The Faker: A Marriage of Convenience Hockey Romance (Boston Hawks Hockey) by Gina Azzi (ink ebook reader .TXT) 📗

that but…” He trails off and sighs. “I’m sorry, Torsten. Truly. I wish I reached out to you years ago. When you first left and Father told me about the skimming, I was too angry to reach out. Furious really. By the time my anger simmered, I’d been working with Father and Uncle Erik for a couple of years and by then, honestly, I resented you for leaving. I hated that you got away, out from under all of this…” He tosses his arms wide and I wince at the hurt in his tone. “Then I met Elin and my life shifted. I was too wrapped up in her, in our future, to go digging into the past.” He shrugs. “I let too many years go by.”

I shake my head. “Nah, Anders. It’s not all on you, man. I could have picked up the phone too and I didn’t.”

“After Elin left—”

“Left?”

Anders’ shoulders dip. “She took off on us about a year and half ago. Said it was too much. The family drama, the constant posturing and positioning among father’s generation. Daniel and Johan aren’t like that. They’re like me. Us.” He taps me in the chest with the back of his hand. “It was too much for her.”

“Shit, I’m sorry, Anders. I didn’t know. Farmor never said a word.” I frown. Why didn’t Farmor tell me? Why didn’t you ever ask?

“It’s fine. I have Magnus and he’s”—he grins suddenly, a little sheepishly—“he’s my world.”

“He’s pretty incredible,” I agree.

Anders glances in the direction of Father’s office. “Let’s go in there and lay it all out, Torsten. You don’t want this life, you never have.”

“True,” I agree, frowning at him. “What do you have in mind?”

“I don’t want this life either. Not the way Father runs thing. Constant manipulation and pitting family member against family member. Plotting and scheming, creating dramas. You think I want this to be my legacy? What I leave for Magnus?”

I narrow my eyes, seeing my brother through a new lens. “Fatherhood’s changed you, Anders.”

He shrugs. “You think it won’t but trust me, it will change you too.”

“Nah, Rielle and I, we’re not—”

He chuckles and clasps my shoulder. “Trust me, you are. You just don’t know it yet. Come on, we better get going. You with me?”

I whistle back our three-note code and Anders grins.

Mixed feelings tinged with nostalgia wrap around me as I follow my brother toward Father’s office. Decades of hurt and anger and tension could have been avoided. If Anders is telling the truth and I strongly suspect he is, then Father concocted one hell of a story to get my family to despise me. But why would he do that? What is he after?

Anders storms into Father’s office like he owns it and I jump when the door slams into the wall, another childhood memory rolling over me. But back then, Father was the only one throwing open doors.

Everyone is already seated around the conference table and look up in alarm. My cousins, Johan and Daniel, wear confused expressions. Uncle Erik looks irritated. The lawyers appear surprised. And Father, well, he sneers at me and lifts his chin. “So the prodigal son returns.”

“Nice of you to greet me when I arrived,” I mutter, walking to the table.

He narrows his eyes. “What’s wrong with your leg?”

“Took a tough hit.” I lower myself into a vacant chair and Anders slides into the one beside me.

Father shrugs. “That will happen when you choose to work with your back instead of your brain.”

Anders glowers at Father.

I grin at the table. “The prodigal son, huh? An interesting comparison when you consider that I made my own fortune from my own skill, talents, and didn’t need to piggyback off the family name.”

Johan opens his mouth but Anders cuts him off before he can speak.

“You lied to us.” He points at Father.

Father frowns, gesturing with his hand for Anders to hurry up and say whatever he wants to say.

“Torsten never skimmed any money. He never stole from the business. He never did anything except follow his dream and have you badmouth his name, smear his reputation in Norway. You made our family turn our backs on him and let him believe it was his fault.” Anders’ voice shakes at the end. I sit up straighter in my chair, stunned at the length my brother is going through to right this wrong.

It dawns on me that Anders truly had no idea and is remorseful for all the time we lost. At one point in time, he was my best friend. My big brother. He protected me and right now, he’s doing it again.

Johan glances at me. “Is this true?”

Father sighs and glances at one of the lawyers who flips open his portfolio, signaling it’s time to begin.

“Hang on.” Daniel holds out a hand, and lifts his chin at Father. “Is it true?”

“Every word,” I respond.

The atmosphere in the room drops several degrees as a thin layer of ice spreads throughout the room.

Johan turns to his father. “Did you know?”

“The truth,” Daniel demands.

One of the lawyer’s phone rings and he excuses himself to take the call.

Father sighs and glances at the ceiling, as if the universe owes him something other than a swift jab to the jaw.

Uncle Erik clears his throat and nods.

Johan mutters a string of curse words as Daniel cuts me a look filled with apology.

“How could—” Father begins to berate his brother but the lawyer slips back into the room, his expression somber.

And I know. I know it in my bones that Farmor has passed. I feel it like a tidal wave pulling me down to the depths of the sea. My hands clench into fists and a coldness sweeps through my limbs, causing my chest to ache and my eyes to burn.

“Greta has passed,” the lawyer whispers. He looks traumatized at having to be the one to share this news.

My father bows his head for a long moment before raising it. “She was a good woman.”

“She was more than