Page 99 of Campus Crush
“Foster,” I cried out, my body arching, as the world dissolved into a kaleidoscope of sensation. He followed me over the edge, dropping his forehead to my shoulder as his own release racked his body.
We clung to each other, breathless and trembling, our bodies slick with sweat and our hearts pounding in unison. He kissed my forehead, my temple, my cheek, murmuring my name like a prayer. The world slowly came back into focus—the kitchen, the quiet hum of the refrigerator, the ticking of the clock on the wall. But everything felt different, transformed by the intensity of what we’d just shared.
We would get through whatever his father threw our way.
Because there was no future where we weren’t together.
FORTY-NINE
Finding out my dad had gone behind my back and tried to pay off my girlfriend to break up with me was the final straw. My body was tight as rage fueled me on the drive over to my parents’ condo in Missoula the next morning. Each mile I drove, my knuckles whitened on the steering wheel, my jaw clenched so hard I could feel the tension radiating through my skull.
I’d spent the entire night holding Abby while she slept fitfully, her grandmother’s condition weighing heavily on her even in sleep. The revelation of what my father had done to her—trying to buy her off like she was some kind of inconvenience to be removed from my life—kept replaying in my mind until I couldn’t take it anymore.
I didn’t bother knocking when I arrived at his place. I just used the key he’d given me and barged in, finding him sitting at the kitchen island while my mom served him breakfast. The smell of bacon and coffee filled the air, such a normal, domestic scene that it made my anger burn even hotter. How dare he sit here enjoying his morning like he hadn’t tried to destroy the best thing in my life?
My mom looked at me like a deer in the headlights, confusion written across her face. I’d never stormed in like this before. I was always the good son who did everything they asked of me. I had sacrificed my own identity for as long as I could remember, swallowing my dreams and desires to fit the mold my father had created for me. The only thing I’d ever done for myself was hockey until Abby.
She was mine, and I was not going to let him take her away from me.
I stared daggers at my father, wondering where the hell he got off thinking he could control every aspect of my life. We may have looked similar—the same strong jaw, the same blue eyes—but we couldn’t be further apart in personality. Where he was cold calculation, I at least tried to have some heart.
“Foster, do you want to join us for breakfast?” Mom asked, her voice small and uncertain. She was already reaching for another plate, trying to normalize the tension that had entered the room with me.
I didn’t even answer. I just stared at my dad, my breathing heavy. “You tried to buy my girlfriend off so that she’d break up with me.” It wasn’t a question because I already knew the answer. I trusted Abby more than I trusted him. The words came out low and dangerous, a tone I’d never used with my father before.
He set down his fork deliberately and wiped the edges of his mouth with his napkin, then looked at me like he didn’t have a care in the world—like he hadn’t done something awful. His casual demeanor made my blood boil even hotter.
“Yes, I did,” he admitted without a hint of remorse.
He had zero shame. The bastard actually looked proudof himself, like he’d made some brilliant business move instead of attempting to destroy my relationship.
“The stupid little bitch didn’t take the offer,” he continued, his voice dripping with disdain. “She’s probably regretting that now that you’ve dumped her anyway,” he said with an arrogant grin.
I saw red. The world around me blurred at the edges, and all I could see was my father’s smug face. I liked to believe that I wasn’t a hothead unless I was on the ice, and even then it was only with a purpose—to defend a teammate or respond to a dirty hit.
But right then, faced with a new level of my dad’s arrogance—hearing him call Abby that term—I felt so much rage and hatred bubbling underneath my skin, I thought I was going to explode. My heart hammered against my ribs as I stormed up to him, grabbed the lapel of his expensive shirt and yanked him up until he was standing face to face with me.
I had one inch on him but easily twenty pounds more of muscle from years of hockey training, and I used all of that to my advantage as I held him there, close enough that I could smell his cologne and see the flecks of gray in his stubble.
“I have done everything you’ve ever asked of me,” I growled, my voice shaking with fury. “How dare you try to interfere in my relationship and manipulate her?”
My mother gasped somewhere behind us, but I couldn’t focus on her right now. All I could see was the contempt in my father’s eyes.
He sneered, not intimidated in the slightest despite my physical advantage. “Please tell me you aren’t that stupid. You didn’t break up with her?” His lip curled in disgust. “You think she’s good enough for this family? She hasnothing to offer you, Foster. So, she’s smart. So what? Connections are more important than intelligence.”
Each word felt like a slap, not because they hurt me, but because I knew how they would hurt Abby if she heard them. This brilliant, beautiful woman who had helped me overcome my learning difficulties, who had shown me more kindness and genuine care than my own father ever had—and he was reducing her to nothing more than a social disadvantage.
I wanted to punch him so badly. The only thing that kept me from doing it was the fact that I’d have to tell Abby how this encounter went, and I didn’t want her to be ashamed of me and my actions. I didn’t want to be the kind of man who solved problems with his fists, no matter how satisfying it might feel in the moment.
My father held a finger up to my face, his expression hardening into the business mask I knew so well. “You will back off right now,” he commanded, as if I were still a child to be ordered around. “Then, you’re going to break up with that girl like I told you to do last night, or I will cut you off at the knees. No tuition, no hockey, no financial assistance, whatsoever.” His eyes narrowed. “You really think you’ll be able to survive that? You need me, so you will do as I tell you to do.”
For a moment, fear flickered through me. He was right—I had been dependent on him for everything. My education, my housing, even my ability to play hockey depended on his financial support. The thought of losing it all was terrifying.
But then I thought of Abby, of how brave she’d been through everything—losing both parents, now watching her grandmother slip away, and still standing strong, stillpursuing her dreams with determination and grace. If she could face all that, I could face this.
“Fuck you.”
I didn’t shout the words—I didn’t have to. Every ounce of disdain I felt for my father could be felt in those two words. They hung in the air between us, a declaration of independence more powerful than any I’d ever made before.
