24. Christian

Christian

These dinners with my parents were getting exhausting. They had been for years, but these days, I couldn't look at my father without getting filled with rage over how he treated Theo and how secretive our relationship had to be. Every time we were in the same room, I found myself fuming over how Dad had taken the slight on his ego and fucked Theo over professionally. What if the Rainiers hadn't been plagued with injuries this year? What if the club hadn't been forced to call him up? He'd have languished in the minors, possibly for the rest of his career, all because he'd defied my dad.

You are such a vindictive, egotistical dick,I thought as I chewed a piece of steak. I can't believe we're family. Ugh.

Conversation went on around me as I ate and pretended to be in a good mood. I kept my participation to a minimum and just counted down the minutes until I could politely get the fuck out of here.

Don't provoke,I told myself over and over. Don't engage.

I hadn't realized there was a lull in the conversation until, without preamble, Dad said, "Christian, were you aware that there's been a problem with theft at the arena?"

There was something oddly pointed about the question—some subtext I was probably supposed to pick up—but it wouldn't click in my brain.

I shrugged as I picked up a forkful of rice pilaf. "Uh. No?"

"So your inventories have all been correct."

They were, but nothing made me second-guess myself more than being in Dad's crosshairs, so I paused to consider it as I chewed my food. After a moment, I shook my head. "Yes? I thought I was missing some visor screws, but they'd just rolled under a travel case. Otherwise…" I shrugged again.

"I see." Dad took a sip of wine, letting the silence hang in the air while my mom, sister, brother-in-law, and I exchanged puzzled, uneasy looks. When he set the glass down, he said, "Well. I'm looking at the security footage from every camera in the arena over the last few months. I've been checking some of them personally."

My neck prickled. Again, there was something there I was supposed to catch—something that made me nervous—but I just couldn't figure out what he was getting at.

"That must be time-consuming," Aiden remarked flatly. "Especially for a GM."

"Aiden," Chelsea said quietly.

Aiden focused on his food, but he was grinning to himself. Under any other circumstances, I'd have been biting back a laugh as well; it was always satisfying when someone managed to get in a swipe at my dad.

But I wasn't laughing this time. I was still edgy from my dad's comments. I just couldn't shake the feeling that I was missing the lines I needed to read between. I didn't want to take his bait if he was just fucking with me, but I also didn't want to miss a warning or a veiled threat. Dad was absolutely the type to get right in someone's face and threaten them, telling them in no uncertain terms exactly where the lines were and what would happen if they were crossed. But he could also play these games where he'd drop vague hints that made no sense in the moment but were, in hindsight, ominous warnings. I'd never been able to beat him at this game, but that hadn't stopped me from trying.

I sipped my own wine. "What exactly has been going missing? I haven't heard a thing."

"No one reports to you," he replied tersely.

I had to fight so hard not to roll my eyes. Yeah, yeah, I was nowhere near as far up in the hierarchy as he was, blah, blah, blah. "If it's related to the team's equipment, they usually at least give me a heads up."

"Well." He offered a thin smile, narrowing his eyes just slightly. "They probably wanted to wait until they had a solution before they bothered you with it."

I tongued the back of my teeth and tried not to let my irritation show. I knew that whole thing with the jerseys would come back and bite me eventually. Everything always fucking did. Keeping my voice as even as I could, I asked, "So what's missing?"

"Tools, mostly." Dad swirled his wine and locked eyes with me. "For maintaining the Zambonis."

Something icy slid down the center of my spine. A memory flickered through my mind of being pressed up against one of the Zambonis, but I quickly shut that down before I blushed or got flustered. Keeping my voice casual, I said, "Too bad there aren't any cameras over there."

Dad's grin made my heart slam to a stop. "There are."

"There—" My mouth went dry. "Since when?" I managed a laugh, hoping it sounded genuine. "I thought they gave up fighting you on it."

"They did." He shrugged. "But after there were some… concerns about people going in there who didn't need to be there, I suggested they put in some cameras. So they did."

Oh. Fuck. Yeah, that matched him—shut down what someone else wanted, then pitch it like it was his idea.

My brother-in-law broke in. "Why is the team's general manager even involved in that? Seems like that's the arena's domain, not the club's."

My mother and sister both stared at their food and shifted nervously as Dad turned to my brother-in-law. I just tried to will my heart to keep beating and my face not to betray my sudden panic.

"It's in the club's best interest to be on top of the situation," Dad growled at Aiden. "If someone's willing to steal from the arena, then what's to stop them from stealing from the Rainiers? So we put in cameras to catch them."

The two of them sparred back and forth, Aiden picking away at Dad's logic while Chelsea probably wished he would just shut up, shut up, shut up. Dad fired back with increasing irritation, but I didn't hear much of what either man said.

My tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth as I studied the food I suddenly no longer wanted to eat.

There was no theft. Deep in my bones, I could feel it.

If someone had been stealing tools from the Zamboni crew, everyone who worked in that building would've known about it. There would've been tighter security. The crew would've come to ask the equipment managers if we'd borrowed something or if we'd seen a random tool lying around somewhere.

And Aiden was right—even if there was a theft problem, investigating it was hardly the team GM's domain.

No, Dad wanted me to know he was scrutinizing security footage from the arena.

He wanted me to know it had something to do with the Zambonis. And that he'd finally won the battle with facilities over a camera in the Zamboni bay… by being the one to suggest they install one.

I didn't dare ask when the cameras had been installed. I didn't dare ask anything, because I could feel it all the way to my core that this was Dad letting me know that he knew about me and Theo.

Had he seen the footage? Was he just bluffing because one of the drivers had told him they'd seen Theo and me leaving that alcove? Shit, had they told him, and that was why he'd installed cameras and cooked up this whole "thief" story?

I had no idea, and I was too freaked out to push the issue.

I spentthe rest of dinner forcibly maintaining my poker face. I didn't want Dad to think—to know—he'd gotten under my skin. If he was bluffing, I needed to call his bluff by not reacting. If he wasn't bluffing—if he'd somehow figured out I'd been in the Zamboni bay when I shouldn't have been—well, the best I could think to do was try to convince him he was threatening me with a giant nothing burger. That had always been the best play—don't let him know he was under my skin. Don't let him know I had anything to hide. Don't let him think he'd busted me.

It was one of those games we'd played when I was a kid. When he'd make ominous comments like, "I told you I'd ground you if you cut class again, didn't I?" And I'd immediately break down and apologize and say it wouldn't happen again. Only after the fact would I realize he hadn't actually known I was cutting class—he'd just thrown it out there to see how I'd react.

So tonight, I was pretending like there was no reason anyone would ever suspect me of cutting class. Or, well, in this case, of "stealing Zamboni parts," which he and I both knew translated to, "fraternizing with one of the Rainiers."

Mercifully, he didn't bring up the subject again during dinner. It was Chelsea and Aiden's turn to stay behind and help Mom with the kitchen, so as soon as the meal was over, I said my goodbyes and got the hell out of there.

Tried to, anyway.

I was putting on my shoes in the foyer when Dad appeared.

"You haven't had too much to drink, have you?" he asked.

"I only had one glass and it was over an hour ago." I took my jacket off the hook. "I'm fine to drive."

"Good." He smiled thinly. "Well, I'll see you at the arena tomorrow. And hopefully the problem will resolve itself." He locked eyes with me. "So often, it's really a misunderstanding. A tool left where it doesn't belong. Someone accidentally walking away with it." He half-shrugged as he slid his hands into his pockets. "If the culprit puts things back the way they are, then there's no reason for things to get messy."

My mouth went dry again. Ooh, I could read between those lines.

If the "thief" knows what's good for him, he's going to unfuck the situation, go back to the status quo, and not provoke me any further.

"Okay." I nodded. "If, um… If I hear anything, I'll let you know."

"You do that." Dad's smile was impossible to parse. "Have a good night, Christian."

"Yeah. Will do."

I booked it out of the house and down to my car, and I found myself sitting there for a long time, engine idling and mind racing.

Dad knew something. How much he knew, I had no idea. If he had actually seen what Theo and I had done back there, I doubted he'd just be giving me rope to hang myself. He'd have fired me by now and would probably be making Theo's life hell too.

So I didn't think he knew everything. But he knew something. Enough to be suspicious and probably watch me like a goddamned hawk going forward.

Likely Theo, too, if my hunch was correct and it was the Zamboni drivers who'd seen him and then told Dad. They must've seen me, too, since I'd only left a moment or so before Theo had. And maybe someone—the drivers, the facilities managers, or Dad—had seen us in there recently when we'd stolen a few minutes together.

Whatever the case, this was bad.

I swore as I took out my phone and started writing out a text.

I needed to tell Theo, and it couldn't wait.