Breakaway (Beyond the Play, #2)(107)

“Cooper,” he says. “Go back to the party. We’ve got this handled.”

“Don’t listen to him,” I say, glaring at Dad. “Whatever he’s saying, know I don’t believe it.”

Dad has a piece of paper in his hand. He thrusts it at me. “Fine. If you won’t believe me, look at the proof.”

It’s a flight confirmation. JFK to LAX. Passenger name Blake Callahan. I stare down at it, then crumple it up and toss it aside. “What’s it supposed to be proof of? So he’s going back to California, whatever.”

“He’s not sober. He’s not clean. That was a gin tonic in his fucking hand, and I’m sure he has coke on him somewhere.” My dad’s voice is like solid ice. “He’s been using you this whole time, son. You want to know the reason I keep my own fucking brother at a distance? It’s not because I hate him for being an addict. It’s because he nearly killed you!”

The door clicks shut as Dad’s words echo in the air.

Penny stands with her hands on her hips, a stricken but determined look on her face. “Cooper,” she says. “Your mom just told me he—when you were seven—you got into a car accident.”

“I told you that. It’s how I got the scar by my ear.” I look over my shoulder at my uncle, who drags his teeth across his lower lip. “Someone hit our car on the way to practice.”

“He was drunk and high.” She tries and fails to hold back a sob. “You got a concussion and broke your arm.”

“I remember. But he wasn’t—it wasn’t—” I look at my uncle again. He meets my gaze, but there’s sadness in his eyes. My stomach clenches tightly. “It was just an accident.”

“Instead of pressing charges, I paid for his rehab,” Dad says. “Only he took the money and ran off to California.” He turns on my uncle once more. “You could have killed my fucking son, and instead of putting you in prison, where you belonged—”

“Stop,” I interrupt. He tries to keep going, so I shout the word instead. “Just—stop! Fucking stop.” I walk to my uncle. I’m trembling so hard I can practically feel my teeth chatter. “I don’t care about the past.”

“It’s not the past,” Dad says. “He manipulated us then, and he tried again when you were a teenager, but I kept him away. I tried to this time, but he knew what buttons to press, son. He knew how to turn you against me. Against the family.”

“He’s our fucking family!”

Dad shakes his head. “How much did you give him, Cooper?”

“I don’t—”

“How much, dammnit?”

I bite back a curse. “Just—what he asked for. Right, Uncle Blake? For the rehab?”

Dad laughs shortly. “Of course. The rehab card. The money is for debts, Cooper. Gambling debt. Debt to his dealers. He doesn’t give a fuck about anything but getting what he needs.”

“Stop lying!”

“It’s not a lie,” says James. “He came to me first, last fall. He tried to get me to give him money. I guess when I refused, he moved on to you.”

“He knew you’d gain access to your trust fund this year,” says Dad. He doesn’t even sound angry anymore. Just exhausted. “And now that he has the money, he’s not coming back, not until he needs more.”

I shake my head. “No. He wouldn’t do that to me. Right, Uncle Blake?” He looks at me, but doesn’t say anything. I swallow; there’s a lump in my throat the size of a hockey puck. “You have the apartment, and the job—we’re going to a Rangers game soon—even if you’re off the wagon again, we can get you back on it. I’ll help.”

He rubs his hand over his jaw. “I’m sorry, kid.”

I don’t want it to be true. I’m desperate for everyone to be lying—everyone but him. Yet I see it in his eyes. He has what he wants, and he’s not coming back.

I laugh. It sounds tinny. A recording of laughter instead of an actual sound I just made. My hands are clammy, and when I try to clench and unclench my fists, I can’t quite manage the whole motion. The edges of this shitty little room look blurred. I take a step back and nearly stumble over a chair. There’s another door, not the one that goes into the ballroom, but somewhere else. I need to get to it. I need air before I stop fucking breathing.

I’m the biggest idiot in the world. Never Dad’s first choice. My uncle’s second choice of which nephew to swindle, apparently. Couldn’t even be first at that. Now that Penny has heard the whole goddamn mess, she’s going to run screaming in the other direction. I convinced myself that she loved me but just didn’t know how to say it yet, but the truth is, it was only a matter of time before she left.

After this? I don’t want her to be with me either. I’m a fool, and she can do better.

I pull open the door and run into the hallway. Someone calls after me, but I’m not sure who, and right now, I don’t care. My shoes squeak on the expensive floor as I run down the hallway, right into the fancy, delicately decorated lobby. I shove the door open before the doorman can get it for me and skid out onto the sidewalk. I start shivering immediately, but it feels good. Let me feel something other than pain, even if it’s nearly as unpleasant.