it from someone who’s been around a lot longer than you have, son: stick to what you’re good at. You’re good at football. That’s it.
Joe grimaced.
“I guess only being an NFL superstar is good enough for you. All this—” Blake swept his arm around his large office. “Doesn’t mean shit. You will always hate me for not living out the dreams you couldn’t live yourself.”
Joe had played college ball too, until a torn ACL forced him to quit before he could go pro. He’d turned to fitness coaching as a consolation career, but from the moment Blake threw his first perfect spiral at age seven, he’d piled expectation upon expectation on his son until Blake buckled beneath the weight. Joe relived his glory through Blake until it came time for the thing he wanted most: the NFL. Blake quit before the draft and squashed his father’s dreams of a pro football career by proxy.
“I don’t hate you,” Joe bit out. “You’re my son.”
“Only by blood.” Blake flashed a sardonic smile. “You could barely stand to look at me. Not even on your fiftieth birthday.”
“It’s because I’m ashamed, okay?” Joe exploded. “That’s why I can’t look you in the eye!”
Had Blake not been sitting, he would’ve tumbled to the floor. Shock swelled in his throat, cutting off his air supply.
Joe’s mouth flattened into a grim line. “I’ll admit, I was pissed when you quit football. You were a unique talent, Blake. One in a million. I thought you were throwing your future away for a pipe dream. I didn’t hate you for it; I was worried about you. Figured you needed some tough love to help you pull your head out of your ass before you were stuck, miserable, and in debt.” His lips twisted into a wry smile. “Luckily, you proved me wrong. But when you invited me to the opening…” He tapped his fingers on his thigh, looking uncharacteristically nervous. “It seemed wrong to celebrate and act the role of proud father when I had been such a…well, less than stellar one. I’d tried to hold you back every step of the way, and you succeeded despite me, not because of me. I didn’t want to leech off your success—not when I had nothing to do with it. So, I stayed away. It’s not because I hate you. You’re my son. I could never hate you.”
Blake couldn’t have been more stunned had Joe ripped off his face to reveal one of those squid-like alien heads from Independence Day. Every interaction he’d had with his father over the past five years—and there hadn’t been many—flashed through his mind. Part of him resisted Joe’s explanation. It was easy to resent Joe because that was all Blake knew. They hadn’t had a “normal” father-son relationship since Blake thought girls carried cooties.
Yet Blake could tell by the look in his father’s eyes that he was telling the truth. He also knew how much it must’ve cost him to utter those words out loud. Joe Ryan was a proud man, and he didn’t admit to his faults often, if ever. His logic may be twisted and fucked up, but it made sense—to him.
“Then why are you here now? What changed?” Blake eyed the bottle of scotch on his shelf longingly. He could use a stiff drink, if only so he didn’t pass out from shock. There were few things as disorienting as having what you’d always considered a truth be flipped upside down.
First Cleo, now my dad. That’s twice in one month. I’m setting a damned record.
Joe scratched his chin with an awkward frown. “I thought about what you said at my party. About me being a shitty father.”
Guilt twisted in Blake’s gut. “I didn’t mean to blow up on you on your birthday.”
“Seemed like it was a long time coming,” Joe said dryly. “Ya know, I honestly didn’t think it would bother you that I told Pete to host the kickoff at his house instead of Legends. It’s what we’ve always done. But I guess I’m not the best at sussing that sort of stuff out.” Another scratch of his chin. “I admit I haven’t been…the best father over the years. I wanted to skip New York, too, ya know. Wanted to keep avoiding the issue. But your mother and sister blew up at me. They took your side.”
His mom went against his dad? The shockers kept coming.
“Anyway.” The discomfort returned to Joe’s face. “I figured it was time I stopped running and