The Jock by J.L. Beck Page 0,68

bad feeling starts to fester in my gut. I don’t want him here, but more than anything, I don’t want Blair to meet him. He isn’t worthy of her presence. Hell, he isn’t even worthy of mine.

“What’re you fucking hiding in there?” My father decides to shove past me and enters the house on a stumble.

Blair’s audible gasp fills the space, and I turn to face him, refusing to look at her. I don’t want to see the pity in her eyes.

“Is this the fucking bitch that got you suspended from the team?” His eyes ping pong between us, and I harden my gaze, not wanting him to know that she matters to me.

“Can you please leave?” I gesture to the door.

Rage fills his once soft green eyes, eyes that my mother said I got from him. Looking at him now, I wonder if there was anything good about him.

“It is. I cannot fucking believe that you got into a fight over some pussy. I thought I raised you better than that.”

Snapping, I’ve had enough of him talking badly about Blair. He can say whatever he wants about me, but I refuse to let him bad-mouth her.

“Don’t talk about her like that. Now leave, please,” I grit the last word, forcing myself to say it, hoping he’ll take pity on me while knowing it won’t be that easy.

“I ain’t going nowhere, boy. It’s obvious you need a lesson in what’s really important here.” Out of the corner of my eye, I see Blair’s expression turn panicked. I want to ask her what’s wrong, but don’t get the chance because my father fist comes out of nowhere.

His knuckles land like a boulder on my nose, and blood explodes everywhere as I stumble backward, barely catching myself. For an old man, he’s still got a good arm.

Pain radiates across the bridge of my nose, and I wince as I blink at the fucker, rage morphs into hate. There have been many times in my life when I thought I might hate my father, but after this moment, I am sure that I hate the man.

This was the last straw for me.

“I want her gone. Get her the fuck out of my house. You don’t need a woman. All she’s going to do is distract you from the big picture.” His words come out slurred, and he stumbles backward a bit.

My muscles are burning with rage, and I want so badly to hurt him, but I’m smart enough to know I wouldn’t stop at a single punch, and he’s not worth it. Not one bit.

Blair pushes up off the couch and starts moving as if she’s been given an order.

“She’s not leaving,” I sneer and turn to her. “You’re not going anywhere.”

Her little throat bobs and fear trickles into her baby blues. I can’t imagine what she is thinking right now. I had hoped this day would never come

“The only person leaving is you!” I roar and take a determined step toward him, cutting off his sight of her. Like me, my father is a big man, but with the amount of whiskey I’m sure he’s consumed tonight, he’s nothing but an ant.

“Who the fuck do you think you are?” he growls, shoving at me as I push him backward, toward the door.

“The man you were supposed to be,” I grit through my teeth. “Leave, or I’m calling the police, and with the amount of alcohol in your veins, you’ll be on your third DUI.”

Those words seem to reach him in some way because he blinks as if realizing that I’m not joking and moves all on his own to the door.

“We’re not done, Cage. This better not happen again, or a punch to the nose will be the last thing you have to worry about. I’ll take it all, every single thing.” Like the drunk he is, he stumbles out the door, barely making it to his car.

If I cared, I’d call him an Uber, but I don’t care. I just want him gone.

Gone from my life, gone from fucking existence.

Slamming the front door closed, I click the lock into place. Leaning against the heavy wood, I breathe deeply. I feel like I’m on the verge of exploding. Rage bubbles up, growing closer and closer to the surface.

“Cage…” Blair’s sweet voice meets my ears.

I can’t face her. I can’t let her see me like this. I’m fucking broken right now. I want to hurt someone, lash out, make them feel my pain.