Page 63 of Waiting Game

I shoot Cody a look but he only sighs.

“Sure it matters.”

“Who did you think she’d cheated on you with?” I’ve no idea where the question comes from, but it suddenly feels like that’ll get us to the source of this little issue we’re having.

His jaw works. “Anthony McAllister.”

His archnemesis.

Colt frowns. “She never had anything to do with the McAllisters. You’d have made her life hell if she so much as went near that place.”

“She took his painting class in Pigeon Creek.” He sneers. “There were plenty of opportunities.”

“Did you catch them?”

“Almost did.”

“I hope she did,” I grate out though she told me herself that she didn’t.

Cody nods. “At least she’d have known some fucking happiness while she was in this prison.”

Pops gapes at us both like we mortally wounded him. “You’remysons. You’re supposed to be on my side!”

“You made Mum’s life a living hell,” Cody drawls, peering at his nails. “If getting dicked down by McAllister gave her some peace then good for her. Whether she did or not, however, Callan isyourson. Not McAllister’s.”

“What purpose did any of this serve?—”

I don’t even get the chance to finish that question because Colton is growling, “This is because he’s turning eighteen soon, isn’t it?”

Cody groans. “You’re trying to screw him out of his trust fund?!”

“I don’t believe you,” I snap in outrage.

“I want that three hundred million to go to myrealsons.Myflesh and blood?—”

“Callan is,” I spit, “your flesh and fucking blood. Goddammit, man. What more proof do you want?”

Colton slides a hand over his head. “I want to say that I’m surprised but I’m not. You’ve always been a shortsighted idiot.”

“I’m your father and I demand you speak to me with respect!” he blusters.

“You lost any right to being respected by your sons,” I grind out. “I’m sick of this bullshit.” And I storm off, leaving my older brothers to deal with him.

Which, of course, is when I get a text message.

Gracie: When you get your ass back to the US, hit us up in Manhattan because I have some star-shaped pierogi with your name on them.

Confused as fuck, I stare at the message as I stride down the hall, trying to get far away from my asscunt of a father before he can spread his poison any farther.

Me: I’m never going to say no to your pierogi, little bit, but what the fuck are you talking about?

Gracie: Now that the Stars are out of the playoffs, my engagement as GM is official.

Gracie: You’re going to be a Star, dude. Don’t make me regret making this trade…

NEW YORK STARS’ GM IS OUT - GRACIE BUKOWSKI IS IN.

BY MACK FINNEGAN

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