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“Would you like to come inside to have this private conversation, or would you like to continue berating me in my own driveway where anyone can overhear your nonsense?” I ask.
That sets off the rage.
“Inside. Now,” he demands, and I feel like a kid about to get the belt.
But that’s the thing. I’m older now. Wiser. Stronger—certainly stronger than this old man who has let himself go over the last few years. And once I let go of needing to hear him say he’s proud of me, like most parents might’ve done by now…well, it’s pretty freeing to not give a fuck about what he’s about to say. He can’t hurt me physically, and I will no longer allow him to hurt me emotionally.
We head inside, and he follows me toward the kitchen. I pour us each a glass of whiskey.
“It’s her fault,” he hisses. “I told you she’d ruin your life, and here you are.”
I can’t help a laugh at that. “Ruin my life? Are you fucking serious right now?” I hold my glass up in a toast to our surroundings. “I have a kickass house, the world’s best job, and a girl who loves me.” I take a sip of my whiskey and offer a lift of a shoulder. “Can you say the same?”
It’s a low blow, but I’m all out of fucks to give at this point.
“That’s none of your goddamn business,” he snarls at me.
“Neither is this!” I yell at him. “This is between a head coach and a player. It doesn’t concern you.”
“It involves my two sons, and it certainly does involve me when the girlfriend I got rid of a long time ago when I was doing what was best for you wants to be the one to break the story first,” he points out.
“And did she?” I ask, and then I answer my own question. “No. A press release was issued after the league handed down the punishment. End of story. It has nothing to do with her, and it has everything to do with Asher making a bad choice and having to face the consequences of his actions.”
“That’s bullshit and you know it,” he hisses.
“Is it? Because I think I’m right, and you think you are, and you know we’re two stubborn assholes who aren’t about to give in. Now I have work to do, so you can see yourself out.” I nod toward the front door, but he doesn’t budge. I blow out a breath as the hairs on the back of my neck start to stand as I tilt my head and study my dad.
The way his eyes dart around reminds me of the day he came into my bedroom and told me what he’d done at practice.
“There’s something you should know.”
He’s hiding guilt. I can tell. There is only one other time I can think of when he was this furious about something he thought he was so right about…when he looked all around the room for a few beats before his eyes landed on me.
Just like he’s doing now.
Last time, it was followed by the confession.
“What did you do?” I finally whisper, calling him out.
“I did what I had to do to get you to see that what you’re doing is a huge mistake.” His voice is even and quiet, and there is zero regret in it. Zero remorse.
Zero emotion.
It’s just flat out facts, and the same alarm bells in my brain that rang twenty years ago start to go off again…except this time, they’re louder. More intense. More…everything.
“What did you do?” I repeat, my voice full volume this time. “What the fuck did you do?” I finally roar as I get in his face.
He never wavers. He should. I could kill him right now, but he does not back down, and for that, I suppose I have to give him some credit.
“I did it to protect you, Lincoln.”
“Did what?” I yell.
“I bought those pictures from that reporter and made sure to get them into the right hands,” he finally admits.
My jaw drops for a beat as his words plow into me. “Jesus Christ, Dad. It was you?”
“Well, I can’t take all the credit. There was an entire team—”
