AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Shit.
It couldn’t be good that Dad wanted to talk to me in, essentially, private.
I took the phone from her and she ran her hand through my hair, pressing a kiss to the top of my head before moving into the kitchen. “I’ll watch for Mo,” she said over her shoulder. “You take that upstairs.”
I moved up to my room, closing my bedroom door behind me, before pressing the phone to my ear. “Yeah, Dad?” I sat at the edge of my bed, leaning forward.
What the hell were you thinking?
My fucking truck?
God, you have been nothing but a never-ending fuck up.
These were all things that rushed through my head as I waited for him to come through the line. I was surprised at the amount of anxiety I had, waiting for him to cut me down.
My parents were good people, don’t get me wrong. But at some point, in the midst of all my mistakes, they had to snap.
“Are you really ok?” The tone of his voice was one I wasn’t prepared for. It was more concerned than I ever heard before. “Your mom’s not around. If something is hurting or you’re hiding something from her, you can tell me.”
“No, I honestly feel fine.” I shrugged, but knew Dad couldn’t see it. “Just like any other concussion.”
“What did they grade you?”
“Two. I blacked out in the truck.”
“How fast was the other fucking car going?” Dad’s voice rose through the phone.
There was Dad’s anger. It was surely going to change and be directed toward me. “I don’t know,” I answered quietly.
I was sixteen fucking years old. I didn’t cry.
But damn if I didn’t want to right now.
I knew I needed to make changes in my life. Sure, this accident wasn’t my fault, but I made a stupid decision in taking Dad’s truck. Had I just listened and stayed home like I was supposed to…
“Fuck, Porter.” His voice was muffled like he was talking behind his hand. “Do you know how long you were out for?”
“I don’t know. When I came to, the cops and everyone were there.” Which meant I was out for at least ten minutes. “I’ll figure out how to pay for the truck.”
“I’m not worried about the damn truck, Porter.” I didn’t say anything—I didn’t have anything to say to that—and, after a moment, Dad seemed to catch on. “We’ll figure out the truck, yeah. But a grade two concussion and they’re only taking you out of hockey for the week?” Dad’s voice was concerned again. “Don’t push yourself, Ports. I mean it. If you go back on the ice next week and you’re dizzy or you come home and feel nauseous, you’re taking a break.”
“Alright, Dad.”
“I mean it.”
“I know.” And I did. Dad always followed through.
This time, Dad fell silent. I had to check the phone to be sure the time was still ticking.
“I’m sorry,” I finally said.
“I’m just glad you’re ok, Porter. I know somewhere in that head of yours, you don’t believe it, but I do. I’ll be home tomorrow.”
He was supposed to be spending the weekend with Cael and Jonny. “You don’t have to come—”
But Dad cut me off. “I’ll be home tomorrow.”
“Yes, sir.”
