“I’m having an interesting afternoon,” I answered, leaving the ball in his court.

He chuckled. “I imagine so. Your mom said she called and told you.”

“She did.”

The line was silent.

I cleared my throat. “Thank you, sir, for… for helping her.”

“You don’t sound particularly happy that I did.”

I sighed, sinking into the old couch from 1972 that was assigned to each athletic dorm room. “I am. Truly, I am. I just…”

“You’re wondering why I did it.”

“Frankly? Yes.”

“You’re a smart boy,” he assessed. “Smart man, soon to be. You know nothing really comes for free.”

The hair on my neck prickled.

“Here’s the truth of it, son — Maliyah has been miserable this last month or so. I know you can tell. I know you know as well as I do that it’s because she misses you.”

“She broke up with me,” I ground out.

“I realize that,” Cory replied, calm as ever. “But young women do a lot of things they regret. And as she’s my daughter, it’s my job as her dad to try to help her undo those wrongs if I can.”

I shook my head. “I don’t understand.”

“It’s simple. I take care of your mom,” he said. “And you take care of my girl. It’s as easy as that.”

“No.”

“No?” Cory’s question back to me was incredulous.

“It’s not easy, for more reasons than one. I don’t want to take care of Maliyah anymore,” I answered honestly. “And she made it clear that she doesn’t want me.”

“And clearly, she lied.”

“Well, that’s on her. I’ve moved on. I’m with someone else now.”

“I think whoever it is you’re with can’t possibly have as much of a connection as you and Li now,” he said, laughing like I was a child trying to explain something I knew nothing about. “You two grew up together. You were in a relationship for years. You can’t have been with this new person for more than, what… a few months?”

“What Giana and I have is none of your business, respectfully.”

My neck burned with anger, but I held my voice steady and as calm as I could.

“Fair enough,” he said after a moment. “Well, my boy, the choice is yours. But if I were in your shoes, I know what mine would be.” There was the sound of papers shuffling before he continued. “You can take my offer, or you can continue putting yourself into debt to haphazardly patch up a hole in the boat without actually fixing the problem.”

I frowned.

“She needs rehab, Clay,” he said, his voice lower, more serious.

I closed my eyes against the tears that seared my eyes at his words, at the truth in them that I’d hoped to deny until my dying day. My next inhale was stiff and full of fire.