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It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell him that I want to be his every day like the fucking sap I’m turning into. I’m dying to tell him that Merc’s given his Merc-like blessing. But not yet. He should squirm for just a bit longer.
Chapter21
Douche-y Dads
Rhett
Father wants to meet with me at the club after practice. I have a quick shower, change, brush out my hair enough that he doesn’t tell me to trim it—Logan claims to hate hockey hair, but he grabs it more than I think he knows—and dress in khaki pants and a pink polo.
Logan asked Jack to pick him up later than usual so that he could stay and watch me for a bit. The whole time he had something on the tip of his tongue, a tongue I got to taste. He wouldn’t release the thought and I left him to it, allowing the anticipation to build. I have a guess. I think he’s going to tell me he wants to be real boyfriends. He toyed with the necklace I gave him a lot. He wears it more often. So, I decided to do a very un-Rhett-like thing and let him tell me in his own time.
As soon as he does, I’m staking my claim.
I meet Father in the club’s bistro where he has breakfast laid out for us. Scrambled eggs and bacon. Berry and granola acai bowls. Coffee. There’s also a stack of papers held together by a neat staple, sitting in the middle of the table.
My gut curdles. I don’t know what those papers are, but they’re not good.
“How was practice, son?”
I take a careful sip of the hot coffee. “Perfect. Lo stayed for a bit, and I got to show off.”
“So, he was distracting you?”
“Not in the least.”
“I’m not arguing with you about him again.”
The last time we spoke about Logan we argued. Every time we speak about Logan, we argue. “Then don’t. What’s this about, Father?”
I’m not usually so curt with him. Logan inspires it. I feel like my own man doing it. I don’t know if that means I’m a late bloomer in this area or if I’ve simply reached the age where I’m willing to do some things that displease my father.
“Take a look at these.”
I skim the documents, and my stomach takes a dive. It’s a lot of information about my hockey team. The players. The coaches. Starting lineups …
“You’re trying to get them to bench Jack.”
“Trying? No. It’s done. Everyone can be bought, Rhett, including the owners of teams and the staff they keep. Failing that, well, everyone’s got a skeleton in the closet. Don’t worry, it’s just until he comes to his senses. We’re doing him a favor. The whole story behind that baby is a scandal. It’s Meyer Senior’s son. What kind of a deadbeat doesn’t raise his own son?”
While I’m all about taking responsibility, I understand that responsibility can take many forms and the situation is complex. What isn’t, is how much Jack and Mercy love Stanley. Maybe some wrong things happened, but the right thing shook out.
Father won’t hear any of this, so I keep it to myself.
What I can’t keep to myself is how I feel about what he’s planning. Jack will be devastated. He loves hockey so much that he’s still leaving the loves of his life to play.
“Enough, Father. I’ve moved on from Jack and so should you. This is crazy.”
“What’s crazy is giving up the love of your life and settling for that nobody.”
Protective anger rises up like I’ve never felt before. I want to punch my own father right in his perfect jaw. That won’t help me protect Jack or Logan, even though it would feel good. Digging into my breakfast, I allow the silence to spread thick tension across the table.
“Shit. You think you love him,” Father says.
Do I love Logan? “I know that I’ve moved on from Jack.”
“It’s not like you to be defiant. Logan is influencing you.” He sips his coffee and finally sinks a spoon into his acai bowl.
“I won’t deny that he is. I feel powerful, more than ever before.”
