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The last time Briana watched me play I was on fire, fueled by my need to impress her. But after I saw my dad enter the arena, my skin started burning. My anger shakes through me, the sight of him alone enough to produce an intense rage inside me, like a volcano ready to erupt. Why is he even here? He only shows up when he wants to ruin my life in some way. Otherwise, he keeps his distance and lets his spies keep him informed.
I have to maintain my focus. If I can’t keep my head in the game, we will lose. This is my last shot. I’m not as good as some of the other players on my team. My dad isn’t a famous hockey player who taught me and encouraged me every step of the way.
I started playing at boarding school because of my anger issues. The headmaster thought channeling my energy into a physical sport would do me some good. Hockey got me through some rough times with my dad and even harder times with and without Briana. My dad hates hockey, which makes me want to play even more.
So, why am I falling apart when my team needs me?
Snapping myself out of my thoughts, I skate down the ice, coming up on the side of my opponent. He moves his stick back to take the shot, and luckily, I react in enough time to block it.
After we score, I skate back to the bench, with sweat dripping down my forehead and into my eyes. I strip off my helmet and glance over my shoulder to look for Briana. Instead, I find my dad, who’s watching from the front row with an evil grin that makes me shiver.
What the fuck?
I have his dark hair, green eyes, and olive skin. We look so much alike, with the same strong jaw and Roman nose. He’s pushing sixty now, but you can’t tell by looking at him. He doesn’t have a single speck of gray hair on his head. His skin is almost entirely free of wrinkles. At least I know I’ll still look good when I’m his age. But I fucking hate him. I hate the sight of him and everything he represents.
I turn back around and wait until the buzzer sounds. With one period left of play, I follow my teammates into the locker room and wave to Briana as I pass her row. She smiles back and returns my gesture. I wish she didn’t have to see me suck this hard. At least she didn’t get shit thrown at her this time. So, that’s a plus.
As I scan the people in the stands, I find a few of my teammates’ girlfriends. Alex Parker, Tyler Kane, and Carter Donovan are sitting with their wives. I idolized Alex Parker in high school. I wanted to be like him. Seeing him in the crowd makes me want to do better. My dad is missing. Thank God. But my celebration ends the second I near the locker room.
Dressed in a black Gucci suit, black wingtips, and a white oxford paired with a red tie, my dad leans against the brick wall. I take a deep breath and prepare myself for this fight. That’s all we ever do. He wants to tell me how much of an embarrassment I am to the Rivers name. That hockey is a waste of time, and I’ll never go anywhere.
I stop in front of him and rip off my gloves. “What are you doing here?”
His mouth twists in disgust. “I’m your father.”
“Lucky me,” I snap. “So, what do you want? You’re not here because you want to watch me play.”
“No,” he grunts. “And judging by how you’ve played this game, I can see my money is being wasted on this silly sport.”
I wipe the beads of sweat from my forehead with the back of my hand and sigh. “And which sport do you find suitable, Father?”
“Whichever one makes me the most money,” he counters, fixing the lapels of his jacket. “Speaking of things that are suitable…”
Here it comes. I’m already bracing myself for whatever shit he’s about to throw at me.
“The girl you’re seeing. She has to go.” He says this with a straight face, unaffected in any way.
I shake my head. “No, she doesn’t. I love her. She’s not going anywhere. You won two years ago. You got your way. I’m not letting you come between us this time.”
“Do you want to live like your charity case?”
My blood boils from how he speaks about Briana. I’ve never looked at Briana that way. She’s just a girl who’s had a shitty life that was forced on her because of horrible circumstances.
I narrow my eyes at him, confused by his question. “What are you talking about?”
“Your trust fund. I can take it away. You won’t ever see a penny of it.”
“I don’t care,” I snap. “I’m so sick of this shit. You’ve been threatening to take it away for years. Either do it or don’t. But stop using it as a tactic to get me to do what you want.”
He crosses his arms over his chest, staring me down with hatred in his cold green irises. “I always get what I want, Julian. You know this better than anyone. If you force my hand, I’ll take drastic measures.”
Stepping closer, I get in his face. “Like what?”
He pushes his hand between us to create some space. “You’ll find out soon enough.” After I move back against the opposite wall, he adds, “You’ll never make it to the NHL. You should give up now and come back home and work with me. You’re not as good as your teammates.”
My body trembles from the anger rocking through me. I know he’s right. But that doesn’t mean I want to hear it from him. Every part of my body wants to charge forward and beat the shit out of him. I stop myself because I could get in a lot of trouble for fighting in the arena. Coach Bryant would have a stroke and probably bench me for the remainder of the game. Not like my contributions have helped us in any way, but still…
“I’m not letting Briana go,” I say after a long pause. “Nothing you can say or do will change that.”
