Page 100 of Campus Crush
He’d gone too far.
It was one thing to manipulate me and treat me like a puppet on some strings, but for him to try to do the same to Abby, to manipulate her, to force her into a corner was crossing the line.
I was done sitting back and letting him walk all over my life. “You’re gonna cut me off? Thendo it,” I said, releasing his shirt with a small shove. “As far as I’m concerned, you’re dead to me.”
A muscle popped in his jaw as he clenched his teeth, the first sign that my words had gotten through his armor of arrogance. “You’ll regret this,” he threatened, straightening his shirt with an angry tug.
“Not as much as you will,” I replied, my voice steadier now that I’d made my decision. “You just lost your only son.”
I heard my mother make a small, wounded sound. She stood frozen by the stove, tears in her eyes, but she made no move to intervene or support me. She never did. Part of me wanted to be angry at her too—for never standing up to him, for letting him treat me like a pawn all these years—but mostly I just felt pity. She was as trapped as I had been, maybe more so.
With one final look at my mom, I spun around andwalked out the door, not bothering to look back. I would never live under my father’s control again.
As I walked to my car, the weight of what I’d just done settled over me. I had no idea what came next, how I’d pay for school or hockey or even basic necessities. But for the first time in my life, I felt free. Whatever challenges came, I’d face them on my own terms.
And I wouldn’t be facing them alone. I had Abby. I had my teammates. And for now, that was enough.
FIFTY
Foster showed up at Gram’s house with his jaw set tight and his eyes still burning with anger. The fury was evident in every line of his body, but beneath it, I could see a slight tremor in his hands, a certain vulnerability in the set of his shoulders—like someone who had just jumped off a cliff and wasn’t entirely sure there was water below.
Yet despite that uncertainty, there was an unmistakable resoluteness in his stance. The way he held himself taller, as if a weight had been lifted.
I opened the door wider to let him in, scanning his face for any sign of regret. “How did it go?”
When Foster left this morning to confront his dad, I’d been sick with worry about my role in the destruction of their relationship. That worry hadn’t dissipated, even as Foster stepped into the house with what appeared to be newfound conviction growing stronger with each passing second.
He didn’t answer my question immediately. Instead, he cupped my face in his large, warm hands and bent down to kiss me before pulling me against his chest. He drew in adeep breath as if the scent and feel of me was enough to ground him.
“God, I needed this,” he murmured into my hair. “You.”
When he finally pulled away, his gaze swept over my face, his expression shifting to concern. He must have seen the worry I couldn’t hide because he frowned, his thumb gently tracing the crease between my brows.
“What’s going on?” he asked, his voice gentle.
I bit my lip, the guilt I’d been harboring spilling out before I could stop it. “I’m worried I’ve ruined your relationship with your parents and someday you’re going to resent me for this.”
He was already shaking his head before I’d even finished speaking. “No, Babe. No.” His voice was firm, leaving no room for doubt. “My relationship with my parents has been at a tipping point for a long time. It shouldn’t have taken me this long to cut them off—to say enough was enough.” His expression softened, tinged with embarrassment. “I’m just sorry that you even had to see or experience that. You deserve better than being caught in the crossfire of my family’s dysfunction.”
I searched his eyes, looking for any hint of uncertainty, but found none. Still, I needed to know. “So, what did he say?” I asked hesitantly.
Foster let out a heavy sigh before grabbing my hand and leading me over to the couch. When he sat down, he pulled me into his lap and his arms encircled me as if I might disappear. I nestled against him, offering whatever comfort I could through my presence.
“He cut me off,” Foster finally said, his voice surprisingly steady. “No money, apart from what I’ve already got in savings.” He ran a hand through his hair, a nervous habit I’d come to recognize. “Fortunately, I’ve saved up most ofmy money from construction jobs during summers, although a lot of it has gone toward hockey equipment and travel expenses. Tuition for this year has already been paid, but I don’t know how I’ll afford next year.”
My heart ached for him. I knew how much hockey meant to Foster—it was his escape, his passion. And college wasn’t cheap, especially not for someone who suddenly found themselves without financial support.
“We’ll figure it out,” I told him, with more confidence than I actually felt. I turned in his lap to face him, taking his face in my hands the way he’d held mine moments before. “There are tons of scholarships and different ways to get tuition assistance. Maybe we can even look at talking to your coach to see if he knows of anything or if there might be athletic assistance or club assistance. No matter what, we’ll figure it out.”
Even as I said the words, I had a nagging worry that this wouldn’t be the last time Dennis Kane tried to interfere in our relationship.
FIFTY-ONE
This wasn’t how tonight was supposed to go. We’d won our first game yesterday against MSU, but lost tonight—and even though we had one more game against them tomorrow, I was epically pissed off about the loss. The locker room had already cleared out, but I couldn’t stop replaying all my mistakes. We were all a little off, but I was the captain. I was supposed to lead but I hadn’t been much of a leader during tonight’s game.
The door opened and Abby’s voice broke the silence.
“Foster? You still in here?”
