Page 111 of Revenge Puck

“Whatever,” he says, walking away from the door to leave the decision to come in or not up to me. I follow him inside, shutting the door behind me. His back and shoulders tense at the sound, as if he’s regretting letting me in so easily.

“So, what do you want to talk about?” he asks as he slumps down in the middle of his leather sofa. His finger absently rubs along the cut in his bottom lip.

There are two other chairs, but I don’t sit. I just go stand in front of the television and get right down to the purpose of this visit.

“You have a son.”

“Huh?” he stares up at me, unblinking.

“His name is Finley. He’s four and, of course, he loves hockey.”

Christian is instantly on his feet, only a marble coffee table between us. “What the hell are you talking about, Preston? I think I would know if I had a son.” It takes the blond moron a full minute before his eyes bulge with understanding. “Did you say…he’sfour? Like years? Like four years, the time since I’ve seen Maya plus about eight or nine months?”

“Yes.”

He shakes his head, jaw clenched tight, pointing his index finger at me. “This isn’t fucking funny, man. I’m tired of you fucking with my head, and now you’re making more shit up!”

I ignore the roundabout mention of Elle.

“I’m not making this up. My sister gave up everything to become a mother while you skated off into the night, going pro and then screwing every woman you met.”

Christian keeps shaking his head. “No. You’re lying! This is some trick to fuck with my head, so I’ll lose the biggest game of my life tomorrow!”

If the Warhawks win, we get to kiss the trophy, and the Bobcats go home empty-handed. If the Bobcats win, it all comes down to game seven here in Greensboro.

“It’s not your game to win or lose, jackass. It’s the whole team.”

Running his fingers through the front of his hair, he starts to pace across the room, along the wall of windows that showcases the city down below. “I saw…I saw Maya at game three with a little boy. I figured he was hers, that she had met someone elseand they…you know…” he trails off as if uncomfortable talking about my sister sleeping with someone else.

“You didn’t notice he looked four?”

“How was I supposed to know how old he was? I don’t know shit about kids. I…I figured she ended the pregnancy in college as soon as possible, met someone, got married, and started a family with someone else! I didn’t want any details.”

“Right. You didn’twantto know the truth.”

“I would’ve wanted to know that I have a son!” he bellows, going from denial to anger in the blink of an eye. “Are you fucking with me? Please, don’t joke about this. Are you sure, like a thousand percent certain that he’s mine?”

Now I’m getting angry too. “Are you accusing my sister of sleeping around?” I don’t know for sure, but I’m almost certain Christian was her first and last.

“No. No, I’m not…that’s not what I mean. I just, I find it hard to believe now, out of the blue…”

“I’m not joking. I swear on my sister and nephew’s lives. He’s yours. There was nobody else. There hasn’t been anyone else for Maya.”

“But you both hated me. Why would she…how could she still have my kid and raise him on her own without telling me?”

“She wasn’t alone. They both still live with me in a suburb near D.C.,” I admit to him. “And Finley will be at the game tomorrow if you want to meet him.”

“Tomorrow?”

“Yes.”

I expect him to accuse me of messing with his head again, but then he says, “What if I…what if we lose? I can’t…I don’t want my…son to see me for the first time as a fucking loser.”

“That’s too damn bad! You don’t get to pick and choose when to be a father. It’s either always or never. I’m giving you achoice, so neither you nor Maya can blame me for standing in your way anymore after today!”

I head for the door, figuring I’ve said everything I needed to say. It doesn’t feel like enough to fix everything. I know it’s not. Maya is probably going to be even more pissed at me for opening this can of worms with Christian now, right before I leave for California. Then there’s Elle, who wouldn’t even consider the idea of moving across the country with me or even keep seeing me long-distance. Not that I blame her after the shit I put her through.

“Preston, wait,” Christian calls out when I have my hand on the doorknob. “I want to meet him. You said…his name is Finley?”

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