Page 141 of Pucking Obsessed

“You did.”

I turn away my head. “He’s not coming.”

Cody sent Eden a simple text saying that he couldn’t cope with the event tonight and would Eden like to come over to Tide Cottage and have a Halloween dinner party with Michael and him instead.

Eden couldn’t hide how happy that made him.

Partly, I think because he was invited to something by his friend alone. Mainly, because it gave him an excuse to avoid the party as well.

I know that they’ll be having a much better evening together than I am.

Dad’s expression sharpens. “Is he sulking? Brat. I should—”

“Don’t,” I say, sharply. “It’s his choice. I’ll leave, if you say a single bad word about Code.”

I glare at Dad, who’s standing here: A god above the rest of us.

Growing up, Dad always felt that way to Cody and me.

Dad was the famous hockey player, the legend, whose rare attention we were desperate for, whether positive or negative.

Neglected as we were, bad attention was stillsomething.

Does Dad even remember that this is the anniversary of Mom’s death?

My eyes burn with tears.

Does he remember that he didn’t allow Cody and me to celebrate Halloween? That he’d spend the night drunk in his bedroom, while he was the monster that we were scared to awaken?

But now, I’m standing in the same house, while he throws an epic Halloween party for work like that makes it fine.

Does that mean his work is more important to him than his wife and kids could ever be?

To me, this room is filled with people, but it’s still missing Mom and Cody.

The ghosts of our pasts are everywhere.

Shay notices my distress and slips his arm around my waist.

Dad’s eyes widen in shock. “Perhaps, your brother would have grown up stronger, if he hadn’t hidden behind you.”

“Perhaps, he’d have grown up happier, if he hadn’t needed to.” My voice is shaky with anger.

“Trouble in paradise?” Colton sways through the guests behind Dad.

D’Angelo moves in front of Shay and me, protectively.

Colton is dressed as a pirate with an eyepatch and scarlet head scarf over his white blond hair. A matching sash is wound around his middle. He’s clutching a beer, which he’s spilling down his front.

Dad narrows his eyes at Colton. “You’re pissed. Take your damn ass home, Colton.”

“Yes, Dad.”

We all freeze.

Colton appears to have answered without thinking. He blushes.

Dad laughs, nastily. “You’re still the little boy, who I picked out of the gutter after your failed try outs. Pathetic. But you betrayed me. I don’t give second chances after that.”

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