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The last thing I remember last night was deciding to get over myself and thank the guys for the celebration. Nick came up to me and gave another congratulations.He offered you juice...
I immediately freeze when my thoughts hit me. Nick offered me juice. But he couldn’t...no, hewouldn’t. He wouldn’t do that. I look back at the guy on the bed. The blond hair appears from under the pillow. A shiver runs up my spine.
I quickly bolt out of his room. I’ve known Nick since freshman year of high school. He couldn’t have done what I think he did, right?
I’m in the middle of campus, and it dawns on me that...hecould.
What the fuck happened last night?
JAKE
She’s running across the pavilion in a T-shirt and nothing else.
There are so many things wrong with this picture. The first one, of course, is she’s notwearing anything else. But more importantly, why is she running? And why does she look afraid? My eyes follow her as she dashes across campus in the direction of the female dorms. I look back at the male dorms when my eyes land on Nick.
My blood boils when I see him. He’s running downstairs, shirtless and in shorts, looking around as if he’s searching for someone. What the hell happened? Leia looked terrified, and he looks worried. The fact that neither one of them were dressed in enough clothes alarms me.
His eyes find mine, heightening my senses. I know I’m glaring at him because his eyes are widened. The little bastard knows I know. I don’t knowwhatI know, but I know something happened. The bell rings, and I don’t have the time to approach him right now.
Draft Day is a little bit over a month away. And I still haven’t heard from the Snowflakes. I’ve met with the San Francisco Snakes, the Boston Trojans, and I even spoke with—for shits and giggles—the New England Steamers. They’re not a winning team right now, but fuck it, I’ll take whatever teamwantsme at this rate.
I screwed up this year, I can admit that. Every team has asked me the same question, and I gave them the same answer about what happened this season. They all gave the same reaction, too.And it’s freaking worrying.
What’sequallyworrying is visiting the asshole called my father. He’s been calling and texting nonstop since the meeting with the last NHL team. I forgot that he wanted to attend those meetings.
Of course, he fucking did.
He wants to be involved ineverything. I’m convinced he gets off on having the option to chastise me for fucking up, whether it be for a meeting with coaches or after fucking up a game.
“Nice of you to show up, Jacob,” he sneers.
Rolling my eyes, I shoulder past him. I’m not in the mood for his shit greetings. If he wants to be pissy, he can do that on his own terms.
“You asked me to come over. What the fuck is up?” I walk over and slouch down on his couch.
His nostrils flare in anger. “Watch your mouth, son. We’ve talked about this.” When will he learn? I’m an adult. “I specifically told you to let me know when you’re meeting with the NHL coaches. Why didn’t you let me know?”
“How do you know I met with them already?”
His eyebrows shoot up in disbelief. “Do you take me for a fucking joke? Don Sebrum contacted me,” he grunts.
“No, Dan. I don’t take you for a joke,” I groan. I hate that he has this power over me. I’m turning twenty-two in less than two months, and he still treats me like a child. “But I don’t know why it’s a big deal whether or not you were at the meetings. I’m anadult.” Something he seems to forget.
“You forgot who made you, didn’t you, boy?” I roll my eyes again.You didn’t make me; you controlled me. “You’re the player you arebecauseof me. Don’t go into the world forgetting that, because you’ll regret it.”
That threat doesn’t fall on deaf ears. He’s a fucking sadist. There’s nothing I can say to that. “Yeah, whatever.”
I’m already ready to leave. Our conversations never go anywhere. It always ends in a fight, and I don’t have the mental capacity to indulge in a fight with him today. I’m just ready to finish out the year and graduate before Draft Day.
He glares at me again before sitting back and just staring at me. “Since I wasn’tthere,” he emphasizes, “how did these meetings go? Which teams want you to play for them now?”
My eyes widen. I wasnotexpecting him to ask that. He gives me an expectant look, and I don’t know what the fuck to say.
“I’m not sure ifanyof them want to sign me now.” I just settle with the truth. A truth that he doesn’t like.
His body goes rigid, eyes going fiery. “What the hell doesthatmean?!” He’s shouting now. I knew this would be his reaction. What’s more, he’llhatethe reason why none of them wouldwantto sign me. “You better be fucking joking, Larson. I did not waste thirteen years molding you just for you to be an idiot. If you fucked this up—”
“I fucked up, Dan. I fucked up bad. There’s nothing you can do about it.” There’s no use in lying to the bastard. I’m an idiot, I can take responsibility for that.
