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He barely acknowledges me when I walk into the room, and I really need to find a new living situation.
I have a hard time standing up to my dad, and it’s probably because as much as he’s been a dick to my brothers and me, he’s also been a protector for the majority of my life.
He’s the one who told me todo it for Fitzwhen Jacob Fitzgerald overdosed. He’s the one who forced me up out of bed on the dark days and drove me to practice. He’s the only one who was there. My brothers were grown and gone by then.
Plus, there’s the fact that I get my athleticism from him—or thehimof twenty years ago, anyway.
“What are you doing up?” he grunts when his show cuts to a commercial.
“Can’t sleep,” I admit.
“Why not? You thinking about something?” He doesn’t mute the television, instead letting some infomercial about a medication blare all the possible side effects at us.
“Not the fumble from last week if that’s what you’re getting at,” I say dryly.
He holds both hands up innocently. “You’re the one bringing it up. Must be weighing on your mind if you’re still thinking about it.”
I roll my eyes and tip the bottle of beer to my lips, and he narrows his eyes at me.
“It’s a woman, isn’t it?”
I huff out a mirthless chuckle. “So what if it is?”
“I remember being twenty-eight and stupid,” he admits. “Or younger and dumber, anyway.”
My brows dip. Twenty-eight and stupid? I actually have two issues with that.
For one thing, he was married to my mom for nearly a decade back when he was twenty-eight. He better not have been doing stupid things by that point.
And for another…is he insinuating that I’m stupid?
Maybe my obsession with the coach’s daughter is stupid. But I’m actively tryingnotto act on it.
I shouldn’t have sent that text, and I regret it. Now she has my number, and who knows what she’ll do with it.
I could block her…but I don’t want to.
I want my phone to buzz with her reply.
I want to see her again.
I want to torture myself with her temptation because this is the strongest I’ve ever felt about a woman, and I’d rather live with the torture than never see her again.
I clear my throat. “Are you calling me stupid?”
“I’m saying it’s best not to let a woman fuck up your future. You know that.”
I press my lips together. “Yeah. You’ve made that clear our entire lives, but have you ever thought about what those words might mean to us beneath the surface?”
“You know I don’t go much deeper than the surface, kid,” he says, elbowing me in the ribs.
“Saying a woman will fuck up my future sounds the same as saying you regret having kids.” I say the words point-blank, calling him out on his shit and standing up to him even though it’s not in my nature to do so.
He’s quiet, but he’s the guy who always has a retort ready, and he’s the guy who always gets the last word. “Regret is a funny thing, Asher, and the four of you turned out fine. I made sacrifices to ensure that would be the case.”
He didn’t deny it, and that hurts more than it should. I’m sure there’s more to it than that. I have no idea what sacrifices he’s talking about.
And I’m not sure I really care at this point, either.
