Chapter 39
39
Preston
I t wasn’t all that hard to find Riley’s address. Of course he’s living it up in one of the most expensive penthouses in the center of the city, close to all the clubs and bars, within walking distance to the arena, and Elle’s salon.
The doorman, unfortunately for Riley, is just a little too trusting. He let me up when I told him I was a friend. Guess he doesn’t follow hockey headlines. All he told Riley on the intercom was that he was sending up a friend.
A friend.
It seems like forever ago when Riley was my best friend and roommate. For more than three years, he was the person I did everything with, spent nearly every second either just hanging in our apartment or on the ice. We had a stupid plan to go pro together, promising that we would both hold out until the same team agreed to draft us both.
And then everything went to hell when Maya came to the city as a freshman at NC State, wanting to be near her big brother for whatever reason. Maybe for the sense of safety and protection when all I did was mess up her life.
I take the elevator up, using the code to the penthouse that the too trusting doorman gave me.
When I step out onto the penthouse floor, Riley’s standing in his open doorway. He looks like shit thanks to the bruised cheek, busted lip and ear so swollen it sticks out from his thick head. All the injuries I inflicted on him last night and I still believe he deserved.
“So much for being a ‘friend’ coming up to visit,” Christian grumbles. “What the hell do you want? Why are you even still in town? Did you come here to murder me without any witnesses? You should know there are cameras in the elevator and hallways.” He points up to one in the upper corner of the hall.
“No murdering planned today. We need to talk.”
“Talk? You mean you’ll tell me I’m a piece of shit while beating the hell out of me some more until I can’t play tomorrow?”
“No. I just mean talk. I swear I won’t lay a finger on you.” I hold up both of my hands in surrender. For this conversation, I’ll keep that promise. It won’t be easy to resist throttling the asshole, but I won’t today. And if he hits me for keeping this from him, I won’t even hit him back. At least not for the first punch.
“Whatever,” he says, walking away from the door to leave the decision to come in or not up to me. I follow him inside, shutting the door behind me. His back and shoulders tense at the sound, as if he’s regretting letting me in so easily.
“So, what do you want to talk about?” he asks as he slumps down in the middle of his leather sofa. His finger absently rubs along the cut in his bottom lip.
There are two other chairs, but I don’t sit. I just go stand in front of the television and get right down to the purpose of this visit.
“You have a son.”
“Huh?” he stares up at me, unblinking.
“His name is Finley. He’s four and, of course, he loves hockey.”
Christian is instantly on his feet, only a marble coffee table between us. “What the hell are you talking about, Preston? I think I would know if I had a son.” It takes the blond moron a full minute before his eyes bulge with understanding. “Did you say…he’s four ? Like years? Like four years, the time since I’ve seen Maya plus about eight or nine months?”
“Yes.”
He shakes his head, jaw clenched tight, pointing his index finger at me. “This isn’t fucking funny, man. I’m tired of you fucking with my head, and now you’re making more shit up!”
I ignore the roundabout mention of Elle.
“I’m not making this up. My sister gave up everything to become a mother while you skated off into the night, going pro and then screwing every woman you met.”
Christian keeps shaking his head. “No. You’re lying! This is some trick to fuck with my head, so I’ll lose the biggest game of my life tomorrow!”
If the Warhawks win, we get to kiss the trophy, and the Bobcats go home empty-handed. If the Bobcats win, it all comes down to game seven here in Greensboro.
“It’s not your game to win or lose, jackass. It’s the whole team.”
Running his fingers through the front of his hair, he starts to pace across the room, along the wall of windows that showcases the city down below. “I saw…I saw Maya at game three with a little boy. I figured he was hers, that she had met someone else and they…you know…” he trails off as if uncomfortable talking about my sister sleeping with someone else.
“You didn’t notice he looked four?”
“How was I supposed to know how old he was? I don’t know shit about kids. I…I figured she ended the pregnancy in college as soon as possible, met someone, got married, and started a family with someone else! I didn’t want any details.”
“Right. You didn’t want to know the truth.”
“I would’ve wanted to know that I have a son!” he bellows, going from denial to anger in the blink of an eye. “Are you fucking with me? Please, don’t joke about this. Are you sure, like a thousand percent certain that he’s mine?”
Now I’m getting angry too. “Are you accusing my sister of sleeping around?” I don’t know for sure, but I’m almost certain Christian was her first and last.
“No. No, I’m not…that’s not what I mean. I just, I find it hard to believe now, out of the blue…”
“I’m not joking. I swear on my sister and nephew’s lives. He’s yours. There was nobody else. There hasn’t been anyone else for Maya.”
“But you both hated me. Why would she…how could she still have my kid and raise him on her own without telling me?”
“She wasn’t alone. They both still live with me in a suburb near D.C.,” I admit to him. “And Finley will be at the game tomorrow if you want to meet him.”
“Tomorrow?”
“Yes.”
I expect him to accuse me of messing with his head again, but then he says, “What if I…what if we lose? I can’t…I don’t want my…son to see me for the first time as a fucking loser.”
“That’s too damn bad! You don’t get to pick and choose when to be a father. It’s either always or never. I’m giving you a choice, so neither you nor Maya can blame me for standing in your way anymore after today!”
I head for the door, figuring I’ve said everything I needed to say. It doesn’t feel like enough to fix everything. I know it’s not. Maya is probably going to be even more pissed at me for opening this can of worms with Christian now, right before I leave for California. Then there’s Elle, who wouldn’t even consider the idea of moving across the country with me or even keep seeing me long-distance. Not that I blame her after the shit I put her through.
“Preston, wait,” Christian calls out when I have my hand on the doorknob. “I want to meet him. You said…his name is Finley?”
Wow. It looks like Elle was right yet again.
“Yeah, Finley.”
“Could I…would it be possible to see him before the game, though? Don’t make me face something this big after… It won’t be fair to him if I’m in a shit mood.”
“You that certain your team is gonna lose?” I turn around to ask him.
“I don’t know and neither do you. Please, Pres. Just do this one thing for me. You owe me that much after keeping my son from me for the past four fucking years!”
He’s not wrong. But, it’s not exactly up to me.
“I’ll talk to Maya and see what she says. The truth is, she doesn’t even know I was going to tell you today.”
Fingers raking through his hair, he tugs on the strands, his face twisted as if in pain. “Jesus. She didn’t want me to ever find out, did she?”
“It was more me than her. I should’ve asked her what she wanted but I didn’t. I thought I knew better. I will ask her for this, though. I have to.”
“Okay. Let me know?”
“Yeah. I’ll let you know.”
“What are you really doing in town?” he asks. “Trying to make up with Elle?”
“Why do you think I need to make up with her?”
“Because I’ve been in her shoes. Your knee-jerk reaction to any problem is cutting people out of your life. It’s easier that way, right? Then you don’t actually have to admit when you’re wrong or try to fix shit.”
“You’re right. I ended things with her after the last game,” I admit to him for some stupid reason. “And now I’m moving to San Diego, so there’s no reason for her to forgive me.”
“San Diego? The Grizzlies?”
Shit. I really shouldn’t have said that. Contracts are supposed to be kept confidential, especially when they’re still in the negotiation phase. Now they may have another reason to yank it out from under me if he runs his mouth.
“It’s not a done deal yet, but it’s the best offer Tommy thinks I’ll get.”
“That’s a fucking lie.”
“What?”
“I know the Bobcats want you.”
“How?”
“Management asked me about you, before the series started. They wanted my blessing.”
“So that’s why they haven’t sent anything in writing.”
“If they haven’t made an official offer, then I honestly don’t know why,” he says, crossing his arms over his chest. “I told them I don’t give a shit.”
“You don’t give a shit?”
“Maybe it was stupid, but I thought that if we finally got to play on the same team again, we could work things out. I’m not the one who always starts the fights.”
“You run your mouth just to get me to lose it and hit you.”
“True. You did break my arm and give me a concussion. You’re the reason we didn’t make it to the playoff those two years.”
“Because you couldn’t play? You think awfully highly of yourself, don’t you?”
“It’s the truth. The team can’t score shit without me.”
“You haven’t scored much shit lately, have you?”
“And whose fault is that?”
“You really regret ending things with Elle?” I ask, changing the subject.
“Hell yes. Don’t you?”
“Yes.”
I don’t ask if he agreed to me playing for the Bobcats because it might mean seeing more of Maya.
It doesn’t matter, and it’s not going to happen. No official offer from the Bobcats means it’s Cali or bust for me. Tommy said they weren’t nearly offering as much as the Grizzlies, anyway.
“Your phone number still the same?” I ask Christian as I pull out my cell phone from my jean pocket.
“Yeah.”
“Then give me time to talk to my sister in person. Could be later tonight before I have an answer.”
“Whenever is fine,” he replies. “Do you have any pictures, you know, of him?”
Opening the photo app, I scroll through to the photos of Finley’s most recent birthday party, which has some of him on the ice too.
“Here. You can scroll.”
“Thanks,” Christian says as he takes the device and stares down at the first image. His blue eyes shimmer as if he’s about to bawl like a baby. Then he laughs and presses his fist between his teeth. “Holy shit. He already plays hockey?”
“Of course he does, on the ice a little and video game as much as Maya lets him. He wants to grow up and go pro like his uncle. He’ll be thrilled when he finds out his dad’s a pro, too.”
“You think so?”
“Yeah, I do. And if you hurt him in any way, especially if it’s by walking away after meeting him, I really will murder you by slicing my skate across your throat.”
“Shit,” he says as he continues to occasionally swipe images. “Always or never a father, huh?”
“You better be damn sure before you decide,” I warn him. “There’s no going back after you meet him. Not unless…”
“Unless what?”
“Unless you want to meet him as a friend of mine and not as his father.”
“You mean…don’t tell him who I am?”
“At least not at first.”
“I don’t know if I could do that.”
“It would give Maya a chance to make sure you’re gonna stick around. That could work best for everyone.”
“Everyone except for me! What happens when he finds out I’m a fucking liar?”
I jerk my phone from his hand and tell him, “You were the one worried about how he would feel about you being a loser, remember?”
“Just talk to Maya and let me think about it.”
“Fine.”
“Fine,” he says, and I show myself out, hoping I haven’t just made a huge mistake for everyone.