Page 85 of Taking Sides

“Remember when you were seventeen?” He quirks one dark brow at me and starts for the garage exit.

“Okay, that was years ago, and it wasn’t my fault.”

“If you try to blame the kid on the bicycle again⁠—”

“He swerved into my lane. What could I do but swerve the other way?”

“Into a stop sign.” The first hint of a real smile tugs at his lips. It’s good to see, even at my expense.

I pull into the parking lot of the resort, where we’re meeting Dad for dinner at his favorite restaurant.

“I forgot how big this place is,” I say as I navigate past the restaurant entrance, looking for a place to park.

Inside the hotel, the place is as extravagant as the grounds. The marble lobby opens up to a patio and beyond it, several pools. There’s a smaller restaurant and bar here, but Victor and I take the stairs to the second floor, where a bigger, nicer steak house and cigar bar are located.

The hostess immediately leads Victor and me to a table in the center of the restaurant. Dad stands as we approach. He looks exactly the same. Dark hair with only a hint of graying at the temples and a mustache that he’s been rocking since I was a kid. He’s an inch shorter than Victor but still broad and fit. He plays squash every weekday and has an elaborate home gym he uses regularly.

“Whitney.” My dad raises his hands to his sides and gives me an affectionate smile. “You look beautiful.”

“Thanks, Dad.” I step into him, and he gives me a quick hug. Then he pulls back and waves his hand to the empty chairs across from his seat, indicating we should sit down.

Victor and I take our places, and the hostess hands us our menus.

I give her an appreciative smile as Dad speaks to Victor.

“I saw the highlights. Looks like I didn’t miss much. Dallas trampled all over you boys tonight.”

Victor tenses, clenching the menu a little tighter in his hands. And just like that, I’m thrown back into the Aven family dynamics and launch into the peacekeeper role like I never left.

“I forgot how exciting it is to be at the games,” I say, a little too eagerly. “And I love the new hat design this year with the upside-down lettering. I tried to buy one, but they were sold out.”

“I miss the original style,” Dad says. “Classic. Traditional.”

Beside me, Victor sighs quietly enough that only I can hear.

Dad lifts the glass in front of him, vodka tonic, if I had to guess. “Did you get any points?”

“No.” Victor doesn’t look up from the menu.

“That’s the fourth game in a row.”

“I’m aware.” Victor sets his menu down and holds our father’s stern gaze. “Believe me. I’m aware.”

I forgot how hard it is to mediate between the two of them. I’m rusty at this—keeping Dad from laying into my brother and Victor from shutting down.

I’m offered a short reprieve as the server comes to take our drink orders. Victor orders a Manhattan, and I get Dr Pepper.

“I miss the fountain Dr Pepper in Texas. It doesn’t taste as good anywhere else,” I say when it’s just the three of us again. I’m desperately hoping to head off any more attempts Dad makes to talk about Victor’s season stats.

“It originated here,” Dad says, like I don’t know that, then frowns. “How is Montana?”

“Good. I’m really liking it.” My palms are starting to sweat. I knew this outfit was a mistake. “Teaching is fun and I’m enjoying coaching too. It’s nice being back out on the ice.”

“You were fun to watch.” His lips twist with an amused grin. “You tried so hard.”

Tried and failed, he means.

My smile wobbles.