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Fuck my life.
* * *
“Mom, I’m home,”I called out, throwing my keys on the sideboard.
“In here, sweetie.”
I followed the scent of freshly baked cookies into the kitchen. “Something smells good, Mom.” Snagging one off the cooling rack, I blew on it before taking a bite.
“Kaiden, they’re still cooling,” she smacked me with the towel, moving the rack to the other counter. “How was your day?”
“Okay, I guess.” My shoulders lifted in a small shrug.
“And practice?”
I flinched. “It was fine.”
“Oh no. I don’t like the sound of that. Is Coach Ford giving you a hard time? Because you know your father won’t tolerate any mistreatment—”
“It’s nothing like that, Mom. Their quarterback is an ass.”
“Well, of course he is, baby. He feels threatened by you.” She smooshed my cheek like she did when I was a kid. “It’s one season, Kaiden. You can handle it.”
“Yeah.” It wasn’t like I had any choice. “He’s at work?”
“Yeah. His back was feeling a little easier this morning, so he went in. I’m not sure when—”
The front door opened and slammed shut.
“That must be him.” Mom’s eyes crinkled, but it wasn’t out of fondness. “We’re in here, Lew,” she called.
“You’re home?” Dad glowered at me. “They let you out of practice early?”
“No, practice already got done.”
He grunted. “What kind of two-bit program is Ford running over there?”
“Dad, come on. You know Rixon High has one of the best programs in state.”
Mom cast me a warning look. “Why don’t you sit, Lew, and I’ll get you a drink?” She tried to guide him over to a stool, but he shirked her off.
“I can get my own goddamn drink, Tina.”
“Okay, I was only offering.” She went back to the cookies, transferring them to a plate.
“Has he announced the roster yet?”
“Not yet.”
“Well, what the hell is he waiting for? You need to be on that starting lineup, Son.”
“I know, Dad. And I will be.”
“If you’d have gone to Millington like I’d wanted, we wouldn’t be having this conversation. Coach Garrick was more than willing to give you game time.”
“Millington haven’t made the playoffs for almost a decade. They don’t have—”
“But they could have.” His fist slammed down on the counter. “With you running things, they could have had a real shot.”
