The man standing in front of me now isnotin control. His shirt’s rumpled, hair a mess, a bottle barely hidden in the pocket of his coat.
He looks slightly unhinged.
“There he is!” he bellows when he sees Max. “My ungrateful little shit of a son!”
Security starts to move, but Max holds up a hand. He steps forward.
“You need to leave,” he says flatly. “You’re drunk.”
His father laughs—dry, bitter. “What, no hug for dear old Dad?”
“I’m not doing this with you,” Max says. “You’re drunk. Where’s your wife?”
The question slices something out of the man. “Gone,” he mutters. “Took her stuff. Took the dog. Took my money.Said I was a piece of shit for hiding you from her.” He sways slightly, eyes narrowing.
Max flinches, but doesn’t respond. He just exhales slowly and starts to turn back to the bus.
“Oh, you think you’re too good for me now?” his father slurs, staggering forward a step. “With your perfect little band and your new PR girlfriend?”
He points directly at me.
My skin flashes cold.
“Is that what this is?” he sneers. “Another flavor of the month? You’ll get bored of her too, just like all the others.”
Max’s back stiffens, but before he can respond, I step forward, fury pulsing through me.
“Don’t talk about me like I’m not standing right here,” I say, my voice sharp and clean. “And don’t you dare talk to your son like that. He’s built something real—something good—and he did it without you.”
His gaze snaps to me, glassy and bloodshot. “You think you know him? You think he’s some misunderstood saint? He’s not. He’s reckless. He’s selfish. And he’ll leave you just like he left everyone else.”
I plant my feet. “No. You left him. And now you can’t stand the fact that he’s better without you.”
A dangerous silence drops.
And then—he lunges.
It’s fast. Sloppy. But full of heat and humiliation.
His arm swings back and I see the fist coming like a film reel unraveling.
But before it can connect with me, Max moves.
Like instinct.
He steps between us, takes the hit straight to the jaw.
It’s sickening—the sound of it. Flesh and bone and fury.
Max stumbles back a step, catches himself. Blood beads at his lip.
Security swarms.
I rush to Max. “Are you okay? Max—”
He holds up a hand. Nods. “I’m okay.”
His father’s still yelling, still fighting against the security guards dragging him toward the curb.
