Chapter 14 #3
“That’s not true,” Claire cried, scandalized.
She looked shocked—though whether that was because of Mo’s accusation or because he’d made it in front of an audience, he couldn’t be sure.
It didn’t matter either way. If she’d honestly thought it was love for all those years, she was more broken than Mo.
“Right. So you didn’t just blindside me and my—my—others by selling the team to another city—”
“You’ve never shown an interest in the team before,” Orson snapped.
“Right, because I couldn’t have possibly wanted any sort of forewarning while dating one of the players.” God, how could they be this obtuse?
“Since Murphy came to his senses, I hardly think that applies.”
“Everyone still thinks we’re together, because of you, and now he thinks—God, you’re just that selfish. But who cares about the collateral damage when you’re making shady business deals—”
“That is enough!” Orson stood up. Apparently, accusing him of a lack of business ethics was one step too far.
“What? Going to throw me out of your office? Pretend I’m the problem because I’m finally speaking my mind?”
“I will not be disrespected by my son. I am owed—”
“Owed! What have you ever done to earn respect? Other than be born with a silver spoon so far up your ass, you can taste it? You’ve never worked an honest day in your life—”
“Neither have you!”
“Because you won’t let me!”
“Now’s your chance! Think you’re better than us? Want to work an honest day? Well, have at it. You can be like everyone else—no support from us.”
Mo scoffed, though his heart was racing now as panic took hold. They were finally doing it—cutting him off.
“Get out of the house.”
Mo was about to be homeless. He had no job, no experience, no references. No access to the wealth he too had grown up with. Only confirmation that his parents’ love had never been unconditional. “Gladly! Like I want to live on your dirty money any longer.”
Mo spun toward the door, eager to get away. He couldn’t stand the sight of them.
“And, Moritz?”
His feet stuttered, but Mo kept moving, chin up. Any last word from Orson would be aimed to hurt.
“I’ll be sending a locksmith around first thing in the morning, so do be quick.”
Mo slammed the door behind him.
Daisy watched him with compassionate eyes. “Hurry up, love, before he tells me to fetch security.”
Mo gave her a shaky smile and speed walked—he didn’t run, he refused to run—to the elevators.
He didn’t break down until he’d made it off the DPP&H lot. Then he pulled into the closest parking space he could find and called Sage.
“Mo, oh my God, I just saw the—What happened?”
“I’m officially persona non grata,” he gasped between shallow breaths. What had he done?
“Mo, honey, deep breaths for me. In and out. In and out. That’s it.”
A few breaths later, Mo finally managed a shaky smile. “Thanks.”
“Any time. Now what happened?”
Mo gave them the condensed version.
“Shit.”
“And now I have a day—fuck, Sage, a day to get everything out of the house before the locks change and you know they won’t give a fuck about my stuff. They’ll say it’s their due because their money paid for it.”
“Mo, stop. Go home, start packing. Put stuff in garbage bags for now if you have to. You have a garage full of cars, so load them up.”
“And bring them where?”
“You did not just ask me that. Hon, go home. Get to work. I’m going to hang up and call Mom. They’ll be there ASAP.”
Get to work. Get to work. Jesus.
Mo didn’t have time to argue.
What did he have to pack first?
The answer became obvious when he opened the garage—the one he’d kitted out with professional-grade mechanic’s tools of all kinds.
Except Mo didn’t have a single vehicle equipped to carry them.
He could probably fit one of his rolling toolboxes in the back of the Jeep if he took out the seats, but where would he put them afterward?
The seats or the tools? He couldn’t leave the tools in the car—not when he didn’t know where he’d be parking it.
Especially since it didn’t have glass windows.
Of course, he had bigger problems than a set of homeless tools. There were the homeless cars too.
Not to mention their homeless owner.
He was still standing in front of the garage, probably getting sunburnt, when a set of car doors closed behind him.
A moment later, Sage’s father, Oleander, clapped a hand on his shoulder.
“Rose is making up the guest room. I brought the truck,” he said gruffly.
“Figured your taste in cars with no trunk space would bite you in the ass one day. Not like this, though. Your parents suck.”
Mo let out a sharp laugh that turned ugly. He pressed a hand to his eyes and squeezed them shut, shuddering.
Everything in his life had gone to shit. Adam hated him. His parents didn’t give a shit about him. And he was going to have to sell his most prized possessions to build a safety net.
But he wasn’t alone. He had Sage and their family. And for the first time in his life, he had freedom too.
Mo wiped his face on his arm and looked up at the house one last time.
He’d always hated it anyway.
“Right,” he said, ignoring the crack of his own voice. “We’d better get to work.”