Maxim (Carolina Reapers 10)

“Because she’s staying with me while Mila is in Italy, which makes her my responsibility.” I grabbed my phone and shoved it into my back pocket.

“Little mouse of a girl,” Dad muttered, taking another sip. “I never understood what Mila saw in her as a friend.”

My hackles rose. “Probably that she’s—”

“Get out of my seat,” Sterling ordered Dad.

I shifted subtly, turning so I could step in front of Jansen if I needed to.

Dad laughed, low and mean. “You have quite the set of balls on you, Jansen.”

“Get out of my seat,” Sterling repeated, folding his arms across his chest.

“Tell me, are you about to make me a grandfather? You’ve been married to that girl…what’s her name?” Dad scratched the light beard on his chin. “That’s right…London. You’ve been married almost a year now.”

“Don’t even talk about my wife and get out of my seat,” Sterling seethed.

“So sensitive, just like your brother.” Dad shook his head, threw a twenty on the bar and stood. “I have a meeting to get to, anyway.”

I followed his gaze across the bar, where a leggy brunette waited, smiling and waving at Dad. Disgust rose like bile in my throat, but I kept my mouth shut.

“You know,” Dad said, turning to face Jansen. “I could give you a few pointers on your glove. You’re a little—”

“I don’t want or need a fucking thing from you. I got here on my own and I’ll stay here on my own.” He stepped around Dad and took the empty barstool, facing forward and turning his back on Dad.

The rage on Dad’s face as he openly glared at the back of Sterling’s head had me scrambling for something to say. “I’ll watch the films of the second period.”

Dad’s glare shifted to me. “Be sure that you do, Maxim. This is the first year any team you’ve been on has had a real shot at the finals—the Cup. Don’t fuck it up.”

He waved at the brunette and headed over to her, looping his arm around her waist once he got there and leading her toward the elevator.

“Asshole,” I muttered.

“Why the fuck do you let him talk to you like that?” Sterling stared at me like I’d lost my mind.

“You wouldn’t understand.” I sipped at the water and thanked the waiter when he put two fresh glasses in front of Sterling and me.

“I can understand dealing with his bullshit when you’re a kid, but you’re an adult now. Tell him to go fuck himself. What’s he going to do? Punch you in a crowded bar?”

“What makes you think I’m afraid of what he’ll do to me?” I snapped, yanking my phone from my back pocket and putting it back on the counter so I wouldn’t miss Evie texting me once she made it home.

Sterling’s brow puckered in confusion.

“My mom still lives at home with him.” I sighed. “When he’s actually home. There is no comeback, no snarky remark I could make that would be worth what he’d do to her to punish me.”

Jansen blinked, and pulled his drink closer to him with a nod. “Doesn’t look like he respects his vows, either. Does she know?”

I nodded. “I made the mistake of telling her once. She informed me that she was more than aware of my father’s extracurricular activities and she didn’t need them thrown in her face.” I stared at the ice in my drink. “Then she told me it was our fault because she’d stopped traveling with the team when we were born.”

“Fuck,” he mumbled. “Great parenting skills there.”

“Don’t,” I hissed, snapping my head to glare at him.

“What?” His eyes flew wide.

“I’ll make you a deal. You don’t talk shit about my mom and I won’t talk shit about yours, got it?” There were some elements of my family that weren’t up for discussion. I didn’t care if he was my brother or not.

“Okay. Deal.” He swallowed and nodded slowly, as though he knew he’d crossed one of the few lines that still remained between us.

“Deal.” I chugged half the glass of water, wishing it was something a hell of a lot stronger.

“But we can still talk shit about Dad, right?” Sterling asked.

A smile tipped my lips. “Yeah, Dad’s fair game.”

“Excellent.”

The next night we were in Buffalo, then won there the night after, and boarded a plane straight from the arena heading to Boston.

It was almost midnight before our bus pulled into the hotel, and I texted from the lobby as room keys were being handed out, forcing my eyes wide to stay standing.

I was tired as hell.

Maxim: Just getting here. I’ll call from the room.

Evie responded with a kiss-face emoji. Thank God she hadn’t sent that while my Dad had been watching.

Had to admit though, it was cute. Everything about Evie was cute—her laugh, her blushes, the way she’d been learning to bake as healthily as possible. And whatever wasn’t cute about her was sexy as hell. In fact, I had yet to discover one thing I didn’t like about her, which was both awesome and fucking terrifying.