Page 45 of Craving the Player

Chapter Twenty

BRADEN

“No.” My tone leaves no room for judgement, it’stoo cold and void of emotion. My nerves are shot and my throat feels tight. Betrayal like I’ve never known rears its ugly head and shouts for attention, waving around ared flag that’snear impossible to ignore.

Dad’sbrows move to his hairline as he stares at me, mouth gaping as if he’ssurprised for some ungodly reason. He was either completely naive to my feelings or just doesn’tknow me as well as he used to. Whichever it is, Idon’tcare. It’sthe same either way. He wants to leave.

“What do you mean, no?” he echoes, and Icatch the movement of his fingers curling around his bottle of non-alcoholic beer.

Iclear my throat. “Sorry. Fuck no.”

“Watch it, son,” he growls. Dark eyes burn into the side of my face with alook of rage that I’ve seen only afew times over the course of my life as Icontinue to look straight ahead, refusing to meet his stare. “Imeant, why not? What’skeeping you here? The gym? Forget about it. We’ll buy anew one in Toronto. Hell, if you come with us, I’ll buy you three.”

There’sno holding in my humourless chuckle. “Really? In case you’ve forgotten, you drained every last fucking penny you had for the rock on your fiancée’sfinger. And what about Tyler? You know, your other son? Don’tyou think that maybe he’ssomething that Idon’twant to leave behind? I’msurprised you’re so okay with it, actually.”

“Tyler spends half the year on the road, Braden. Location doesn’tmatter to him, but Gracie does. And it wouldn’tbe fair to take her from her family, especially while they’re building afamily together. Anyway, Ialready spoke to him today. He turned me down.”

Ifeel the judgement in his words like asucker punch to the gut. The disappointment that my fathers feels with how Ilive my life makes me want to throw my fist through acement block. The way Irefuse to commit to one woman pisses him off—disappoints him. Iknow that it stems from his own past mistakes and regrets. And so he throws them onto me, wanting me to be better than he was.

For asecond, Idebate throwing Sierra in his face to spite him, but stop myself when Iremember that while Imay want her to be mine to some degree, it’snot like that between us. Our relationship, or whatever you would call it, is messy, filled with anever ending list of questions that Idon’thave the answers to yet. Every time that Ifeel myself give in to her pull, Iyank back before Igive it achance. The thought of her with another guy makes me want to go postal. Iget possessive and lose myself in her presence and the way she makes me feel like Icould rule the whole fucking world. But all it takes is one reminder of how broken Iam in the world of relationships and commitment to shut down again.

Seeing Sierra makes me happy. Icare about her and don’twant her with anyone else, Iwon’tdeny that or how selfish it makes me. But Iwon’tlet myself give more than that. Idon’tknow how. I’mhappy with how things are now. Anything else would be far too complicated.

Iwould only be digging myself into an even deeper grave in Dad’seyes if Iadmitted that to him right now.

“So because I’mnot married and expecting akid, Ihave nothing to lose by uprooting my life to fit into your plans? Your future?” It sounds as ridiculous as it is. Yet maybe not as black and white. Ihave asuspicion that his want for me to join them has more to do with himself than with me and my life choices. “You can’tjust expect me to come with you because you're scared.”

Imeet his eyes when he slams afist down on the top of his new kitchen table. His bottle shakes and the small porcelain jars of cream and sugar clatter from the outburst. The rage burning in his narrowed eyes has me straightening in my seat but not backing down. Ihold his stare with equal intensity as Ishove my tongue to my cheek.

His mouth is held in afirm line that’sonly broken when he opens it to speak, his refusal to my claims at the ready. But Icut him off with araised hand in front of me that has arumbled, angry curse falling between us.

“If you’re not scared, then sign over the gym to me and go. It’sgoing to be mine someday anyways. You know that I’ll take care of it. If there’snothing here for you to come back to then you really can start over with Lana.”

He visibly flinches. Adam’sapple bobbing with silent emotion, Dad’seyes fall to his limp hands as they rest open on the table, drawing my attention to the calloused, wrinkled skin. Years of fighting show in the countless white scars etched on his knuckles. Each one represents amemory—awin or aloss. The thick calluses are from the years of hard, manual labour he endured with my grandfather, building houses for countless years while he worked for the money to buy his gym, Rampage.

“The gym isn’teverything, Braden.” He uses his thumb and pointer finger to smooth out his scrunched brows. “Ihope that someday you’ll be able to see that.”

Aknot forms in my stomach and Inearly make an excuse to leave before I’msaved by the ringing of my phone. Sliding it from the pocket of my jeans, Isee aname on the screen that doesn’tsurprise me in the slightest. I’msurprised Tyler waited this long to call me. Dad must have told him that he would be talking to me this afternoon. The shithead’sprobably been waiting all day to call me and gossip.

“Need to answer that?” Dad asks as he stands up and moves to get rid of his still half-full bottle of warm piss. Iknow my dad well enough to tell when I’mbeing dismissed, so Iswallow down the rest of my questions and take asteadying breath to keep myself in check.

Following his lead, Isilence my phone and stand up. “No. Ido have to leave though. I’msure we’ll talk about this later, though.”

Istay in the kitchen long enough to catch his barely-there nod before heading for the front door. After slipping my sneakers on, Ithrow apained goodbye in his direction and rush out of my childhood home feeling more fucking weighed down and pissed off than Ihave in along time.

My muscles ache. They’re on fire, throbbing deep to the bone. Aclear warning that I’ve spent far too long in front of apunching bag. But Ihaven’teven begun to touch on the feeling of rage that’sbeen swirling my insides around with ahot poker since Ileft my father’shouse.

Istill can’tbelieve it. Moving across the country for some ditsy Barbie Doll that he hasn’teven known for ayear? I’ve been replaying our conversation in my head for hours. The gym isn’teverything, Braden. That’sbullshit. Maybe he’shappy to give it up, but I’mnot. This gym—boxing at this gym—is all that Ihave. Igave up the only other thing in my life that has ever made me happy to help run this damn place. Ithrew away what could have been aprofessional career in hockey for this place. For him. And he’sjust going to leave it all behind. Like it’snothing but aspeck on amap of his past. A blip. Vancouver is our home. I’ll be damned if Ilet him leave it all behind just to chase some young tail.

“You don’tthink that he’sactually serious, do you?” Tyler mutters gruffly, his swift punches not faltering as they make the swinging leather bag cry out in pain. Iknow he’shurt by our dad just as much, if not more, than Iam. And he has every right to be.

Whereas Igrew up with our dad, he wasn’tso lucky. He grew up only knowing his abusive piece of shit stepdad and crackwhore mother. The same mother who kept both Tyler and our dad in the dark for twenty-years.

It’salmost asick joke, really. I’ve known him as afriend for five years, and only as my blood brother for two of them. His mother dropped the bomb on all of us the night she disappeared from his life. She wasted no time in hightailing it out of Vancouver after finally spilling the beans about my fathers secret love child. It was the definition of amic drop moment.

But more than anything, it was apunch to the balls. For Dad especially. He knows that it wasn’this fault that he missed out on so many years of Tyler’slife, but that doesn’tmake it any easier of apill to swallow.

Ever since that night, Dad has been trying to make up for his absence whenever possible. Until now, Iguess. Now the girl clawing on his arm is more important than his damn family—his kids.

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