I take the Blue Line in from O’Hare Airport after saying goodbye to Lacy.

I walk all the way to the end and find an empty train car. Sitting in the back, I pull my stocking cap low and button up my jacket. It’s cold, but I don’t mind. The cool air numbs me, and I like that right now.

The train starts and we zoom out of the station. I stare out at the cars driving alongside the train track in bumper to bumper traffic as the snow cascades down, turning to slush almost the moment it touches the ground.

A few people board the train at a stop, and I keep my head turned, not in the mood to be recognized.

I expected to feel relieved after this trip, confronting my father, and making things right with Lacy.

I sigh at how I muddled things up further, rather than resolve them. Instead of thinking I’m a changed man, Lacy’s probably just as confused and upset as she was when I ended things last summer. Plus, Jeff Doonsbury is a madman. As crazy as he’s been over the years, I can’t exactly write his words off as an empty threat.

And why did Natasha suddenly feel emboldened to send me some barely-clothed selfie?

Must be Lacy’s immutable law of exes.

So with Lacy boarding a flight to New York at this very moment, I’m left with more questions than answers.

I should never have thought I could just meet with my father one time, and suddenly be ‘okay’ with what he did to my mother.

What the hell was I thinking?

I catch the reflection of my grimace in the window, and pull out my phone to distract myself.

My home page—NBA.com, comes up, and the headline makes my gut drop.

“Chandler Spiros leads Wolverines to Victory without Flynn: Is Spiros the New MVP?”

Ugh.

I’m happy for the guy, but on a competitive level deep down inside, I’m not okay with this.

We should be cruising to victories together--and now the media is trying to pit us against each other.

When I arrive back to my apartment, Smokey greets me begrudgingly, clearly a little bitter that I went to Costa Rica without her. She rubs between my legs a couple of times and then ignores me.

After making a sandwich, the first call I make is to Natasha, so I can give her a piece of my mind. Yeah, I could just block her—and I might. But blocking people is no way to live your life.

No answer.

Figures.

I dial up Chandler, and he answers after one ring.

“Buddy,” he says, sounding jovial. “How’s the Rica Costa?”

“It was good. I’m back in Chicago.”

“Already? That was quick. I thought you were going to stay down there for a little while longer.”

“I was going to stay another day or two, but there was a change of plans,” I say, keeping it vague. “Nice game tonight, buddy. I was just watching the highlights. San Francisco is good this year, too.”

“Thanks, man. We could have used you.”

“Did Coach say anything about me?”

“He’s happy we won—I can tell he’s a little miffed you’re not traveling with the team, though.”

“Yeah, I’ll have to start traveling with you guys.”

An awkward beat of silence passes between us.

“So how was he?” Chandler finally asks, the topic of discussion on the tip of both our tongues.

“He’s a dick, man. Really.”

Chandler chuckles. “So we finally know where we get our dickishness from.”

“Yeah—about that. I asked him about rural Indiana. The guy isn’t great with names.”

“Isn’t great with the names of the women he had children with. How wonderful.”

“It’s messed up, I agree. But I don’t know man, it seems like we’re probably cousins and not brothers.”

“Whatever. We could just lie and say we’re brothers,” Chandler says. “We should seriously run this story, though. I mean, fuck it, right? Good publicity for us. People love a good story.”

“You think we should tell the media?”

“Yeah. He’s a piece of shit, he should be shamed.”

My body tenses as I recall Jeff’s threats. “I don’t know, Chandler. He’s running for Senator, and from what I gather, he’s gone to extreme lengths to keep this quiet.”

“You mean keep his illegitimate children quiet?”

“Yes. Maybe we should just leave him alone and move on.”

Chandler pauses, muttering a few expletives to himself. “Fuck that guy. Seriously. I’m sick of living in the dark, like we’re hiding something.”

I pause for a few moments, remembering the feeling of fear Jeff tried to instill in me as I left his Costa Rican mansion, the way he flaunted his power, and his cocky smirk. Jeff thinks he’s untouchable, above the law. There is no doubt he was trying to intimidate me into submission.

“Carter? You there?” Chandler asks.

Clenching my fist at my side, I feel a surge of adrenaline come through me. I realize this is a dilemma between hiding, and telling the truth. If I hide now, I’ll have to live with that feeling of being a coward for the rest of my life.

“Jeff Doonsbury is a narcissistic asshole who feeds off the fear of people,” I finally say. “And we should take him down.”

“Yes,” Chandler exclaims. “Just like you did a verbal smackdown on Josh Evans.”

“Fuck it. Let’s do it,” I agree. “So you flying back tonight from San Fran?”

“I hope so, but they aren’t allowing many flights into Chicago right now because of the snow. I’m bummed.”

“Why are you bummed? San Fran’s not a bad city.”

“That’s true. But Amy’s eight months pregnant. I don’t like being away from her. The baby could come any day now.”

I nod. “Right.”

“Hang on, man, she’s calling right now actually.”

I wait a few moments. When Chandler clicks back, his voice is shaky.

“Holy shit, man.”

“What?”

“Amy’s water broke. Dude, her water broke!”

“Where is she?”

“At our apartment in the city. She just called her dad, but he’s in the suburbs and apparently the roads are jammed with the blizzard. Can you get over there?”

“Of course,” I say, grabbing my car keys. I grab one more bite of my sandwich and start heading out the door, feeling my heart pounding.

“Drive safe, man, okay? I’m going to figure out if I can fly private into a nearby airport and drive in.”

I ruffle my brow. “Wait. You can’t fly into Chicago?”

“No. I was holding out hope, but they just canceled all flights in and out of Chicago because of the epic storm. They’re calling it Chi-beria.”

“Shit,” I say as I get in the elevator. “That means Lacy isn’t flying out of here either.”

“Lacy’s in Chicago with you?”

“Yeah.”

“How was your time with her, anyway? Did you two kiss and make up?”

The elevator dings at the ground floor, and I jog out toward my Mercedes.

“Now that is a story for another time. I’m heading over to your place. I’ll let you know when we get to the hospital.”

“Thanks,” Chandler says, and clears his throat.

I turn the key in the engine, and I’m about to hang up, when he says one more thing.

“Brother.”

“What?”

“I don’t care what that fuckhead father of yours said. We’re brothers, as far as I’m concerned.”

“Fuck yes we are.”

“Take care of Amy, brother.”

“I will.”

“Oh, and one more thing,” Chandler adds. “I love you, man.”

I crack a smile as I turn out of the parking space and head out into the artificially lit, snowy streets.

“Fuck you, man,” I joke.

“No,” he says. “Fuck you.”