Page 11 of Boards & Betrayal

“Janet,” I replied curtly, already knowing where this conversation was heading.

Her eyes narrowed slightly as she stepped into my apartment without waiting for an invitation. The smell of her expensive perfume filled the room, making it feel smaller, more claustrophobic.

“I need to talk to you about Nick’s mortgage payment coming up,” she said, cutting straight to the chase.

Of course, money. It was always about money with Janet. She had a knack for turning every conversation into a transaction, and tonight was no different.

“Nick’s mortgage is his own business,” I replied tersely. “We’ve been through this. He's a grown-ass man playing in the NHL."

“Well, he never learned business from you,” she countered, her tone icy. “He didn't learn a lot from you, actually."

"Just how to make a livelihood," I muttered.

I could feel my irritation growing with every word that left her mouth. Tonight of all nights, I didn’t have time for this. But Janet didn’t care about timing or my plans; she never had.

I clenched my fists at my sides, struggling to keep my composure. The awards ceremony loomed in my mind like animpending storm cloud, and here I was dealing with Janet’s demands yet again.

She did it on purpose.

Fucking cunt.

“I don't give a shit,” I finally said through gritted teeth. “I have some place to be. Are we done?"

“No,” she snapped back, her eyes flashing with anger. “We’ll talk about it now.”

I exhaled sharply, knowing there was no easy way out of this confrontation. The evening ahead suddenly felt even more exhausting than it already had been.

And somewhere in the back of my mind, despite everything else going on, thoughts of her—Ally—still lingered like an unwelcome guest at a party I couldn’t escape from.

"Nick's mortgage is his own damn business," I repeated, my voice edging on a growl. "He's not a kid anymore."

Janet's eyes narrowed, her lips thinning into a tight line. "You never did understand, did you? He might be an adult, but he still needs guidance."

"Guidance?" I scoffed. "He doesn't need me to hold his hand. He's in the NHL, for Christ’s sake."

She stepped closer, her perfume suffocating the room. "And look where your guidance got him—a fractured relationship with his father and financial troubles."

"That's on him," I snapped back. "I taught him how to be strong, how to succeed."

"You taught him how to be just like you—cold and distant," she shot back, her words like daggers.

The room seemed to shrink as our argument escalated, the air thick with years of unresolved tension.

"And you made him weak," I retorted, knowing it would sting.

Janet’s eyes flashed with anger. "You think strength is pushing everyone away? Look at yourself, Thomas. You’ve lost everything that matters because you can't let anyone in." Before I could respond, she added, “And you dragged Nick into your pathetic mid-life crisis because you managed to find someone willing to spread her legs —"

My glare hardened at the mention of Ally. “Don't."

Janet crossed her arms and gave me a smug look, her eyes glinting with satisfaction. “You owe me, Thomas. After the mess you made at the Masquerade, I think it’s the least you can do.”

I stiffened at the mention of that night. My thoughts immediately shifted to Ally, and a familiar frustration and protectiveness surged through me. Janet’s always had a way of digging up the past when it suited her.

“That’s got nothing to do with you,” I growled, my temper rising.

The Masquerade had been months ago, but the memories still haunted me—memories of attending with Ally, of the connection we shared, and of everything that had fallen apart since. I hadn’t seen her in months, but the mere mention of her stirred something raw in me. I was still protective, even though I shouldn’t be.

Janet smirked, clearly enjoying the effect her words had on me. “Oh, it has everything to do with me. You think you can just walk away from your responsibilities? From your mistakes?”

---