I poke and prod, talking with Alex all through our meal and while watching repeats on television all evening, but nothing comes out of his mouth that tells me directly that his father has asked him to move to St. Louis or is trying to encourage him to talk to me about it.
What I do know from firsthand experience is that Ignacio Torres is an expert at manipulation. It didn’t take much for him to convince me he cared for me. It didn’t take much to make me believe his world started and ended with me and only me.
It would be so easy for that man to convince Alex to want all the things he has to offer without even opening his mouth to say the words directly.
Alex may think he’s street smart, but his daddy practically created the game, a con artist to the extreme because most people like that are after money. Ignacio deals in hearts.
I know it’s just a matter of time before he breaks our son the same way he broke me.
Chapter 29
Ignacio
“Looking good, kid!” I yell, my hands cupped around my mouth as Alex practices hitting before the game.
More people fill the stands. Many are here to support our local team, but there’s also an abundance of out-of-town people. With this week’s tournament, there’s nowhere else to sit other than the one set of bleachers the school has. Disgust for being in this part of town is clear on many faces, and it gets my hackles up.
Our school’s fans have kept to one end, but when I notice Tinley climbing the stairs, she takes one look at me and sits right in the middle of the group wearing purple and silver rather than mingling with our team’s blue and gold.
Clearly, she’s still pissed, and I don’t know if it’s because of what she found in the envelope or if she’s just destined to always despise me.
I made her an offer, telling her that I want her and Alex with me in St. Louis and also gave her the envelope as a different choice. It’s clear from her keeping her distance and not calling me since the last time I was inside her house that she’s made her decision.
It hits so hard in the gut that I’m delayed in standing up and crossing my hand over my heart for the national anthem.
“You look a little zoned out, man,” a guy beside me says, nudging my shoulder to get me to stand.
“Sorry,” I mutter as I stand, all the people around me now preventing me from seeing where Tinley is. I hate being so close and unable to touch her, convince her, persuade her to go to St. Louis.
I’m out of ideas. A grand gesture was supposed to bring arms around my neck, lips on mine, not a cold shoulder and the silent treatment. I’m close to calling and asking for advice, knowing my only options are Deacon, Flynn, or Wren.
All three of them have stable relationships, but all of them are also so damn new. I had my years with Tinley, that relationship lasting longer than any of the guys back home have reached yet, so they may not be much help.
I don’t think she’d appreciate me slinging her over my shoulder and choking her on my dick until she agrees, and I know that would be Wren’s advice.
Flynn would tell me to just wait, she’ll come around, and if she doesn’t, sitting where she could see me and staring at her would be his next suggestion.
I started with doing what Deacon did, a grand gesture, a way to give her what she wants. Hell, I gave her two ways.
Maybe I’m just not part of the what she wants equation.
When the song ends, my eyes immediately go to Tinley, and my heart races to see her looking in my direction. She turns her head, snapping it forward to cheer the guys on as they hit the field, but it’s something. I caught her looking, and that’s something that I can work with.
Does she know how hard it’s been for me to not go to her and demand an answer? Nearly fucking impossible is the answer.
Every evening Alex asks me to come in. He wants to hang out, watch the game, but I tell him I’m busy. I lie to my son because facing her and not knowing where she stands is a brutality I wouldn’t wish on anyone. Well, maybe Cedric Ramirez, but I haven’t seen that lowlife fucker since he came up to me while I was with Alex that day at the store.
Jesus.
I scrub my hands over my face, doing my best to focus on the game. I’m near my breaking point. Last night, I nearly asked Alex to put in a good word for me. I literally opened my mouth to use my son to convince his mother that she loves me. The manipulative bastard I was way back when wouldn’t have thought twice, but I don’t want a relationship that’s been forged in lies and tricks. She’s already accused me of doing it more than once, so sure that I’ve been putting bugs in Alex’s ear, planting seeds to get him to choose me over her.
I confessed my fucking love for that woman. Told her I never stopped loving her. I laid all of my truths at her feet, and she called me a liar and told me to get out of her house.
I stand abruptly, the guy next to me snapping his head in my direction as if he’s assessing me for threats.
“Need a drink,” I mutter.
“Don’t we all,” he replies to my back as I walk down the bleachers.
I tell myself I’m not going to look in her direction, but I’m incapable. The quick glance isn’t enough, but this also isn’t the time or place to make her stubborn ass see reason.
I’m going over the pros and cons of taking what I figure would be Wren’s advice as I pace back and forth along the fence line between third and home. I cheer the team on, the little bit of distance helps even though not having her in my line of sight makes my skin itch.
The first game turns into another and then another as the guys keep winning. By the time they finish, our team losing by two in the final inning, everyone involved is exhausted and near dehydration, players and fans alike. The stands get thinner with every game, the losing teams’ fans packing up and heading home.
With each game, it was easier and easier to see Tinley and harder and harder to keep my distance, but like I told her, the ball is in her court. I just never suspected that she would let what we had, what we could have go so easily.
Despite losing the final game, Alex runs up to his mom with a huge smile on his face, and I approach them then. She may not want me around when she’s alone, and I’ll do my best to respect that, but I won’t shy away when my son is around.
“Dad!” Alex yells when I approach. “Did you see that play in the fourth?”
“I did.” He’s an amazing player, and I hope I have the chance to be around and foster his love of the game.
“Where are we going for lunch?” His eyes dart between Tinley and me. “I’m starving.”
“We have food at home.” Alex’s face falls. “We have more packing to do.”
I look over at her, brows scrunched in confusion. “Did you find another house?”
That would be ridiculous, unless she’s finally made up her mind to get Alex out of that neighborhood. This could be a good thing, but also bad at the same time because she hasn’t consulted with me about where she’s going. The chances of it being St. Louis are now slimmer than ever.
She frowns in my direction, but immediately pulls her eyes away and looks over at Alex.
“Ready?”
“Can Dad come, too?”
“He’s got—”
“I have some stuff I need to take care of,” I tell him, preventing her from having to lie to our son. There’s no reason both of us should need forgiveness later.