Chapter 15
FIFTEEN
EVAN
Good, I’d eased Ronan’s anxiety for the moment.
Of course, I had my own selfish reasons for attacking him at his door, but I couldn’t help myself.
As I pulled Ronan’s head to my shoulder, I kissed his forehead.
I wanted to protect him more than anything.
I didn’t want him to suffer like the last time Jeff had been here. “How many new songs do you have?”
“Almost finished? Probably around ten. We have a few more that are unfinished, but when we hit the studio, our producer will tell us which ones will make the cut for the next album.” His body melted against mine.
“When do I get to hear them?” I glanced toward the hallway, where his studio rested. The door had always been closed when I visited. Would I ever see it? Getting acquainted with Drew would be nice, too.
“I don’t know, maybe in a couple of weeks when they’re more developed.” He sighed and placed his palm on my abs. “Do you know who you’re playing next?”
“Not yet, but if Vegas wins its next game, it’ll be them.” I brushed my hand in a circle around his shoulder. “Are you okay with heading to Lucas and Ezra’s house for dinner tomorrow?”
“Of course.” Lifting his head, his gaze met mine. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
“I don’t know.” My chest pinched. “We have to pretend to be friends.” How stupid was it to have dinner with a queer couple and lie to them about us? “Don’t worry, I’ll tell them soon.” Maybe I could come out to Lucas once I secured my contract?
“I’m not worried.” He chuckled. “I have bigger concerns to worry about, like Jeff trying to weasel back into my life.”
“How do you want to proceed tonight? Are you cooking?” I glanced through the sliding glass doors at the long shadows of evening in the backyard. Hopefully, this night would end well. I’d have a terrible time leaving him if he were upset. But I had to focus on hockey as much as I could.
“No. I ordered Chinese to be delivered around six-fifteen.” He scoffed as he toyed with a button on my shirt.
“How did you know what to order?” I snickered. He probably got something healthy for me, but what about his father?
“I got the basics. Everyone likes fried rice and orange chicken.” He offered a wry grin. “Don’t worry, I got you Chicken Lo Mein.” He tutted. “I Googled healthy Chinese food.”
With a chuckle, I said, “Thanks. I’ll have a few bites of the orange chicken.
That shit’s the bomb.” But it was nice he thought of me and what I should be eating.
I contemplated Jeff’s remarks from the last time he was here.
“Do you think Jeff will know if they’ve accepted him into the cancer treatment program? ”
“I hope so. It would be nice to know if he’s sticking around or leaving for Seattle soon.” He frowned. “Or if he’ll die sooner rather than later.”
“Hey, no matter what, at least you will have gotten to know him, right?” My heart ached for him. This wasn’t fair.
“Yeah, guess so.” He left me and stood. “I should go find Bean, so he knows it’s safe to come out now.”
“Oh, yeah.” Hell, I hadn’t even greeted the little guy when I came in. There had only been one thing on my mind.
An hour passed, and the Chinese food had arrived. We’d put the containers into the oven to keep them warm. If Jeff didn’t show, Ronan would probably never speak to him again. Why was the dude always late? “Do you want a bourbon?” I strolled toward his bar. He’d been waiting for Jeff to get here.
“Yes, please.” He leaned his ass on the kitchen counter, watching Bean eat his dinner. “At least you got fed on time.”
The doorbell rang.
Bean huffed a bark and then returned to his food.
“Shit.” Rubbing his forehead, Ronan strode toward the door.
After pouring two bourbons, because I could use one too, I left them on the kitchen counter and followed Ronan.
Ronan popped the door open. “Come in, Jeff. We’ve been waiting.” His face was unreadable.
“I’m sorry. I got held up in traffic.” With a stuttered chuckle, Jeff stepped inside, pausing just past the door as if he wasn’t sure how far he could go, wearing what appeared to be the same clothing he’d worn last time.
Did Jeff know he was wearing the same outfit? Hell, had he washed it? Maybe he hadn’t brought much with him from Seattle. “Hi, Jeff.” I held my hand out.
After shaking my hand, he said, “Good to see you again, Evan.” The corner of his lips rose. “I was hoping you’d be here.”
As Bean trotted to Jeff’s feet, he sniffed at him.
“Hey, little guy.” Jeff patted Bean’s head. “What are we having for dinner?”
“Chinese food. I kept it warm in the oven. I hope you like that?” Ronan swiveled and stomped toward the kitchen. “Evan, can you help me set the table?”
“Sure. Right this way, Jeff.” Ronan must be angry about Jeff being late again. But then, I suppose I would be too. Jeff had wanted to repair their relationship, but he had an odd way of showing it.
Jeff followed me into the kitchen, sat at the end of the table, and folded his hands over it.
Carrying the plates and our drinks from the counter to the table, I asked, “What would you like to drink, Jeff?”
He eyed our bourbons as I set them down. “Can I have whatever that is?” He pointed at the drinks.
“Yeah, sure.” As I went off to pour him one, Ronan brought the food containers to the table along with the silverware.
“I have stir-fried chicken, orange chicken, and white rice.” He placed a container near my spot. “Evan has a healthy dish. He’s training for the playoffs.” Ronan dropped into a chair next to Jeff’s.
I returned with Jeff’s drink and set it in front of him before sitting across from Ronan. Funny, Jeff had taken the head of the table, which Ronan usually sat at. There were some interesting unspoken cues here.
As Ronan scooped rice and orange chicken onto his plate, he said, “Did you get the results back from the doctor about the trial?”
Jeff nodded once. “I did. I’m a candidate.” He spooned fried rice onto his plate and a small portion of orange chicken. “Now I’m waiting to see how much my insurance company will cover.” He chanced a peek at Ronan. “It’s a trial drug, so there isn’t automatic coverage.”
“Who are you insured by?” Ronan sipped his bourbon. “Do you have a job back in Seattle?”
“I…no, I’m not employed right now. I was, uh, laid off, so I’ve been on unemployment and have Medicaid.” He slid his fork into his rice. “With the cancer, I would have had to go on leave, or maybe gotten disability anyway.”
“Oh.” Ronan rocked once and ate some orange chicken. “What work did you do when you had a job?” He narrowed his eyes at Jeff.
“I was working for a house-painting company, so I painted houses.” He ate his food. “Mmm, this is good.”
After adding chicken and noodles to my plate, I dug in. We’d worked hard on the ice and in the gym today, and I was famished.
“How did you get laid off from a house-painting job?” Ronan set his fork on his plate, his gaze hardening.
Shit, not a good sign. Ronan suspected something. I wasn’t sure what though. I ate more food and listened.
“The company went under. They let us all go.” Jeff raised his brows. “The place used shoddy paint, anyway.” Grumbling, Jeff sipped his bourbon.
Ronan’s gaze softened. “Oh.” He ate a bite of orange chicken. “What other jobs have you had?”
“Oh, I’ve done a lot of things.” He poked his food with his fork.
“I’ve washed dishes in restaurants, laid tile and carpeting, and even done some masonry work.
” He stuffed rice into his mouth. “I’ve taken whatever work I could get.
” He huffed a soft chuckle. “Never stuck anywhere long enough to make something of it, though.”
Ronan nodded. “Why…” He winced. “Why didn’t you contact me sooner?”
“I don’t know. I thought you wouldn’t want to see me. The last time, at your concert, I was pretty strung out.” Jeff inhaled deeply. “It was embarrassing.”
“But you went to rehab two years ago.” With his eyes glittering, Ronan cut his gaze to Jeff’s. “Doesn’t recovery require you to make amends with the people you’ve hurt?”
Jeff flinched. “I’m trying to do that now. I’m sorry I hurt you, Ronan.” He touched Ronan’s forearm, and Ronan ripped it away, a soft growl escaping him.
Fucking hell. Ronan was getting upset. I set my fork on my plate and tented my fingers over it. “Jeff, why don’t you explain to Ronan why you didn’t see him when he was a child?” Maybe that would help? Hell, I was no therapist and didn’t know shit about addiction, besides what I’d seen with Colton.
“When he was a child?” Jeff looked elsewhere briefly, then directed his attention to Ronan.
“I wouldn’t have been a good father to you.
I wasn’t even good to myself.” He swallowed.
“That’s not an excuse. Just…the truth.” With a wince, he said, “I used to think about calling you sometimes.” His gaze dropped to the table.
“I’d pick up the phone and then…put it back down.
Told myself I’d do it tomorrow.” He gave a weak smile.
“Guess I ran out of tomorrows.” He shifted as if uneasy.
“Hell, your mother always had men in her life, so I guess I thought one of them would end up replacing me.”
Ronan glared at Jeff. “No, they never stuck around, and the ones who did abused her.” He scoffed. “But then, you weren’t one for sticking around either.” He wiped his mouth.
Shit, was he done eating? But he’d barely touched his food. “B-But all that is behind you, right?” The man was dying and I was so out of my league with this situation.
“I’m here now, Ronan. Like I said before, I know I was a shit father. I guess I don’t have a good excuse for that.” He exhaled slowly. “I just, I don’t want to die without trying to fix it. What can I do to show you I’m sorry?”
With a scowl, Ronan said, “You could start by arriving on time for our visits. Fuck, I’m never even sure you’ll show up at all.”
“I’m sorry, there was traffic.” Jeff peered at Ronan. “I’ll leave earlier next time.” A smile twitched on his lips. “Hell, I’ll be here early next time. Okay?”