Page 88 of Hidden Goal

“That’s a bummer. I would have liked to meet her,” Savannah says. “And she missed a great game.”

I wince slightly, like it’s an automatic response.

“Pfft. What game were you watching?” My dad mutters as he fixes the napkin in his lap.

“Joshua.” My mom pleads.

“We did have a good game, the other team just had a better one.” I try to diffuse the situation, but I should have known my dad wouldn’t let this go.

“If you think that’s good, I’ve got news for you. Do you think anyone is going to look at you if you keep losing like this? And scoring only one goal? It's trash. You played a trash game and you should be ashamed.” His voice begins to rise and people around the restaurant start to pay attention. “And don’t think I don’t realize when all this started.” His vicious focus turns to the woman beside me now. “I’m willing to bet you ran to Daddy, begging him to introduce you to the captain of his team.”

“ENOUGH!” Silverware clatters, but my rage is too hot to care. “Outside. Now.”

I don’t look back as I storm through the restaurant, pushing through the front doors with my dad calmly on my heels.

“I know you're mad.” The bitterness in his voice has softened and I blow out a breath, dropping my head back to the star-covered sky.

“You had no right,” I say, turning around to face him. “You can’t talk to people like that, Dad. I’m used to it, but—”It dawns on me now that I shouldn’t be. If I wont tolerate him talking to Savannah like that, why the fuck do I tolerate it for myself?

“Look, Noah.” He shrugs with his hands in his pockets. “I’m not scared to hurt your feelings or tell you like it is. I’m not one of your little yes-men, your buddies that kiss your ass and tell you how great you are. I’m here to make sure you get everything you want, and you can be mad at me along the way, but you know, deep down, that everything I do is for you.”

I press both palms into my eyes. The tension and the frustration that I’ve been suppressing all comes to dull thud at the front of my head. When I drop my hands and look back at him, his eyes hold no emotion.

“Drop her.”

I physically feel my head rear back, and I’m positive I heard him wrong. “What?”

“You need to drop her.”

A frustrated sigh escapes me, and I shake my head. “Dad?—”

“I’m serious.” He cuts me off. “You either drop her, or I’m dropping you.”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“It means you’re giving up everything I’ve worked for—for a piece of pussy,” he seethes. There’s a dead calm in his eyes when he looks at me. “You’re going to stop seeing her, because if you don’t, everything is going to go away: the Range Rover, the rent for your house, your groceries.” He’s ticking off his fingers, and there's a lethal stillness about him. “You might have a scholarship taking care of your classes, but keeping up with hockey and your schoolwork enough to continue to earn that scholarship will be difficult when you’re living on the streets.”

I gnaw on the corner of my bottom lip until I feel blood. All I can do it nod my head in disbelief as I rack up everyfucked up thing he’s ever done or said to me over the years. A montage of the tactics he’s used to ‘make me better’ float by like a parade of memories, along with all the ways I’ve justified them. I've spent years defending this man, adamant that he does everything with my best interests at heart. The really fucked up part is that I still truly believe he did do all of it for my benefit.

“You know I would do anything you want me to, anything at all: hockey, the NHL, all of it. It’s always beenourdream.”

What he's done is wrong, but I truly believe his actions were always out of love—even if it was twisted by his own fears. After the way the league turned on him, he’s entitled to that. But I can’t unsee it now. I would never treat one of my teammates the way he treats me, and I could never threaten or manipulate someone I love this way. I won’t allow him to do it do me, and I sure as fuck wont let him do it to Savannah.

I run my hand over my mouth, taking a step closer to him, and he doesn’t move.

“So, if you want to take it all away, take it.” I close the distance between us, meeting his eyes, and stab a finger against his chest. “But if you ever fucking disrespect her again, if you say another word about her, or even so much asthinkone single thought about her, I swear to god I’ll make you regret it.”

His jaw ticks, and I shake my head in disgust before leaving him alone in the parking lot.

37

savannah

Victoria’sbottom lip trembles as she uncomfortably rubs her hands together and looks around the restaurant.

“Well.” She turns to me with a smile that I don’t return. “I’m so sorry about Joshua.”

I nod my head, but I’m not going to tell her that it’s okay because it’s not. “This seems like a fairly common thing he does.”

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