Maxim (Carolina Reapers 10)

“Fix. It.” Dad snatched the magazine out of my hand and walked off to where his rental car was parked at the back of the lot.

“Who the hell gave that dick a parking pass?” Jansen asked.

I spun around on him. “Stay out of this.”

Jansen’s eyes widened. “I’m sorry?”

“Stay. Out. Of. This.” I ground out every word between clenched teeth.

“You want me to watch as that fucker beats you down?” His brow furrowed.

“I want you to steer clear of him. You have no idea what he’s like, and trust me, you’re all the better for it. Push him like that and he’ll just come back harder and stronger to prove his point. He doesn’t lose, and that goes for something as simple as an argument. He will shove his way into every facet of my life until he has me outside shooting pucks at three in the morning in nothing but warm-ups in negative ten-degree weather!” Fuck me, I could still hear my teeth chatter, still hear the doctor’s shock at the frostbite on my toes, and my mother’s stammered excuses.

“I know—” he started.

“You don’t know! That’s what I’m trying to say, Sterling!” I ripped my hands over my hair. “You’ve never been dragged out of your bed in the middle of the night because he just got home and heard you didn’t score enough during your peewee game. You’ve never been handed a stick in your pajamas and told that you get to go back to bed once you can get a goal past him, one of the best goalies in the NHL. You’ve never felt your hands go numb and known that if you complain he’ll just keep you out there longer. You. Don’t. Know!”

The parking lot fell silent.

Axel’s eyes were wide from where he stood behind Jansen, flanked by Brogan and Sawyer.

Fuck me. I’d lost it. My chest heaved, my heart thundered, and there was no way to shove those words back inside, to erase them from everyone’s memory.

“Maxim,” Jansen whispered. “What the hell did he do to you?”

“Just forget I said anything. It’s nothing you need to worry about.” I hated the pity that washed through his gaze. “Stop looking at me like that.”

“How old were you?” he asked softly.

“It doesn’t matter.” I turned and yanked my keys from my pocket, stabbing the unlock button with my finger.

“It matters!” Jansen followed. “He’s my father, too, you know.”

“He’s not!” I whipped around, jabbing my finger at his chest. “You might have his genes, but this right here”— I poked just above his heart — “he didn’t touch this, warp this. The difference between us, brother, is that I am everything I am—asshole attitude included—because of him, and you are everything you are in spite of him. So as much as you’d love this to be a little bonding moment between us, or your shining second where you get revenge on the sperm donor who abandoned your mom, it’s not going to be. You didn’t grow up with him. You weren’t punished for every missed goal. You weren’t screamed at on the way home from the few games a year he’d actually watch in person. You didn’t fear the sound of his footsteps on the stairs. You don’t get it because you can’t. So why don’t you get in your goddamned car and go back to your wife and live out your happily ever after, because some of us don’t get that.” I threw open my door and stepped into my SUV, but Jansen threw out his hand, stopping the door from shutting.

“Just tell me how old you were,” he pleaded. “Help me understand.”

“Which time?” I huffed a sarcastic laugh.

“Where he made you shoot on him in the middle of the night.”

“That particular time? Twelve.”

Sterling’s jaw dropped and he staggered backward. I took the opportunity and closed my door, getting the fuck out of there as quickly as possible. Jansen didn’t understand. He couldn’t, and God, I envied him that.

Even Mila wouldn’t fully get it. She’d been shielded from the worst of it just by being a girl.

There was only one person who could really understand, and I punched his contact on my phone and the call connected through my speakers as I pulled out onto the highway.

“Maxim?” David’s voice filled my speakers, and as childish as it was, my heartbeat settled.

“Dad is here. In Charleston.”

“Charleston?” I heard something shuffle in the background, like David was changing his position. “How long has he been there?”

“A month.” I merged into traffic.

“Fuck. Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” His voice rose slightly.

“Because you have your own life to lead, out there being a successful lawyer and shit.”

He scoffed, sounding way too much like me. “Successful is a term that has many definitions.”

“Says the lawyer.”

“Ha. Seriously, does Mom know?”

“I would guess she’s noticed that he hasn’t been home this month,” I quipped. Mom was probably enjoying the quiet time away from Dad.