Page 93 of Antidote

My dad is calling. We’ve been working on our relationship for the past year, and it’s better, but we’re nowhere near how it used to be. I’ve held a grudge against him ever since he tore Ollie and me apart. We don’t speak often, just once every few weeks, because he tries to call weekly, and I ignore him. But I can’t ignore him this time because he’s waiting for me at home, where I already have dinner arranged for us.

He’s staying in New York City until tomorrow morning, and I promised I’d make time for him even though I don’t want to. He tries to come to a lot of my home games and even away games, so when he requests time together, I feel awful when I decline, which is pretty often the case. The only time I made sure to visit was during Christmas last year, mostly because I hoped and prayed that Ollie would show up. I’m hoping to see him there this year. Does he miss me? Will I be able to tell? Dad says they talk often, but Ollie won’t show up to the house for whatever reason. It probably has to do with me.

“Hey, Dad.”

“Hi, son,” he replies with excitement. “It’s a good night for you tonight, isn’t it?” He doesn’t wait for my reply. “I’m so proud of you. That was a good game.”

I smile stiffly. “Thanks.” Running my hands through my damp hair, I continue. “I’ll be home soon. I texted you the code to the elevator, so just let yourself in.”

“Sounds g—” I don’t let him finish before I hang up and put my phone back.

After my shower, I slowly get ready. I know it’s fucked up, but I’m not exactly looking forward to spending time with him, which is why I’m taking as long as possible. I do have to go home eventually though, so I decide to rip off the Band-Aid and head that way.

The city is practically glowing as I get out of the cab, all the buildings lit up like a Christmas tree. I’ve been wanting to go to Rockefeller, yet the thought of going alone is just too depressing. I guess I could go with Connor. He was drafted to my team as well, but he has a girlfriend now, and I’m not in the mood to be a third wheel.

I sigh as I enter my building and head straight to the elevator without looking at anyone or saying hi the way I usually do. My head is not in the right space right now, and I don’t have the energy to pretend, either. Punching in my code, I slide my hands over my dress pants and blow out a deep breath. It’s just one night, Hunter. Probably only a few hours. You can do this.

The elevator dings and I step out of it to watch my father pacing in the living room, talking on the phone. He sounds irritated, making me smile, which, in turn, makes me frown. Why am I happy that he’s unhappy? God, this is so messed up. I decide to clear my throat to announce my arrival, and he barks something along the lines of: We will talk about this later. Which, in my dad’s tone, translates to you fucked up, and I’m going to ruin your life. I’ve been on that side of the coin, and I don’t envy whoever just pissed him off.

“Hi, Hunt.” He smiles like nothing ever happened. Meanwhile, I’m trying to erase that nickname from my mind. Only Ollie is allowed to call me that. “Good fucking game. I watched your interview too. You did well.”

“Thanks, Dad.” I can tell he knows I’m not all there with him yet. But I still lean in for a hug, and he pats my back.

It takes me back to the day I got drafted, and my eyes gloss over. I pull away and turn around so he doesn’t see the emotion on my face. Just as I knew it would be, our food is already on the table, covered up so it doesn’t get cold. “Dinner is ready. Hope you’re hungry.”

“I’m always hungry,” he says from behind me as I take my chair. He sits down next and takes the lid off his plate. “This looks delicious.”

Filet mignon, brussels sprouts, and rice pilaf sit on our plates. I cut into the steak to find it cooked the way I like, and my dad also expresses his approval. We eat silently for a while, and just when I’m about done with my food, I pick up my head and look at him. It seems he’s been watching me for a while and now has a sad look in his eyes. I don’t like it. It feels like he’s pitying me, and I don’t need it. I’m fine.

“You going to therapy still?” he asks softly, like it’s going to lessen the blow. Of course, I’m still going to therapy. I have years’ worth of trauma to get through.

I nod slowly. “Yeah. I have a feeling I’ll have to go for the rest of my life.” He has the decency to look down at his plate, but I continue since I’m feeling like an asshole tonight. I should be in a great mood after that win, but I just can’t seem to get there. “It’s pretty traumatizing to lose the love of your life. I’m sure you understand.”

He peers up with narrowed eyes. “That’s not the same, and you know it.”

“You’re right.” I nod once. “I made the wrong choice in letting him go.” Even if he did ask me for time, it feels like a fucking eternity. In five days, It’ll be exactly one year since I last saw him.

“The wrong one, huh?” There’s no venom in his voice, rather, it’s laced with sadness. “Then why haven’t you sought him out?”

“He hasn’t replied to me in a year.”

“Try harder.” He rolls his eyes. “You have the means to find him if you want to. Money can accomplish a lot in this life, and you have millions in your bank account. Put them to good use.”

Anger fills me to the brim, and my nostrils flare. “I don’t think you should be giving me advice right now, especially when you ripped him away from me.” A chuckle escapes me.

“I didn’t come here to give you advice.” He reaches across the table and squeezes my hand once. I withdraw it and place it on my lap. He looks hurt, but I couldn’t care less right now. “I came here to give you my blessing.”

“How fucking generous,” I reply dryly.

“Please forgive me,” he whispers, and my eyes fill with tears. “I know you still talk to me, but it’s as if we don’t even have a relationship anymore. I want to make things right. Tell me how, and I’ll do it.”

“Unless there’s a time machine, you can’t.”

“I know where he is,” Dad blurts out, and our eyes lock. “I can get him home as well, if you need me to.”

I laugh at that. “He doesn’t want to come home.”

“I’ve been wearing him down.” He smiles. “He talks to me sometimes.”

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