Page 31 of Patrick
Dad turns his sharp-eyed look on me and raises a brow in question. He doesn’t have to say a thing—not now after the lecture he gave me at the beginning of the season. I know exactly how he feels about where my priorities should be and not be. Let’s just say he thinks I should pretend I’m a monk for the season. It’s best to avoid the complications and energy drain that associations with females can bring. His words, not mine.
I glare at Liam. “You’re full of shit.”
“Then why’d you stay on campus last night?”
“I stayed on campus with Bog and the boys. Don’t listen to clowns who gossip like—”
“You calling Mom and Kathleen clowns?” Liam can’t help himself. He’s a natural-born troublemaker, taking after Pops. And Pops is the only one who can control him.
“Nonsense.” Pops puts down his fork and eyes me with an unspoken threat. “Trick knows better than that.” He resumes eating as if the matter is settled, but my overtaxed heart doesn’t relax.
I rise from my chair. “I need to get some homework done if I’m going to help at the market today.”
“You can study after the market closes,” Dad says as he fills his plate, confident that his word is final and it’s no big deal.
“I’m putting in some time at the rink to work on my shot with the guys. Meeting them at seven.”
“I take it you won’t be staying home tonight then?” Mom says.
Dad eyes me, holding a fork of eggs midway to his mouth.
“Right. We have a morning skate at six a.m.”
Dad nods. “Good. Make sure you get some good sleep in that spare bed at Bog’s place.”
“It’s not like home, but it works.”
“Maybe we should rent out your bed here since you’re never in it.” Kathleen elbows me. “Either way, it looks like I’ll be doing some baking tonight.”
Leaving the breakfast table shouldn’t feel like I’m escaping an interrogation, but it does. Only a departing pat on my cheek from Kathleen settles my uneasiness.
