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"I'm working," I pointed out. Was there someone I could grab to take my place? Yes, but she didn't need to know that. Her frown deepened and I bit back a comment about it leading to wrinkles. That was, after all, her greatest fear.
"Son," Dad warned in that tone of his that would bring lesser men to their knees.
"Look. If you want to make plans, you know my number. I take my work seriously. Would you leave your job unfinished at the drop of a hat?" I questioned. He met my glare head on before a begrudging nod was sent my way.
"When is your lunch?"
Great, it seemed they weren't giving up on this.
"Twelve-thirty," I relented, knowing I'd have to give in or there would be hell to pay. They barely forgave me for spending my trust on this place and keeping up with hockey. Law school wasn't for me and if he thought giving me an entry-level position would appease me he was severely mistaken. I was proud of this gym and the blood, sweat, and tears that went into making it a thriving business. We had more money than we knew what to do with and managed to keep our membership fees affordable. I'd call that a huge fucking win.
They wouldn't.
The silence they left behind was deafening. I barely had a chance to breathe before Brock was rushing in, eyes scanning the space before landing on me.
"They left already? I thought I'd have to save you," he noted as he came over and hopped up on the counter to stare down at me.
"I'm going to lunch with them," I admitted.
He narrowed his eyes. "Why?"
We had talked about cutting them out so many times but I had yet to bring myself to do it. They were still family and that little boy inside of me that craved their approval was still there, forcing me to try and win them back. This wasn't enough and I knew every hockey win we made was unnoticed. You'd think I'd take self-preservation more seriously.
"Macy is coming in for swim class with Tate and the old biddies at two," he said.
"That's great," I hedged, unsure what connection he was trying to make here. My friend was great, always looking out for us, but sometimes he wasn't the best at words.
"Ask her to go with you," he said with a shrug. "Maybe a buffer would be nice. You can always keep the fact she's with all three of us quiet."
"Is she even with us?" I asked as I scrubbed a hand over my face. We had made it clear we weren't going to be satisfied with a simple fuck but I was still waiting for her to run. This was a lot for anyone. Especially someone dealing with the fallout of a shitty relationship.
"Yes," he said confidently as he pulled out his phone. He pulled up her number and put her on speaker. It rang twice before her voice came through.
"Hey, handsome," she flirted. "Miss me already?"
I raised an eyebrow but all he gave away was a cocky grin.
"Of course, I do," he said. "But we have a problem."
"What's up?" she asked, all business now.
"Elias's parents stopped by. He's being forced to go to an awful berating lunch," Brock explained.
"Assholes," she huffed. "Want me to go and tell them off?"
"Damn, you're good," Brock whistled. "Think you're up to the challenge? Elias is always a mess after these. I'm trying to avoid that. If I go I might have to fight his dad and I don't look good in prison orange."
"I'll be there. What time? I need to run home and change. I can't show up in overalls."
"You could," I said with a laugh, already picturing mom's horrified face. "We leave at twelve-thirty."
"No chance. I'd rather show up hot as hell," she said before hanging up without a goodbye.
"I can fight my battles, you know," I growled at Brock. It held no heat and he didn't even look surprised by my protests.
"You can," he agreed. "But you won't."
Damn. The fucking accuracy.
