Steam (Homecoming Hearts #4)(22)

Fuck it, they’d just have to get over themselves.

Sorry, dudes, he typed out. Looks like I’ll be going stag again. Invite some hot girls for me to meet. Maybe I’ll get a date by the end of the night? He added a winking and kissing emoji, hoping he wouldn’t upset them that much. But he just wanted to enjoy one of his best friends’ special day. Trent felt like he’d had enough attention on him for now.

The little dots bounced to show that Blake was writing something. Sure enough, a new message popped up within thirty seconds.

Hey man, no worries. It’s gonna be a blast. Can’t wait to see you.

Definitely! Joey piped up, making Trent smile. He’d always had a soft spot for the youngest and undeniably sweetest member of the band.

See you soon, Trent typed back. He’d missed his friends a lot. No one understood their crazy lives quite like each other.

He slipped his phone back into his pocket thinking about how he’d have to cancel the flights to Ohio he’d had booked via LA and get new ones sorted from Jackson. But at that moment, the gaggle of teenage boys left the gift shop. Trent knew he needed to go face his dad right now before he lost his nerve. He could rearrange the flights later.

Sighing, he picked up his board, damp with melted snow, and trudged over to the gift shop. He thought for the nth time how he wouldn’t mind so much that his dad devoted all his energy into this place if the resort actually gave him decent things to sell. But this stuff was all so tacky.

It was a good thing at the moment, though, he realized as he entered. Because an excitable Merlin saw him come in and immediately went berserk. He started barking, his tail going crazy and sweeping off whatever was on the bottom shelves along the aisle between him and Trent as he charged over to greet him. Trent gasped, throwing his hands up to try and calm the little fella before he wrecked everything.

“Hey, hey,” he said, grabbing him by his collar and pulling him away from the glass ashtrays. At least he’d only knocked down some wooden, poorly painted boomerangs. This time. Trent risked glancing up and making eye contact with his dad, who was scowling at him from behind the counter. “Sorry.”

His dad gave a shrug with one shoulder. “He’s better when you’re not here.”

Trent gritted his teeth and tried to keep his cool. It hadn’t always been like this. He knew his dad loved him. He’d always been supportive and happy for Trent, even if he didn’t understand his chosen careers.

“Dad, can we talk?” Trent asked, rising to his feet. Merlin dutifully followed as he approached the counter, thankfully going behind it to Trent’s dad where he couldn’t cause much mayhem.

Again, Trenton Sr. gave half a shrug, his attention on his laptop. “We’re already talking.”

Trent sighed and propped up his board against the counter, wincing when he realized the snow was already dripping onto the wooden floor. It was only water, but he didn’t want to give his dad any reason to kick him out of the store before they’d at least tried to clear some of the air.

Trent decided to keep things plain and simple. “I know I didn’t come back here when I should have,” he said.

He couldn’t bring himself to look his dad in the eye, so he picked up a keyring from the display on the countertop and ran his thumb over the design. It was a cactus. What the hell did a cactus have to do with a ski resort in Wyoming?

“No, you didn’t,” his dad agreed.

Trent winced, yet he still couldn’t bring himself to look up. “I just…I see her everywhere here.” It was one of the reasons he liked his staff cabin. He’d never been in there before, so it had zero association with his mom.

His mom, who had been skiing like she always had, when one day something went drastically wrong. She’d lost control of her skis and slammed into a tree. She’d died instantly.

Not that Trent had known that at the time. It had taken him almost seventy-two hours to hear the news. He’d been too busy partying in Prague to notice his phone had died. By the time he’d recharged it, his dad had been coping with the death of his wife, Trent’s mom, for close to three days. Alone.

“It’s a good thing you see her here,” his dad said stiffly. He was scrolling on the mousepad, but his eyes were fixed when Trent risked glancing up. He doubted he was looking at anything on the screen. “This was her home. She loved it.”

“I miss her,” Trent said softly around the lump in his throat. They’d never been the closest of families. He’d always been far too different from his parents for that. But he had loved them regardless. He still loved his dad, even if he didn’t exactly like him right at that moment.

His dad harrumphed as if to challenge the idea that Trent missed his mom. Trent swallowed down his hurt. Fuck, he’d been a jackass. This wound had been festering for too long. He’d only come back to Wyoming long enough for the funeral. He should have made much more of an effort.

But it was always so much easier to get drunk, throw himself into work, and fall into bed with a girl. Literally anything to distract him from his hurt. Except his work had been suffering from how much he’d been drinking, and no girl ever stuck around long enough to build anything meaningful like a relationship.

“I miss Lancelot, too,” he mumbled.

His dad hadn’t called when their old dog had passed. Trent hadn’t gotten the chance to say goodbye before he’d been put to sleep. Trent knew it was his dad’s way of protecting himself after Trent hadn’t been there when his mom had died, but, fuck. He would have come. He would have supported his dad then. He would have liked to tell that old mutt he was a good boy one last time.