My dad is a monster.
“You’re disgusting,” I spit out.
“My patience is wearing thin with that mouth of yours,” he snaps, making me jolt. “Now, realize that you are a McAlister. Not some long-lost son of Bryan’s. He’ll just use you for some vindictive game. It’s high time this friendship ends with his boy. You need to focus on school, your fiancée, and your place in this community.” He flashes me his million-dollar smile. “We have a legacy to maintain.”
“Does Mom know?” I ask, my voice husky.
“About what?”
“Your affair.”
His features darken. “Which one?”
Dirty asshole.
When his phone rings, I let out a sigh of relief the moment he answers and stalks into the house. I walk past my garage and into Cope’s house. He’s in the kitchen making a couple of sandwiches when I round the corner.
I take a moment to admire him.
He’s lost his shirt and shoes, standing there in holey jeans that hang low on his hips. I’m mesmerized by the happy trail that dips below the waistband of his jeans. I lick my lips, suddenly eager to suck on his dick.
“What’d your dad want?” he asks, handing me one of the sandwiches.
I grab it and peel my stare from his abdomen to meet his eyes. “To fuck with my life a little more.” Guilt floods through me. “He said some bad shit.”
Cope takes a bite of his sandwich and chews with his mouth open, mumbling the word, “What?” around his chewing.
“That he had an affair with your mom.” I wince at saying the harsh words. I know how much of a sore spot Cope’s mother is to him.
He grunts and takes another bite. “My dad told me.”
“What? Why didn’t you tell me?” I demand, storming over to him until our chests are nearly touching. “That’s not the shit you keep from your best friend.”
He takes another bite from his sandwich, his blue, blazing eyes locked on mine. “No? Well, it’s the shit you keep from your boyfriend so he doesn’t feel bad for what a fucker his dad is.” He polishes off the sandwich. No longer hungry, I toss mine back on the plate.
I let out a heavy sigh and lean against him, burying my nose against the side of his neck. “You don’t have to protect me.”
“But I don’t have to hurt you either.” He swallows down the rest of his food and hugs me. “Your dad is a dick. So is mine. Just because they like to fuck with each other doesn’t mean we have to get pulled in too.” He pulls my no longer casted hand to his mouth and kisses my palm. “Finally got the cast off.”
“Finally.” Pulling away, I hook my thumbs into the top of his jeans. “How did Fenway Ink go?”
A wide grin stretches across his face. “I start tomorrow. Unpaid apprenticeship, but I’ll get to learn the ropes, train under their artists, maybe even tattoo some people if I have willing victims.”
“I’ll be your victim,” I tell him without hesitation.
He laughs. “You’re such a masochist.”
“And you like dishing out pain, so that makes us evenly matched.”
Except when it comes to sex. For some reason, he wants to protect me from pain when it comes to sex. Or…
My thoughts darken.
What if he doesn’t want to have sex? What if he’s just blowing off the sex part because he knows he can’t do it?
Talking with my dad really has my self-doubt front and center. Cope senses my mood change because he frowns.
“What’s wrong?” he demands.
I shake my head. “Nothing. Just found out some shit earlier today.”
He reaches into a cabinet above the stove and pulls out a bottle of Jack. “What kind of shit?”
“About Leah.”
Cope whips around, his blue eyes flickering. “What about Leah?” He unscrews the top and takes a healthy swig. My eyes travel down his neck, lingering on his Adam’s apple that moves as he swallows, and then lands on the newest hickeys on his collarbone.
“She’s been dating Max.”
“Max? Who the fuck is Max?”
He takes another swallow of the liquor and hands me the bottle. Needing to chase away my lingering nerves, I drink a bitter swig.
“Luke Collins’s best friend.”
“The asshole who broke your fucking hand?” he seethes. “You’ve got to be kidding me. For how long? Why?”
“Like three weeks,” I grumble, taking another long pull of the liquor. “And who the hell knows.”
“Three weeks? When did she think to tell us?” He snags the bottle back and drinks more. “Everyone’s going to find out now.”
“No,” I assure him. “He really cares about her. Just about beat my ass again today.”
His glare becomes murderous as he steps closer to me. He swipes his thumb along my cheekbone that’s sore to the touch. “I thought Bryan did this to you.”
“Nope. Fuckin’ Max.”
“Want me to kill him?”
I chuckle. “As tempting as that sounds, I think my fiancée might get pissed at me. Raincheck?”