Perfect Bastard (Mason Creek)

“Nate, everything can be renegotiated, but this is the best deal. Sign on the damn line or I will for you. Spring training begins at the end of the month.”

“Fine.”

He sent a message to the owner, who quickly responded, saying they’d send the contract in a day or two. “You better pray that article doesn’t publish.”

Aiden’s friend Liam flew me back home the next day. I got my bag upstairs and was heading to check on the progress with the bunkhouse when a knock came at the door. Dad was near, but I beat him to it.

When I opened it, Avery stood drawing circles with her foot before looking up at me. And fuck me sideways. I was still struck stupid by her presence.

“Can I have a word with you?” she asked.

I said nothing because I was still mad as hell. But then Dad had to put his two cents in.

“Is that the woman you’ve been whining about these last few days?”

It didn’t matter that I hadn’t whined. Hell, I hadn’t been home. So I stepped out the door, shutting the old man out of the conversation. Then I held her gaze, hoping she’d get on with it.

TWENTY-EIGHT

Avery

When the door opened, the coldness in Nate’s eyes made me shiver.

“Can I have a word with you?”

He said nothing, though I didn’t blame him. His father came into view. There was no denying they were father and son. They resembled each other too well.

“Is that the woman you’ve been whining about these last few days?” his father asked. Nate didn’t react, but I could have sworn his dad winked at me.

I had to press my lips together to fight a grin. Once I met Nate’s frosty gaze, I didn’t have to try.

“I need to apologize,” I began. “I jumped to conclusions when Sunshine answered the door. I made assumptions because of things that have been said about you in the past and my own insecurities. I should have asked before making judgments.”

He barely blinked an eye as far as I could tell. I pushed on. “I never intended to publish that article. I brought it over to come clean about the things my dad had said growing up. I was going to tell you I sold a series of articles, not that one. I was so excited. When I saw her, it just fell out of my hands. But it’s never going to see the light of day, I swear.”

Nothing. His expression didn’t change.

“And you were right. My dad exaggerated events and that should have never been in the article anyway.” Worry forced the next words out of my mouth. “Can you say something?”

He complied, though I wished he hadn’t. “Are you done?”

I fingered the stick in my pocket, but ultimately said, “Yes.” It was more of a whisper as the back of my eyes burned with unshed tears. I fled to my car. I didn’t outright run, but I didn’t waste time getting the hell out of there.

It was over. He wasn’t going to forgive me. When I circled the drive, he wasn’t standing in the doorway like times past. The door was closed and so were whatever feelings he’d had for me.

My nose was red and raw by the time my father got home. I was curled in bed, having called out sick. I hadn’t felt well for days, and Dad was worried about me. That was why I didn’t answer when he came knocking. The door wasn’t locked, and he came in. What I didn’t expect was for him to be holding in his hand the Ziplock bag that had been in my pocket when I saw Nate.

“Avery,” he said. It wasn’t quite disappointment, more like he felt sorry for me.

“Do you always search the trash?” I snapped.

Our house wasn’t big like Aiden’s ranch. There were two bedrooms and one bath we shared.

“I had a headache and accidentally knocked the bottle of Advil in there. When I reached for it, I saw this.” Dad paused. “Is it his?”

I’d been throwing up far too much for it to be grief or depression. I’d ordered the test online and paid for next-day shipping so I could avoid the shame of someone in town knowing my business.

“Yes. It doesn’t matter now. I messed up. You were right. That woman was there to take care of his dad. She didn’t say for what. But since I saw him walking around just fine, my guess is dementia, maybe.”

“Oh, fuck.”

“What?” I asked, and he just shook his head.

“That’s for later. Did you tell him?” Dad asked, and there was a hell of a lot of judgment in his eyes.

“I’m not keeping it,” I said. That I’d put a lot of thought into.

“You have to tell him,” he urged.

“It’s my body, Dad, and trust me when I tell you he doesn’t want to have a thing to do with me. I won’t force him into fatherhood. He hates me enough as it is.”