Chapter 15—Permission

~~Axel~~

That evening after I left Geneva at the arena, I jogged back to the hotel less than a mile away. The night was crisp but clear. I was feeling good about my chances. Geneva was being her stubborn self, but I had absolute confidence I’d wear her down. I tried to take away one of her arguments by getting her brother’s blessing, or at least a guarantee he wouldn’t beat the shit out of me if I took her out. I wanted him to know my intentions were good—somewhat, but he didn’t need to know the somewhat part.

I took the elevator straight up to the room, hoping Jock would be there. For once, I got lucky. He was sitting in the room’s only easy chair by the window reading a sports magazine.

He glanced up when I came in, balancing a pizza box in one hand and a six-pack in the other. I kicked the door shut with my foot and put the pizza on the small table. “Hungry?” I asked, pointing toward my peace offering.

“No, I—” He stopped, seemed to reconsider, and said, “Yeah, yeah, I’m hungry.”

I sat down at the desk chair and opened the box. “All meat.”

“Perfect. Seen any more regarding Bria?” His tone was conversational, too cold to be friendly, but not hostile either.

“Nothing. You?”

“To be honest, her drunken rant of a post helped my case.”

“Really?” I hadn’t expected something good to come out of that mess.

“Yeah. I’m having papers served as soon as I get home. I’m requiring she have a drug and alcohol assessment and get treatment before she can see the kids.”

“Probably a good idea.” I didn’t explain my statement, and he didn’t ask. He already knew. The woman was poisonous, narcissistic, and entitled. Not qualities I looked for in a woman I was considering more than a one-night stand with. We made small talk about the previous night’s game, how to prevent the same thing from happening again, and opinions on the coach moving the lines around. You’d almost think we were friends, but I knew we hadn’t gotten over the hump yet. He tolerated me, didn’t detest me, but he wasn’t anywhere close to liking me—yet.

“I want to date your sister,” I blurted out before I thought better of it.

“Are you asking my permission or rubbing it in my face?” He wore his unreadable mask again, and I didn’t have a clue what he might be thinking.

“Neither. I’m being up-front with you.”

“Have you asked her out yet?”

“Yeah, she’s, uh, not warmed up to the idea yet.”

“She shot you down?” He grinned with devilish delight, enjoying my discomfort.

“With both barrels, but I’m not giving up.”

“Good luck with that. She’s coming off a very destructive relationship and lifestyle and trying to rebuild. I doubt she wants to open another can of worms.”

I refused to take offense at his insinuation that a relationship with me would be destructive. Besides, he might not have meant it that way, but I’d bet he did.