Chapter 29

Mo

All that's left is part two of my plan.

Nico derailed the first part with his impromptu visit, something I didn't appreciate at the time but an inconvenience he more than made up for later that day and the week that followed it. I've never been in a relationship before, but Nico and I are going on ten days now and I'm not sure my chest has ever felt lighter.

He's still annoying as hell but now, strangely enough, it's our futile arguments on and off the lacrosse field that I look forward to the most.

We agreed to wait until the end of the semester to reassess our living situation and ensure my coaching contract with Taber University gets approved for an extension before we announce our relationship to the team.

Personally, I couldn't care less what the other players think, but Nico felt like it might look inappropriate if the coach and the captain are sleeping together. Not that everyone hasn't figured it out already.

My boyfriend is many things, but subtle is not one of them.

I smile, thinking about the last rendezvous we had in the locker room after today's morning practice. I don't think I'll ever get tired of hearing Nico scream my name.

The soft bump of the aircraft jolts me out of my thoughts as the Vancouver runway comes into view. The long stretch of asphalt is lit up against the dark night sky, the late hour of my arrival shining back at me in the familiar glow of the city skyline.

Despite my confidence in my plan, nerves hit me the second the driver drops me off outside the O'Brien mansion. The immaculate landscaping alongside our front entrance does nothing to calm the anxiety suddenly pounding through my bloodstream.

I've been a top competitor for years and yet nothing compares to the apprehension I feel walking down the maze of hallways to my father's office. Stained glass doors mark Jonathan's sanctuary as the plush carpet of the hallway turns into glistening hardwood. With a deep inhale, I push the doors open and confront the familiar sight of Jonathan signing papers at his massive, custom-made desk that proudly sits before the famous Vancouver skyline.

"You shouldn't be here."

My father doesn't bother looking up from the papers on his desk, the rigid outline of his silhouette growing with the passing sunset. Most people would pause their work to admire the view splayed out in front of them, but not my father.

He doesn't spare me or the sunset a glance as he turns to his computer.

I clear my throat, "I needed to talk to you."

"Then you should have booked an appointment." Pausing his work, Jonathan frowns at me, "You know I hate surprises."

That's not what mother used to say.

I bite back the words just in time for him to look at his computer, "I can schedule you in for half an hour at noon tomorrow. Don't be late."

My spine stiffens, "I need to talk to you now."

"Quit being a nuisance, Maurice. I'm working." He scowls at the computer, the prominent frown line the same one I've seen in the mirror too many times.

"It's 10 PM."

Jonathan lifts a brow, "And yet you were able to contact Johnson and get him to fly you out here. Guess working through the night is not such a rare occurrence after all."

My teeth grind together at his condescending tone, "He's my uncle."

"But still on my payroll." He shoots me a pointed look, "Don't make me ask again, Maurice."

"I want to extend my part-time contract."

That gets his attention.

Pushing the papers on his desk to the side, Jonathan leans back in his chair, displeasure etching through his features. Silence spans between us, my father assessing me from his position at his desk while I remain standing in the doorway.

It's poetic, really, looking at the ten feet of space separating us. In all the years that has passed since my mother died, Jonathan has yet to put in the effort to bridge the gap between us.

When it comes to my father's priorities, work always comes first.

He tilts his head and the remnant rays of the sunset catch the silver streaks in his hair. The stretch of grey seems to have doubled in the last five years.

"Who is she?"

I frown, "I'm sorry?"

"Who. Is. She." Dragging out the words, Jonathan pierces me with his stare, "The only reason you would want to extend your contract is because someone changed your mind."

I exhale slowly, "My decision is not made on behalf of someone else. I've come to realize coaching lacrosse is something I enjoy and I would like the opportunity to explore it further."

He drums his fingers on the desk, his cold gaze never leaving mine, "But there is someone."

"Yes." I hold his gaze and push out the rest, "His name is Nico."

I see the moment my words sink in. Like a vintage jukebox, every thought shuffles across my father's face, his stoic expression ripping apart at the seams.

"I knew this would happen." Jonathan hisses out a breath, "Your mother insisted you were just having a bit of fun at that gay club but I should have stopped that nonsense back in your freshman year."

I blink, my world tilting on its axis, "You knew about Lifestyle?"

"Of course I knew." His fist slams on the desk, "Who do you think reviews your credit card statements, Maurice? Did you really think I would let the future head of this company out of my sight?"

He opens a drawer and throws a thick envelope on the desk.

"I know everything, Maurice. There is nothing and no one you've done that I don't know about." Jonathan lets out a bitter laugh, "I blame the club. Until then, you only ever fucked girls."

I flinch, my mind whirling from the newfound information. My father knew about my sexuality all along. My mother knew and convinced him to let me explore.

My racing thoughts get caught off by Jonathan rounding the desk and closing the distance between us. His strong build, identical to my own, stalks across the hardwood and comes to a stop in front of me. I've got a couple inches on him, but that has never impeded his ability to look down on me.

"Listen to me." His eyes narrow into slits, the expensive sleeves of his suit within touching distance, "You will come back to MacNeil Incorporated like we planned and you will terminate this ridiculous fling. The only reason I'm not cutting you off right now is because you have an appetite for both sexes, so we can chalk this up to a simple misguided phase."

Matching his glare with one of my own, I hold my ground, "You would disown me for being homosexual?"

He scoffs, "Don't play the pride card with me, Maurice. This isn't about public image, this is about me not wanting a freak for a son. To think I wasted hours teaching you the nature of being a man when all along you were just looking for someone to bend over-

The punch sends him stumbling back, blood spurting from his nose. I calmly shake out my hand, my jaw clenched hard enough to break teeth.

"Talk about me or my partner like that again and I will spread the word that our CEO has a problem supporting diversity." I step forward, savouring the sight of blood staining my father's suit, "And as for the rest of your homophobic tangent, do us both a favour and grow up. You are down to one child now, so if you ostracize Stella the way you did with me, there will be no one left to carry your empire."

I pause, watching my father wipe his bleeding nose with the back of his hand. It was heartbreaking, seeing the dark sky illuminate the man who only had money left to give.

"Stella asked me what our family would be like, if Charlotte was still alive."

The mention of my mother's name has Jonathan's composure crumbling faster than my respect for him.

Swallowing the lump in my throat, I press on, "I didn't have an answer for her then but I do now."

My father blinks at me, his emotionless fa?ade ripping at the seams.

"We would be just as broken because she would have hated the man you have become."

And with that, I turn and walk out the door.

Leaving my father to fall to pieces alone.