“Uh, I’m going to...get another beer.” Phil backed away.
“I’m going to take a dump,” Max announced.
One by one, Joe’s friends fled.
“What the hell was that?” Joe’s left eye twitched, a sure sign he was angry.
“I could ask you the same thing.” Blake vibrated with controlled fury. “Talk shit about me all you want behind my back, but you could at least pretend to support me in front of your friends.”
“Stop being so sensitive,” Joe said dismissively. “It’s not like you need the money.”
“It’s not about the money.”
“Then what is it about?”
Blake should stop. It was Joe’s birthday, and he didn’t want to ruin it for everyone else. But once you unscrew the cap on years of pent-up resentment, it’s impossible to hold it back.
“It’s about you never supporting me,” Blake hissed. “Not when I quit football, not when I started my business, not ever. It’s about you being so damned resentful you couldn’t live out your NFL dreams through me that you can’t stand me succeeding at something else. Let’s face it, you wanted my bar to fail so you could rub it in my face. Most of all, it’s about you being a shitty-ass father.”
Joe’s face paled, then flushed so red an onlooker would think he was having a heart attack. A vein pulsed in his forehead, but he didn’t confirm or deny the accusations. He didn’t say a damn thing.
Someone else, however, did.
“Blake.” The soft gasp behind him sent ice trickling through Blake’s veins.
He swallowed hard and turned to see his mother and sister staring at him with horrified expressions. Joy’s mouth hung open, while Helen’s eyes brimmed with tears.
Blake’s outburst probably hadn’t been what Helen meant when she’d said “try.”
Fuck.
Joy sent Blake on a supermarket run so he could “cool off and pull his head out of his ass.” Blake accepted the errand without a peep. Anything to get away from his father’s stony silence and mother’s tearful eyes.
Now, if only he could get away from the hard knot of guilt in his throat.
Blake should’ve kept his mouth shut. As good as it had felt giving Joe a piece of his mind, it was his father’s birthday, and the entire neighborhood had been at the party. They’d be gossiping about the Ryan father-son blowout for months. Not to mention, he’d ruined the weekend for his mom and sister.
“Fuck.” Blake glared at the contents of the freezer aisle. His shopping cart contained enough food and snacks to sustain a four-person household for a year, but he grabbed an extra box of strawberry kiwi popsicles (his sister’s favorite) and mint chocolate ice cream (his mom’s favorite) anyway.
He also swung by the beer aisle and picked up a six-pack of Budweiser. He told himself it was as much for his own sanity as it was for his father, even though Blake preferred Stella.
Satisfied he had everything he needed, Blake turned the corner to pay and bumped into another shopper.
“I’m sor—” His apology died in his throat.
You know that saying, things can always get worse?
It was true.
Because as much of a shittastic day as Blake had been having, nothing could’ve prepared him for running into the person before him.
Her name fell from his lips in a stunned whisper.
“Cleo.”
Chapter Thirty
Green eyes blinked up at him, hazy with shock. “Blake?”