Noah's POV
"Hello, son."
The sound of his voice is a blade twisting between my ribs and his words slither down my spine like ice water.
I freeze, breath catching in my throat, phone pressed heavily against my ear. Finnian recoils inside me, a whimper almost slipping through my lips. Dread roots me in place. I should ignore him, I should end this call and go on pretending like he doesn't exist.
I should and I don't.
"Don't call me that," I snap, my grip tightening on the phone. The parking lot around me is semi-populated with people climbing out of their cars for evening workouts in the stadium, people heading back home after a day spent training.
But it's easy to feel like you're the only person in the world when one man's voice is capable of sucking the joy out of you. When the mere presence of him makes the air feel still and empty.
Nathaniel chuckles, low and mocking. "Don't be so cold, kid," he says, voice smooth as ever. "You're breaking your old man's heart."
