Total pages in book: 169
Estimated words: 162138 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 811(@200wpm)___ 649(@250wpm)___ 540(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 162138 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 811(@200wpm)___ 649(@250wpm)___ 540(@300wpm)
“I’m about to enter the draft,” I said, since it was one of the many reasons I couldn’t pursue a relationship.
“What is Lang saying about the draft?”
“Everything is set. There’s nothing to say.”
“He’s your agent. He should be keeping you updated,” she said. “Are you still the number one pick?”
I cocked my head. “What do you think?”
“That arrogance will bite you in the ass one day.” She pointed at me. “Speaking of which, your father came by.”
I stiffened. I hated her mentioning him as if he showed up regularly and was a decent father. The only commendable thing anyone could say he’d done was throw money at us. He’d paid for this house, our education, my hockey equipment, Liam’s computer shit, and his college tuition. Even if I explained the situation to a stranger and told them that he was an absent father who was never there for us and only showed up a few times a year, they'd say it could be worse. He could be an absent father who didn’t pay for shit. That would be preposterous, though. The Duke family was rich as fuck. My mother practically made a killing just by birthing us. I would say it was why she’d always come to his defense, but it wasn’t.
My sweet, naive mother was in love with the fucking asshole. I couldn’t comprehend how anyone could love a man who didn’t love your children and, in our case, his children. The entire situation was mind-blowing. My mother kept up with her appearance and looked much younger than she was. She was fun to be around and had a heart of gold. All things that should make any man shower her with attention, but nope. She chose Henry Duke, who couldn’t give a shit if he tried.
“Did you tell him to fuck off?” I asked when she didn’t add anything to her statement.
“Lachlan!” She whipped the kitchen towel at my arm. “He’s your father.”
“He’s dead to me.”
“You need to stop saying that.” She turned back to the oven. “He wants to start trying with you guys.”
“Trying what exactly?” I sat up straighter.
“To be more present,” she said quietly.
I blinked. “Why?”
Why the fuck would he want to try now? Because he knew I was going pro and suddenly wanted to show me off? I knew that couldn’t be it. My father showed up to some of my games and watched me play with the same expression he probably had when he was going through his taxes. Afterward, he’d take us out to eat, let my mother ask questions, and quietly listened to our answers. We’d always get a pat on the back and one of three things: “Good job,” “You did good out there,” or he’d pick one thing we mentioned during our flash quiz answers at dinner and say something about it. Then, he’d leave and not show up again for weeks, sometimes months. It made no sense that he wanted to try now. Maybe he wanted to tell us directly that he would no longer pay for our shit and that we needed to get “real jobs.” Maybe he wanted to come around since I was about to graduate from his alma mater, and he wanted to show face so people wouldn’t forget who he was. Fuck him. My face must have shown that I was brooding because Mom waited a long moment before finally speaking.
“You’re his heirs,” she said.
“So?”
“He’s sick, Lach,” she said quietly.
“Oh.” I laughed loudly, unamused. “Is he dying? Is that why? We’re the only ones he can leave his empire to, and he wants to make sure we won’t burn it to the ground?”
Mom flinched. “Lachlan.”
“Tell him not to bother. If he wanted us to be his heirs so badly, he would have been there when he was supposed to.”
“I know, honey, and he feels bad that he wasn’t.”
“Mom,” I shook my head with a sigh. She just didn’t get it. “Showing up to celebrate us and ignoring us the rest of the time isn’t enough.”
She waited a moment before saying, “He wants me to move in with him.”
My knee stopped bouncing. I stared at her. I knew my mother. She was only saying this because she’d already made the decision. . .ohmyfuckinggodthismotherfuckingasshole. I was going to explode. I took a large cleansing breath that did nothing to calm me down. I needed to leave before I started breaking shit. I hadn’t done that in a long time, but I felt like I might. This motherfucker wanted my mother to move in with him because he was dying and needed someone to play nurse? Fuck him. I wish I could shake my mother hard and make her see the light, but I’d never do that to her. Even if I did, she wouldn’t see it. Her weakness toward him was so fucking disappointing.