Keeping Kane (Face-Off Legacy/Campus Kings 2)

Six

Tucker

My dad stands tall, his hands on his hips, his jaw set so tight it looks as though it could snap in half. He glares at me first, because all of this is my fault, and then at Trent. He’s so mad he hasn’t spoken a word, only stares at us, the anger scrolling across his face. We look like him, the younger, better-looking versions of our father. That’s what we tell him when Trent and I want to get a rise out of him.

But neither of us will ever be him. We’ll never be as good as him at hockey or as perfect as him in every other aspect of life. At least that’s how it feels sometimes. Like we can never measure up to the legendary Tyler Kane. He’s so untouchable, so hard to surpass.

I shove my hands in my pockets, keeping my head down, my eyes pointed at the marble floor and ready for my next punishment. “I’m sorry, Dad. I didn’t mean to get Trent in trouble, too. Blame it on me. It’s all my fault.”

It’s always my fault. I’m the family fuck-up.

I can hear him suck in deep breaths, blowing each one out more forceful than the last. His hands are clenched at his sides, and when he moves them to cross his arms over his chest, I make eye contact with him. We have the same clear, blue irises as him, the same eyes my older brother and sister have as well.

“I have enough on my plate,” he growls, finally speaking after the longest, most awkward pause ever. “I don’t need this shit right now.”

My mom comes up to his side and wraps her tiny hand around his thick bicep.

“Go easy on them, Tyler,” Mom says, and he relaxes at her side.

No one can calm my dad down faster than our mom. She’s the best, always there to defend us whenever we get into trouble. Maybe that’s the problem. Someone is always there to dig us out of another hole, and we take it for granted. We know we can fuck up and it will be handled.

“When will the two of you learn your lesson?” Dad pushes his hands to his waist, flexing his jaw. “After all the times I’ve had to speak with Dean Whittaker, beg him to let me make a contribution or smooth things over in other ways, you still don’t seem to understand the consequences of your actions. I sent you to college to get an education, and hopefully, get enough exposure to make it to the NHL on your own… not to ruin your shot before you even get one. Do you know how much I had to sacrifice to get where I am today?” He grinds his teeth together, more pissed off than I’ve seen him in a long time. “Huh? Do you?”

“Yes,” Trent and I say at the same time.

We know exactly what he’d given up to get to where he is today because he’s never let us forget. It’s hard to ignore the fact we have a half-brother, who now knows he was given up for adoption by Dad and his high school girlfriend.

Our grandfather had convinced our dad that it was the right decision, one he had regretted from the second he’d signed the adoption papers. Giving up Blake was the hardest thing he’d ever done, the one thing he did to make it to the big show, or at least that was what his dad told him to help make the decision easier. But he’d always regretted his choice, and it wasn’t until Dad met Mom that he realized he could have it all—a career and family.

“We won’t do it again,” I promise, as I’ve said so many times over the years and never kept it.

“You’re not sorry,” Dad says, stepping forward, his face so close to mine I can feel his breath on my cheek. “You’re only sorry you got caught.” He reaches up, and for a second, I think he’s going to punch me, but instead, he cups the side of my face in his big hand. “Why do you keep doing this to me, Tucker? Have I not given you everything you’ve ever wanted? Everything you ever needed?”

“I’m sorry,” I say again, meaning it more than the last. The hurt look in his eyes hits me like a punch to the kidney. “I’ll make this right.”

“How?” He releases his grip on my face, his hand dropping to his side, and takes a step back. “Sitting out for two games is not enough to make you stop. You keep conning Trent into trading places with you, and for some moronic reason, your brother keeps agreeing.” His eyes leave mine, long enough to shoot daggers in Trent’s direction. “I expect more from you. You know better than to go along with Tuck’s hare-brained schemes, and yet you do it anyway.”