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“No kidding.” I feel like the most unfortunate loser on Planet Earth, but the sad look on Beck’s face says I’m the lucky one. “Please don’t tell me he’s been a good dad. I can’t stand the idea he might have a redeeming quality.”
He rakes his fingers through his hair again. It’s standing on end, mussed and out of place and just plainwrong.All of this is wrong.
“Sloan… you have to let me pay him off for you.”
I cringe. A little part of me knew that was coming. Another little part of me wants to accept, but I meant what I said: this isn’t his debt. This isn’t his problem.
I have to find my own way out.
I shake my head. “No. I have to do this alone. My father was a better alcoholic than he was a gambler, but what he lacked in talent, he made up for in effort. And when he died, I inherited his debt. He’s my family and I have to do this.”
Every penny I pay exorcizes another demon inside of me. My dad’s sins are baked into my DNA, but I want to purge myself of them. Of him.
And I want to do it myself.
Beck is unconvinced. “He’s a bastard, Sloan. You’ll never get him paid off. He’ll keep upping the terms, stretching it out with higher interest, new fees, fresh ways to keep you forking your lifeblood over to him.”
“He won’t do that to me. I have a friend. One of his guys.”
Even though Anton is the reason my dad got in with the Bloodhound in the first place, he’s always looked out for me.
“Sloan, the reason his guys are ‘his guys’ is because they’re assholes. Because they’re of like mind. Because they don’t care about getting their hands dirty for him. I don’t give a shit what any of them have told you; they aren’t nice guys who care about you. They’re bastards. Every last one of them.”
And what does that say about Beck? He’s not just one of Bloodhound’s guys. He’stheguy. The son. The princely heir to Bloodhound’s throne.
But I don’t say any of that.
Because how can I? I’ve been here for months and I’ve never seen any trace that the Bloodhound and Beck are alike. The Bloodhound is a cold-hearted snake. Beck is a lion, a giver, loyal to a fault and just as fierce.
And yet…
He’s just as controlling as his father is. Just as possessive. Just as demanding. So who’s to say that one day—maybe even one day soon—all the things I love in Beck will rot into a personality not unlike his daddy’s?
“I can see you comparing me and him right now.” His smile isn’t the usual. There’s nothing vibrant, nothing normal about it. He’s subdued. “I’m not like him, Sloan.”
“I know, Beck.” When he doesn’t perk up, I move closer to him. “I said Iknow, Beck. I’m just… This is a lot of information to digest.”
It’s hard to blame him for not telling me. I can understand not being proud of your father. I don’t exactly run around bragging about mine.
His eyes are hazy with memory. “I don’t know what my mom saw in him in the first place, or why she stuck around long enough to have me.” He looks at me, but not like he’s seeing me. More as though he’s looking around me or through me, into the past he can’t change no matter how hard he tries. “All I know is that I have done everything I can to overcome who he is to become who I am.” He sighs and cracks his knuckles. “I know you well enough to know I can’t change your mind here, no matter how bad I want to. But… I don’t want you seeing him by yourself. He’s not a good man, Sloan.”
I swallow and nod. “I know,” I whisper.
But what I really want to ask is…
Are you?
I told Beck I can handle this and I’m going to handle it. One way or the other. So when morning comes, I call Anton.
I put the phone on speaker and set it on the breakfast table between Beck and me. His face is long and weary. He must’ve slept about as much as I did—a.k.a., not at all.
“Hello?”
Beck’s face scrunches up at the sound of Anton’s voice.
“Hi,” I say. “It’s Sloan.”
“Damn, girl, I know who you are.” It’s early in the day, but he sounds like he’s been drinking. “How you doing?”
