I know Randy’s stressed when he doesn’t want sex. My biggest worries now are how he’s going to deal with all these long-buried emotions and what things are going to be like after his dad finally leaves.

***

I drive myself to the arena again the next morning since Randy’s taking his dad to follow up with the doctor and he has his team meeting in the afternoon. I’m on edge all day, mostly because I don’t hear from Randy other than a brief message to let me know the doctor’s appointment went fine and he’ll see me at home.

I don’t know what kind of mood he’s going to be in tonight—the beginning of the season is always a transition, and this will be the first time I’ve been through this with him. It’s his second season with Chicago, but a lot happened last year, and their rough end to last season means the pressure’s on for a better start up.

The house is quiet when I get home. The emptiness is actually welcoming. I head straight to the bedroom. I want to shower and change into something more…interesting. I open my underwear drawer and sift through my panties and bras. I pick out a few options and lay them on the bed. I’m not sure if Randy would prefer something sweet or more sex kitten.

My phone buzzes with a message from him.

Home in less than 20.

I send him a picture of the scraps of lace laid out on the bed.

Any preference?

The humping dots appear right away.

Do we still have the red ribbon?

A shiver runs down my spine. Oh, God. I’m in for it tonight. I rummage through the drawer and find the roll of red satin. I send him a picture of it in response. His next message comes seconds later.

Can’t fucking wait.

“Having fun playing house?”

I gasp and drop the ribbon on the floor. Spinning around, I find Randy’s dad leaning against the door jamb. He drops his gaze to the bed where all my pretty things are laid out. I hastily gather them and shove them back in the drawer.

“I didn’t realize anyone was here. I thought you were staying at a hotel.” Randy said he was taking him as far away from us as possible.

“I forgot a couple of things.” An unfriendly smile makes his cheek tic. “It’s a pretty sweet setup you have going on, isn’t it? Living here?”

He sounds so much like Randy. They have the same deep voice, same broad shoulders, same eyes, same mannerisms, but that’s where it ends. This man is a version of Randy missing all the good pieces.

I ignore his question. “Does Randy know you’re here?”

He shifts so he takes up more of the doorway. I’m suddenly very nervous. He’s blocking my only way out of the room. Based on the loose way his eyes move over me, I have to assume he’s drunk.

“Come on, sweetheart. You and I both know you’re in this for the free ride.”

He’s been circling this conversation for the past couple of days, making little comments that seem innocuous but aren’t. I cross my arms over my chest, mostly so I don’t end up slapping him across his smug, jerk face.

“You don’t know the first thing about my relationship with Randy.”

“I don’t need to. I know my son. He’s got a short attention span when it comes to women. I would’ve thought he’d learned by now that this little thing he’s got going on isn’t gonna work out, but I can see why he’d want to give it a shot, at least for a while. He’ll figure out soon enough that you’re just using him like everyone else.”

“I’m using him?” I’ve about had it with this man. “Jesus. Do you hear yourself talking? You’re the most selfish person I’ve ever met. You show up on his doorstep whenever you damn well feel like it, make yourself at home in his house, eat his food, ask for handouts, and spend your time telling him how he’s going to fail.”

He opens his mouth to cut me off, and I hold up a hand. “I’m not done yet, so hold your vitriol-fueled shot until I’m damn well finished. You know, most parents want better for their kids, but all you do is drag him down.” I motion to his disheveled appearance. “You make him believe that this is what he’s destined for. You’re everything he’s afraid to become, and you send him spinning every time you come back into his life. You don’t deserve his generosity or his loyalty. You need to be out before he gets home.”

He laughs. “This isn’t your house. I don’t have to go anywhere.”

“Newsflash, asshole, I live here, so I have a say in who gets to stay and who doesn’t. Randy needs to focus on getting ready for the season, and all you’re doing is sabotaging him by saying he’s not good enough.”

“Everybody falls sooner or later; he needs to come to terms with that.”

“You are such a self-absorbed bastard.”

His grin is malicious. “He’s exactly like me.”

“He’s nothing like you.” Randy will be home soon. I don’t have much time to get his dad gone.

He grabs my wrist as I stalk past him. “That boy is good at two things: hockey and fucking things up. As soon as he’s back on the road, he’s gonna have access to everything he’s been missing out on while he’s had you here keeping house for him.”

“Just because you screwed up your life doesn’t mean he’s going to do the same.”

The front door opens with a beep and closes with a slam. “Lily, baby? Where you hiding? I’m ready to unwrap you!”

Randy rounds the corner as his dad drops my wrist.

His gaze moves from me, clutching my wrist in the doorway of our bedroom, to his father. “What the hell is going on? Why are you here? I dropped you off at the hotel hours ago.”

“Settle down, son. We were just talking.”

Randy’s eyes are wild. He holds out his hand, and I go to him. “Why were you touching her?”

As soon as I’m within reach, he wraps a protective arm around me. He gently pries my fingers from my wrist and checks the faint red marks from his dad’s tight hold. In one swift move, Randy shifts me behind him and closes the distance between him and his father.

“You fucking bastard.”

The sound of flesh hitting flesh has me between them before Randy can throw a second punch. I cover his shaking fist. “Baby, these hands are too important. Don’t let him ruin your season.”