Page 126 of Hard to Score

“Confront Dad, once and for all.”

“How do you know that’s what I’m going to do?”

Her smile is soft as her hands come up to frame my face. I’m forced to look into my sister’s bright and cloudless eyes, which is so damn welcome. “Because you’ve always looked out for me. And right now, you’re here because you’re afraid that I might not be stable enough to handle whatever fallout ensues from you demanding answers—our family pulling together or possibly falling apart. You don’t want me to relapse.”

I nod. It’s all I can add as an answer, because isn’t that why I came here? To make sure she’s okay? To know she’s on board with the decision I’ve already made?

“We’ve been both, Drew. Together and apart. You have a life you deserve to live. Get your answers. You need them. And then go and live that life. Go and love Brexton. Go and step out from under this shadow.”

When I wrap my arms around her and hold tight, I know I was right to come here first. Whatever she said wasn’t going to alter my decision to confront Dad, but I sure as hell didn’t expect it to make me more confident in my decision like it just did.

“I love you, Maggs.”

* * *

“Drew,” my mom says when she opens the door, her eyes wide and the pitch of her voice high. “I didn’t expect to see you. I—thank you for coming by.”

“Don’t thank me yet. I need to talk to Dad. Alone.”

“Yes. Okay. You sure?” Nerves dance through her as she probably fears what I’m here to say.

“Yes. This is something I should have done years ago.”

My mom stares at me with tears misting and gives me the slightest of nods. She understands.

“He’s in the study.”

I hold her stare for a few more seconds before I set off toward the back of the house. When I reach my dad’s office, I’m struck how everything that lines the walls is about a sport we’ve been forbidden to talk about. Pictures, memorabilia, and game balls in glass cases line the bookcases and walls and my dad sits at his desk in the middle of it all.

“Dad?”

He startles and starts to stand immediately, his defenses already up as surprise reflects in his expression.

“Drew.”

“Stay seated,” I say as I walk into the room and close the door at my back. There are a million questions in his eyes but he doesn’t say a word. Instead he simply stares at me with a wary expression. I inhale a measured breath and then say what I came to say. “Did you do it?” My voice is calm and unrelenting.

“We’ve already gone over this.”

“No. You told us to shut our mouths and we have, but can’t you see that your silence is tearing us apart, Dad? So I’m going to ask you one more time for the truth. And if I walk out of this door because you refuse to give it, then don’t ever plan on seeing me come back.”

The words stick in my throat. A horrible threat given to a man with a terminal illness. But I can’t do this anymore. I can’t keep living for him and pretending that I’m not. I’ve reflected on my mom’s words the other day, and I don’t understand how he was protecting us. It makes no sense.

But I need to know.

I need to get my head straight.

“Son, I—”

“I’ve got the start tomorrow. Not because Hobbs is injured, like last time, but because I’ve earned it. It’s been seven years since the last time I started. Now, I need to know the truth. You owe that to me.” I clench my fists out of frustration and from years and years of not knowing. “I need to be able to go out there and play for me instead of playing to clear our last name.”

“I never asked you to do that.” His voice is so cold, so stoic, that all I want to do is shake him to get some emotion out of him.

But then again, is that something he’s actually capable of?

“You didn’t have to. You’re my dad. You were my idol. And no matter what I’ve done in my life, everything about what you did overshadows it. I have a chance here—at my dream on and off the field—and the only way I can walk into both so that I can succeed is if I know the truth . . . so I’m going to ask you again, did you do it?” Anger floods my voice as I jab my finger with each and every word.

“It started out small. A few bets here and there on baseball or college football.”