Page 59 of Enticing

“You know he got married. He didn’t have a kid, right?” Ares laughs at Cross as he lights his cigar.

“Yeah well, Everly didn’t want to tell everyone she was pregnant tonight. She was dreading it. Just didn’t want to be the center of attention. Her hormones are all over the place, and she was crying half the day about it. This dumbass getting married and not including the family sure as shit worked out for me. Now she’s pissed at him instead of at me for knocking her up. Her words, not mine.”

“Didn’t you have a vasectomy?” I ask, shuddering at the thought.

“They’re not always effective,” he groans.

“Yeah,” Ares laughs. “Make sure to wrap that shit up. You Sinclairs are fertile fuckers.”

Nix and I gag.

“Dude. Sisters. Don’t fucking go there,” I groan.

“Can’t believe you got married without telling any of us.” Nix takes a drag of his cigar, then blows on the cherry, circling the conversation back to me.

Thanks, asshole.

“Leave your brother alone,” Dad announces as he joins us outside. He takes the cigar from Nixon and glares at the guys. “Your women are looking for you.”

They all leave me like scared little shits.

Dicks.

“Just getting a Christmas present, huh?” he asks, and I nod. “When I said get her something nice, I didn’t mean engagement ring nice, Leo.”

Some guys grow up hating their dads.

They’re never there for them, or they try to relive their youth through their kids. They’re abusive or absent or just utter assholes. You pick it, there’s a million reasons to hate your dad as a man. And a fuck-ton of the guys I know have ’em.

They didn’t grow up like I did.

Loved. Supported. Safe. Encouraged.

And by the greatest man to ever wear a football jersey and set foot on a field.

You’d think a guy like Declan Sinclair would be a hard-ass who’d force his boys into playing football. But he didn’t. Yeah, we all tried it. But once Nixon picked up his first pair of hockey skates, Hendrix and I followed, and we never looked back. It was all we saw. And Dad showed up to every game he could. If he was in the state, he was there in the stands, cheering us on. Early morning rink time—no problem, he was driving us. We wanted to get better, so he built us a rink in a pole barn at the back of the property so we could practice year-round.

He’s always been the GOAT, and I’ve never wanted to disappoint him.

Nix used to worry about living up to him.

I only ever gave a shit about earning his respect.

And right now... I’m pretty sure I’ve lost it.

He puts out Nix’s cigar on the stone, then takes mine and does the same. “Those things will kill you.”

“Yeah . . . I guess.”

“You made your mother cry.” Yeah... he never raises his voice either.

“Sorry. I wasn’t trying to hurt her,” I offer, not sure what he wants to hear.

“Always so impulsive, Leo.”

“It wasn’t impulse, Dad. Mom wasn’t my first priority. Addie was... is. And she didn’t want a whole big thing. Her parents are dead. She has one sister, and that’s it. No other family. All of thismakes her uncomfortable. So, I’m sorry I upset Mom. But I did it for my wife. And you always made sure we knew Mom was our mother, but she was your wife, and wife trumps everything else.” Part of me wonders if I should feel like a fraud saying this, but I squash that part like a fucking bug because Addie’s worth it.

“And the student becomes the teacher. Touché, kid.” He leans back against the paver wall and crosses his arms over his chest as he looks out at the snow. “So, this is the real deal?”

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