Chapter 93

GREYSON

Violet, Violet, Violet.

I can smell her sweet, floral scent in my room like she rubbed herself along my walls and my sheets. There’s no imprint. No sign of her at all except for the smell. Something I don’t think I could concoct in my imagination.

I sit on my bed and inhale again, not wanting to exhale.

My father calls me. I consider sending it to voicemail, but the last time I did that, he showed up at my game.

Him. At a game.

I haven’t seen him witness me play in years, let alone speak to me after the fact. It probably has something to do with our clashing reputations. Can a beloved senator really have a bloodthirsty hockey player for a son?

Since our next game is at home, I don’t want to risk that. Coach Roake acted like he walked on water, and I was once again reminded of the complex power my father holds. It goes far beyond his domain of New York.

I don’t know if there’s a place his influence can’t reach.

“Hey, Dad.”

“Greyson,” he greets me. Brisk and businesslike, even t