Page 81 of Hate To Love You

I grunt as I close the window before opening the door, causing Mason to jump back. He holds his hands up as if surrendering.

“My father called,” is all the explanation I give him before storming passed and entering the mansion.

Mason’s footsteps follow close behind me as we make our way to the second floor. Pat, Holland, and Logan sit in the living room watching football, and their heads turn when they hear Mason and I enter.

“What jackass was laying on their horn out there?” Holland leans his head back over the couch to look behind him while I grab a water from the fridge.

Mason throws a thumb over his shoulder at me, a small grin tugging at his lips. I’m glad he finds this amusing. Holland’s gaze moves over to me, and Pat finally looks away from the TV long enough to assess me.

Pat’s eyes move over me, and his eyes narrow in question.

“You good?” he asks, his voice gruff and slightly concerned. He’s a good guy, he always has been. He’s been there for me through a lot of my dad’s bullshit, and I’ve been there for him when his dad is being an ass.

He understands where I’m coming from more than Logan does, since Logan is completely okay with the way dad talks to him and with what’s expected of him.

Logan hasn’t even looked away from the game to glance at me, even though I’m sure he knows why I’d be pissed off. It’s not hard to guess. Not much gets me riled up, but my father knows how to really get under my skin.

I nod. I don’t really need to rehash everything that was said. It’s all the same every time. Him calling me a disappointment and telling me everything I’m doing is wrong, telling me he wishes I was more like my brother, that I should respect him more for everything he’s done for me.

I’m aware I grew up quite well. I’m aware that there are people out there that would kill to have what I have. But I’d give it all up if I could just have a normal relationship with my father.

My grandfather would be incredibly disappointed in who my father has become, I know he would.

Dad is selfish, he’s cruel, and he’s always one step ahead of everything. When I was eighteen, I thought I’d go away to college and be free of him, but it only got worse. He got more demanding of my responsibilities as a Steele. He started watching my every move, making sure I was keeping out of trouble.

He’d even visit the campus under the guise of visiting old Elite brothers or Dean Ashby. But I know he was checking up on me. Even if he never made it obvious, it was obvious to me.

The fact that he mentioned Gwen by name has my nerve endings on fire. I can’t believe he’d have Dean Ashby watching me that closely. I mean, I can believe it, but I don’t want to. I bet he doesn’t have him watching Logan. My eyes roll involuntarily.

He called Gwen a whore. He referred to her as a gold digger. How fucking dare he talk about her like that. He knows nothing about her.

“You don’t look good,” Holland says, his brow raised.

“I’m fine,” I snap. This makes Logan finally look back at me, his brows furrowed, and his lips pulled into a frown.

Holland and Pat exchange a glance before turning back around to the TV. Logan keeps his curious eye on me though, no doubt trying to figure out what my father could have said to piss me off so much.

I take a long sip of water before Mason speaks up again. This time, not about my phone call or why I’m pissed.

“Weston U’s fullback told Teddy that Walsh is gunning for you tonight, man,” he grins wildly at me. Shit.

Weston U has a good team. We’ve played them several times before, and they play rough. They’re dirty and they love to shit talk. I also have issues with their fly-half.

Connor Walsh is a dick. He’s an asshole who loves to get in my face because I slept with his girlfriend last semester.

To be fair, I didn’t know they were dating. She’d told me she was single, and I’d never seen them together, so the thought never even crossed my mind.

Even if it did, I probably wouldn’t have cared. Their relationship is their business, not mine. The girl came to me for a good time, and I gave her one. That’s it. It’s not my fault she wasn’t satisfied with her boyfriend.

The difference between Connor Walsh and I is that I can put the past in the past, for the most part, and focus on the game. He can’t, and that might give our team the advantage. He’ll be so focused on taking me down that he’ll screw over his own team.

I shrug cooly, brushing it off.

“Walsh doesn’t scare me,” I tell Mason.

“He’s a pussy. He won’t try anything,” Holland calls from over the back of the couch.

“Even if he did,” Pat chimes in as he stands from his spot on the couch. He walks over to me and his hand lands on my shoulder. “We’ve got your back.”

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