The best way to describe our relationship now is strained but civil. He’s never been interested in being a parent. We don’t need his money or business connections. And now that we’re adults, we see his choices for what they were: abandonment and neglect.

It’s an impasse I grappled with for years.

But he made his choice. Even if it doesn’t make sense, I’m man enough to accept that the responsibilities he shucked off are mine to bear.

“I’m glad you still make it to these games, son,” Marty mutters as he uses my shoulder to push to his feet.

I don’t bother replying, just guzzle down a mouthful of water and wipe at the sweat dripping down my face as I follow him onto the court for the next game.

11. Maddie

Chapter 11

Maddie

I pull open the front door with more force than intended and stumble back before gaining my composure. Blowing out a long breath, I fluff my curls and stand up straighter.

The Oak is surprisingly crowded for a Wednesday night. Some old dude is blasting through the sound system—Bruce Springsteen, maybe? Along with the guy from Fun.? I don’t know why Jake insists on only playing songs that were popular at least two decades ago.

I could claim a table in the back and bide my time. Order a soda. Scope out the scene. I didn’t exactly think through what I was going to do when I arrived here tonight. But one glance at the bar has me halting in my wedges in the middle of the dang room.

I’m frozen in place, held captive by cerulean-blue eyes and a disapproving glare. Fuck. That’s hot. My cheeks heat under his stare. I squeeze my legs together and bite down on my lip. But I don’t dare turn my head or look away: I stare right back into the eyes of Dempsey Haas.

What is it about pissing this man off that makes me want him even more?

I’m a moth. He’s the flame. I’m the moon. He’s the sun. It’s like he’s pulling me to him with the force of his gaze.

I walk on trembling legs to the end of the bar. He meets me on the other side.

“What are you doing here?” he demands in a whisper I barely hear over the music and the chatter of the people around us.

“Hmm?” I ask innocently, hopping up onto a barstool and leaning forward so he has a clear shot of my cleavage in my white tank top.

I’ve gotta hand it to the man. He doesn’t break eye contact as he leans in closer to repeat himself.

“I said, what are you doing here? There’s no reason for you to be here right now.”

Oh yes, there is.