Page 171 of Knot Their Starlet

It’s a re-run, too. Which means a re-run of a football game is more important than greeting his son he hasn’t seen in years.

Makes sense.

But you’d think with how insistent Lucy and my momma have been about me coming home that he’d at least pretend to show interest.

“Dad! Get off the TV and come say hi to Eli! He’s home, and he’s brought his girlfriend!”

Two sets of eyes fly towards me.

Andi’s, probably because Lucy just referred to her as my girlfriend.

And my dad’s. But only after Lucy mentioned that I brought a girl home.

I can feel the stupid words that are about to come out of his mouth before he says them.

“Girlfriend? ‘Bout fuckin’ time he brought home a girl instead of being a fucking fa⁠—”

“You say that word and I’m walking right out the door,” I bite out, my voice a low growl.

Andi appears silently at my side, her knuckles white around a glass of water my momma must have offered her.

Some of the tension leaves my shoulders when I finally reach out and clasp her free hand in mine. She’s like an anchor, tethering me to reality.

My reality. The life I’ve built in LA with Beck, Leo, Everett, and now her. The life I’ll go back to when we’re done with Beck’s thing.

I remember Andi’s words from earlier in the car.

You’re not stuck there.

She’s right.

“You really gonna talk to me like that, boy?” My pops huffs, shoving himself up to his feet.

I can’t hide the look of surprise that crosses my expression.

He looks... like shit.

He must’ve lost seventy or eighty pounds. The old jersey that would stretch across his beer belly hangs off his frame. His skin, nails, even the whites of his eyes all carry a yellowish tinge to them that must come from the liver failure.

“Julio!” Momma says, her voice taking on that same pleading tone it’s taken on ever since I was a kid.

It never did anything. Never stopped him from doing whatever he wanted to do. Now, hearing it just makes me sad for her. She shouldn’t have to reduce herself to that pointlessly.

“It’s fine, Momma,” I grunt, my eyes never once leaving my Pops. I hold my free hand out at my side, raising my brows at him. “The hell are you gonna do about it, huh? Hit me? I promise you won’t win that fight.”

His face changes ‌color a bit. It doesn’t get red, like it used to when I was a kid. It can’t, not with how advanced his condition is. But he still trembles with rage.

Rage that he always channels into his fists.

But deep down, I think both of us realize he knows better now.

That thought makes something settle in my chest.

“I can’t fuckin’ believe you show up and disrespect your dying father like this,” he hisses through his teeth.

“Look, Pops,” I sigh, scrubbing a tired hand down my face. “I’m only here because Luce and Momma wanted me to be. If you’re gonna act like this, then I don’t see a point in me being here. I can always fly them out to LA like I normally do.”

“Eli,” Momma says, wringing her hands in front of her. “There was a reason we asked you here.”