Just like him.
“There anything else you want to say to me?” he asks, staring me down again. “Now’s the time to get it off your chest.”
“If I did, you’d know.” I stuff a forkful of green beans into my mouth and don’t bother softening my tone.
If I cared to look at him, I’m sure his face would be bright red right now. His tolerance for disrespect is uncommonly low, which is why I’m only mildly surprised when my plate is snatched from in front of me.
“You’re done. Come with me,” he asserts, being the supreme dick he is.
“Vin, he’s barely even touched his food,” Mom jumps in.
Another of those cocky laughs leaves my father’s mouth.
“Then, worst case, I just saved him from having to choke down the rest of that tough steak,” he adds callously, and then stands, leveling another glare on me. “We’re leaving. Now.”
I could fight him on this, but I know it’s no use. The guy has a way of getting what he wants out of people.
So, hungry and pissed off, I oblige. Within minutes, we’re seated in his SUV and I’m staring up at the bright lights of the high-rises as we drive past. At first, there’s no conversation, but then that all changes.
Unfortunately.
“Do you even realize how much I do for you boys? Do you realize the sacrifices I make to ensure you three and your mother have everything you want and need? Meanwhile, you’re bitching about me not showing up at your games,” he rages. “Tell you what. Do well, get drafted, and you have my word I’ll be at every single game.”
He goes from trying to draw sympathy to just being a dick. Neither action is surprising. So, unfazed, I stare blankly out the window.
“You’ve really got balls on you to disrespect me after that pricy little toy I spotted on my credit card statement this month.”
I should feel guilty knowing I’m caught, or at least worried, but I don’t feel either of those emotions. Only empty, hollowed out on the inside.
“Where’d you stash the car? Some hole-in-the-wall garage again?”
Actually, I stashed it in Trips pole barn for now, douche-knuckle, but you’ll never know that.
His gaze volleys between me and the road. “Still nothing to say? No, ‘sorry I screwed up again, Dad’?”
“Goldens aren’t big on apologies,” I say dryly. “But you already know that.”
In my peripheral, I see his grip on the steering wheel tighten. Next thing I know, he’s pulling over on the side of the road. Traffic whizzes past and I feel the weight of the statement that follows.
“You used my card,” he states, “which means you got into the safe.”
And there it is. Asshole knows he’s busted. He’s trying to sound cool, calm, and collected, but he’s anything but that. In fact, I’d bet money this little drive is only about what I might’ve found in that safe. My smart comments just made it easy for him to get me off by myself without Mom getting suspicious.
With him, there’s always an angle.
“How’d you crack the code?”
I shrug. “You’re smart when it comes to business. Not so much when it comes to common sense.”
He snorts a laugh. “Fair enough.”
The long, awkward silence that comes next only means there’s more he wants to say but hasn’t quite figured out how to go there.
“Son, you know there are a lot of layers to my business,” he begins. “Which means there are bound to be aspects of it that you don’t quite understand. So, if you—”
“I saw the phone,” I reveal, putting him out of his misery.
“…And?”
It’s rare to humble Vin Golden, but that’s exactly what I hear in his tone right now. Humility.
“I didn’t look through it.” This lie is particularly easy to tell because it suits me to have him think I’m in the dark.
“It isn’t that there’s anything on it worth hiding. I just—”
“Save it.”
He drops his sentence at the sound of my voice, and I’m relieved not to have to listen to his bull anymore.
A heavy hand falls on my shoulder and I glance toward it, choosing not to make eye contact with the man I just lied to.
“I love you and your brothers equally,” he shares, “but I’ve always held you to a bit of a higher standard, West. By you being older and all.”
“Didn’t realize being born two minutes earlier than them granted me infinite wisdom,” I snap.
He doesn’t immediately react to the tone I’ve taken, probably because he’s on super thin ice right now, knowing I at least know he keeps a secret phone.
“It’s more than that,” he continues. “You’re just a natural-born leader. I’ve seen that in you from day one.”
My focus is honed in on the sleeve of the dress shirt he wore home, and I barely hear what he says next.
“You do know that everything I do is for you boys and your mother, right?”
The question echoes in my thoughts, and his brow tenses when I reach toward the studded cufflink on his wrist. His gaze follows me as I pull a long, blonde hair off him.
“What about her?” I ask, placing the strand on the dashboard. “You do her for us, too?”
His hand falls away from my shoulder and he slumps in his seat.
“Guess I know why you were an hour late getting home,” I add.
Of all the reactions the man could’ve had, he laughs. Because our family is such a joke to him. The sound of a defeated sigh follows, which means he’s about to forego the obvious route—lying—opting instead for the truth. So, I brace myself.
Here it comes.
“Listen, I never pretended to be perfect, West. None of us are perfect. I’m a man and I do what all men do,” he claims. “Is
