Page 29 of The Wild Card
“Since your mother died,” he starts, and an immediate lump forms in my throat. Maybe for him too, as he’s quiet for a few beats before continuing. “I’ve thought a lot about legacy. Her legacy and the marks she left on me, on our family. What legacy I’d leave you kids, and how I could encourage each of you to carve out your own path, make your own impact on the world.”
Guilt is a swirling specter, settling around my shoulders as the daylight fades.
My legacy was supposed to be Grit, my gym. I poured my savings and a bunch of my family’s money into the place.
Now, just a few years later, I’m ready to abandon ship. What kind of legacy have I been building?
I know Thayden has a few buyers lined up as well as some thoughts on the potential legal issues my family still doesn’t know about. Yet.
I owe it to my family to be honest. Especially when they’ve got money tied up in Grit.
And Iwilltell them. Once I’m sure I can repay every penny. Even if that means there’s none left to replace what I put in—though from what Thayden said, I should be fine. Despite my own desire to run far and fast, the place has grown a solid reputation.
So why don’t I want to stay?
It’s not just Liza, my employee turned girlfriend turned thief turned vindictive ex. She was maybe the nail in the coffin, but I was mentally checked out long before that. She just made me realize it.
“Son?”
Apparently, Tank kept talking while my brain got tangled up in worrisome thoughts. “Sorry, Dad. What did you say?”
“I asked what you think about your legacy.”
“Oh.” I swallow and try to keep an even tone to my voice. “The gym is, uh?—”
“I don’t mean the gym.” Tank shakes his head, then reaches out to give my shoulder a squeeze with his big hand. “That’s not your legacy, is it?”
Relief courses through me at the kindness in his voice, though there’s still the little twinge of guilt. “Why would you say that?”
He assesses me, shadows growing long on his face as the hush of evening spreads. “I know the look of a man still restless for something.”
I muster up a grin that doesn’t fool Tank. “I thought I was doing pretty well hiding it.”
He raises a brow, then chuckles. “You boys still think you can keep things from me. It’s cute. But I’ve learned a few things raising you kids. And you aren’t happy.”
He says it so simply and without any kind of judgment. Instantly, I feel a weight release from my shoulders. When Tank leans on the top rail of the fence, I do the same. Together, wewatch the sun take its bow and lower down beneath the tree line.
“So, son—what would you like your legacy to be?”
The silence in the car felt tense, but what stretches between us now is an easy lull. A gentle silence. Tank is waiting, but he’s not rushing me. I no longer feel the urge to confess but rather an invitation to share.
Ripping off the Band-Aid seems like the best option. “I’m selling the gym.”
Tank doesn’t react, and I continue.
“I thought it’s what I wanted—a place to train elite athletes. But it turned into just a regular gym. People come to show off and be seen rather than to grow or push themselves. I’ve got more people wanting to date an athlete than actual athletes now.”
“I get it,” Tank says. Then, because he’s too good at seeing me, he adds, “What else?”
I sigh. Then let the words pour out of me in a rush. “Liza was helping with the books, and it turns out she was skimming money. Not a ton, but enough. I’m not sure I can prove it, but I know. And I think to keep me from doing anything about it, she’s threatening to sue me for discrimination and … sexual harassment. She’s been posting about it on social media, trying to stir up trouble. Or win me back? I’m not sure which. Maybe both.”
This part—the sexual harassment bit—is much harder to admit, and when I glance at my dad, his jaw is tight. I abhor everything about what Liza is doing. Dragging my name through the mud. Damaging the credibility of women everywhere by crying wolf about something as serious as this.
“I didn’t do anything, Dad.”
His blazing blue eyes meet mine. “You think I don’t know that?”
“I just want you to know I wouldn’t do that. Ever.”
