Chapter 26
THREE’S A CROWD
KNOX
When I exit the locker room, post-celebration plans are already in motion.
Staten is waiting for me outside the arena, and then we’re going to drop by the tailgate taking place in the parking lot because I apparently have a “responsibility” to show up for the fans.
My teammates’ words, not mine. I would be more than content doing face masks with my girl while we watch trashy reality television.
The talk with my dad was painful. I can’t believe he had the audacity to speak to Staten like that—well, I can, but his idiocy truly amazes me.
It felt good to stand up to him for once.
And there was no way in hell I’d let him get off scot-free after humiliating the one person I care about on this godforsaken planet.
For the first time in forever, I didn’t flinch at his snapping teeth—the same ones used to make blood promises and spew sycophancy while simultaneously sealing the fates of those at the bottom of the food chain.
I can’t believe I spent years vying for his approval when all he deserved was my pity.
Duffel bag swung over my shoulder, I head out of the locker room, suddenly accosted by the sight of my father in his special-occasion suit, propped up against the wall facing me. I have no idea what he’s still doing here. To be honest, I thought he would’ve left after our fight.
In no world did I RSVP to the most soul-sucking reunion in all of existence. I don’t have the energy to deal with him right now.
Nausea tugs at my stomach, and my nostrils fill with brimstone when his flinty eyes find mine immediately. The harshness of the fluorescents calico the begrimed floor, grafting a shadow to his angular features.
I shouldn’t want to hear him out, but curiosity dilutes my sensibility.
“What are you still doing here?” I ask, animosity riding my voice.
I’m a living cage of barely repressed anger, and I don’t need to uphold any gentleman act for the sake of my girlfriend since she’s not here. My hand tightens around the strap of my bag as harsh nylon bites into my palm.
“I…wanted to apologize,” my father confesses, the words practically ripped from his throat like he can’t possibly grasp the concept of guilt.
Oh, this is rich. He only wants to apologize because I humiliated him in front of a crowd.
He’s doing this to absolve himself. He doesn’t mean it.
I mean, the cocksucker had years to amend his mistakes, and he waits until I finally grow a backbone to do it?
I know I shouldn’t be entertaining this conversation.
I know I should probably just punch him in the balls and go on with my day, but there’s a part of me that can’t let sleeping dogs lie.
“What could you possibly have to say to me that would make up for all the shit you’ve put me through?”
I want to bask in this sight of him—this powerlessness that fits him well. My dad’s moral compass is a Wheel of Death, and he has no care for where he throws his next dagger.
His cheeks are blotched with embarrassment—a first-time occurrence—and his arrogance warps into something akin to humility, a breath-hold suspended in the unassuming silence. Every scraped-knuckle hardship that he offloaded onto my shoulders comes tumbling back.
“I shouldn’t have spoken to your girlfriend the way that I did.”
Is he serious?
Don’t give in, Knox. He’s just trying to test how easily you’ll forgive him. He’s not doing this because he feels bad—he’s doing it because he wants to keep you compliant. Don’t let him have all the power over you.
But what if he really means it this time?
That’s what you said the last ten times.
“Five minutes. Please,” he begs, so pitiful that I’d laugh in his face if I didn’t have any humanity.
Am I really going to deny the opportunity to witness his pathetic laments? I don’t have to forgive him. I’m not doing anything wrong by listening to him. I have the power now, and I’ll never accept a reality where I don’t.
“Fifty-nine seconds. Go.”
My dad is one of those guys who’d rather eat his own tongue than admit he’s wrong. At least, that’s the version I know.
“I don’t expect you to forgive me for everything that I’ve done, but even I know when I’ve stepped out of line, and coming to your game to provoke you was never my intention. Insulting your girlfriend was never my intention.”
“But you did,” I snap, stepping into his space, realizing now how many inches I have on him—how I’ve built enough muscle mass to give his ego a run for its money. He’s smaller than I remember.
“I shouldn’t have. I made a rash judgment that wasn’t true in the slightest. I didn’t realize she meant that much to you.”
I didn’t think my father was capable of remorse. Maybe he isn’t. Maybe this is all just an illusion.
The weight of his accountability is a backhand to the face. I know I should accept his apology and be the bigger person, but fury bolts through me—fury that it’s taken him this long to own up to his mistakes.
As much as I want to put my hands on him, I don’t.
“She does. And if you want to stay in my life, you have to accept the fact that she’s in it too.”
Without Staten, I never would’ve found the courage to stand up to my dad. She made this possible. If I had to choose between my family and her, it would be a no-brainer. Fuck, if I didn’t know any better, that kind of sounds like I lo—
No. I—do I? We haven’t been official for that long.
Love is a foreign concept to me. All I know is that my heart kicks up when I’m waiting for her to text me back, and I get way too sweaty when she touches me, and I feel like I’m going to simultaneously barf and pass out whenever I talk to her. That’s normal, right?
Jesus, who am I kidding. Staten Renault has me by the throat, and my masculinity doesn’t mind it one bit.
I need to tell her how I really feel. I just…what if she doesn’t feel the same way? What if I scare her away?
There’s lightning in the depths of my father’s stormy eyes. “I understand, Knox.”
With nothing else to say to him, I start my journey toward the exit. If he genuinely wants to do better by me and be in my life, then his actions going forward will speak for him.
Before I vanish from his line of sight, he calls out to me, “Oh, and son, I’ve unfrozen your assets. Good job getting your grades up.”
The parking lot is filled with students, truck beds full of kegs, and a poorly decorated stand where some devilishly clever underclassmen is running a fast-food empire to capitalize on hungry hockey goers.
Under the percussion of rain—where the sky arcs into a sapphire hue that bleeds like watercolor onto a sodden canvas—people roam amongst concrete and clumps of sorrel. A maroon banner, strung to a car’s antenna, flaps in the wind as a wedge of moonlight makes the painted CONGRATS! glisten.
I’m grateful for the celebration, but everything is overstimulating. It feels like the world has turned the volume knob all the way up. I can’t hear myself think.
I didn’t expect my dad to unfreeze my assets. I’m grateful, sure, but there’s a part of me that doesn’t want to be tied to him financially anymore. I want to pave my own way. At least he finally acknowledged all the hard work I’ve put into my academics.
I stare down at the sad basket of cold French fries in my hand, and I don’t need to taste one to know the flavor profile is on par with overseasoned mashed potatoes that have been sitting out so long they’ve grown their own ecosystem.
Plus, consuming any food right now is undoubtedly going to disagree with my stomach.
A frown casts over Staten’s lips. “You’re not celebrating.”
I manufacture a fake smile, but I don’t doubt that she can see right through it. “I just talked to my dad.”
“You did?”
Even though things went…well…I guess, I still don’t know how to tell Staten that I had a love-related epiphany.
Now seems like an underwhelming time. I should take her to her favorite restaurant and shower her in Swarovski diamonds and pay a private jet to skywrite my affection for her in the clouds.
I thumbtack my discomfort for later. “Yeah. He apologized for how he treated you. Said he was out of line.”
“That’s a good thing, isn’t it?” she asks, sounding as confused as I feel.
“I’m just protective of you,” I tell her, nuzzling my nose into her shoulder, unable to ignore the adoration that flash-boils inside me. “I don’t trust him.”
“I mean, I don’t like the guy, but maybe he genuinely wants to fix things between the two of you. Maybe—”
Suddenly, Leif and some mystery girl interrupt our conversation, looking far too unconcerned about their lack of manners.
An outpouring of deceit is the first thing I pick up on.
Leif Kennedy is no Avengers-level threat, but it’s strange that he’s taken the time out of his day to flaunt this stranger in front of Staten’s face.
I didn’t even know he was seeing anyone.
“Staten. Fancy running into you,” he says with a smarmy smile.
“Leif? What are you doing here?” Staten questions.
“We’re just here for the free beer,” Leif’s catty, Cartier-dressed companion sneers, crossing her arms over her chest as she eyes Staten up and down.
Leif redirects his attention to me. “Knox, you played…well…tonight.”
Is this some kind of trap? It feels like I’m performing some gravity-defying trapeze act without a safety net beneath me.
“Uh, thank you?”
“I mean, it’s not seven three-pointers like I had last season, but it’s impressive enough.”
Jesus, he’s condescending. I should’ve known that a compliment from him would come with parameters. Leif Kennedy’s factory setting is permanently stuck on conniving rat bastard.
“Hockey is a far more difficult sport. I wouldn’t expect you to know what real competition feels like,” I retort, indignation marring my expression—an aptly named feeling, I’ve come to find.
Leif changes the subject to limit pushback. “You’re seriously eating mayonnaise around her?” he asks, gesturing to my loaded fries.