Total pages in book: 58
Estimated words: 55599 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 278(@200wpm)___ 222(@250wpm)___ 185(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 55599 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 278(@200wpm)___ 222(@250wpm)___ 185(@300wpm)
“Yep. Now, they’re screwed. I know you’re paying me a lot, sir, but thanks. This was one hell of a job.”
After hanging up, I check the missed call. It’s from Emma. There’s a text too.
I’m going to tell Dad this morning. Mom and Eric already know. It’s a long story, but yeah, today, lunchtime. Or whenever he comes home. I’m sorry for bothering you when you’re training.
“Is everything okay?” Michael asks as I stare down at the phone.
I nod and try to smile at him, but this is it. The last minutes or hours before he learns the truth. Before he knows I’ve been sneaking around with his daughter—claiming her, owning her, impregnating her, and loving her.
“All good,” I say. “I just need to step outside to take a phone call.”
I walk outside and dial Emma.
“Logan?” she says in a desperate voice. It makes me wish I was there with her. The phone calls and the video chats have been a unique kind of torture, making me feel like an ass for not being there for my woman.
“I’m here,” I reply.
“Eric read my texts. Mom overheard us. She knows, and she doesn’t hate me. I told her everything you said about having a house and a family. I told her you’re going to stand by the baby. She seems happy about it, but—”
“I’m here, Emma,” I cut in, “in California. I’m with your dad.”
“What the… What the…”
“Heck?” I offer.
She laughs softly, despite everything. That’s my Emma down to a tee. Despite everything, she’s always got light in her, no matter how messy it gets. “Yeah.”
“It’s a long story,” I say, “but if you’re going to tell him, I think we should do it together.”
“Wait, are you coming home with him?”
“Yeah, I think I have to. I think it’s the only honorable thing we can do now.”
Listen to me talking about honor. I fucked Emma with her dad sleeping maybe ten or fifteen feet away, separated by a few walls. I fucked her hard and deep, and if I were back there, I’d do it again. Maybe I’d try not to, but I would.
“Okay,” she says. “You’re right. Together.”
I hang up and go inside. Michael’s at the desk, idly pushing the mug around.
“Michel,” I say. “I need to ask you a favor.”
He stands, ready. “Anything. After that, anything.”
“Let me come home with you.”
“To the house?” Michael says. “Well, sure.”
He sounds so innocent and confused. He’s looking at me as if wondering why it’s such a big deal, and there’s nothing I can do. Not yet. Just ride in the car and spring it on him like an intervention. But warning him would mean telling, and I can’t. It’s not my place.
“That was a real clapper last week, Logan,” he says as he heads to the car. “It’s because of the facewash, right?”
I can’t help but grin. “You were watching?”
“Oh yeah. I’ve been watching all your games.”
“Yeah. It was because of the facewash. I made him look like a fool on his own court. It has to be done sometimes. Winning isn’t just about the mechanics of the game. It’s morale. It’s…”
I trail off, amazed. I’m talking like I haven’t spent my entire career focusing on the nuts and bolts of it. Since learning about my baby, I started playing with more fire and purpose. Like every game is a war to see my woman and my child.
Michael looks at me over the roof of the car. “I was worried when you disappeared.”
I swallow. Imagine if he knew I was right here, and that I was the masked vigilante. He will know soon, some of it. When I don’t reply, he climbs into the car. I open the door and take a moment. Things could go very badly.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Emma
I stand at the window, my hand on the curtain, looking out onto the street. When Jack skated by and asked if Eric wanted to grind the rail, Eric looked at Mom, all at once, a kid again. He had no desire to get involved in the boring grownup showdown. Mom glanced at me as if to say, It was your phone he was snooping on.
I nodded. Why not? He knows it was wrong, and, knowing Mom’s parenting style, he will pay the price somehow, whether through allowance or privileges.
“It sounds like they’re having fun out there,” Mom says from her armchair. She’s frantically knitting, the needles clicking together like nervous mouse teeth. “But I’ll make sure he never snoops on another phone. Believe me. Any sign of Dad?”
“No,” I reply, turning away, forcing myself to sit down, my hand over my belly.
“You’ve been to the doctor?” Mom says. When I nod, she lets out a long sigh of relief. “This is such a wondrous occasion—a child. Look at you. You’re glowing. I should’ve noticed. I really should’ve paid more attention.”