Page 91 of The Vengeance You Crave
They keep the conversation light and as far away from dead mothers and wicked ex-best friends as they can get.
Everything is great.
Fantastic.
Until he walks in.
23
Luca
Ispent what was left of Tuesday locked in my room. But as exhausted as I was, I couldn't shut it off. That only got worse once I knew that Peyton had started her shift.
Leon was there. I knew she was safe. But the thought of those men trying something and not being there to help her didn't sit right with me.
But I knew she didn't want to see me. She made that perfectly clear on Monday night when she used me for what she needed and then dropped me like a stone.
I deserved it. I know that. But fuck, it doesn't stop it from hurting.
I'm meant to be the one seeking vengeance after what she did. She shouldn't hold the power to hurt me. But she does. And she always has.
Despite Leon knocking to get my ass out of bed this morning for class, I didn't emerge from my room until long after everyone had left. I didn't want to deal with people and I really didn't want to go and sit in a class when I already know that I'm not going to hear a word of it.
What's the point? What's the point in any of it?
If I walk away from football like I've threatened to do, then I probably won't even have a place here at MKU.
It won't just be my football career that goes down the drain but my entire future.
Do I really want to start over?
A huge part of me says yes. To grab the chance of starting over without being controlled at every step by my father. To be me. Whoever Luca Dunn is without being QB1. I'm not sure he even exists.
Everything about my life for as long as I can remember has been about that, about the NFL, about success, about the win, the trophy, the high.
I glance at my shelf that holds all those trophies.
They mean nothing. Not really.
Sure, winning is great. Beating the other team is a rush. But that's not real happiness.
It's empty.
You walk away from that high of the win and what's left? The memory.
Okay, so I've got my team to celebrate with, and a desperate jersey chaser or two. But even that's getting old.
"Argh," I groan, shoving my head into my pillow so Leon doesn't hear me from the next room.
I hate all this unknown. All these questions.
I just want to be happy and to get on with my life, not have the past and the pressure dragging me down at every turn.
I startle when a knock sounds out on my door a few minutes later.
"You ready?" Leon asks, dressed, ready to head out.
"Err…"
