Page 15 of Hate Game

“I’m eighteen,” I say, throwing his words back at him. “A grown man that has every right to screw around.”

“Then do so when you have a place and a job in case ofunplannedconsequences.”

“You’re holding a girl’s pregnancy over my head? I told you she wasn’t my girl.” The girl wasn’t mine. The baby was.

He jams his fingers through his hair. “I don’t give two fucks anymore, Malice.”

My father’s never gone as far as to throw me out on my ass. I pace.

No way will I crash at Seven’s or Trace’s place. I’ll gag having to see Seven and Leigh make out daily. And Trace and Sorrow? I can’t go through watching the predator circle the prey. That’s how Trace sees Sorrow. She is weak, and he’s strong, but the joke is on him. I watched her walk out of the hospital. That girl is so strong with what she’s been through, she’ll bring Trace to his knees if he’s not careful.

Yeah, I can’t stand to watch my guys fall for girls I would never in a million years picture them with. Not when my libido is in the shitter.

Sure, I brought a hot-as-fuck girl home, but when it came time to do the dirty, my cock didn’t rear up for action. Nothing. Nada. Thank fuck Cassie ate up the explanation that my medication was messing with my libido. High blood pressure runs in my family, getting us at an early age. What a bunch of bullshit, and I’ll go straight to hell for telling lies.

“What do I need to do to stay?”

“Agree to an intervention.”

My mom walks in and closes the door behind her. She is dressed in black slacks and a sapphire blouse that brings out the blue in her eyes. Her deep brown hair is pulled back in a ponytail. My mom looks young for her age and is beautiful inside and out. Too bad she hasn’t been around much. I miss her smile.

“I’m glad you and the others are safe, Malice.” Relief is in her voice. “Dad and I are disappointed,” she said, her words strained to my ears. “We left, confident we could trust you to keep an eye on the house and to keep your promise.”

“Mom.” I step towards her, longing to tell her how sorry I am for being a disappointment, but the words aren’t coming out. Why can’t I say them? Is it because I’m not one? Everything I’ve done has been to make them proud, yet they’re never around enough to acknowledge my hard work.

Then why work hard at all?

My dad steps between my mom and me.

“Do you agree to whatever we ask of you, Son? If you do, what happened tonight will be water under the bridge.”

“A clean slate? No more holding a girl’s pregnancy over my head? I can do whatever I want after graduation, including choosing another college? Or not going to college at all?”

If I’m agreeing to give up my soul, I might as well get something in return. My dad pulls at his collar. Mom fiddles with the clasp on her bag.

“This isn’t a negotiation, Malice. Take the intervention or leave.”

“We trust you’ll do what’s best for you. We accept.”

Thank fuck.

Dad throws his hands in the air. “Ruby.Love.”

I hold back my smirk. Love makes people do crazy batshit things, and my mom loves her only child to no end.

“Stone, let it be. The fire is stressful enough for Malice to deal with.”

Dad sighs. “Fine. Son, meet your intervention.”

Mom walks over and opens the door. My worst nightmare come true is standing on the other side.

Rue walks in with two suitcases. “Thank you for giving me a place to stay. Where should I put these?”

She’s polite and charming. Damn her. “What the hell is she doing here?”

“Malice, Rue is your intervention. She’s your babysitter, Son. Where you go, she goes.”

Where I go, Rue goes? Uh-uh. “You forget something. She goes to a different school.”

---