Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 77775 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 389(@200wpm)___ 311(@250wpm)___ 259(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77775 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 389(@200wpm)___ 311(@250wpm)___ 259(@300wpm)
The trip over to Dad’s goes by in a flash. Bittersweet memories assault my mind, reminding me of the rush of running down the football field, high on the game. If I could turn back time, I’d still skip school that day, but I’d go home instead. I’d save Mom, help her get out of her depression over the divorce, and join the NFL like Coach wanted.
By the time I reach Dad’s door, those thoughts fade as more pressing ones enter. I barge into the house and pass by his office door that’s closed. I can hear Tate talking to someone, Spencer maybe, muffled through the door. I find Dad sitting on the back patio drinking coffee. His brows lift upon seeing me.
“Morning, Son. Here for a session with Tate?”
I sneer behind my mask. “Fuck no.”
Dad frowns and sets his mug down. “What’s wrong?”
“Check your email.”
He pulls his phone from the table and opens it up. Seconds later, I can hear Tate’s voice from the video. I wait for Dad to explode with fury.
Seconds go by.
Nothing.
I clear my throat to gain his attention in case he zoned out in horror. Finally, he sets his phone down and sighs. “I already knew about this.”
He what?
“Dad,” I growl, anger vibrating through the word.
“I know,” he grumbles, waving off my reaction. “It’s serious.”
Damn right it’s serious.
“What was his response?”
“I didn’t ask him,” Dad admits. “I just realized this was terrible enough he’d be compliant and keep our family’s secrets.”
Unbelievable.
“You let this man talk to your children and grandchildren? Spencer, and especially Dempsey, are impressionable. Aren’t you worried?”
He sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Tate has already proven himself to me.”
“Dad, you’re fucking blind.”
“Watch your tone, Jude.”
“I can’t,” I bark out in exasperation. “You’re willingly exposing our family to this bullshit!”
“I’m not firing him.”
We have a fierce stare-off to which neither of us backs down. The problem with us Parks is we’re all the same. Stubborn assholes.
“We’re confronting him then,” I tell him in a resolute tone. “I, for one, can’t trust someone with this sort of secret. I need to see his expression when he tells us what happened.”
Dad nods and stands from his chair. “We’ll confront him. I should have from the beginning. You’re right about that. But he’s already made such an impact. Everyone likes him. They talk to him.”
I don’t like him.
I certainly don’t talk to him.
“Speak for yourself,” I grunt. “Come on. Let’s get this shit over with.”
We end up waiting for a bit while Spencer finishes his session. Dad’s idea, not mine. Once Spencer is gone, we both enter Dad’s office. Tate smiles in greeting.
“Father and son session?” Tate asks, eyes glittering with hope.
“We need to talk,” Dad mutters. The disappointment in his words makes my gut clench and Tate’s whole body tense up. “Something’s come up.”
Tate clenches his eyes shut in resignation—as though he’s prepared for what we’re going to say. He already knows. Well, he’s going to have to hear it anyway.
“You have a kinky sex video that you harass your coworkers with that has gotten you fired in the past,” I blurt out, a tad bit gleefully. “Explain.”
Tate’s eyes pop open, disgust swimming in them. He bites down on his bottom lip and blinks furiously. It takes me a second to realize he’s fighting tears. Guilt niggles at me, but I quickly push it away.
“To be clear, I knew about the video,” Dad interjects. “One of my country club buddies mentioned it to me, which is why I sought you out.”
Tate shudders, mouth gaping. “You tricked me?”
“I saw an opportunity and jumped,” Dad explains. “Your reputation is a tool for me.”
There’s the vicious Park patriarch we all know and love…
“Wow. That’s…”
“Deceptive?” I offer. “So is hiding that sick shit from us.”
Tate flinches as though my words physically wound him, but he says nothing.
“Well?” I demand. “What do you have to say?”
“I’m sorry,” Tate rasps. “I don’t understand, though. If you knew about the video and hired me anyway, why are you bringing it up now? To keep me in line?” The tears build on his lids, liquifying his lying eyes. It’s almost pretty in a wicked sort of way.
“I think we should fire you,” I spit out. “You help minors. Are you showing them this video?”
Tate’s defeat morphs into rage and his eyebrows pinch together. “I am offended by such a heinous accusation.”
“Just answer the question.” I cross my arms over my chest, not giving in to his rollercoaster emotions.
“No.” He pins Dad with an earnest stare. “I would never.”
Dad relaxes, which doesn’t bode well for me.
“But you have harassed people with this damn video,” I remind him with a growl. “These things naturally progress—”
“I’m the therapist, not you,” Tate snaps, a rogue tear racing down his cheek. “I’m a victim of something private being used against me, if you absolutely must know.”