Chapter 28
TWENTY-EIGHT
THE PERILS OF GERIATRIC SPERM
“Denver!” When Dad sees Zach sitting next to me on the couch, he dips his chin. “Hey, son.”
Some would say that he’s not the kind of guy who was meant to father daughters…
I’d agree with that statement.
100%.
Zach’s jaw clenches and he keeps his attention fixed on the TV. He’s been in a mood since the whole team got together in an effort to oust Dyers and Alec to no avail when they learned their coach had called in sick.
Zach insists that one of the team betrayed them by spilling the deets of their mutiny and that’s why the coach went AWOL. As crazy as it sounds, I have a feeling he’s right.
Just because Alec and Dyers are the only members of Rho Epsilon Beta on the hockey team doesn’t mean there aren’t other teammates who are hoping to join next year.
Uncomfortable with Dad’s beady eyes studying Zach and me, I tug one of the throw pillows over my stomach and hug it close. “What’s going on, Dad?”
“Can’t a man call his favorite daughter?”
“I’m your only daughter and sure, but it’s not something you typically do.” My father has the confidence of ten men so he doesn’t even falter. “What’s up?”
“I just felt like reconnecting.”
I hum my disbelief. “Did Mom call?”
Zach casts the screen a look, curious to the answer after I shared the details of the conversation I had with Mom yesterday.
“When doesn’t she?” he grouses. “Damn woman’s insisting on more alimony, saying I lied—” He holds up a hand. “You know what? Never mind. That’s my battle to bear.”
I purse my lips, unsure if he’s lying or telling the truth.
“Anyway, I divorced her for a reason—so I don’t have to talk about her.” His grin turns brighter. But it seems… fake. “Your stepmom’s doing well.”
Zach clears his throat and I fight a smirk.
“Oh, she is?” I can see the devilish gleam in my eyes in the self-view video. “That’s great. Being pregnant so young must be tough for—”
“She’s not that young, Denver,” Dad grouches like he always does. He interrupts mostly because he knows I refuse to use her correct name.
Call me petty, but I’ll back my mom to the grave on this one. Whether she admitted to blackmailing him or not. In her shoes, neurotic about her appearance and still dumped for a younger model, I’d have done the same thing.
“No, she’s not too young for someone Zach’s age,” I agree. “But you’re getting up there now, Dad.”
“Gee, thanks.”
“What can I say? Time’s brutal. I was reading an article about geriatric sperm the other day, actually. I think the last of your best stuff was wasted on Logan, which explains a lot.”
Zach chuckles. “Yeah, he’s not the sharpest blade on the ice.”
Dad’s expression pinches. “Well, you should have a little brother in February.”
That he doesn’t bite my head off confirms he’s calling with an ulterior motive. He’s uber sensitive about the age gap between him and my stepmother, which, honestly, is hilarious.
Why get with a woman Franny’s age if you aren’t going to be proud you hooked someone so much younger than yourself?
Men, I swear, make shit so needlessly hard for themselves and everyone around them.
“February’s her due date? I’m glad I’ll be in Spain, then,” is my lofty—and bitchy—response.
Zach shuffles on the couch beside me but doesn’t butt in.
“Denny. Don’t be like that,” Dad mutters.
“I’ll be however I want. I’m not into babies, Dad. You didn’t spawn a girlie girl who’d coo over kids.” I fold my arms across my chest. “In fact, I think you’re being sexist. I bet you don’t expect Logan and Paul to go gaga over a baby.”
Dad proves he’s only a moron, just not one of epic proportions, when he concedes that with a grimace.
“So, did Mom talk to you about Alec Carver—”
“Now that you mention it, I’m glad you’re there, Zach.”
I roll my eyes and shove the phone at him.
Fucking knew it.
Zach accepts the device with a scowl as I get up and head into the kitchen.
I should have known Dad wouldn’t care that Alec tried to intimidate me.
God, is it any wonder I take Mom’s side with everything?
“Do you think you were being a little harsh with Dyers, son?”
“I’m not your son.”
“Now, come on. You know I treat you and Pecan like you’re my boys,” Dad dismisses, managing to sound incredibly inauthentic.
As per freakin’ usual.
“Didn’t you hear what Denny said?”
“Denny’s overly sensitive sometimes.” From my thoughts to Dad’s lips. “What I did hear about was that whole scene in Dopie’s diner. You two keep fighting and things will escalate to the dean’s office.”
“He’s an animal, Rod, and you want me to play with him?”
“No charges were ever brought against him.”
He means that to reassure, but Zach looks even more sus than before.
“You’d know that, how?”
“I check up on future clients.”
When Zach’s face screws up with not just incredulity, but genuine disgust, my heart goes pitter-patter.
I’m a realist. A pragmatist, even.
But Zach doesn’t have to be. Not when he’ll exist in the microcosm that’ll make him a literal god.
He knows he’s going to play in the NHL.
He’s biding his time.
Honestly, some days, I wish I had balls that big.
I guess the other side of the same coin is that Dyers’s the darker version.
Yin and yang…
Zach thinks he’s untouchable.
Dyers does too. But he uses that to get away with shit Zach’d never even think about.
See, kids, this is why you need to be raised by a feminist mother.
I smirk at the thought and pump my fist in memoriam to Joanna, who graced her child with a conscience.
Zach, seeing my silent fist pump, arches a brow at me.
“Just thinking about your mom,” I tell him sweetly as I bring over two cans of soda.
“You were?”
“Yeah. Jo was the best. Giving you that conscience and everything. Making you have morals. Fancy that.”
Dad scolds, “Your mother told me that you two were… an item.”
My brows lift. “Is that disapproval I hear, Dad?”
His mouth curls at the corners. It’s definitely not an approving look. “Is that wise, Zach? These are your prime hunting years, son. You don’t want to hurt Denver.”
See, that’d be nice if he cared more about me being hurt than Zach not being able to sow his wild oats.
“You think he’ll be cheating on me soon, then, hmm?” I settle my hand on his shoulder so I can toy with some of his hair. The intimate gesture does not escape my dad’s attention.
“I didn’t say that.” His scowl makes an appearance. “You’re in an argumentative mood today.”
“Maybe it’s because Zach and I had sex a half hour ago, but I’m not feeling particularly argumentative, Dad. You’re just being obtuse.”
Zach turns bright red before he chuckles, and as for Dad, he just growls, “DENVER!”
I shrug. “I have to face the consequences of your sexual escapades. Here are mine.”
“This rudeness is—”
“Me.”
“We talked about this.”
“Did we?”
“Yes. We said that that’s probably why you didn’t become a Pi! Some things you just don’t speak out loud, and if you’re going to make it as a sports agent—”
As he babbles on, I tilt my head back and find an inordinate amount of comfort in the hand that Zach settles on my thigh.
It’s not as if he hasn’t always had my back, but seeing him show up for me, time and time again, is empowering.
Especially in the face of a man who likes to put me down to remind me that I need to be such and such if I’m going to be worthy of inheriting the agency I’m not even sure I want.
“Why did you call, Rod?” Zach asks a few minutes into the tirade. “I’m sure there was a purpose.”
That he butts in has me hiding a smile. One that’s relieved and amused.
Partially because no one butts in when Dad talks.
Mostly because if I’m forced to listen to another diatribe on how I need to up my ‘charm’ skills because the best agents are smoother than freshly churned butter, I’ll scream.
“Oh. Yes.” He pinches the bridge of his nose. “I wanted to talk to you about this insistence you have on not playing with Derek Dyers. Especially when you’re accusing him of crimes he didn’t commit.”
“I’ve seen him be aggressive to more than one woman. I know he’s a junkie. He’s definitely a bully, and he’s repeatedly insulted Denver. Whether he has RAPIST tattooed on his forehead or not, I know he’s a piece of shit and I refuse to play with him. The whole team backs me on this.”
“His family’s quick to sue,” Dad warns. “If you keep this up then—”
“Then someone will have their day in court. I have my suspicions about who he hurt and I’ll convince them to talk about what they went through.” He tips up his chin, and his defense of this unknown woman has need flushing through me.
Dad chides, “You’re making things unnecessarily complicated.”
“I’m sorry I have morals, Rod.”
“It’s funny that you called my phone when you wanted to talk to Zach, Dad.”
“I knew you’d pick up. You need to stop that, by the way, Zach. You always answer your agent’s calls. Money might be on the line.”
“He’s not your client yet. You’re not even NCAA-authorized.”
“Are we being recorded? No. Chill out, Denny. Everyone in this room knows I’ll represent Zach when he gets signed. All the paperwork will be sorted by that point.
“The scouts are already talking up a storm about you, son. You’re putting in the effort and it shows. I’ve no doubt you’ll get drafted when the time comes.”
“Shut up, Dad. You’ll jinx it!”
He pshaws. “I should be there for the pre-Thanksgiving game too, by the way. Can’t wait to see how you’re playing.”
“Well, I play better when Dyers’s not around.”
The simple answer has Dad’s shoulders sagging.
“You seriously want to be his agent with the rep he’s cultivating?” I prod.
The nasty look he shoots me is confirmation that he doesn’t care about Dyers’s rep, just $$$.
“I won’t work with him.” Zach cracks his knuckles. “I don’t get why everyone’s so intent on his future when they give no shits about who he hurts.”
Taking note of Dad’s expression, I jibe, “You’re only calling because he’s a Rho too.”
“That has nothing to do with this, Denver.”
“Doesn’t it? Makes sense to me,” Zach inserts.