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I roll my eyes. How have I put up with him all these years?

“Thanks, Ewan. You’ve given me a tremendous amount to think about. I need to figure out what I want.”

When I glance at my dad and the three-time Stanley Cup Champion, he adds, “We’ll talk it over, but I think you can do much better for an athlete of John’s quality. You said it yourself; he’s made himself a golden boy, and every hockey team needs one. If you can’t get what I want done, then I’ll be his damn agent.”

The meeting ends on a disastrous note, and every muscle in my body hurts from tensing up while my dad exerts his power in the hockey world. Dad lives off his former fame with speaking engagements and endorsements, but he also has a gambling problem and sometimes, I can't help but wonder if he's scheming to have Ewan drop me just to claim a percentage of my income.

“Son, you have a limited number of high-earning years to last you the rest of your life. It’s imperative that you get on the West Coast where you can make the most money. Plus, you’ll be closer to your old man.”

Yeah, that’s what I’m trying to avoid.

“I know, but it’s not a big deal to get a regular job after my career. I do have other interests.”

“Like what?”

I shrug. “I don’t know, like coaching. Becoming a chef. Starting a foundation.”

“To be a coach? With your temper? And what was the last thing you cooked? A hamburger? Are you telling me, with all the money I’ve poured into hockey, you want to flip burgers at a fast-food chain because to my knowledge, you don’t know how to sear salmon or poach eggs.”

My insides burn with hatred for my dad. I didn’t always feel this way. When he got me out of trouble at my first college, I felt relieved, but now I realize it wasn’t for me—it was for him.

Instead of arguing, I slap my arms around him. “I know you want the best for me. I’ll think about the offer from the Rattlers and if Ewan comes up with another option, I’ll weigh it. But Dad, this is my life. Twenty-four million dollars is nothing to scoff at. It’s a raise of five million a year.”

“It’s my name and reputation, remember that.”

Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. It’s always about him.

“Our name. Basilio is our name.”

He clutches me tighter, not in a loving way but to make sure I know he’s the one in control. He’s done it to me all my life. Go to college where he wants and look what happened there. Transferring to the Kentucky Stallions was the best thing I was ever forced to do. My dad had no control in that situation. I had to find someone to take me. Did my dad’s name help? Sure.

“Have a good time with Stella. Maybe it’s time for you to pop the question,” he says as he pushes back from me. He reaches into his pocket and hands me a white velvet box.

“What’s this?”

“A ring. Ask Stella to marry you on this trip.”

My brows pinch. “No.” Who the fuck does he think he is?

“John, I don’t think it’s a good time to argue with me.”

If the ring wasn’t worth at least ten grand, I’d throw it in the trash, but since it is, I shove it in my pocket. Debating my dad would lead to nothing good, so I walk away.

He yells, “Stella deserves a man.”

CHAPTER THREE

Becca

A thick veil of suffocating heat wraps around me the moment I step out of the car, clinging to my skin like a second layer. Despite the stifling air, a thrill of excitement buzzes through me. Finally, I’m on vacation, and nothing can wipe the grin off my face. Except the thought of seeing John with his girlfriend.

Interrupting the negative thought, Lettie squeals, “We’re here. This will be so much fun!” Oakley bounces on her toes, and the thought occurs to me that these two women are cut from the same cloth—open and honest. Full of life.

Oakley grabs my hand, pulling me into her and Lettie. “Operation Get Becca Laid starts now. We’re on the lookout for hot single guys. In the lobby. On the beach. At dinner.”

“Stop, I’ll pick out my own men.”

Oakley scoffs, “I think I’m better at it. I snagged your brother at a truck stop.”