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Could she be any more of a kiss ass? I look at my dad, wondering if he’s really buying into her sweet act. By the way his features soften, it’s obvious he is.
“I appreciate that, Elodie. But the smoke alarm isn’t what woke me. It was my son’s shouting.” His eyes glide to mine. “Care to explain what that was about?”
“Sure.” I shrug my shoulders nonchalantly while raising my arm. “Elodie scratched me.”
Let’s see whose side he’s on now.
Elodie’s eyes widen in shock. “Are you serious? I scratched you because you shut my hand in a drawer.”
It’s obvious by her reaction that she isn’t called out for her bullshit often. Unlucky for her, I have every intention of doing just that.
“You deserved it,” I tell her point-blankly.
“Oh, grow up,” she grumbles with a heavy eye roll.
“Elodie,” Dad says, “why don’t you go back to bed while Rome and I have a little talk?”
She nods with a pressed smile on her face. “Good night, Grant.”
I take in a deep breath, fingers drawing around my mouth. Fucking great. I’m gonna get a lecture from my dad while perfect little Elodie walks away scot-fucking-free. Typical.
Once Elodie is out of sight, Dad’s face contorts in a furious scowl. “What in God’s name is going on with you?” I can practically feel the rumble of his deep roar.
You brought four females into our house only a year after we lost Mom. One of those bitches destroyed my life. And you’re treating her like she’s a saint. That’s what’s going on with me.
But I don’t say that. Instead, I blink slowly, shoulders lifting and falling carelessly. “Nothing.” Downplaying the situation is the best approach. If he even has to ask what’s going on with me, then he has no business knowing how I truly feel.
“Coach Ivers was at the board meeting tonight. He said you and Luke got into an argument before practice today.” He crosses his arms, signaling to me that he plans to have more than just a quick chat.
Fucking great. Here we go. There’s no privacy in this small-ass town.
I sweep my hand through the air with a sigh. “It was nothing, Dad.”
“Luke’s your best friend. It had to be something. Whatever’s going on, you gotta let it out, son. Holding it in?—”
“Nothing is going on!” I nearly shout. “I’m fine. Everything is fine. Now go back to bed with your new wife and enjoy your happy fucking life.” I storm past him, leaving the kitchen a mess, my entire body trembling with anger.
The sound of heavy feet slapping against the hardwood rings in my ears. “Not so fast.” Dad huffs, grabbing me by the shoulder from behind. “Since when did you think it’s acceptable to speak to me with that tone?”
He’s right. It’s not acceptable. I’ve never lashed out at my dad like that before. Lately, my emotions have been getting the best of me. I know him and my brothers see it. Why don’t they understand why I’m hurting? Why aren’t they just as upset?
Dad played ball at UCLA and it was always my plan to play there, too. Wilder might not have gotten the offers I did because he isn’t as stellar on the field, but he’s got the brains and a career path he’s headed down. Without ball, I’ve got nothing. I am nothing.
It’s not their fault, though. Not Wilder’s, Luke’s, or my dad’s.
She’s the only one to blame.
I drop my head down, unable to even look him in the eye out of sheer shame and regret. “I’m sorry, Dad. There’s just been a lot of changes and I’m trying to adjust the best I can.”
He comes around to face me, hand still on my shoulder. “Look at me, son.”
I slowly lift my eyes to his, feeling the sting of his pitiful gaze. That’s what he feels toward me right now—pity. I’m the fuckup child who lost it all.
“Football isn’t the only opportunity in life. You’ve still got a bright future ahead of you.”
Do I, though? I’m not smart. I barely slide by, keeping my grades just where they need to be to stay on the team. I’m not even sure if UCLA still wants me. We’ve appealed to the board in hopes of them holding true to their acceptance, even without my contract or scholarship, to play ball there. The decision is still undecided.
“I know,” I tell him, desperate for this conversation to end.
