“All I’m saying is that if you’re going to stay here, Alex, the least you can do is help me out,” my mother complains, shooting me a glare.
I must have been a murderer in another life to have to deal with this sort of torture.
“Me going on these stupid blind dates is not helpingyou,” I bite as I limp over to the refrigerator.
“You know, if you had a wife, or even a girlfriend, you wouldn’t need to stay with me.”
“And there it is,” I hiss as I open the refrigerator in search of something with alcohol. I don’t care that it’s nine in the morning. Diana Brewer could drive a monk into a drunk stupor from her bullshit. “Just say you don’t want me here, Mom,” I quip as I find an open bottle of Prosecco with a silver spoon in the opening.Dad swears it keeps the bubbles going after you open it, but I think he’s full of shit. “I could stay with Austen.” I’m not sure that’s true, but she won’t like it and that’s why I say it.
I grab the bottle and pull out the spoon, just as she yanks it out of my hands, her glare just as hostile as ever.
“Don’t start with me, Alexander. You make me sound like a horrible mother. If I was so bad, you wouldn’t be here to begin with.”
“Yes, you’re so fucking welcoming,” I say as I reach for the glass pitcher of orange juice as my dad walks out from his office.
“What are you two yelling about?” he asks, his tone gruff.
“Nothing,” I say as my mother says, “Alex is being difficult.”
“What else is new?” My father gives me a stern look. “Be nice to your mother.”
Be nice? Seriously? The nerve of these assholes. I grit my teeth, but his glare is harsh and the command in his voice makes me feel like I’m sixteen all over again.
“Fine,” I bite. “I can help with you shit around the house—as long it’s not going to fuck my knee up more, but I’m not going on any of your stupid blind dates.” I scoff. “Honestly, is there even anyone left in Ashbourne you haven’t tried to set me up with or that I haven’t already slept with?” I raise an eyebrow.
“Manners!” Dad barks.
“Alex!” My mother’s voice escalates, and I know I’ve hit a nerve.
Seriously, I don’t understand how these pearl-clutchers birthed me. Austen, I understand. But me? If it wasn’t for the obvious genetics—I got all of Dad’s good genes, thank God—I’d truly think I was the mailman’s kid.
“I’m just saying.”
“Just talk to her, Alex. God. It’s not like I’m asking you to marry the girl tomorrow.”
No, but I bet you’d fucking love that.
I sigh heavily, knowing there’s no use arguing. If I accept it, maybe she’ll shut up and I can get on with this recovery and be out of here.
“Fine. One stupid date. But that’s it,” I say as I pour myself a glass of orange juice, but I nearly spit it out because it is full of pulp.
Gross.
“See, was that so hard?” my mother says victoriously.
I glare at her with disdain.
My father smiles as he grabs his briefcase, heading for the door and leaving my mother and me alone. The silence between us is thick with unspoken words.
“You need to settle down, Alex,” she says softly. “All this bachelor stuff needs to end. You’re thirty years old.What are you even doing with your life? You haven’t had a girlfriend since Brittany, and—”
I look away from her, not wanting to hear her recount my failures. I do enough of that on my own.
She’s right. I haven’tdatedanyone seriously in nine years. The closest thing I’ve had to a relationship was my arrangement with Vance.
I don’t know if you could classify what we had as an actual relationship though, being Vance is so in the closet he’s set up a fucking home there. Whichwasfine, I guess, considering I didn’t want to be out in the open with a relationship, anyway. I wanted someone to make me forget about the hole in my heart that wouldn’t go away. I wanted someone to quiet the noise and keep the vicious voice in check, which he did. But I wasn’t in love with the guy. I just needed him to flip the switch. I needed him to push me over the edge. And he was really fucking good at it.
The memories of all the times I sat there on my knees, waiting, try to resurface. Of all the times we’d go out with the team, and I’d have to pretend everything was fine. Of all the games and all the fights out there on the ice—including the one that landed me here. Of Vance’s brutal fist. Of losing control…
