He emerged from around the corner, hair still damp but wearing a t-shirt and board shorts, with his duffel hanging in his hand. “Hey.” He ambled toward me.
“Have a seat.” I patted the cushion in front of me. If what Grace had told me was true, Wren would surely need the number of the therapist I’d gotten from the help center.
With a sigh, he dropped his duffle on the floor and straddled the bench in front of me. “Okay, so what did Grace tell you and when?” He wrinkled his brows.
“She called me this morning before practice.” I held his hand between us. Did he feel hurt, angry, or both right now? He’d had some time to process it.
“And what did she tell you, so I don’t have to repeat myself?” He eyed me.
“She said your dad might use real estate deals to pull money from your family trust and give it to Karen.” I chewed the side ofmy lip. What a shitty thing to do, but I’d never known that side of his family. In fact, I’d never known he had a trust.
“Yeah, that’s it in a nutshell. That’s why he didn’t want to delve into the purchase of the house they’re in.” He hung his head. “This sucks, Eli.”
“It does. Do you have any theories about why he’d do such a thing?” I squeezed his hand. “I mean, eventually he’ll want to add your brother into this trust, right?” Was this how he would go about it? Maybe the aunt wasn’t allowing it?
“Fuck, I never thought of that.” He huffed a sigh and raked his fingers through his damp bangs, his gaze rising to mine. “Why wouldn’t he just amend the damn trust after the baby is born?”
I shrugged. “Don’t know. Wouldn’t you and your aunt have to sign off on it?” I studied him, the defeated way his shoulders slumped. This was killing him inside.
“He probably thinks I’d refuse. Why the fuck wouldn’t he talk to me about it?” His lips bowed down. “I don’t even know how much money is in it. It’s my fucking inheritance. Don’t you think I should know, so I can plan for it?”
“Wren, live your life as if the money doesn’t exist. Planning to inherit money after your father dies will only drive you further apart from him.” Wrapping an arm around his neck, I pressed my forehead on his. I’d heard enough stories from wealthy football friends to know. “Think about it. I’m sure your father doesn’t want you questioning what he’s spending money on while he’s alive.”
“I wouldn’t do that.” He took a deep breath. “I’ve questioned nothing about my dad’s finances before this. It’s like…” Pushing his lips into a grim line, he said, “It’s like he’s being deceitful. He’s always been that way. Why can’t he just be upfront about it? I’d sign the damn papers for the baby to get his share.”
“Maybe you could sit your dad down without Karen around and tell him that.” My heart ached for him. It was a tough situation,but he needed to mend this relationship so he could learn how to trust again. Trustmeagain.
“Yeah?” As he lifted his head, his gaze found mine. “I suppose I could try. I think he’d be mad about me asking though.”
“What if you started with telling him you understand there’s a family trust and that it would only be fair to include Stuart in it?” I peered at him. He was so opposed to speaking frankly with his father. Maybe he’d been hiding things from his dad, too. Like his feelings.
“That doesn’t sound so bad.” His eyelid twitched on one side. “We’ve never spoken like that before. He’d wonder if my mom put me up to it.”
“Why?” I hooked a brow. Damn, my parents hadn’t divorced. I may be unprepared for this. “Wren, do you think it might be helpful to talk to someone? A therapist maybe? They could direct you in how to have a proper conversation with your father.”
“A therapist?” The corner of his mouth quirked. “I’m not a mental case, Eli. I know you work with them at the helpline and shit, but damn.”
My jaw dropped. “You don’t have to be a…” I cringed. Inside air quotes, I said, “Mental case, to speak with a therapist.” I lowered my brows. I needed to drive this point home. “They can assist you through many life problems, even if it’s just needing someone to talk to. You don’t have to have a psychiatric disorder to benefit from therapy.”
His gaze softened. “Yeah, I’m sorry. I know you mean well. I don’t know if I’m open to it right now.”
“Okay, well, I have some names, and they’re free for students to use. So if you change your mind, let me know.” I knew from experience it was the best I could do. If a person didn’t want therapy, setting them up with a therapist was pointless.
“Sure. I know you’re only trying to help, Eli.” He hung his head. “I’ll see if I can arrange a lunch with my father, and if it goes wrong, I’ll consider a therapist.”
“That’s great, Wren.” Leaning in, I placed a long kiss on his mouth. “I suppose we should go to class now.” I rose and stretched my hand to him.
“Yep.” Taking my hand, he flung his leg over the bench and then grabbed his duffel. “See you after the team meal?”
“Of course. Come to the house and hang out.” With a smile, I hoisted my backpack over my shoulder and strolled out with him.
The next evening,we’d taken to the field and after all the fanfare, our home game against the Texas Christian Frogs started. What a name for a team. As I sat on the bench and watched Casey driving the ball down the field, I peeked at Wren, dancing with the cheering squad. He hardly limped now.
The stadium lights illuminated the field under a dark sky as the hint of cool air swirled across me in a slight breeze. Was fall finally here? God, I hoped so. I wouldn’t miss the sweltering games I played here after I got my NFL contract.
Casey threw a long pass into the end zone, and our new wide receiver, Marks, caught it. Whistles blew, and the announcer said over the loudspeakers, “Touchdown Devils.”
Jumping off the bench, I hopped and gave high-fives to the surrounding guys. This was a good omen. This game might become ours if this continued.
