Randy takes a few deep breaths before he points a shaking finger at his father. “I hope you get that she’s the only reason you’re gonna walk away with teeth. Get the fuck out of this house. Now.”

His father picks himself up off the floor. He wipes his lip with the sleeve of his shirt, smearing it with blood, and starts to speak.

“Don’t.” I put a hand out to stop him. “You’ve said and done more than enough. Just get out.”

He snickers. It’s a wet sound. “You’re a feisty one, aren’t you?”

“You bet your ass I am.”

Randy calls a cab, which is good because there’s no way I’d let him drive his dad anywhere. Randall, Sr., doesn’t get to be alone with him again so he can hammer more shit into his head. While we wait, his dad searches his room for something he never actually finds. I have a feeling he came back to pilfer pawnable items or create more drama.

The look on Randy’s face scares me as we walk his dad to the door. It’s like he’s shut down.

The cab is already waiting. His dad pauses and looks at me. “You think you’ve changed him, but he is who he is—”

“For Christ’s sake, will you shut up? Is this how you make yourself feel better about how empty and shitty your life is? And that’s a rhetorical question, so you don’t need to waste any more words with a response.” I’m about to close the door in his face, when I decide I have a few more for him. “Randy doesn’t owe you anything. In fact, you owe him a lifetime of apologies for making him think he’s anything less than amazing.”

He looks over my head at Randy, so I snap my fingers in his face.

“You look at me, not him. As someone who loves him, it’s my responsibility to protect him from people who hurt him when he can’t bring himself to do it. As long as I’m in Randy’s life, this version of you isn’t welcome.”

Randy pulls out his wallet and withdraws a stack of bills, reaching around me to tuck them into his dad’s shirt pocket. “This should cover you for a few days, until you figure out where you’re going and what you’re doing. Don’t call Mom, and don’t call me until you get yourself sorted out.”

I step back into the house, close the door, and lock it before either of them can say anything else.

“I was going to change the code when I got home. I didn’t think he’d come back.” Randy drops his head, his lips finding the place where my neck meets my shoulder. “I should’ve handled him. You shouldn’t have had to do that.”

I hate how defeated he sounds. Adrenaline is slamming through my veins, making me hyper-aware and alert. Until Randy came into my life, I never would have had the guts to put someone in their place like that.

“I don’t know that he would’ve had a face left if I’d let you deal with it.”

“He put his hands on you.”

“He squeezed my wrist; that was all.”

“I should never have let him stay here.”

“He’s your dad, Randy. I get that you want to help him, even though he doesn’t deserve it. And you thought he was gone.”

“I keep waiting for things to change with him, for him to go back to being someone worth giving a shit about, but it never happens.”

Randy seems edgy, fragile, like he did the night I broke things off with him. I inspect his hand. He’ll have bruises on his knuckles, but nothing serious.

I bring his fingers to my lips. “Tell me what’s going on in your head.”

“I hate that he’s like this. Why can’t he ever just be proud of what I’ve done? Why does he always have to make me feel like shit?”

I close my eyes for a moment. Randy is a complicated man, but he’s intrinsically good, and that’s the part his father makes him question. I feel rage boiling and will it back down.

I take his face between my palms so he’ll look at me and not his feet. “I’m proud of you.”

His smile is sad. “I know. It’d just be nice if he wouldn’t crap all over my life every time I see him.”

“You’re a beautiful man with a beautiful heart. You’re all the good things your father isn’t. I don’t know what happened to him to make him so self-destructive, but I do know at your core you’re dramatically different than he is. Maybe he can’t handle seeing you become everything he couldn’t.”

He pulls me into a tight hug. “I don’t ever want to lose you.”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

***

Two days after we send Randy’s dad packing, he leaves a voicemail on our home phone. It’s an apology. He sounds so different that I barely recognize the voice as his. But he also sounds legit, so I return the call, as he requested, and listen to his heartfelt apology in real time. He’s going back to Boston, where he’s been living for the past year. He’s going to dry out and get his life back together. He’ll give Randy some space until he does.

I don’t tell Randy about the call, because I don’t want to give him false hope. I don’t know enough about who his father was before his life fell apart to know whether he’s capable of putting it back together.

As Randy requested, we blow off our friends for most of the weekend so we can enjoy what’s left of our uninterrupted time together. He seems good at the time, but then he’s quieter than usual over the next week. Like me, he tends to internalize before he externalizes. Season training begins, taking more time away from us. This continues to fuel his anxiety, but he channels his energy into hockey, leaving me feeling lost.

I spend more time with Sunny, because she’s in the same position I am—sort of. She and Miller were together when season training began last year, but she still lived in Canada, not with him, so it was a lot different than it is now. And she wasn’t pregnant. Like me, she’s gotten used to having her boyfriend around all the time. The sudden shift is jarring. I’m trying not to be too needy.

It’s Sunday afternoon. The guys have a practice, and we’re sitting in her living room, sifting through the pile of Polaroids from the cottage trip. (I removed several from the stack before it was made available for public viewing.) Sunny’s cross-legged on a pillow on the floor with Titan and Andy curled up beside her. Wiener is resting in my lap, which seems to be his new favorite place to hang out. He’s supposed to be adopted next week, which makes me sad. I’ve gotten attached to his wiener-y self.