Page 68 of A Whole New Trick

I pinch the bridge of my nose. “I didn’t fire you, Dad. You were never officially my manager.” I lower my hand and meet his stare. “And yes, I expect my agent to keep private career informationprivate.Even from his college friend.”

Maybe it’s time I consider hiring a new agent. Carter says great things about his agent. I bet Gary Ramirez wouldn’t leak career news to my dad.

“Odin,” Mom speaks between tiny, lingering coughs. “Let’s not discuss this right now.”

Unfortunately, this time, Dad can’t help himself. “All I want to know is why one son is determined to throw his career away by switching teams when his current team is on the rise and why the other son is content to be a bench player rather than get his shit together and get a real job.”

Eli stiffens.

I jump to defend us both. “What I do with my career is none of your business. And the same goes for Eli.”

Eli is a talented player. He has what it takes to play in the pros. I believe that with all my heart, and not just because he’s my younger brother.

Eli’s problem is that he didn’t hit puberty until later. He’s been competing against boys and men who could consistently outperform him physically. But now, with the proper training and nutrition, he’s leveled the playing field. He just needs the opportunity to show a team what he’s got. He wants to play for the Ranchers to be on the same team as me, but he’s willing to play anywhere.

Mom’s grip tightens. “Dane, honey… please. Don’t.”

“Sorry, Mom.” I take a deep breath. She’s right. This isn’t the time or place to have this conversation.

Unfortunately, Dad must have held back his dissatisfaction for too long. He can’t control himself.

“You are both wasting your potential. For what? So you can get more money, Dane? And so you can impress that boyfriend of yours, Eli?”

I drop Mom’s hand and straighten. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“No?” Dad scoffs and turns to Eli. “You think I don’t know you moved to Dallas to chase after that fairy.”

“ODIN!” Mom cries out.

Eli’s face drains of color.

Mine is, undoubtedly, red with rage. “And there it is. Let the homophobia out, Dad. Stop pretending that isn’t the real reason you’re treating Eli like shit.”

Just before Eli moved to Dallas, he finally came out to my parents. I’d known his sexual preference for years, as did most of Eli’s closest friends and teammates. It wasn’t a big deal to most.And anyone put off by it was someone Eli easily let go from his life. He was strong like that.

The only exception is our parents.

It didn’t matter how often I encouraged Eli to be honest, reassuring him that our parents wouldn’t stop loving him if they knew the truth. He had a hard time accepting that he would, one day, have to tell them.

It wasn’t until Eli found a guy he really liked that he found the bravery to tell Mom and Dad. Eli thought he and Quinn would go the distance—he thought he found his one.

It sucked when Eli moved to Dallas and realized Quinn had no intention of turning their last semester of college fling into a lasting relationship.

And it sucked even more when Eli and I realized I’d been wrong about our parents.

Well, not Mom.

I was in the room when Eli told my parents about his sexuality. While Mom looked surprised, she quickly hugged her youngest son and thanked him for telling her the truth. I’m not a sappy guy, but the touching scene brought a tear to my eye.

But that tear quickly dried up from the fiery rage I felt when I saw my dad’s rigid posture and scowl. He didn’t say a word, but he didn’t have to. His demeanor told Eli everything he needed to know—confirmed everything he feared.

I got Eli out of the room before Dad found his voice and could do or say anything to cause irreparable damage to their relationship. I wanted to save Eli that pain, at least. But I couldn’t save Eli from the fact Dad hadn’t contacted him in nearly a year, not until Mom was hospitalized.

My brother puts on a brave face, but I know how much it hurts to have a strained relationship with our dad. They used to be thick as thieves. Now, they’re barely more than strangers.

Dad sputters. His face is blotchy. “How dare you. I have no problems with?—”

“Odin. Get out,” Mom’s voice is stronger and louder than I’ve heard in years. “Now.”

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