Chapter 14
Chapter
Fourteen
Travis
I’m not much of a texter. Back in my day, smartphones didn’t exist. The internet didn’t exist. I get after my son for having his phone glued to him.
“But, Dad, I’m only talking to Stacey,” he’d say.
I couldn’t argue with that. Dash needs Stacey. But I’d tell him to put his phone away.
Point is, if I’m caught texting so damn much, it’s gonna be suspicious.
And text a lot, I do. Dirk and I have been texting.
Dirk loves texting. He seems happy with my taciturn responses so far.
I’m also fucking smitten, and I check my phone constantly.
I haven’t felt like this … ever. Even—unfortunately—when I met Dash’s mom.
I cared about her, but Dash wasn’t planned.
I don’t know that I would have planned to have children with her.
I’m so fucking glad Dash came along, but if we had used protection—like we should have—it wouldn’t have happened.
Wait, does Dirk want children? I don’t know if I want any more. Fuck. Am I really thinking about children with Dirk already?
Slow down, Nolan. Let’s see if he still wants to be with an old guy like you in a few months.
For now, I’m having the time of my life.
Dirk
Trav, you sadistic bastard. I haven’t touched my dick in a week.
Me
And that’s a good thing. You don’t have permission.
Dirk
I laugh. Orgasm denial is fun.
Me
Maybe I don’t appreciate being called a sadistic bastard.
Dirk
Do you have a problem with the truth?
Oh, he’s sassy today. He must be suffering. And fuck, it turns me on so damn much. He’s also right. I am a sadistic bastard. I’m not actually mad with him saying so, but it’s a good source of funishment—the kind of punishment you give just for fun.
He sends a picture next. His pretty blue eyes. The ones he knows I’m a sucker for.
Me
Pulling out the big guns today, eh?
Dirk
Is it working?
Yes. If he were here. Fortunately for me, he can’t see my face. Fortunately, he can’t see how far I’ve fallen for him.
Me
I don’t reward sassy boys. Behave yourself.
Dirk
And now I’ve gotta go to pre-game with the hard-on from hell. Not complaining, said that for your enjoyment. Brownie points?
Me
Major brownie points. Have a good game, pretty boy.
Dirk
I will, and I probably shouldn’t admit this to you, but I love this. Everything you do makes me feel like I’m yours, so, um, ignore my whining. I’ll live a few more days without relief. It is only gonna be a few more days, right?
Yeah, it is, but I’m not telling him that.
Me
Have a good game, Dirk.
I swear I can hear him cursing me from Kelowna.
Too bad I can’t go upstairs and rub one out like I want to, I’ve got a restaurant to run. It’s slow today, and I let the bartender go early. I love being behind the bar when I can be.
“What are you smiling about?” Maxwell says.
Yeah, him. He’s back. Hasn’t been here for a while, but then strolled in here as if it’s something he does all the time. Apparently, what I said helped him. I didn’t mean to help him enough to make him my own personal leech.
I’ve considered banning him. After what he did, he’d deserve it, but I’m a “keep your enemies close” kind of guy. I can handle him, and if he’s here, I can keep an eye on him.
And, well.
Fuck.
Something we talked about got to me. He was like a fucking mirror. I can’t even say that my actions aren’t as bad as what he did to Rhett and Logan.
I’ve backed off of Dash, way off, because of that conversation with Maxwell.
A “practice what I preach” kind of thing.
Have I been on Dash’s ass too much? I’ve justified my questionable actions because of the intent, protecting my son, but maybe I need to let go, too.
Thank fuck I haven’t crossed Dash’s personal lines, but what if someday, I do?
My relationship with my son is one of the best things in my life.
I can’t risk it for just anything. I would, though, if I thought he was in mega danger.
Maxwell’s appearance in my life’s making me confront all this shit.
“Nothing,” I say. That’s all I need, Maxwell finding out about Dirk.
“Didn’t look like nothing.” Maxwell picks up his scotch with a lofty hand. He’s hiding behind sunglasses, wrapped in a large coat. My pub isn’t the sort of place a guy like him frequents. He’s got to be in hiding, or too much of a coward to show his face anywhere else.
“You ready for another one?” I pull out the remote, switching it over to the game. I’m subscribed to every sports channel there is, so I can watch all of Dash’s games, if I pay attention to Dirk as well, who’s gonna know?
“Yeah, gimme another. I’ll stay and watch my son.”
“You must be proud—two of your boys with successful hockey careers.”
“I am, even if they don’t think so.”
I’m not touching that. I might get roped into giving more advice. I’ve already given the wrong impression. Does he think we’re friends?
Since the restaurant’s quiet, I pour myself a pint and sip along with him. Dirk scores the first goal off a pass from Dash. I clap like I would for any other goal, dimming my excitement. I do the same when Maverick Elkington scores in the second period, cheersing my beer with Maxwell’s Courvoisier.
My son gets two goals in the third. Fuck, what a game.
By the end, my dick’s unusually stiff from watching Dirk. There’s something about him in his gear, charging down the ice like a bull with pure determination on his face, knowing he’s all fucking mine. Knowing he knows he’s all fucking mine.
Getting up to my apartment is my first priority, but I have an Elkington problem at my bar top.
“Do you have a ride home, Maxwell?”
He stares at the amber liquid, swirling it in his rocks glass. “You’re not a perfect father,” he says instead of answering my question.
Oh goodie, my favorite topic. “None of us are, Maxwell. We’re human, we do our best.” At least that’s what I keep telling myself, so I can actually look my son in the eyes.
“The Meyer sperm donor doesn’t even look after his children. I looked into it when Logan hooked his little claws into my son. That man keeps having children and seems totally fine to let his eldest raise them all.”
Where’s he going with this? Now I feel obligated to find out in case he’s planning a new horror for Rhett and Logan. I assumed I’d talked him out of it, but maybe not.
Crossing my arms over my chest, I stand taller. With guys like Maxwell, you can’t give off anything less than alpha male energy. He’ll find your weakness and exploit it. “What’s your point?”
“Fathers do what they think is best for their children. Are you sorry for the things you’ve done that Dash hated you for?”
Fuck. Fucking dammit. Yeah, I’ve done things I thought were best that Dash hated, and I don’t regret it.
When Dash moved in with me after the Robin incident, I wouldn’t let him leave the restaurant.
I did it to keep him safe. I knew he wasn’t ready, and I was fucking right.
I can’t point fingers at Maxwell, and yet, I want to.
“No,” I answer honestly.
“Maverick was troubled. I love him. I know what society does to people like my son. I was trying to help him. He doesn’t know it yet, maybe he’ll never know it, but what I did made a difference. I agree that my methods were harsh, but they were necessary.”
I’m fucking lost. I barely know what happened with his eldest son, Rhett—that’s the son I thought he was gonna talk about—and here he is talking about his other son. I don’t have the first clue about Maverick besides that he plays on my son’s hockey team.
“How did things go with Rhett?” I say, moving back to territory I know better. I don’t need the life history of any more Elkingtons.
He swirls his drink again.
“He’s still angry with me, but Rhett and I are cut from the same cloth.
He’d be just as ruthless for the people he loves.
He already is. He’ll forgive me eventually.
You were right to tell me to leave them alone.
” He stares into my soul with chilling eyes.
“You strike me as the kind of guy who understands.”
I can’t argue that. I’d do anything for the people I love. I don’t want to admit to it. That’s as good as saying we’re the same, and while we may share that value, we are not the same.
Just wish I could articulate how we’re not the same.
Maxwell taps the bar top with his finger. He smiles. It’s not a nice smile. “I know something you’ll want to know.” He downs the rest of his expensive cognac.
My blood turns cold. I might not know Maxwell, but I know enough about him to know he’s connected with everyone important in the city.
Probably outside of the city, too. Besides his title, he comes from old money.
Old money rules the world. I should have known there was a reason for his visit, but I bought his pathetic puppy act.
Maxwell is no one’s puppy; he’s a shark.
I’m not afraid of him.
“What do you want, Maxwell?”
He stumbles out of his seat—okay, the drunk part’s not an act—and he gets close to me.
His finely manicured hand gently slaps my face, the plum notes of Courvoisier lingering on his breath.
“I want a friend. An ear. Father-to-father advice. In exchange, I’ll give you some important information about … what was his name again?”
Maxwell pretends to think, but I already know what he’s gonna say. My fucking gut curdles with the name.
Robin.
Dash’s mother’s ex-boyfriend. The one who took him and locked him in a basement for months. My fingers curl into fists. I should have killed Robin when I had the chance.
He nods, even though I haven’t said it out loud. “We understand each other, then. Don’t worry, you won’t see me too often, I’m busy, understand? But I’ll be here from time to time.”
“What do you know, Elkington?”
“What’s the rush? We still have the second half of the hockey season. So, deal?”