“We are not helping anyone,” my father stated flatly. “And you can drop the concerned teammate routine. Gerry gave me the full context of the rumors Trenton is spreading about you and this boy. I’ve already had my people look into Mr. Zotov.”
My heart hammered against my ribs;my dad knew.Hastings and Trenton’s father had just outed me to him.
I gripped the steering wheel and braced for the yelling, the disgust, the explosive anger I was sure would follow. But it did not come. Instead, my father sounded incredibly calm.
For one dizzying second, a spark of hope flared in my gut. If my dad already knew the truth about me seeing a guy, and he wasn’t screaming... maybe I wouldn’t even have to have the hardest conversation of my life. Maybe I didn’t need to explain myself. If he wasn’t losing his mind, maybe he was going to accept me.
“I took care of it,” my father continued. “I had a very clear conversation with Gerry and Trenton’s father. The complaint is sealed. The rumors will be handled quietly. Our family name will not be dragged into a locker room scandal right as we begin backing a major conservative Senate campaign.”
My hope completely died, leaving a hollow pit in my stomach. My father was not accepting anything—he was just managing a PR crisis.
“It is not a rumor, Dad,” I mumbled.
“It is an ugly phase,” my father corrected. “A deviant embarrassment. And you will bury it immediately. This boy is a parasite, Karter. He was brought over from Russia by a mother who cleans floors for a living. They have absolutely nothing. I’n sure he used your naivety to secure his own footing.”
A dry, humorless scoff scraped out of my throat, but before I could fire back, my father kept talking.
“You want to know the real mistake? I let you move into that drafty Ice House in the first place. Living in a place like that when the athletic dorms were already paid for.” A pause crackled through the speakers, and when his voice returned, something almost human surfaced beneath his boardroom tone. “I respected it at first. Thought you sticking it out there showed a bit of character. Even told your mother you had more guts than I gave you credit for, slumming it with the scholarship boys just to prove a point.”
The leather of the steering wheel creaked under my grip.
“But that was my error,” he said, the brief warmth vanishing. “I should have shut that rebellion down on day one. If I had given you a firm hand from the start, it never would have come to this.”
“None of that is true!” I snapped back. “He isn’t like that. You don’t even know him. Aleks just gave up his entire future to keep my name out of that investigation.”
My father scoffed. “What future? He is a minor investment by the college that did not pan out. You are a Johnston. And you belong on the ice, performing at the level we expect, not playing house with some nobody.”
“He lost his draft spot for me,” I pleaded, my voice cracking. “I am not just going to abandon him.”
“You will doexactlythat,” he ordered, anger breaking through the controlled surface he always seemed to present. “I’ve spent my life building a certain image for this family. If you refuse to distance yourself from this kid, I will freeze your accounts and pull your tuition. And you willnotsee another dime from me.”
My nails dug so hard into the steering wheel that they went numb. I was practically begging for my father’s love, and he was threatening my bank account.
“Dad, please. Just listen to me.”
“Fix this,” my father warned. “Cut ties, focus on the tournament, and act like you belong to this family. Do not call me back until you have.”
The line clicked dead.
I stared at the dashboard screen, letting the silence of the car settle over me. My dad did not care that I was hurting. He only cared about protecting his political investments, and I was officially a liability.
Gripping the steering wheel until my fingers ached, a hot wave of anger burned through the shock. Every single time I hadbitten my tongue to keep the peace in this family had been a complete waste of time.
Shoving my car into gear, I drove straight to the athletic facility.
The varsity locker room went dead silent the second I walked through the doors. A few guys looked away, suddenly very interested in taping their sticks or staring at the rubber floor mats. But I ignored them and took the stall next to Matt, who also avoided my eye as I did.
Yanking on my pads and lacing my skates, I resisted the urge to search for a pair of sympathetic eyes in the room. The entire locker radiated hostility, but I did not care about smoothing things over.
Stepping out onto the pristine ice, the rink hit me with a blast of cold air as I stepped through the gate. Clean ice stretched out under the overhead lights, a surface my father’s donor money had resurfaced twice this season. The thought of it made the muscles between my shoulder blades stay locked tight. Dad had threatened to cut me off. Aleksey was gone. The only thing that sounded good was driving someone into the boards.
Five minutes later, Coach Corby blew his whistle. The sharp noise bounced off the championship banners hanging near the rafters as my teammates and I gathered around center ice. Taking off his cap, Corby ran a hand over his thinning hair and shoved the hat back into place as he cleared his throat.
“Okay, listen up,” Coach said, staring down at the ice instead of looking at us. “I know you all saw the update this morning. Zotov is off the roster. Stepping away to handle a family situation, so we’re moving forward without him.”
A low murmur rippled through the group. Some guys started trading confused looks, others bumping gloves, all clearly surprised by hearing Coach actually confirm the news out loud.
Clay leaned forward on his stick. “Wait, he just quit? Right before the tournament?”
