Becker's voice fills my ears, animated and energetic, talking about drills and bears and Petrov. Normal podcast shit. The kind of content that's harmless and stupid and—
 
 There.
 
 Underneath his voice, faint but unmistakable: mine.
 
 "Maybe I'd rather play beer league than have you micromanage my career from your broadcast booth."
 
 Jesus Christ.
 
 "You micromanage every aspect of my life."
 
 I close my eyes, but that makes it worse. Now I can focus entirely on the sound of my own voice, raw and angry, saying things I never meant for strangers to hear.
 
 "I requested this transfer to get away from you!"
 
 The episode keeps playing. Becker wraps up, signs off, seemingly oblivious to the disaster lurking in his background.
 
 The comments are a nightmare.
 
 Holy shit this is awkward
 
 Kane's dad sounds like a controlling dick.
 
 #DaddyIssuesOnIce
 
 Poor guy. That's rough.
 
 I exit the app before I can read more and check Twitter, because apparently I'm a masochist.
 
 #DaddyIssuesOnIce is trending. Number four in the United States. Right between a political scandal and a celebrity breakup.
 
 My father's going to lose his shit.
 
 As if summoned by the thought, my voicemail notification appears. Three new messages.
 
 I shouldn't listen. I really, really shouldn't.
 
 I listen.
 
 "Jayden." My father's voice is ice. "Call me. Immediately."
 
 Delete.
 
 Next message.
 
 "I don't know what you think you're accomplishing with this stunt, but it ends now. Call me."
 
 Delete.
 
 Third message.
 
 "You did this to humiliate me. To embarrass the family name publicly. This is unforgivable, Jayden. Unforgivable."
 
 I throw my phone across the hallway. It hits the opposite wall and clatters to the floor, screen somehow still intact.
 
 Unforgivable.
 
 Like I planned this. Like I wanted my private conversation—my moment of finally standing up to him—broadcast to hundreds of thousands of people.