Page 2 of Make Me Trust Again
Another shake of his head.Can I go to my room?
No, he couldn’t hear John’s ugly words, but he sure could understand him.
“Go ahead.”I nod. I point out my thumb and index finger, so they form an L, while extending my pinky.“I love you.”
The corner of Kyle’s mouth lifts up in a small smile as he returns the gesture.“I love you, too, Mom.”
My gaze follows him up the stairs, just as there is more yelling.I wait until Kyle is out of view before I go after John.
He’s standing in the living room, chugging directly from the bottle of whiskey, a distant expression on his face. Whatever his agent told him couldn’t be good.
Then, in one swift movement, he sweeps his hand over the credenza. Sucking in a sharp breath, I watch as all the things that were placed on top of it fall to the floor. The loud crashing sound makes me jump in surprise.
My grandmother’s vase.
Kyle’s pottery project, the one he made as my present for Mother’s Day.
Our wedding picture.
They shatter into a million tiny pieces when they hit the ground.
All gone.
What the?—
John spins on his heels, his chest heaving as his eyes meet mine, the anger shining in his irises making me step back.
“Wh-what happened?”
“It’s over.”
Over?
“What are you talking about, John?”
“Football, Rose,” he yells, his cheeks burning red. “NFL. Playing in the pros. It’s all over. Shane just dropped me. Told me the team didn’t want me because I’m not good enough.” He scoffs and lifts the bottle to his mouth, taking a long pull.
Shit.
All John ever wanted was to play in the NFL. It was his life’s goal, the only thing he thought and talked about for as long as I could remember. Nothing else mattered as long as he got to play football professionally.
I step toward him, placing my hand on his arm. “I’m so sor?—”
“Don’t pretend like you fucking care,” he bites out and slaps my hand away.
I suck in a breath, my palm itching from the sting of his rejection.
“Of course I care. I know how much you wanted this.”
“You?” John scoffs. “How would you know anything about wanting something so desperately you give up everything to succeed, only to be told constantly you’re not good enough? You didn’t even finish college, for fuck’s sake.”
Bile rises in my throat, leaving a bitter taste on my tongue. My cheeks are flaming hot, like he slapped me. I almost wish he did. It couldn’t hurt more than his words do.
There was something that I wanted but couldn’t have.
Not that he saw it.
Because he didn’t see me.
