What does that mean?
Freshman Year of College
“Nice work tonight, Kellerman.”
The team cheers and taps their sticks against their lockers.
My cheeks burn, but I tip my chin. “Thanks, Coach.”
Even I have to admit, I played a hell of a game. A fire has been lit under me since I started playing on this college team. Being away from my father has breathed new life into me, and this team is proving to be more like family than my father ever could be. Every game, I’m working towards my dream, propelling myself closer to building the life I want.
I won’t let anything stand in my way.
“There’s a party at the Alpha house tonight.” Stephen nudges me as we head out of the locker room. “Come out with the team so we can celebrate.”
I’m about to shake my head and tell him no like I always do, but he cuts me off, tossing his arm around my shoulders as wewalk. “They’re starting to ask why you never come out with us, and I can only defend you for so long.”
“I never asked you to defend me.”
“That’s the thing about friends—they don’t have to ask. They just do it.”
“Never said you were my friend, either.”
Stephen chuckles. “You need me as your friend. Trust me.”
We’re still walking with his arm around me when I hear my name.
I whip around, coming face to face with my father, and ice fills my veins.
I shake off Stephen’s arm, putting space between us. “Dad, what are you doing here?”
His eyes are bloodshot, and there’s a familiar sway to his stance. “I came to see you play.”
I had no idea he was out of jail, though I guess ten years is possible with good behavior.
His glossy gaze flicks to Stephen, so I step in front of him to keep his attention on me. “You need to get the hell out of here.”
Dad scoffs. “You’re a tough guy, now? All grown up.”
“Yet you’re still the same old nasty drunk.”
Must’ve hit the liquor store the second he got out.
“You think I don’t see what you’re doing here?” He moves toward me, slow like a lion stalking his prey. “Running away to college so you can act like a fa?—”
“Dad!” I cut him off before he can complete the derogatory term he’s called me most of my life. “You need to walk away from me or so help me God, I’m going to?—”
He lunges forward and shoves me against the wall. “What, huh? You’re going to what?”
Stephen yanks my father by the back of his neck and tosses him several feet away.
“Stephen, stop.” I try to push past him to get to my father, but the menacing look he gives me stops me in my tracks. Gone is the carefree, happy-go-lucky guy I’ve come to know over the last several months.
“Your son told you to leave,” Stephen practically growls. “I suggest you listen. He doesn’t want you here, which means I don’t want you here either.”
My dad smirks at me. “You gonna let your fairy boyfriend talk to me like this?”
Without a second thought, I slam my fist into my father’s face. He falls backward, unsteady on his feet, and crashes onto the floor. I kneel over him and punch him again and again.