Page 41 of Vicious Butterfly
Dollface
Will you be there on Saturday?
Does that mean he wants me there? Or he’s gathering general information? I can’t tell. Fuck. I’ve never cared either way before, but if a gun was held to my head, I’d be forced to admit that I want him to want me there.
Just kidding—about the gun part. I’d never hand over information, even at gunpoint. But the metaphor stands, and I’m forced to face the nagging reality that his answer matters to me at all.
Unfortunately, there’s zero chance I’ll make the game with my obligations here, which means he shouldn’t be there either. I grit my teeth, staring at the message, willing the words to change. I’m not used to this, having to give someone—other than my uncle—what they want. Or fucking compromise. I don’t compromise. I don’t settle for less.
I have plenty of ways tomakeRyan marry me, but that won’t make him mine, and I want him to be mine. Still, this has to be done carefully. He can’t run around doing whatever he wants and belong to me at the same time.
Me
Who said you were allowed to go?
I smile, thinking about how mad that’ll make him. The dots appear right away, but a knock on my door interrupts playtime. My phone continues to buzz as I pocket it.
“Come in,” I snap.
The dean opens the door with a sheepish duck of his head. “Sorry, bad time?”
Fuck. I slide my casual smile into place and do my best to appear apologetic. “Sorry, Patrick. Fighting with the boyfriend.”
I can’t suddenly show up with a husband. Might as well get him used to the idea that I have a boyfriend first. He won’t like who it is, unless I manipulate the situation. Everyone has a pain point you can press on.
“Oh? Didn’t know you had a boyfriend.”
“I don’t usually advertise my bedmates, but this one’s a keeper. What’s up?”
He runs a hand through his chestnut hair, taking a seat in front of my desk. It takes all my willpower not to glare. I want to finish my conversation with Ryan, who’s still texting me. The angry cadence buzzes in my pocket. It’s getting harder to fight the smile from my eyes. But Patrick clearly needs reassurance about something. His posture’s stooped, his tie’s loose, and it looks like he hasn’t been shaving or trimming his scruff. Actually, the look suits him. It’s more him than the uptight accountant thing he’s got going on most of the time. He’s not my type, but he’s an attractive man.
“You said you’ve got some donors with deep pockets this season.”
“I did. Something happen?”
He rubs his hands over his face a few times. “I was on the phone with Shae last night; he wanted to warn me he’s cutting way back with donations once Ace has graduated.”
Shae McKinnon. Ace McKinnon’s father and VIP alumnus. Also, Patrick’s best friend. Patrick’s like an uncle to McKinnon because, of course, he is. Everything in McKinnon’s life is rainbows and unicorns. “Yes, as I expected. I have a plan.”
“I guess I didn’t really expect it. This place meant so much to him and Grace, I thought he’d carry on for a few years. Do you really think we can fill the gap? We haven’t done much fundraising for the team since Shae’s firm began helping us out.”
The coach they had before me was a hack. He should have been fundraising all along, but he relied on McKinnon’s generous donations for the hockey team. Shae McKinnon could own his own NHL team with what his architectural firm pulls in. A college team was probably pocket change to him. He began funding the team before his son attended Shadowridge U. I suspect that was his way of ensuring his son entered on a highnote, beefing up the team with top-quality gear and a supreme coaching staff.
It enabled them to afford me.
And yet my wage is still abysmal compared to what I rake in from hockey nights at the brewery.
I lean back, exuding as much confidence as I can. If all goes well for me, this could be my last year here. I don’t really care what happens to the Shadowridge Scorpions after that. But—as Uncle taught me—you never leave a bad trail. That’s how they catch rats. I’ll make as much effort as I can and crack my whip at my players, but if they don’t win a cup this year, it doesn’t affect me too much. Besides, it’s good for these young men to become self-sufficient. They’ve been coddled by their parents. They’ll never survive in the real world if someone doesn’t make them take responsibility for their own lives.ThatI love doing. There’s an odd satisfaction I get from it.
“I know I can. We’ll be fine.”
He visibly relaxes. “Knew I could count on you for that.” He lets out the breath he was holding. “So, a boyfriend, hey?”
“Aaaandit’s time for you to go.”
Patrick stands. “I can’t help my curiosity. You’re …” he trails off. I get it. It’s hard to find a word that describes me.
“Yes…?” I raise a curious brow. What does he think I am?
