Dylan was included in that. They may not have always seen eye-to-eye, but my dad would have done anything for Dylan. He saw potential in him and all the boys on the team.
“Cancer,” I give the short answer because the details of the treatments, the suffering, and the last agonizing months aren’t important to anyone but me.
I was an only child.
“Eden.” His hands leap to my face. He cradles it in his palms as he gazes into my eyes. “I’m so sorry.”
I swallow back the urge to cry. I see the same pain in his eyes that I felt when the doctor told me that my dad was gone. I was holding his hand. I heard the unmistakable sound of the monitor when his heart stopped, but still, I hoped.
I prayed for a miracle that never came.
“I wish I would have known,” he says on a heavy exhale. “Fuck. I should have known about this.”
“You know now,” I offer quietly. “He always told me to remember the good times. He’d want you to do the same thing.”
His gaze drops to the sidewalk. “He was an incredible man. One of the best.”
He was. He was my hero. He’ll always be.
Chapter 24
Dylan
Coach Conrad is gone.
The earth kept spinning after he checked out. How the hell is that possible?
The man was a force of nature, unlike any I’ve known before or since.
He was committed to raising his daughter with caring guidance and a trusting heart. He loved Eden more than anything, but he gave her room to find out who she was and where she fit in the world.
He did the same for me.
He never held back an opinion regardless of how much it bit into the self-esteem of the person it was directed at.
He was compassionate in his delivery of criticism, but he expected the best from everyone in his path.
Coach made me a better man.
“What do you want to do now?” Eden tugs at the front of my sweater.
I know she’s trying to ease me back to reality. The news of her dad’s death is hitting me hard.
I feel the loss of someone who once mattered greatly to me, but more than that, I feel for her.
Her dad was her rock. He kept her anchored to her dreams and her future.
“What do you want to do?” I tilt her head up with a finger to her chin.
“Dance,” she says in a whispered tone. “I want to dance.”
I tug her into my arms. “Here?”
She looks around at the people passing us by on the sidewalk. It’s Saturday night in New York City. The streets are filled with folks out looking for a good time.