I rubbed a shaking hand over my face. I had no clue what to do.
Mr. Smith said, “The ball’s in your court. Or should I say, the puck? Lose for me on the twenty-seventh, and we can have a very profitable relationship. Win? You won’t like what happens. At all. You stay sharp now, Fitzer.”
The line went dead. I stared down at the screen, then quickly screenshot the number and time, and my call log. So I’d have some kind of record. Anything.
I wanted to scream and beat something up. I wanted to cry. I set my phone on the washer so I wouldn’t break it and gripped the edges of the machine, breathing through clenched teeth.Now what? Now what?
My brain raced in circles. Get rid of the money first, right? Because if he snitched on me to the Foxes’ management, I’d be screwed. What were the odds they’d listen to“I didn’t do it”with a payout sitting in my bank account? Hell, given how shitty I’d played that night,Iwouldn’t believe me.
Return the money, find out how it got there, make sure it couldn’t happen again.
Figure out what kind of threat he was making to Grandpa. Not a violent threat, right? Leg-breaking was fictional American mafia shit, not some cheap-ass Canadian bookie. But Grandpa was old and he wasn’t rich, and he had Uncle Wayne walking in and out of the house like he owned the place. He wasn’t safe.
Nothing made sense. I was a fucking goalie on a second-place minor league team. I was trying to not go broke and make a career, and no one should walk into my life and fuck it up like this. Not Mr. Smith. Andnot my fucking uncle.“I’m going to kill him!” I screamed. “I’m going to rip his slimeball head from his shoulders and shove it up his ass!”
“Whose what?” Zeke asked from the top of the stairs. “Sorry, but you’ve been down here a while. Are you okay?”
No. No, I’m not okay.I wanted to run up the stairs into Zeke’s arms, get a hug. Get help. But we were still just fuck-buddies, and he was a cop. I wasn’t sure I could trust him to put Grandpa’s safety ahead of the law. I took two deep breaths and straightened. Put on a calm face. Turned. “I’m fine. Uncle Wayne did a… thing. And it’s fucked up and I have to deal with it. But I’m okay.”
“As a cop, I have to warn you that murder’s not a viable solution to your Uncle Wayne problem.” His half-smile showed he thought he was joking, but it was a reminder.As a cop.
“What? You won’t help me bury the body?” I tried to joke back. “What kind of friend are you?”
“One who doesn’t want to only see you ina prison visiting room for the next fifty years.”
I blinked and he looked startled too, because when had we ever talked about fifty years? We’d just committed to being exclusive a few hours ago.A few hours.I’d been having a great day and now everything was falling apart.
“Thanks for the warning.” I couldn’t make that sound friendly, so I jogged up the stairs, pushed past him, and continued toward the front door.
“Hey.” His footsteps clattered behind me.
I stopped at the door and turned. “What?”
“Let me help?”
God, I want to.That urge to wimp out and spill all my troubles on his shoulders was real. But that was asking for a disaster. I didn’t hate myself enough to give in to that temptation. “Nothing to help with. I probably won’t be back for dinner.” I let myself out and closed the door in his face.
I found Grandpa in the kitchen, brewing coffee. “Hi.” I kept my voice steady. “Where’s Uncle Wayne?”
“Out of town for a couple of days. He’ll be back Saturday, he said. Why?”
Words I couldn’t say tumbled around in my head. “No reason. Something I wanted to ask him. Listen, Grandpa. Uh. Don’t trust him, okay? I know you’re giving him a second chance, but don’t give him the benefit of the doubt, eh?”
Grandpa’s smile faded. “Did he do something?”
“I’m not sure.” I shrugged, took a long breath, and went over and hugged him. “I’ll talk to him when he gets back. Hey, if he’s gone, maybe I’ll stay here for a couple of days. Zeke’s off today and starting day shifts tomorrow. He doesn’t need me around and I’ve missed hanging out with you.”
Grandpa squeezed me and then stepped back, his eyes bright. “I’d like that a lot. Want some coffee? Have a seat and tell me what you’ve been up to.”
I pulled out a chair. “Well, I got reamed out by the coach at practice, but only after he said I was carrying the team…” Sitting there, spinning tales for Grandpa and drinking his over-strong coffee, I could almost believe it was two months ago, before Zeke and Uncle Wayne upended my life.
CHAPTER 16
ZEKE
I wasn’t sure what I’d done, or evenifI’d done something. Callum didn’t come home the night after our movie outing and his phone call, or the day after that either. I texted him to make sure he was okay, and he texted back ~yeah, fine, doing some extra work shifts for Grandpa. I asked how things went with his uncle, and he said the bastard was out of town. And that was the total of our conversation for two days.
Jos got off the couch as I came in from my day shift with a bag of takeout. “Is Callum eating with us?”
