“For you. Not for me.” Emotion creeps into my voice, and I shut that shit down. I will not let him see me weak.
“I did the best I could.”
“I know you sacrificed. I’m not saying you didn’t. But this is my life, and I am making sure I don’t have to make the same decisions.”
My words shut him up. For a minute at least.
“You need to talk to your agent and work out a strategy.”
“Okay.”
“You can’t be parading around with a guy.”
I grind my teeth. “You do not get to tell me who I am with. Wilder has done more for me than you ever have. He took me in when Mom kicked me out.”
“You couldn’t move in with me. You wouldn’t leave your team.” It will always be excuses.
“That doesn’t change the fact that he took care of me when I needed my dad.”
He chews on my words, not saying anything for a long time. “I don’t actually give a fuck if you’re gay. But I want you to be drafted and get everything I never got, and I know what those guys think of gays after playing as long as I did.”
I don’t even know what to say to that or how to process it.
Can that be the truth? I guess I just assumed he’d be homophobic, as the rest of him is hot garbage. I’d never bothered to ask.
“Just talk to your agent. At least listen to her advice. You don’t have to break up; just maybe play it cool for a little while until the team trusts you.” I know he thinks he’s giving good advice, and in some twisted way, he thinks he’s doing the right thing for his kid.
“Neither you nor her will be telling me a damn fucking thing about Wilder. I will fire her and be damned before I take a call from you again. He’s totally off limits.” I set my jaw and look over at him so he can fucking feel how serious I am.
Another long stretch of silence passes.
“I know I’ve made mistakes, but I didn’t know. I would have done more. I do love you, and I do want the best for you.”
I hate that this is the best apology I’ll probably ever get, and I want so badly for him to mean it, which I hate too.
“Your mother keeps calling me.”
I don’t want to talk about her, but I’m glad to have the subject changed. “She’s called me a few times, too.”
“Do you know why?”
“I’m assuming she wants money or something.”
“Don’t give her anything.”
“That ship sailed a long time ago.”
I’m emotionally dead by the time we get back to the city. My dad took me to a late lunch and tried to small talk us back to normalcy, but it just drained me more to have to pretend to be okay.
I hesitate at the front door, just praying Archangel isn’t rethinking everything.
FORTY-THREE
ARCHANGEL
He can’t see it, but I’m breaking. I want to burn the city down every time he leaves with one of his abusers. He cut his mom off when he was kicked out, but I can’t figure out why he’s kept his father in his life. I know who he is, and it’s helped the team out a lot, but I’d trade all the convenience for him to be free of that asshole.
I watch him drive off, and I’m going to be sick.
