Page 87 of Breaking Rules
Chapter Twenty-Four
TRAIN
Isatin my dad’s office with my head in a daze. The day had been fucked up from the beginning. That morning on my way to school, I had taken a detour to my beach house. I wanted to confirm Drew’s story that he’d been in the neighborhood the previous Sunday to ask Melanie to the debutante ball. She confirmed that he had. When I got back into my car, I was ready to call Montana to tell her I was running late, but I couldn’t find my phone. So I retraced my steps, returning home. When I entered, I heard my mom crying. I bolted into the kitchen and found her on the floor. My phone and everything else became the least of my worries.
After a long trip to the emergency room, we discovered she’d sprained her arm. By the time we got back to the house, it was time for football practice. I’d planned to skip practice to take care of my mom, but she insisted I go.
No sooner had I undressed in the locker room than Nina stormed in. I lost my shit. I wanted nothing more than to tell her to fuck off. The problem was she’d never taken no for an answer and would have made a scene. She always had an uncanny way of disrupting the team’s mojo, and mine, for that matter. More importantly, she’d given me the perfect opportunity to confront her about the graffiti.
Dad snapped his fingers. “Son, I’ve been calling you all day. How come you haven’t answered? We need to sign the scholarship papers.”
“I lost my phone.” I still couldn’t find the sucker. “And Mom sprained her arm, in case you want to know. She fell out of her wheelchair as she was trying to get out of it this morning, but she’s fine.”
They had a good relationship for two people who were divorced.
“Is she not taking her arthritis medicine?” he asked.
“She is. She was having a tough morning, I guess.” My mom had more trouble in the mornings with her rheumatoid arthritis.
My dad shrugged out of his suit jacket then folded his bulk into the leather chair beside me.
We sat in silence for a good minute or two.
“Train.” He said my name in his fatherly voice.
I fisted my hands in my lap. “If you so much as tell me who I can and cannot date, I seriously will freak out.”
He leaned forward and put his elbows on his knees. “Chill. I like Montana.”
“And her mom,” I said. “What’s up with that? Are you dating her?” It was weird to see them both dressed up, and the thought of him dating my girlfriend’s mom was even weirder.
“We were going to have dinner. Nothing else. Son, I got a glimpse of your rage when you wanted to punch Ferris’s lights out. That cannot happen, son. You can’t throw down every time a guy you don’t like pisses you off. And before you get all worked up, hear me out.” He scrubbed a hand over the stubble on his jaw. “I’m not telling you this because of your football scholarship. I’m telling you this because I don’t want to see you get hurt. I’m sure Montana doesn’t, either. Please think before you lash out at anyone.”
Cracking my knuckles, I blew out a breath. “I know you worry about me and my future. But let me find my own way. If I get hurt or screw up, then it’s on me to deal with the consequences.”
“That might be hard to do as your father. Something you might not understand until you have kids of your own.”
“True, but I’ll promise to not use my fists to settle things if you promise to cut me some slack.” I wouldn’t mind having a relationship with my father that included conversations other than football.
“Deal,” he said as he let out a sigh. “Let’s go check on your mom.” He collected his suit jacket. “Oh, and we have a meeting this weekend with the coach at USC.”
After he locked up and we were walking to our cars, he asked, “Do you love Montana?”
“Montana is different,” I said. “She’s talented, she’s beautiful, and she makes my heart race every time I think about her or when she walks into a room. She makes me laugh, and she makes me do things I never thought I would do, and not illegal things, either. So if you call that love, then yes.”
He grinned. “Glad to hear that.”
I gave him a sidelong glance. “Really?”
He draped an arm over my shoulders. “Yes, son. I just want you to be happy. And I can tell she does it for you by the way your face lit up when you looked at Montana earlier.”
I crossed my fingers that I could fix things with her.
The next morning, I leaned against my truck outside Montana’s house. The air had a slight chill to it, which helped keep the sweat at bay, unlike last night when I’d tossed and turned and couldn’t get Montana off my brain, waking up every minute in a heap of sweat. I prayed she would hear my side of things.
The front door opened.
I lifted my head and locked eyes with the girl who’d stolen my breath on the first day of school. Her beautiful face was blank, as if she didn’t even see me. Suddenly, I didn’t know what to say. I’d planned a whole speech last night.
