Total pages in book: 169
Estimated words: 162138 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 811(@200wpm)___ 649(@250wpm)___ 540(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 162138 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 811(@200wpm)___ 649(@250wpm)___ 540(@300wpm)
“You could have divorced him a long time ago. You can date anyone you want. You’re a fucking catch, Mom.” I shook my head. “If you’re lonely, cut him off and start dating.”
“I don’t want to date anyone.”
“Of course not, because you’re waiting for him to change. He’s never going to. How do you not see it?” I hit the table with my fist. She didn’t even react.
“Says the guy who suddenly wants to date a girl.” She raised an eyebrow.
“No. Fuck that. I’m nothing like him.” My chair screeched as I stood. I couldn’t do this today. “You know, maybe I’ve been angry at the wrong parent all this time. He never promised us he’d keep us safe. He didn’t promise us shit. You, on the other hand, have been dragging us along on this fucked up journey all our lives.”
“Lach.” She grabbed my arm as I walked by. “Please don’t leave.”
“I can’t be here right now.” I glared at her.
“Just listen to what he has to say.”
“I don’t give a fuck what he has to say.” I yanked my arm away and headed to the door.
I grabbed my car keys and wished I could throw them in the gutter. My car was just another reminder of something he’d done for me. It had been waiting for me outside, the morning of my eighteenth birthday, with a note that said, “Happy Birthday. I’m proud of you, son.” I’d wanted to burn it to the fucking ground. I’d kept it because the car I’d been driving at the time had given out two weeks before, and I’d been borrowing Mom’s car or hitching rides with people.
Now, as I sat in the driver’s seat and listened to the engine roar, I could only think about getting rid of it as soon as possible. It was what I would do with my first paycheck. I closed my eyes and reminded myself of all the good things coming my way. I'd officially sign with my dream team, make the money I'd been promised, add more from sponsorships, and never look back. When I calmed down, I started the two-hour drive back to Fairview. I was lost in thought, still thinking about the NHL and CHL, when my phone started ringing with a call from Liam. I pressed the button on my steering wheel to accept it.
“What the hell, Lach?”
“What?”
“You couldn’t wait thirty more minutes?” he asked. “Did you even eat?”
“Did Mom tell you what she wanted?”
“Yeah, Dad wants to talk to us.”
I hesitated before I asked, “You’re going to talk to him?”
“Nothing wrong with listening to what he has to say.”
I could practically see him sitting at the table I’d just left, playing with his lasagna — my favorite food — as he casually spoke to me about this. I wish I could telepathically tip the plate all over his clothes. I hadn’t been able to eat or take some like I usually did because I’d been riled up, and this asshole was sitting there eating it and buying into our dad’s bullshit. I already knew his reason and didn’t want to hear it. I’d accepted that our father would never be who we needed him to be. Liam always kidded himself into thinking he loved us and would return when the timing was right for all of us. Liam had always been like that, searching for the good in others even when it wasn’t there.
“I can’t have this conversation right now.”
“Lach,” he called out as I was about to end the call. “The lasagna is amazing.”
“Asshole.”
“Wait,” he called out again as my finger hovered over the end button. “We’ll be at your next game. Maybe we can hang out after?”
“I’ll text you.”
I ended the call. As soon as I got to Fairview, I’d head straight to the rink. I needed to blow off steam; this energy was best left on the ice.
CHAPTER 7
LYLA
Somehow, I’d let my father drag me to a stupid sports luncheon. He’d bribed me with money. Growing up, I’d been one of those kids who couldn’t be bought. If my parents didn’t show up and gave me a gift in lieu of their absence, I didn’t accept it. These days, I took whatever Dad wanted to throw at me and put it in savings. I’d need every penny when I moved out of here. I’d been accepted to three universities to continue my journey in sports medicine. Though I hadn’t chosen where I was going, money would be necessary no matter where I landed. I may have hated my dad now, but I had fond memories of him from childhood. In the grand scheme of things, sitting at this luncheon should have been a small price, but the verdict was out on that one.
My skin had been crawling since I walked in here, the feeling in the pit of my stomach becoming worse with each passing second. For starters, the object of my worst nightmares was sitting in this room. I’d been able to avoid him this semester, but he always found a way to sneak back into my life somehow, and since he knew he’d done a good enough job silencing me, it was something he tried to do often. Secondly, it was a sports luncheon for athletes, and I was no longer one, in large part because of him. Anger sizzled deep in my stomach, but I couldn’t let it boil over. I couldn’t react. Prescott, Mason, Lachlan, Coach Jameson, and my dad were at the table and I refused to show any emotion around them. Dad and Jameson were lost in conversation. Prescott was texting someone. Mason was openly checking me out, even though I’d made it a point to wear a loose blouse and pants. Lachlan was sitting to my right, his glare set on Mason. It was such a weird thing. I’d felt nothing all day. Nothing. And the moment I smelled him near me, I felt butterflies.