Delay of Game (The Baltimore Banners Book 6) (19 page)

Val was good at hiding her reaction, he'd give her credit for that much. Her smile didn't slip at all and she barely even moved. The only evident reaction was the slight tightening of her fingers around his, just the barest squeeze.

Justin squeezed back, both seeking and giving reassurance. It was too late to turn back now, too late to try to explain. Not that he could explain anyway. How could he sum up his life here in less than thirty seconds?

Oh, by the way. My father is a controlling asshole who has made sure that I knew from day one I could do nothing right. Yeah, that didn't even begin to cover it. It was best to just stay quiet, force a smile, and get out of here as quick as he could.

Justin took a deep breath, calming the racing thud of his heart, and led Val forward. He stopped at the bottom step of the porch, looking up at his father, thankful he hadn't bothered to take off his sunglasses. Justin wanted to tell his father he didn't realize he was on a schedule, or that he still had to answer to him. Past experience warned him not to, already knowing that the end result wouldn't be remotely worth the split-second of satisfaction he might have. So instead he squeezed Val's hand again and offered his father a small nod.

"Pop, this is Val. Val, this my father, Brian Tome."

"Nice to meet you, sir."

His father didn't say anything, just simply let his gaze rake over Val from head to toe and back again. He turned to Justin with a small grunt. "Get your bags. Dinner's almost ready."

"We're not staying here." His father paused with his hand on the door, his face expressionless as he studied Justin over his shoulder. Justin started to look away, to look down at the scuffed toe of his boot. He caught himself at the last minute and stopped, clearing his throat. "We're going to grab a hotel room in town."

His father kept looking at him, his dark gaze steady. Then, without another word, he turned and entered the house, the screen door banging shut behind him. A tense second went by before Justin realized he'd been holding his breath. He let it out then looked at Val, wishing he could see her eyes, see what she was thinking.

She turned her head, her smile gone. "Your dad isn't very talkative, is he?"

Justin laughed, the sound short and harsh. If she only knew. "Val, I should have warned you. I shouldn't have—I'm sorry."

"Sorry? For what?"

For everything. For dragging her here. For exposing her to whatever shit his father was about to pull. For whatever shit she was about to hear. All of it.

But Justin said nothing. He tightened his hand around hers and led her up the steps and inside. He didn't want to let go of her hand, didn't want to lose that physical contact with her. But the house was dim, especially compared to the bright sun outside, and he needed to take off his glasses. He hesitated, then the choice was no longer his because Val released his hand and slid her own glasses up to her head. She looked around, her curious gaze taking everything in.

It wasn't much to see, at least not as far as he was concerned. They were in the main entranceway, with a staircase to their right. Just beyond the staircase was a doorway leading into what was now a family room—the irony of the name not lost on Justin. A doorway to the left opened onto a formal dining room that hadn't been used much even when he was growing up, reserved mostly for holidays and rare special occasions up until he was eleven years old. Justin didn't even bother looking in, not wanting to see if anything had been changed since he left.

A wide hallway opened up off the entranceway, straight ahead, leading back to the rest of the house. A kitchen that had been enlarged into one big room to include an informal dining area. A smaller room that had been converted into an office. The main addition ran straight back off the large kitchen. When he was growing up, that's where the family had gathered, in the large living room. To play games, talk about the day's events. Hang out. That had all changed, just before his eleventh birthday.

It was still the room where the family gathered, but it was no longer filled with laughter and games.

"Well?"

Val tugged on Justin's arm, pulling him from memories best left buried. He pulled his sunglasses off and tucked them into the collar of his shirt. "Well what?"

"The parlor? The one with the blood. Where is it?" Val's smiling curiosity brushed away his deep thoughts and lightened his mood. He wanted to thank her, to tell her how much he appreciated it. But then he'd have to explain why and he didn't want to do that, not just yet. So he leaned down and kissed her, a quick meeting of their lips. Val pulled back, surprise lighting her eyes.

"What was that for?"

"Just because." He smiled and took her hand, pointing to their left. "The parlor is right through there, just past the dining room. I'll give you the grand tour before we leave."

He led her down the hallway and through the swinging door that opened to the kitchen. His father stood at the stove, his back to them as he drained a large pot of pasta in the sink. A basket of bread sat in the center of the table, next to a plastic tub of butter. His brother looked up from adding a fourth place setting, a grin on his face as he tried to discreetly study Val.

Justin felt an answering grin on his own face, the first real one in at least an hour. He released Val's hand and motioned to his brother, who was already walking toward them. "Val, this is my brother. Gary, meet Val."

Val held her hand out in greeting, a hesitant smile on her face. The smile disappeared, turning into a small O of shock when Gary stepped forward and gave her a hug. "Nice to meet you, Val." Then he turned to Justin and did the same thing, with an added pat on the back. Gary glanced at him, a small warning flashing in his eyes as he looked over his shoulder at their father. Then he turned back to Val, his smile bright as he led her to the table.

"A pleasant surprise. It's nice to see Justin bring someone with him." Gary took the seat across from her then turned to Justin, his gaze dropping to his arm then up. "Well, I'll give you this much. When you do something, you do it all the way. How's the arm?"

"A little sore."

"I bet. I saw the game. That was a nasty hit."

Justin shrugged, not really wanting to talk about it. Especially not here, in front of their father. He shifted and gave Gary a meaningful look, then turned to Val. She had been watching them, her expression curious, and he wondered what she was thinking. What she thought of his family so far. He cleared his throat and offered her a small smile, trying to think of small talk, something safe and neutral for conversation.

But his father was approaching the table already, the large bowl of pasta held between two large hands. He placed it in the center, cast a long look at Val, then took his seat. "Justin, have your lady friend get the drinks for us."

The small smile on Val's face froze, then disappeared completely, replaced by surprise. Embarrassment filled Justin, swift and hot, and he moved to push back his chair. "I'll get them."

"No, sit. I'll get them. You've only got one arm." Gary stood, his face tinged in pink, no doubt with the same embarrassment Justin felt.

His father fixed him with a steady look then reached for the pasta, spooning out a large portion onto his plate. "That's right, one arm. Because you can't even manage to play a game right."

"Pop—"

"Think you can manage to pass the bread?"

Justin clamped his mouth shut and reached for the bread, but Val was faster. He felt her eyes on him, knew she was watching him, but he couldn't look at her, not right now.

Gary returned to the table, breaking the tension that had settled over them. He placed a pitcher in the center of the table then leaned across, placing a bottle of beer in front of each place setting. Justin shook his head, waving it away.

"Tea's fine." He caught his father's look, saw the slight shake of his head, as if he was disappointed yet again. Justin looked away, shifting his attention to the food and telling himself once again that bringing Val had been a mistake.

Silence settled over the room, broken only by the scrape of silverware against plates. Justin watched Val from the corner of his eye, noticed that she was busier twirling the pasta on her fork instead of eating it. Could he blame her? No, not when he was doing essentially the same thing.

"So, Val. What is it you do?"

She seemed to brighten at Gary's question, straightening a little in her chair and giving him a small smile. "I’m co-owner of a sports bar and restaurant called The Maypole."

"She's very successful at it, too. It's a very popular place and was even mentioned by several local magazines." Justin added the information because he knew Val wouldn't. She looked over at him, a soft smile on her face, then turned back to Gary. Justin figured she was going to explain a little about the restaurant, go into some more detail about it. But before she could say anything, their father let out a loud snort of disbelief. Justin froze, afraid of whatever was coming next.

"So you're one of those."

"Pop—"

"Pardon?" Val spoke at the same time, speaking over him. She turned to his father, her confusion evident. "One of what?"

"A working woman." The tone was condescending and insulting. His father tore off a piece of bread and popped it into his mouth, speaking around it. "Thinks she can do everything on her own. Expects everyone else to cater to her."

Justin wanted to shoot to his feet, wanted to yell at his father, let the last eighteen years of pent-up frustration explode. But he didn't. He couldn't. Shame filled him, the same feeling he always had when he came home. But there was another feeling on top of it: embarrassment. For Val, who didn't deserve his father's harsh judgment. Not just embarrassment, but regret as well, because he didn't know what to do.

Val turned in her seat and looked at him, almost like she was waiting for him to say something in her defense. Justin didn't know what she saw in his face but he was surprised when a flash of understanding flared in her eyes. She straightened her shoulders then turned back to his father.

"You make being independent sound like something to be ashamed of."

"Nothing wrong with being independent." He twirled pasta onto his fork and lifted it, then used it to point at Val. "It's just not what men are looking for."

"Pop, you don't—"

"You're nothing like Gina. Now there was a woman who knew her priorities."

Silence descended over them, quick and brutal. Justin froze, his hand clenching around the fork as anger burned through him. Even Gary froze, his eyes focused completely on the plate in front of him.

Only Val moved, her gaze sliding from his father to his brother and finally to him. Justin wanted to tell her to ignore the comment, wanted to shake his head or reach out and grab her hand. Something. But he couldn’t even meet her direct gaze.

She looked between Gary and him a few more times then finally turned back to his father. "Was Gina your wife?"

His father laughed, the sound nothing more than a short bark. He shook his head and forked pasta into his mouth, chewing with a smile before washing it down with a swallow of beer. "Not mine, missy. Justin's. No idea why he couldn't make it work. Of course, I'm not surprised. Just one more thing he managed to mess up. Isn't that right, son?"

"Oh, was that her name? I didn't know." Val tossed her head to the side in an almost-careless move that caused her hair to fall behind her shoulder. A wide smile crossed her face and Justin wondered if everyone else could see how forced it was, how cold and brittle. Or if anyone else noticed the dangerous fire in her eyes as she blinked at his father.

And kept blinking, like some kind of robotic doll with faulty wiring. Justin sat up a little straighter, wondering what Val was doing. Gone was the business-savvy professional, the laughing carefree woman he'd come to know the last few months. In her place was…Justin wasn't sure, and he was almost afraid to find out.

He stretched his leg under the table, placing his own foot on top of hers and pressing down. A long minute went by before she finally looked at him, the insidious smile slowly fading from her face. Justin pressed down on her foot again and shook his head, doing his best to make the movement noticeable only to her.

Val pursed her lips and for a second he thought she was going to say something, to him or to his father, maybe both. But she finally nodded and lowered her gaze to the table, her attention now solely focused on her plate.

If his father noticed the byplay, he didn't say anything. No, he must not have noticed. If he had, he would have definitely said something, would have pounced on it and turned it around in some way against Justin. Because that's what he did, what he'd been doing for the last eighteen years, ever since his mother died.

Justin wondered again why he brought Val, why he thought it would be a good idea to have her with him. It wasn't fair to Val, to throw her in the middle of this, to expose her to his father's biting criticism. As much as Justin wanted her with him, he'd have to take her home tomorrow. Tonight was mild; things would only go downhill from here.

Because it didn't matter what he did, or who he had with him. His father would act like he always had. His father would continue to find fault in everything he did, would continue to accuse him of being a fuck-up. He'd been doing it for the last eighteen years and he'd continue doing it, no matter what Justin did.