Page 49 of Double Puck

"So Beck," Poppy continues. "Your parents divorce… how is that making you feel?"

I wave a hand. "You've read the file, right? Colin sent you a file? I feel like there's a file."

"I'd rather hear it from you."

"That's very flattering, but the file's probably funnier."

She just waits. God, the waiting. It's fucking killing me.

"Okay, quick version." I lean forward, elbows on my knees. "My dad had an affair. Declan knew the whole time but never said a word. I found out about all of it on a livestream, surrounded by strangers eating churros. The end. Roll credits."

I go to push out of my chair, hating this isn't as easy as I'd hoped and absolutely ready for one of Diego's double-strength margarita's awaiting for me at the mansion.

But Poppy just continues the assault. "That's a lot to find out at once."

"Yeah, well. I'm a fast learner."

That's it. Nice, simple response. Make this short and sharp.

"And your father — have you spoken to him since?"

"He called." I shrug. "Left a voicemail. Something about wanting me to hear his side."

"Have you listened to it?"

"Yeah."

"Have you called him back?"

The question lingers for a moment.

And here's the thing — I have a joke ready. I always have a joke ready. Maybe one about screening calls, or how my voicemail box is already full of Finn's trash talk.

The joke is loaded. Right there.

But despite wanting to get the hell out of here as quickly as possible…

It doesn't come out.

Instead, I look at the chocolate bowl on her desk, then out the window at the water, and my body sinks into the chair with a heavy sigh.

"I dunno, doc." I stare at the ocean. "I guess I haven't called him back, because maybe, for the first time in my life... I don't know what to say."

The office is deadly silent.

I've spent twenty-four years never running out of words. It's the one thing I've got. You put me in a locker room, on a stage, on live TV…

Hell, do what Charles Madden did last night and throw me in front of a hundred people at a charity auction with a microphone in my hand and I will fill every second of it.

But the second my own father calls, wanting nothing but the chance to hear him out, and I've got nothing.

Poppy studies me for another second, then says ever so softly, "You said something interesting when you first sat down."

"I've said several interesting things. You're going to need to narrow it down."

"You said you feel great."

I blink across at her. "Yeah. Well, I do."