On that fucking precious note, he resumes staring out the window, while my stomach twists and I fight back the nausea. I’ve either bought myself breathing room or royally fucked everything up.
The car carries on down the highway, and I spend a good half an hour dreaming up all the ways I could end Gregory Kline. Thank fuck we’re headed back to North Point, and I let out a breath I definitely knew I was holding. I should tell the guys in our group chat before one of them sends the cavalry.
Pulling my phone from my pocket, something flashes in my periphery. I look up just in time to catch a blur of shiny blue on the other side of the highway. Holy shit. That was a Lamborghini. The kind with headlights that make it look like a venomous snake.
My skin prickles.
Where’s the fire, buddy? But I guess if I had a car like that, I’d drive it that way, too. I almost went with a car like that, but while Father didn’t outright forbid it, he frowned, so I went with something flashy without being ostentatious.
My phone’s still open to the chat with Tate. Huh, looks like my message was sent a while ago. I would have still been involved in that “special time” with Kline when he got it. Maybe my mind went too far down Conspiracy Theory Road, and that washroom happened to be a dead spot.
Whatever, the asshole left me on read anyway. I’m not going to have a dark knight. I’m going to have to figure this shit out myself, and the prognosis on that is fucking grim.
12
TATE
I’m not into this practice at all. Thank fuck for assistant coaches and McKinnon—they can do my job for me. It’s the least they can do. McKinnon and his little friend were acting up over the weekend, drama I had to deal with, and my assistant coaches missed the games because of the flu. A break for Tate is warranted.
I need to stop thinking about Ryan, but I can’t stop thinking about Ryan. I put two and two together. He’s afraid of his father, and he won’t tell me why. I don’t need to know. I’m fine to torture it out of his father instead. Torture’s my number one choice, but murdering Henry Savage isn’t off the table if it becomes necessary. Not sure how Ryan would feel about that, but if I can’t come up with a better solution, he’ll be worm food. Although I have to admit, killing a guy like Henry would be a waste. Finding the right leverage would be optimal. Then he can be controlled, and I can open a door to the elite that was inaccessible before. It’s what Uncle Jasper would have done.
Anyway—options!
I was distracted by that and weeks of careful planning to come up with what I did to either get Ryan—and his brother—to Shadowridge with me or get me into North Point.
If only he’d marry me, things would be so much easier.
The commissioner loved my ideas. I could see the thoughts of nominating me as the next commissioner in his sapphire blue eyes. But all of that was soured by fundraising for Shadowridge. After I fucked Ryan into oblivion, I caught up with James for a few words. He asked about our money-raising efforts, and lying wasn’t an option. I sugarcoated things as much as I could, but the fundraising … it needs work. James didn’t like that.
I blow the whistle several times, signaling the end of practice. I spend the morning working in my office, get a workout in, and Luke drops by my office.
“Update me on the Ryan situation,” he said.
I never should have mentioned Ryan, but that was back when he was a solution to a problem I was sure about. I can hear Uncle Jasper’s voice, chastising me,tauntingme for arrogance—the fucking hypocrite. But in this case, he’d be right.
“Ryan wants to switch schools,” I told him, “his father won’t let him. It was all a waste, no funding,” I added.
Lies that are a mix of the truth and complete fiction. The best way to tell a believable lie. They roll off my tongue like liquid silk. It’s part of what I’ve had to do, and I always do what I have to do to protect him from the truth, no regrets.
“Maybe it wouldn’t be a waste. Maybe there are other reasons you want him here.”
“There are no other reasons,” I snapped too quickly.
You can tell as many lies as you want, Tate, but they’re useless if your body language gives you away.Uncle Jasper’s voice again. I’m hearing way too fucking much of that old corpse. But, again, correct. Luke definitely suspects I’m at least more into Ryan than I am.
I mean, the wiping the tears away thing was fucked up.
And, well, I guess I overreact a bit when people get near him. Me fucking him after that boardroom meeting wasn’t justbecause I wanted him. Everyone was around him, near him, shaking his hand. God, it drove me fucking insane. I wanted to break something. Bones. All their bones.
I laugh thinking about it. They would have deserved it. But I settled for marking Ryan with my cum like a civilized human.
Thankfully, Luke was easily distracted with talk of his precious McKinnon, and in true younger brother fashion, I pissed him off. It had to be done. It was a verbal bite—don’t bring up Ryan. But he’s my protective older brother, so that will only keep him at bay for so long.
I was glad to be in my shitty little car, driving my way off campus. It’s my “college coach” car. The one I use so people don’t know how much money I have. I make a pit stop at my condo to grab my Lamborghini, and then I blast that Taylor Swift song—you know the one, that Elizabeth Taylor song?—total bop—all the way to the brewery. There isn’t a game tonight, but now that the college season’s on, I can’t attend most of them, relying on Ethan and my other staff to make sure everything runs smoothly.
The parking lot’s nearly empty, so I park on an angle and head inside. I only have heavy security around for game nights, so there’s no one there to greet me. It’s not until I reach the main part of the lounge area, where we sometimes serve drinks, that I hear anything.
“Oh, yeah. Right there. Right. Fucking. There,” Ethan’s voice rings out from somewhere in the back.
