AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Cade, are you okay?” He glances to his ruined vessel. “What happened?”
Morgan stands just behind him. A I-dare-you-to-tell-him look on her face. But I won’t. She will. “Ask your daughter.”
Coach doesn’t bother to look at her evil sneer. “I’d rather hear your version first.”
Wow. It hasn’t escaped my notice that he’s yet to check on her or speak to her at all. And I’m sure this is only going to fuel her rage, towards him and me.
“She did it,” I utter and seal my fate. I won’t take the fall for her.
“Oh, Cade.” She rolls her eyes and laughs. “You can’t be that drunk.”
“That’s enough,” Coach shouts at his daughter, then turns back to me. “Just get some sleep. We’ll get all this figured out tomorrow when everyone has had time to think about their actions. I’m just thankful no one was injured.” He nods to Otis, gives me a quick pat on the shoulder, then steps to Morgan. Without speaking, he hooks his fingers around her elbow and hauls her along with him. Instead of being fearful of the consequences of her actions, she just looks over her shoulder and gives me a smirk. She truly is psychotic.
2
MORGAN
Dad has been surprisingly quiet on the ride home. And it’s not shocking when he remains silent as we step into the house. What does throw me off for a second is the sudden fury that he unleashes as soon as the door shuts behind him. His continuous shouts boom through the house. “What the fuck were you thinking? Do you know what could’ve happened? How bad Cade could’ve been hurt?”
Laughing is probably not the wisest decision given Dad’s escalated anger, but it’s all I’ve got in response tohow bad Cade could’ve been hurt.“Oh, don’t worry, Dad. I’d never hurt your star player. I know I’m supposed to be taking care of him.”
His hand grips my arm, snatching me forward as he gets in my face. “You think this is a fucking joke?”
My teeth bite harder as I attempt to hold in my response at the sight of his anger. But the harder his fingers dig into my skin, the more my anger grows. Fuck it. “I think your obsession with Cade is the real joke.”
The grip on my arm is gone. In an instant, his hand connects with my cheek, the sting remaining as I keep a fixed glare on him and fight against the water forming in my eyes. But it’s not tears. I don’t even have the want to cry. My dad just slapped me, and it stings less than his words ever have. Much less than watching him punch my brother in the gut.
His reddened face is in mine as he grits out, “Are you done now?”
No. I’m not.
I didn’t expect remorse. Us Kings don’t want forgiveness, we want blood.
“Am I?” I ask, keeping my voice as steady as possible as I try to brace for another hit. I can take it. Especially now that I know for a fact this won’t put a target on Ryder. Because that was the best part of this plan—giving both my dad and Cade a little payback at the same time. Though it’s totally obvious that Dad cares much more about his MVP than his damn boat. “Or does my pimp need me to service another one of his players tonight?”
He keeps his hands at his sides, his face in mine. “You’re not even good at that.”
I never know when to stop, and I’m not about to figure it out now. “Really? I thought the video showed otherwise.”
“Shut up.” He snatches my arm, slinging me to the side as I stumble a step before gaining my footing. Then I watch him walk away. Wow. I figured he’d stay and fight for a little while. That’s what I would’ve done. So, it’s clear which of us is really the pathetic one. Him.
Walking upstairs to my room, I resist the urge to raise my hand to my still throbbing cheek. I want the pain. It’s real. And reminds me of exactly how much more I still have left to do. Once I’m inside my bedroom, I close the door and take out my phone, swiping the notification for a message from Warren.Let me know if you need anything else.
Dumbass. He’s way too excited to commit a felony and wants nothing in return but to torment Cade. But hey, can’t complain because Cade never saw it coming.
There’s a quick knock on my bedroom door before it swings open. “Did you do it?” Ryder’s troubled expression tells me he already knows the answer to his question.
“Why? Wanted to roast marshmallows or something?”
Ryder peeks over his shoulder then quickly steps in my room, shuts the door behind him, and moves in front of me. “Morgan, seriously? You can’t do stuff like that. Someone could get hurt.”
A snicker leaves my mouth as I tighten my jaw. “Yeah, like precious Cade Crawford.”
Silence. He’s studying me. And the longer he does, the more my unease grows.
“I need to shower.” And get the hell out of this room. Because Ryder has a way of reading my mind. And right now, I don’t even like my own pathetic thoughts. Anger and hatred are emotions I can latch onto. I need those, actually. But sadness and pity, fuck no.
Ryder won’t simply leave me alone and has to pry deeper before I’m in the serenity of my en suite bathroom. “Did he do that?”
