Page 159 of The Puck Stops Here

‘And what’s that?’

‘I remember jack shit from those days.’

‘Because you choose not to remember or?—’

He leaned into her space and Sissi on her periphery leaned with him. ‘Because I’m adrunk. Once a drunk, always a drunk, like my father before me and his father before him; you wanna put that in your goddam article, be my guest.’

‘People can change, if they choose to. People can?—’

‘And now you sound like my ex-wife. How is Cynthia? Still running her mouth off while running around after them boys like they’re the only people in her world?’

He was jealous, he was fucking jealous of his own children. Not only that, he was playing the victim, all hard done by. She gritted her teeth. Losing her shit was never the way to go, but this man, he got under her skin. And she knew why.

For the first time in her life, she’d let her personal feelings get in the way of her job. Because she wasn’t sat here as a journalist getting the story now, she was sat here as Blake’s girl.

And while that truth bomb detonated inside her, she forced her focus on the man before her, the man who’d given his son his looks, but sod all else.

‘You know what, Mr Carter?—’

The door to the bar flew open, an icy gust invading with it. Awareness prickled through Astrid’s body, silencing her words and firing up her skin.

She didn’t need to look to know who’d just walked in.

The mood in the bar turned brittle, the hum of voices lowering as heads turned, everyone sensing what she did – trouble.

Oh God.

* * *

Blake’s laser-sharp gaze cut through the bar, landing squarely on Astrid and his father. He didn’t know whether to sweep her into his arms or tear a strip off her for being so bloody stupid. Both.Definitelyboth.

His father blinked, blinked again. ‘Blake?’

He hadn’t seen his dad in person since the day he’d left him on the floor. Aiden had though. Multiple times over the years. And only when the scumbag had wanted something. Money. Contacts. Fame. Ugh.

Seeing him now, seeing what the years had done to him, seeing himthisclose to the woman he’d come to care for more than life itself…

His fingers curled into his palms. Anger. Hurt. Hatred. Disgust. It all rolled through him as Ugly Kid Joe’s ‘Cats in the Cradle’ spilled into the heavy silence – someone up there had a sick sense of humour. Or not, as he spied the familiar faces at the juke box.

‘Blake?’

It was Astrid this time and he followed the sweet sound of her voice, met her gaze with a ragged breath. ‘Are you done here?’

‘All these years and you’re not even going to say hello?’ his father sneered.

‘Astrid?’ he prompted, not even glancing his way.

She licked her lips, her honeyed eyes wide, her vulnerability screaming at him to get her out. ‘I?—’

‘Well fuck me, you see this,thisis my boy. Not seen him for a decade and he doesn’t even have the decency to say hello to his old man. And you wonder what drove me to drink, what drove me to?—’

‘What, Dad? Beat the shit out of us all?’

His father laughed, the sound as evil as he looked. ‘So you do still have that mouth on you.’

‘Blake, please…’ Astrid got to her feet, easing her body between him and his father. He knew what she was doing, she was talking him down, urging him to ignore the man behind her.

‘Yes, Blake,please, why not take a seat? We can tell Astrid just how much a chip off the old block you are. It’ll make for a great twist in her article. What do you say, doll? You like the sound of that, because believe you me, you think I’m bad? This guy left me for dead.’

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