Page 85 of Our Final Game

“What’s this?”

“I’m not going to take over our family business. I’ve paid the rest of Max’s tuition and transferred enough money into his account for him to be okay until he graduates.”

My father is quiet, the only sound being the clock on the wall and our soft breathing. He leans back in the chair, a smirk forming across his face slowly.

“I expect nothing less from my son.”

“I’m glad this pleases you, but I’m serious.”

“I know you are,” he chuckles.

“Stubborn, just like your mother,” he says, the mention of her feeling like a slap.

“Nice of you to acknowledge her.”

“I don’t know why you assume I don’t think of her, Tyson.”

“Do you?”

The pause between us stings.

“I do.”

I swallow and try to bite back the tears I haven’t allowed to fall since her funeral. Holding my father’s gaze, I wish I could see that he was sincere, but his exterior is so cold, so stoic. I want to believe he hasn’t forgotten her, forgotten how we used to be a family.

“You’re going to do well in business, Tyson.”

“Thanks,” I mutter. “I’m going now.”

I head toward the door, my shaking hand hovers over the knob. “Have a good night, Dad.”

“You too, Tyson.”

The weight of the last almost ten years falls away from my body, hearing him just before the door closes behind me.

* * *

“How’d it go?” Rohan says, his brows pinched. He’s been worrying over the meeting with my dad more than I have. I found him snacking on three bags of chips, something he does when he’s anxious. I’m sure he was in the lobby pacing the entire time before that. Rohan wraps his arms around my waist, his curls tickling my chin.

He’s so adorable.

“As good as it’ll go with my dad,” I chuckle.

“I guess that’s good then. You don’t have to work for the company?” he asks, looking up at me.

“I guess not. He didn’t really have much pushback.” I shrug. “He probably was impressed I had the balls to do that.”

“You’ve got a really crazy family, you know that?” Rohan chuckles.

“Oh, I know.”

“Speaking of family, let’s get to your parents. The fruit’s in the car, right?”

“Yes, yes, you literally carried it with you this morning.”

We make it back to my car, and I double-check that the box of fruit is really there, though I know it is. This meeting with Rohan’s family has me more nervous than telling my dad to fuck off. I’ve only met one of my ex’s parents, and does that really count when you’re teenagers? This feels like it actually means something.

“Hey, Ty, I’m really proud of you,” Rohan says when I get in the driver’s seat, wrapping the seatbelt around my body and clicking into place.