Page 93 of Imperfect Player

“I have to go,” I say.

“What about a picture?” Ben asks.

“Some other time,” I tell him.

“Okay. I understand.”

That makes one of us. I don’t understand a fucking thing that just happened. I don’t want to. I want to go back twenty minutes when the only thing on my mind was Everly.

Somehow I manage to make my way to the elevator without losing my composure.

The minute that I’m in the safety of my home, that composure evaporates. Tears flow freely down my face. Anger rises in my core. I’m not sure whether to be pissed or hurt or, fuck, I don’t know, happy? All these years, my dad has been coming to my games? He brought Ben? Turned Ben into my biggest fan? All without saying a word to him about who I am. Or even asking for money.

Fuck.

I think back to the little boy, his dark shaggy hair that he kept swatting away from his eyes. Eyes that were the same color as mine. Fucking hell, I have a brother. If that’s not enough for me to chew on, I have a brother that clearly has cancer. That needs me to donate my marrow.

Slowly, I make my way into my condo. I head straight for the whiskey. I don’t bother with a glass. One drink, two, hell, even four isn’t going to handle this. I’m not sure what will.

I drink, swig after swig, reveling in the burn of the alcohol. I wait a moment for it to hit me, but the calming sensation doesn’t come. I take another drink, my hand running through my hair, pacing the room. All I can picture, all I can see, is the little boy, my brother. The excitement in his eyes when he saw me, the way he proudly wore his Railcats shirt. His big, innocent smile to go with his big eyes and floppy hair.

It’s why he reached out. The urgency. He’s not doing this for me or because he gives a damn about me. He’s doing it for his son, his real son. The one he stuck around for.

Even though I hate the man that very well may be my father, this little boy is innocent.

No. It’s still not my problem.

None of this is my problem.

Everly’s smiling face appears on my screen. A reminder that I’m supposed to be meeting her, supposed to be on for a photo shoot that I don’t know I could handle if I fucking tried right now.

I send the call to voicemail.

It rings again.

And again.

It keeps ringing, she keeps calling, until I finally decide to turn the damn thing off and drown my sorrows the exact way that I want to.

Chapter 26

Everly

Ethan hasn’t answered his phone all day.

In fact, at some point, he shut it off to avoid me completely.

The photo shoot with Yolanda and Active All-Stars is in a few hours, and honestly, I’m not sure if he’s going to show.

With no other choice, I make my way over to Ethan’s building.

There’s a regal-looking gentleman at the front door. Thurston, if I recall correctly. I’ve seen him before but know him more because of how much Ethan speaks of him as well as the regard with which he speaks.

“Good afternoon, Ms. Mann,” the gentleman says.

“Everly, please.”

“I’ve heard much about you, Ms. Everly.”

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