Page 91 of Her Greatest Mistake

“What are you talking about?”

“Don’t be coy.”

“Oh, I see,” he hums.

I turn my body as much as I can restricted by a seat belt and huff a groan. “See what? Cut it out.”

“You want me to be outright and honest about what I’m trying to get to here? Do you not like being kept in the dark?” he asks, still as calm as ever.

“You can be a petty man. Do you know that?” I groan, staring out the window, watching the back tires kick up gravel from the side mirror.

“That’s funny. I hope you don’t ever lose your sense of humour. It’s one of my favourite parts of your personality.”

“Dad.”

“Son,” he counters.

“How did you find out?” Because there is no way he’s doing all of this on a hunch.

“You didn’t think I would be told when my son rejects an offer from his draft team and his agent puts out a public statement announcing that you’re up for grabs?”

There it is. The anger I was looking for. It leaks out more and more with each word until he’s grinding them out, white-knuckling the steering wheel.

“I know you’re upset, but it was my decision to make,” I say, desperation thick in my voice.

I’m not positive about what I’m desperate for more of. His understanding or forgiveness?

“Of course it was your decision.”

“Then why are you so upset? This reaction is why I didn’t want to tell you what I did.”

For the first time the entire drive, he looks at me. It’s just a fleeting glance, but it’s chock-full of enough emotion to do more than enough damage.

“It might have been your decision, but you made the wrong one. That’s why I’m upset. And you weren’t scared to tell me because you thought I would be angry. You didn’t want to tell me because you knew I would tell you exactly that and maybe even succeed in convincing you not to do whatever stupid ideas that Roy fucker filled your head with.”

“You don’t get it. It wasn’t just about me.”

“Oh, I do get it. I know exactly what you were thinking, and I’m still telling you it was the wrong thing to do.” With a quick flick of his hand, he has his ball cap off and thrown into the back seat. Stiff-looking fingers shove through his hair. “Whatever he promised you, it was the wishful thinking of a money-hungry man. Vancouver isn’t going to take you this season.”

“How do you know that?” I wheeze, my chest tight. The cab of the truck feels so fucking small.

His jaw pulses. “I spoke with Alexander this morning.”

I close my eyes, my head falling forward in my hands. Whatever hope I had of starting my career with my dream team disappears as fast as it had appeared in Roy’s office. I feel itchy, antsy. Like if I don’t get out of this truck right now, I’m going to wind up losing my mind.

“We’re pulling up now,” Dad says, reading my thoughts. He pushes a button on the small remote slipped on the visor, and the following beep tells me the gate at the bottom of our driveway has started to open for us.

Seconds feel like hours as we drive up to the house, and the truck comes to a slow stop. I’m out the door, taking off before Dad has a chance to kill the engine.

Having most likely been watching for us from the living room window, Mom comes rushing out the front door, her lips parting on words I can’t hear.

I shake my head at her when she tries to come up to me and pull me into her arms. The last thing I want is a hug right now, but a sharp pang of guilt at rejecting her love has me avoiding her eyes as I storm past her.

“Maddox!” Dad shouts, slamming the truck door. “Don’t run away from this conversation. We can’t ignore it.”

“There isn’t anything left to talk about it!”

God, I want to scream. I want to let the world hear how pissed off I am. How stupid I feel.

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