9. Matt

Achill licks at the back of my neck. "Where's my father?"

Another snide laugh follows. "I wouldn't worry so much about your deadbeat dad, Harrison. What I have is much more valuable to you. I'll text you an address. If I were you, I wouldn't make any pit stops. I'm an impatient man, and you've made me wait long enough."

Click.

"Son of a bitch!" I yell, slamming my foot on the gas.

Rage floods my insides, a hot flush spreading over my skin.

He fucking did it again.

My dirty secret, the thing nobody was ever supposed to find out about.

Life doesn't always work out the way we plan. My dad got dealt a lot of shitty hands. He ran his own auto body for a long time. Had a lot of clients. But then after a break-in, a bunch of local punks stole the cars in his garage. He wasn't insured with enough to cover them, and they sued him for everything he had.

He lost the business when I started high school. Mom was pregnant with the twins, Summer and Missy. Things were rough. I worked my ass off at odd jobs to help bring in money, and in my spare time, I played football. Studying was a distant third priority. As I got bigger, my body got stronger, and my talent kicked in. Things got worse at home. Dad started drinking and gambling. He gambled away our mortgage payments, and we lost the house.

For six months while he tried to clean up, we were forced to live in a shelter. I vowed to never be in that situation again, to never be at anyone's mercy, and to never, ever be fucking poor. Nothing is worse than watching your little sisters have to scrounge for food because their father, the one who is supposed to protect them above all else, can't get his shit together enough to hold onto a job.

I focused on football as much as I could. Scouts took notice and finally gave me an out.

Luck helped me escape that hell. My younger sisters weren't so fortunate. Mom held things together as best as she could, and I felt guilty as hell leaving for college. But I knew the only way I could help them was if I made it big.

As soon as I got my first big payday, I bought them a house. And I send my mom money every month to take care of bills and food.

How the fuck did he get to it?

After pulling over to the side of the road, I grab my phone and dial Summer's number. It goes straight to voicemail. Same with Missy. Same with Mom.

An icy cold hand squeezes my heart.

There's nobody else for me to call.

A loud ping jars me. I look down at the screen to see an address in Snowshoe, West Virginia.

I scrub a hand down the front of my face. It's almost midnight now. By the time I get there, it'll be close to four.

Blood rushes between my ears.

The press conference.

It's at eleven tomorrow morning.

I need to be there, no excuses. According to Marc, I may be the team golden boy now, but things change so quickly, I could easily be on the shit list just as fast. And I can't jeopardize the one lifeline my family has. Without it, I don't know how they'd survive.

And Zak needs me, too. I can't let him down again. In a way, I'm the reason why he's in the hot seat right now.

I plug the address into my GPS and head to the address. It should be a struggle to keep my eyes open on the long, dark roads, but adrenaline pumps hard through my veins, keeping me awake, alert, and scared because I have no fucking idea what I'm gonna find once I get there.

Once the GPS says I'm five minutes out, a deep chill settles into my bones. Right now, I'm probably half a mile from my family's house. But this area is fucking desolate. Feels like I just crossed into an alternate reality. No streetlights illuminate the roads so I flip on my brights and immediately wish I didn't. They just make everything look worse. Rusted cars, overgrown weeds, broken wood fences, trash in the gutters. Other than my car, the moon is the only thing that casts a bit of light on the place.

Snowshoe sounds like it should be a nice little town, not the shithole it actually is.

My gut plummets into my shoes when I pull up to the address. The only way I'd have ever seen the number is because my brights caught the corner of the metal number hanging off the front door. I get out of my truck, gritting my teeth when I remember I'm in a fucking tux with nothing to change into. It's hard to look intimidating in a goddamn penguin suit.

I grab my phone and slip it into my pants pocket then get out of the truck.

The stench of rotting garbage makes bile rise in the back of my throat.

That's when I see the car.

Dad, what the fuck have you done?

The walk to the front door is too short, and I'm still not even close to prepared for what I'm gonna find once I knock.

I don't have long to wait. They must've been watching and waiting.

Whoever "they" is…

My skin crawls like a bucket of spiders has been dumped over me when Rusty Strickland pulls open the door and leers at me through bloodshot eyes. A foul-mouthed criminal motherfucker who dropped out of our high school a year before we graduated. He was always trouble and got caught up with some motorcycle club called the Barbarians that operated outside of Fairmont.

The name says it all, and he was a shoo-in to all their illegal dealings. Years ago, it was drug running. I can't imagine what kind of shit he's gotten into now.

The thought that my father has gotten caught up with these crazy bastards makes me want to throttle him.

"About fucking time you showed up. You didn't need to dress so fancy."

I try not to cringe from the stench of stale cigarette smoke and whiskey breath that can peel paint.

Rusty leans forward. I hold my breath for his next words. "Glad you finally showed up, superstar."

"I came as soon as I got the call."

"Nah, you came as soon as you took the call, brah." The door swings open wider and Rusty's older brother, Wheeler, blows out a mouthful of smoke directly in my face.

I fight the urge to cough, the smoke stinging my eyes.

A quick look behind these guys makes my spine stiffen. I don't see my dad, but I see a lot of other shit that roils my gut.

Rifles, hunting knives, bags of weed, and more empty whiskey bottles than full ones.

I could easily crush these skinny, strung-out, wasted motherfuckers.

But not until I find my father.

Wheeler waves his hand behind him. "You comin' in or what, Harrison?"

"Where is my father?"

He grins, exposing a row of yellowed teeth. Meth head. Fucking fabulous.

"I hope you brought your checkbook."

Thank fuck I have cash on me.

I carefully step onto the cracked tile floor like it's quicksand ready to swallow me whole along with any hope of escaping alive.

Wheeler shoves me down a short hallway. I sidestep cracked glass and cigarette butts, taking shallow breaths because I don't even know what the hell I'm breathing in. My heart clenches, shooting into my throat. Dad sits on a couch, his wrists bound by silver duct tape. A strip overs his mouth. Rage boils my blood when I take a few steps closer and see Summer cowering next to him, her blue eyes red and wet with tears. Her nose is running into the duct tape slapped over her mouth, sharp sniffles the only breath she can draw in.

With a loud roar, I twist around and hammer a fist into Wheeler's jaw. He stumbles backward, crashing into a nearby wall because he's so plastered. But he doesn't flinch. Just laughs and pulls a handgun out of the back of his stained, shabby jeans.

He waves the barrel around, points at a lamp past Summer's head, and fires. The porcelain shatters and explodes, thick pieces flying through the air.

"You son of a bitch," I yell, tackling him to the dirty, sticky floor. I swing my fist at his jaw over and over until a click makes my fists freeze in mid-air.

"If you think I won't shoot you in the fucking head right here and now, you're insane," Rusty growls against my ear. He grabs me by my collar and yanks me backward.

I have no weapon. Only brute strength and a lot of fucking anger.

Unfortunately, neither will save me from a bullet to the skull.

I let him pull me away. Wheeler just cackles. He doesn't seem to notice the blood drizzling from the corners of his mouth or his nose because he's high as a goddamn kite.

"There's only one reason why I'm letting you live right now." Rusty thrusts me toward Dad and Summer. "I want you to take a real close look at your family here. I coulda taken them all, but as a warning, I just snatched Summer." He takes a long look at her and licks his disgusting lips. Her tears fall faster, and she shudders against Dad.

I swallow past the bile rising in my throat.

My father and all of his horrible fucking choices coming back to bite us all in the ass. Again.

"What's he owe?" I croak out.

"Two grand," Rusty says. "I'm tired of hearing his bullshit excuses about not having the money to pay off his debts. Next time I call, you'd better answer right away, or else when you get here, you might find more than just Summer on that couch." He leans closer and uses the barrel of the gun to tilt my face toward his. "And I can't promise what else we might do to occupy ourselves if you keep us waiting again. You feel me, superstar?"

I pull the cash out of my pants pocket and thrust it to him. He nods toward one of the guys, and they grab Dad and Summer and force them at me. I hustle them out of the house and into my truck before pulling off the tape from their quivering lips.

Summer flings herself into my arms, her shuddering sobs making my heart clench.

"Where are Mom and Missy?" I hiss at my father once he's settled in the backseat. Summer wraps her arms around her knees, trying to get as close to me as possible from the passenger's seat after I belt her in.

"They went to your Aunt Peggy's house for the weekend." He scrubs a hand down the front of his face and sighs deeply. "They don't know anything about this, and it's gonna stay that way."

I bite back the words on the tip of my tongue and drive home. By the time we get back to the house, Summer is asleep. I carry her into the room she shares with Missy and lay her onto her bed. I cover her with a blanket and watch her curl into a ball to comfort herself.

God only knows how many times she's done that over the years since she can't very well get comfort from a man who puts her life and the lives of her family members at risk every fucking day.

"I don't know how Mom hasn't left your sorry ass," I mutter after closing the door to the girls' bedroom. "You've done nothing but run each of us into the ground for years. When the hell are you gonna clean yourself up and do the right thing for your family?"

"Don't you talk to me like that, you arrogant little bastard. Just because you're a big shot football player doesn't mean you're above me." He smacks me hard across the face. My skin stings from the sudden unexpected slap, heat flooding my face. "I'm your father. You talk to me with respect."

"You don't fucking deserve it," I rasp. "You only care about yourself. Nobody else. You took the money I sent to Mom for bills, and you pissed it away on Christ only knows what. I came down here to save your ass. If I didn't, what the hell would they have done to Summer? Or Missy or Mom? How the hell can you be this selfish?"

"I do the best I can to take care of my family. Not all of us have million-dollar paychecks. And if it wasn't for me, you wouldn't, either."

A disbelieving laugh escapes my lips. "Oh, are you taking credit for my football career? Did I miss the part where you had anything to do with it at all?"

"I let you leave when you should have shown more loyalty to your family than yourself. You couldn't get out of here fast enough when you had the chance."

"Because I knew I could help you more if I was able to make good money than if I was working bullshit jobs around here. Seems like I was the only one of the two of us who gave a damn about the big picture."

Dad's eyes narrow, spitting fire. "I didn't ask you to come here."

"No, but you knew I'd never let anything happen to the girls. You used me as a safety net all the time because you're a pathetic excuse for a husband and father."

I can't swallow back the fury anymore. It spews and spews, years of anger and accusations unfurling from my lips like a cheap rug.

"You're not going anywhere near those fuckers again. You're gonna be the man you promised Mom you'd be, the father you promised your kids you'd be." I lean close to him. "If one hair on any of their heads is hurt in any way, I will let those drugged-up assholes chop you up and sink you to the bottom of the goddamn Ohio River."

I stare at my father, daring him to touch me again or slice into me with a single scathing word.

"You may have ruined your life, but I won't let you ruin anyone else's."

He already came too goddamn close eight years ago.

My brain trips back to Zak, and the guilt that torments me every day.

I destroyed his life and almost destroyed my own in the process.

Money definitely can't buy my fucking freedom. The more money I have, the tighter the noose around my neck.

And the one person who knows my truth will eventually be back to tug it.

I know that he's just watching and waiting for the right time.