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“I’m sorry to hear that.”
“I’m not saying any of this to get sympathy; I’m just trying to explain where I’m coming from.”
“I get that.” Will nods slowly, then looks back at his parents’ house. “My parents moved in here when Caleb was little—just before I was born, I think. Lived here all my life. I’m not the one that paid it off for them. It wasn’t Jules or any of the other brothers.”
I frown at him, listening.
“It was Natalie. She came into the family when she was in college with Jules. They were best friends, and Natalie lost her parents in a plane crash. She inherited some money, not that any of us was concerned about that. My parents just wanted to give her a place to land, you know?”
I nod, but I don’t know what that’s like at all.
“She was the first one that we brought into the family that didn’t necessarily belong here by blood. After college, her business was taking off, so she paid off my parents’ house because she was grateful to them and because she loves them.”
Will sighs and looks back over to me.
“I had offered to pay off their mortgage many times before that. My parents were not broke, but like most families, they had a mortgage to pay. They wouldn’t let me. My dad told me that the money I made from playing was my paycheck, not his. Every time I offered, they’d thank me, and Dad would say, ‘Nah, I’m fine, son.’”
“But they let Natalie?”
“They didn’t have a choice. She didn’t ask. She simply did. That’s pretty typical for the women in our family. She called up the bank and paid for it. And I wasn’t mad. It ended up happening that way for a reason, I guess. Natalie felt that she needed to do it for my parents. She wanted to repay them for their love and hospitality. I guess I’m telling you this because you’ve been beating yourself up for giving all that money to your dad.”
“It was way more than just paying off a mortgage.”
“I know that. And I know that you did it for different reasons, too, but you weren’t wrong for doing it. No matter how bad your dad can be, you still love him, and you wanted to help him and your mom because they’re your parents.”
“Yeah, and look where it got me. I stood up to him, and he fucking spewed lies about me and tried to ruin my career.”
Will’s eyes narrow on me. “Do you know that for sure?”
“I’ve done the math, Will. I don’t have to confront him. He’d lie about it anyway.”
My phone rings again, which just pisses me off more.
“All I wanted in life was for my dad to be proud of me. That’s it. But not one time did he ever say those words to me. All he did was bask in what he considered his glory and hold his hand out. This last contract? He called it ours.”
I shake my head and pace down the length of the truck and back again.
“And now, I have this whole shit show going on with the team because he’s pissed off, even after everything I fucking did for him.”
My phone rings again.
“You should answer that.”
I stare down at my dad’s name and then hit accept.
“Yeah.”
He’s quiet for a second. “Hi, Ike. Listen, I’m not thrilled to be making this call. I don’t have much to say to you right now.”
“Then I guess I can hang up.”
“Wait. Don’t do that.” I can just picture him scowling. “You should know that I got a call about a week ago from Florence. She was going to offer to pay me a lot of money to call the media and tell some lies about you. Now, I admit, I was pretty pissed about everything, and I still am, but I told her no.”
“Why are you calling me now? Why didn’t you call me when it happened?”
“Because you’re on my shit list, son.” His voice is loud and defiant, and I wipe my hand over my mouth in agitation.
“Easy,” Will says.
“But I think you should know who you’re working for.”
“How do I know this isn’t another lie? A game?”
“I’m not lying to you. Believe what you want, but I said what I needed to. Good luck.”
He hangs up, and I just stare at the phone.
“I don’t know if I can believe him.”
“I do.”
My head whips up at Will’s comment. “Why?”
“What does he have to lose? He’s not lying. And, knowing Florence, it doesn’t surprise me that she’d pull something like this.”
Before I can ask more questions, my phone rings again, and Will’s phone pings with a message.
“We’re popular today,” I mutter and answer the phone, putting it on speaker. “This is Ike.”
“This is Alex,” my attorney says. “There’s been a development. It seems that Florence didn’t take into consideration that when you were accused of cheating, the entire team would be put under a microscope.”
