Page 143 of Missed Notes (Rixon High 5)

“Feeling nervous about Monday?”

“More about what comes after, I think. At least I know what to expect on Monday. But after…”

“Hey, it’s going to be okay,” I said, touching my head to hers.

“I’ve been thinking about what you said, and I think I’m going to tell Aaron on the weekend.” A shiver went through her.

“I’ll be right there, no matter what happens, okay? And so will Aaron once he knows the truth.”

She nodded, moisture gathered on her lashes.

“Hey, don’t cry,” I whispered, brushing her cheek with my thumb. “You’re so strong, Sofia. Beautiful and kind. You’re going to get through this.”

“I hope I can make the gig Saturday.” She changed the subject.

“Me too. I need my girl in the crowd.” I dropped a kiss on her head.

Sofia gazed up at me. A mix of fear and love in her eyes. I wondered if she knew she looked at me like that. The way I looked at her.

There was still so much we’d left unsaid. Things I was desperate to say but scared would be too much.

So I trapped them inside me and kissed her instead. Hoping she’d feel them.

Even if she wouldn’t hear them yet.

* * *

I didn’t wantto go home. I’d hung around after practice, using the excuse that I wanted to get in some extra drills, but Coach Ford had eventually told me to get the hell out of there and get some rest.

Rest.

At least Mom had thought to give me a heads up and let me know that he was home.

Dread sat in my stomach like a sack of bricks. This moment had been a long time coming, but it didn’t change the fact, I never wanted it to. Curtis Kandon could be a vicious man. Ruthless to the core and used to getting his own way. But I was done being his puppet, done putting his wishes above my own.

Deep down, I’d thought that one day, Mom would leave him. That maybe if I did as he wanted, she would find the courage to pack her bags and go.

But I realized now, she wasn’t going to. Her vows, her faith, wouldn’t let her. I had to accept that. I had to accept that she was choosing him.

She always would.

His car in the driveway taunted me, the dread inside me growing heavier. Inhaling a deep breath, I slipped into the house and waited.

One… two… three…

“Cole, come in here please.”

Slinging my bags on the floor next to the sideboard, I headed into the kitchen, hardly surprised to find Mom sitting beside him, her expression grim.

“Sit down,” he said, with no air of pretense. This wasn’t Curtis Kandon, loving father and devoted husband. This was Curtis Kandon, the ruthless attorney. All business and no pleasantries.

“We need to talk.” He drummed his fingers on the counter; cool, calm, and collected. A predator biding his time.

“We can talk all you want,” I said, taking a seat. “But it won’t change the outcome. I’m not going to Drexel.”

He blew out an exasperated breath. “Son, be reasonable. We had a plan—”

“No, Dad, you had a plan. I never wanted to follow in your footsteps. I’m not cut out for law school. I love music and sports and creativity.”

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