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It was true. I didn’t need a lavish lifestyle.
“Look around, son.” Dad spread his arms wide. “Do you think all of this is free? Do you think I got it from messing around in some pool, flinging a ball? No. I got it from hard work. Real work. From starting a business and building it from the ground up and watching it flourish.”
A jolt of irritation ripped through me. I snatched the letter and envelope from his hands and folded them, shoving them back in my pocket. I was a fool to think I could talk to him about this and he’d actually listen. Crazy to think he might change his mind.
“Do they even pay most coaches?”
“Yeah, they pay them,” I snapped, although, to be honest, I wasn’t entirely sure how much.
Anger slid under my skin, burning like a hot poker. “But I’d teach, too. I wouldn’t just coach. I’d get my teaching degree, and I’d do both.”
“I bust my butt to set you up for life, and you want to throw that in my face for a shitty teaching job?”
“Oh, what? It’s good enough for you to screw a teacher, but you can’t have a son that’s one?”
My father’s hand shot out, roughly grabbing a fistful of my shirt and yanking me toward him until I could feel the heat of his breath, see the bit of parsley stuck in his teeth. “You watch your dirty little mouth, young man. This isn’t the school locker room, and I’m not one of your pals.”
He shoved me backward so hard I crashed into the counter, knocking a rack of cookies onto the floor with a resounding clang.
“Hey, what’s going on in here?” Mom appeared inside the kitchen, hands on her hips, while her gaze darted from the cookies to me, to Dad.
The breath puffed from my chest as I stared at my father. Hate roiled inside my gut like a bed of snakes, wriggling to life as he turned his saccharine smile on her. “Nothing honey. Just messing around.”
Mom frowned. Doubt flickered in her eyes, but still, she said, “Well, clean it up. You know I hate waste. I’ll be in the den if you need me.” Her eyes lingered on my face a beat longer than necessary before she turned and left us staring at each other like two caged lions ready to fight.
Without another word to him, I turned and began picking the cookies up off the ground, placing them, along with the others, in a plastic container. For Mom. Not for him. And because it was all I could do to keep from turning around and doing something I’d regret. Like wiping that smug look from his face.
By the time I finished, he was gone, and I made my way to my bedroom where I sunk down into the mattress.
I focused on my breathing, staring at the ceiling. A few minutes later, I heard a soft knock on my door and tensed before my mother peeked her head inside and I exhaled again.
“Can I come in?”
I shrugged. “It’s your house.”
She stepped inside and made her way to my bed, taking a seat on the edge. The honey blonde hair I inherited from her hung over her shoulders and her blue eyes bore into the side of my face. “What was that really about?”
I glanced up at her, then down again to a snag on my comforter.
Whatwasthat about? UVA, Bucknell, or Dad and Ms. Stone?
Something told me it was the latter. Regardless, I said, “I got a scholarship offer, but Dad’s set on my going to UVA.”
“Ah,” she said like I need say no more. “I know he can come off as harsh sometimes—”
“If by harsh, you mean a dick, then yeah, I know.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Language, Topher.”
“Sorry,” I said, guilty, because this was Mom I was talking to and she didn’t deserve any of the crap thrown her way.
Mom nodded, reaching out to grip my hand in hers. “He just wants what’s best for you. He wants to see you succeed. To see you have a good future. Everything he’s worked so hard to accomplish has been for our family. For you and for me.”
Everything? I wanted to ask, Including his romps with Ms. Stone in the utility closet at school?
But I clamped my mouth shut because I had no idea if Mom knew or not, and I didn’t have the heart to be the one to tell her if she didn’t.
So instead, I said, “It’s not what I want.”
