Free Baller: An Interracial MMA Stepbrother Romance by Simone Scarlet MMA Page A

growled. “Drunk off your ass, at 2am in the morning?” He held open the door, holding Popcorn and Buttons at bay with one bare foot. “You better get your sorry ass inside, Hannibal. You’ve got some explaining to do.”

Chapter Twenty-Three
     
    Hannibal
     
    It doesn’t matter how old you get. It doesn’t matter how many hundreds of thousands of dollars you make in a year, or what nice things the newspapers write about you.
    When your dad tells you to sit down, shut up, and listen, you fucking do it.
    So that’s how Hannibal Alexander found himself sitting at his father’s kitchen table, listening to his dad lecture him.
    “Well, this is a nice way to greet your old man,” the big, rotund professor stomped around to the head of the table. “I don’t see you for six months, and this is the welcome I get?”
    “Pops,” Hannibal held up his hands. “It’s not like that. I came round earlier and you and… and her were out.”
    “Your step-mother has a name ,” Cornell growled, “and it sure as hell isn’t ‘her.’”
    Hannibal growled. He hated to hear Kristen’s mom described as his ‘stepmother.’
    “So what were you and Kristen up to? Drinking and partying it up?” Cornell shook his head, his shaggy afro swaying as he did so. “This ain’t Vegas, son. And Kristen’s too smart a girl for me to let you lead her astray, like you did with Julius.”
    Hannibal’s eyes narrowed into slits.
    “Actually, the reason I wasn’t around is because we were seeing Jules. Mom told me the trouble he’s getting into.”
    “’Seeing’ Jules?”Cornell slumped into one of the kitchen chairs. “Where were you ‘seeing’ him? At the bar? That kid’s barely old enough to drink.”
    “Nah, that happened afterwards,” Hannibal explained, and then shut up. His dad was looking for ammunition. No need to feed it to him.
    “I’d hoped you’d have done some growing up by the time you came home,” Cornell continued. “Start living up to your responsibilities. You’ve caused this family enough heartache with your childish shenanigans.”
    And that was what tipped Hannibal over the edge.
    “ My childish shenanigans?” He hissed. “ My responsibilities?” The big man’s hands balled into fists. “What about your responsibilities, Pops? You’re responsible for Mom living in a shitty townhouse, when she should be here living with you . With us .”
    Cornell visibly reeled when he was hit with that.
    “N-now Hannibal,” he stammered. “It’s more complicated than that…”
    “ The fuck it is ,” Hannibal spat, pushing back his chair and standing up. Cornell was visibly intimidated as his oldest son towered over him. “You sit there and you blame all this shit on me, but you’re the one who tore this family apart.” He pointed a thick finger at his father, and snapped: “You spend so much time giving me and Jules a hard time for our behavior, but you forget: We learned it all from you .”
    Cornell pushed his chair back, and struggled to his feet.
    “How dare you,” he growled.
    “I dare just fine ,” Hannibal spat back, looming over him. “I think it’s about time somebody called you on it. You’ve spent so many years playing the kindly old professor, I think you’ve started to believe that’s who you really are. Not some conceited jackass who cheated on his wife.”
    “Get the hell out of my house!” Spittle ran down Cornell’s chin as he screamed at his son.
    For a moment, Hannibal saw red. His hands balled up into fists and he seriously considered knocking his seventy-year-old father to the floor.
    But then he took a deep, ragged breath of air, span around and headed for the door.
    “With fucking pleasure,” he spat – and the walls of the old house rattled as Hannibal slammed shut the door after him.

Chapter Twenty-Four
     
    Hannibal
     
    It was three in the morning, and a rapidly-sobering-up Hannibal was stomping down the sidewalk with his hands in his pockets and his