Page 65 of Scoring Grey

Playbook:

Faceoff

My head is a fucking mess. I came home for the holiday, something I considered finding an excuse to miss countless times. However, if there’s one thing I know that would set my dad off, it would have been skipping this damn religious break. God forbid we don’t huddle around the dining room table and fake it for Easter. But as I walk in the house for dinner, for once I’m glad for his cruelty. Were it not for the wrath I knew I’d face for skipping, I never would have run into Eloise and found out I have a son.

The news shook me to my core. Watching her hold my son felt like a future I thought I’d never have after I watched her walk out of my life. Since I discovered her secret, she hasn’t pushed me away. I’ve seen her and my son every day, but I know she’s keeping something from me. I hear her cry every time I leave, and the sadness I don’t understand brings me to my knees. It’s always been her. If she’d let me in, I’d spend eternity giving her my everything. I’d ensure no more tears are shed. I’d be whatever she needs because her happiness is mine. I’ve stayed outside her window and endured it with her every night because it’s my pain too and I’ll do whatever it takes to get her back.

Heading down the hall toward the formal dining room, my father steps into my path. “I know that look.”

His comment catches me off guard. “And what look is that?”

“You’ll have nothing to do with that child. It’s not your responsibility. She’s trying to ruin your life.”

“You knew, and you didn’t tell me.”

“Of course I knew. You’ll go back to school and forget you ever saw her and her bastard son.”

“That’s my son! You can’t keep him from me. Being part of his life is my choice, not yours.”

“If you want me to pay your tuition, you’ll do exactly what I say and return to school.”

“Money… really, that’s what we’re going back to. I don’t know why you think you can keep me in line by threatening me with money. I don’t want your fucking money. You can’t put a price tag on my son. You can keep your money. I never wanted it anyway. I’m done.”

“Don’t you dare walk away from me, Callum. I’m your father.”

“You were never a father to me. He died alongside my mother.”

I turn on my heel and head straight for my room. I’ve never liked him. Now I fucking hate him. How could he keep this from me? How could he call his grandson a bastard?

BECAUSE HE’S A MONSTER.

For years I’ve tried to tell myself it was me, it wasn’t him. I grew up without a mom, and the hole her absence left in my heart wasn’t always easy to hide. Lucas wasn’t cold and heartless, but he simply couldn’t fill the hole. He couldn’t replace what I had lost, but now with utter certainty, I know that was never true.

Lucas never sent me away to a boarding school, never hired help to watch over me, and no sleepovers with cousins or grandparents. No, my father wanted me close so he could deliver his psychological manipulations whenever he saw fit. He tried to mold me for years, but I was stubborn, and the more he told me I got that from my mother, the more bullheaded I became. I have no memories of my mother. I know she loved me, but the only way I know that is from a journal I found tucked away behind some books on a shelf in the library. It’s why I came to my room in the first place. I can’t leave without it.

My mother’s journaling was sporadic, similar to my own. She journaled moments, not days. I suppose my desire to pick up a pen and do the same came from her. Or maybe it’s the result of living with a narcissist. You need a place to hear yourself think and remember things as they are, not how they spin them. I take one last look around my room, in a house I never called home, a place I’ve been desperately trying to escape, but now I don’t want to leave. I have a reason to stay. Eloise and my son are here. She is the only future I want. Going away didn’t make that less true, but now I can’t stay. I know Eloise doesn’t need my money, but walking away from my father means I have nothing, not that I ever had anything to begin with. I have to leave now, and I can’t come back until I make something of myself. I have a family now. I’ve never had that. I can’t mess this up.

I watch as Eloise closes the book, and I say, “I would have stayed if you asked me to, but now you know why I didn’t. I wanted to make something of myself. I needed to. I needed to be someone my son looked up to, someone who could provide for him. I needed to be the dad he was proud of. I wanted to be all the things I never had.” Her eyes soften before she drops her head, and I’m quick to sit beside her. I pick up her hand. “Tell me. I want to know what you’re thinking.”

“I’m thinking a lot of things, but right now, I’m drowning in my selfishness. I never wanted to stand in the way of your hockey. You were so good at it. It was your dream, and I never wanted to keep you from it, but”—she shakes her head—“but selfishly, I wanted you to choose me. To choose us, and because you didn’t, I told myself you didn’t genuinely want the same things.” She squeezes my hand, and her sad eyes find mine. “I’ve always known you cared, and you’re a great dad to our son, one of the best. But I didn’t know, I didn’t know your reasons, and I feel like the most selfish person in the world for never asking. I never knew things were bad for you at home. I only saw myself. Today, Blair’s lies cut deep because in the back of my head, I had memories of you never defending me in front of him.”

“Fuck.” I stand up and run my hands through my hair. “I saw things differently back then. I remember every word he ever said to you.” My eyes find hers. “That monster is my father. Over the years, I taught myself to be non-reactive to them. I’d heard his condescending rhetoric my whole life. I didn’t get a free pass for being his blood. When I was young, I talked back, and I stuck up for myself, but my father is a very manipulative man. He can make a wise man think himself a fool. That’s why I found ignoring him was best. When I ignored him, he’d believe he’d won, and I wasn’t subjected to his mind control tactics.” I exhale the weight of a past I desperately want to forget. “Come on.” I take her hand and tug her off the bed. “I ran you a bath while you were reading.”

“Cal, I dropped a bomb on you today. We need to talk about it.”

I pull her in and hold her tight. She’s not wrong. The last thing I ever thought stood between me and my happy ever after with her and my son was my dad and his threats. We spent the drive home in silence. I had so many questions and a million things I wanted to say, but I also needed to sit with it, and she needed to do the same. She held that secret close to her for the past six years. I now know why she cried every time I left, why it felt like I was her home, but she continued to push me away anyway. It was all because of him. Even now, just thinking about it, I can feel my blood heating, but I need something more than revenge, more than regrets and a past we can’t change. I need my girl.

“Everything that’s been there will still be there tomorrow.” I kiss the top of her head. “Let me take care of you.”

“Fine, a bath does sound really nice, especially after my revenge dress didn’t do my back any favors when I chose those damn heels.”

“Revenge dress?” I can’t help but laugh.

She swats my chest. “Yeah, I wanted to look hot today. You ignored all my calls, and I didn’t know where your head was.” She heads into the bathroom. “Plus, I knew Blair was going to be there. I couldn’t have her looking better than me.”

“Impossible. You could show up in a brown sack and still look better than Blair Wyndham,” I call over my shoulder as I grab her robe off the bed.

By the time I bring it to the bathroom, she’s already slipped out of her dress and sunken below the bubbles. I place her robe on the vanity and start taking off my clothes.

---