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The purpose of this event is to help underprivileged youth, and based on the way the man’s treating his own son, I’m starting to question how charitable he really is.
“I saw you suffered an injury earlier this season,” he lowers his hand and continues as if I didn’t just slight him. “How are you feeling?”
“Much better. Tripp’s been helping me with my recovery.”
“That’s what doctors are for, right?” Another silver-haired man appears out of nowhere, placing a hand on Tripp’s shoulder.
“Judge Calahan.” The smile Tripp offers is slight yet genuine.
“Uncle to you. Finally back stateside, I see.” The judge returns the grin. “I’ve gotta say, I never pegged you for the Doctors Without Borders sort, but your parents said you’re really making an impact. Good for you. Are you back to make some real money now?”
Tripp cocks an eyebrow toward his father as he bites the corner of his lip, and I have only a brief second to wonder which will win out, the brat or the good boy. As if it was ever really a question.
“Doctor, huh? And an international one. I suppose the altruistic son angle might get you a few votes. I expected you to go with a kid who died tragically young, but I guess there’s really no explanation for someone coming back from the dead in awkward little run-ins like these, so, good choice not killing me off in your fantasy world.”
“Fantasy world?” The judge casts a wary gaze between father and son. “What’s going on here?” he asks as his hand slides off Tripp’s shoulders.
“Nothing,” Charles replies. “A misunderstanding.”
“You’re saying disowned wrong, Pop.”
Before Charles can respond, a middle-aged woman in a floor-length gown with perfectly coiffed blond hair glides into the foyer. “There you are Charles. The guests have been asking—” Her voice drops off as her gaze lands on Tripp, and like her husband, she expertly pivots direction after only the slightest pause. “Preston, darling. What a lovely surprise. I didn’t know you’d be here for this event.”
Anticipating the need for a quick exit, I meet Niko’s eyes and toss him my keys. He and Xander slip away as Tripp’s mother strides toward him, leaning forward to place a kiss on his cheek, which he steps away from. “Don’t let the clothes fool you. I’m still a filthy gay man, mother. The streets didn’t scare it out of me.”
“Preston?” She shoots lost looks between father, son and the judge, and if I hadn’t witnessed the exchange with his father, I admit I might've been fooled by her feigned confusion. My new insight makes her act hard to miss. Apparently, the judge agrees.
“Just where exactly has my Godson been for the last decade?” The judge’s eyes are little more than narrow slits.
“Overseas,” Charles digs his heels in.
Tripp snorts. “I’ve never even left the country since you had my passport. Plus, it’s kind of hard to get another one without the proper identification.”
“Without… Why in the hell would you not have proper identification?” The judge’s voice rises an octave, drawing the attention of some of the guests.
“I only had my driver’s license on me when they kicked me out.”
“They kicked… And you didn’t come to me?” the judge asks.
Tripp looks at the man who apparently considers himself an uncle, a contrite look on his face. “They said you’d be obligated to put me in juvie for a drug offense they’d un-bury if I tried to reach out to you or come home. Sixteen-year-old me believed it.”
The judge wheels on Tripp’s parents, but I don’t hear his angry words. I’m too focused on my boyfriend.
My stomach roils at the thought of a young Tripp, cast out by the people who were supposed to love him. No wonder he’s so terrified of relationships. The one that’s supposed to be unconditional failed him, bringing him nothing but pain and disappointment. And rather than respect his fear, I’ve been pushing him to face it without ever understanding the magnitude of what I was asking.
I’m known for being level-headed, even on the ice. But right now, I’d like nothing more than to drive my fist into Charles’s face. Instead, I hold my hand out to Tripp, pulling him to my chest when he takes it.
“I’m so sorry,” I whisper in his ear as I wrap my arms around his shoulders. “I never would’ve brought you here if I’d known.”
“It’s okay.” Tripp wraps his arms around my waist.
“No, it’s not. You have the same last name for God’s sake, and I didn’t think twice about it.”
“Cooper’s pretty common. And it’s not like I told you enough about my past to make you think there’d be a connection.”
Pulling back, I cup his face in my hands. “I knew you had a past though. Something you didn’t want to talk about. And because of me you had to face it without warning.”
“It was a long time coming.” He gives me a tight smile.
