Page 22 of Fault Line

“Yeah, I’m doing well. Those contacts you gave me helped beef up my dissertation proposal. So, thank you again.”

He gives me a stiff smile. “Good to hear. And the hockey season seems to be off to a great start, thanks to you. I’m sure the Tornadoes are happy.”

“Yeah, we’re keeping it tight this year. No concerns there.” I change course, unwilling to taint my favorite topic with his twisted bullshit. “Uh, and I’ve been thinking a little bit more about what I want to do after hockey.”

He raises a brow. “Is that so?”

“Yeah, this research thing’s been sparking my interest. I think it’s a good fallback plan.”

“Still no interest in law school?” he jokes.

“Definitely not.”

He brushes off the notion with a shake of his head. “You’re still young, Holden. You have plenty of time to figure it all out. Just focus on hockey for now and worry about the future later.”

I clench my jaw, frustrated by his dismissiveness. “Thank you for the needless advice. I know where my focus lies.”

He chuckles, a smug, irritating sound that grates on my already frayed nerves. “I’m just saying, don’t lose sight of your goals because you want to juggle too many balls at once.”

“I wouldn’t worry about that. It’s just an option.” Deflecting, I turn the conversation to my father’s subject of preference. “So, how’s work been treating you, Dad?”

“It’s been busy, as usual. But I can’t complain too much. The firm’s doing well.”

Of course it is. Did I even need to ask?

My father’s currently running Becker & Slate, a New York City-based firm that focuses on corporate and securities law. The company was founded over seventy years ago by my great-grandfather and his best friend. My father, as a given, is the current successor, and he’d much rather the firm go to me than to his colleague’s son.

But Monty Slate Jr. has been gunning for partner since he was a kid, and I genuinely have zero interest. Law has never appealed to me. In fact, the idea of working at the firm nearly bores me to tears.

“Glad to hear it.” I take a casual sip of water before I continue. “And Alyssa Chambers? I assume she’s still doing well.”

My father’s eyes flicker with annoyance, but he manages a strained smile. “She was recently promoted to associate.”

“Oh, yeah? And outside of work?”

“Couldn’t tell you.” His lip twitches. “Ms. Chambers is nothing more than a business colleague, son.”

I smirk, eating up his discomfort. “Oh, right. What was her business with you again? Sharing hotel rooms when you go out of town?”

I can’t help but take a dig at my father and his so-called perfect marriage. The truth is, it’s far from it; he’s been unfaithful to our family for years now. Alyssa isn’t the first or the only one. And the worst part is that my mom’s more than aware of it.

They both maintain this constant charade, acting as if they’re living in a glass house where everyone can see inside, each polished window reflecting their supposed perfection. But I know the truth—all those tiny hidden cracks in between, the fragile foundation that lies beneath the surface.

My father’s jaw tightens before he quickly regains his composure. “You know better than to make unfounded accusations, Holden.”

“Well, it’s not really a secret that you spend more time with her than with Mom.”

“Enough,” he bites out.

“Apologies.” I feign regret, giving him a knowing look. “What would you rather we discuss, Father?”

“Since you seem to have such an interest in my nonexistent romantic pursuits, why don’t we discuss yours?”

I roll my eyes at his weak attempt at diversion. It’s fucking annoying, especially considering the fact that I’ve already had this conversation with him a million times.

“Dad, we’ve been over this. I don’t need a girlfriend to complete me and all that garbage,” I say, exasperated.

He remains unconvinced. “It’s not about happiness. It’s about finding a good woman to support you in the next stage of life. It’s important to project a respectable image, Holden. You’re entering a high-profile career, and having a stable woman by your side is key.”

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