Page 51 of Playing Rough

"Well, maybe I'm tired of acting like a Kensington," I say, my voice rising with anger. "Maybe I'm done trying to be what you want me to be when it's never enough for you."

My dad looks shocked by my outburst. "You don't mean that. You're just being dramatic." He shakes his head. "Look, son, I know you're upset about what happened. But you need to get over it and focus on your game. Better yet, quit hockey. It’s not your future, becoming CEO of Kensington Financial is."

I stare at him incredulously. “I’m not even gonna touch the whole CEO thing. How many times do I have to tell you I’m not studying business? I’m never going to be CEO, Dad.”

“I’ll cut you off.”

“Good. Do it.”

My dad’s eyebrows rise. “Keep pushing and I will.”

“I’m not gonna quit hockey, and I’m sure as hell not gonna get over watching my boyfriend take a hit that could’ve killed him. You don’t know me at all if you think I’d just stand there and let it happen without doing something about it. Fuck that.” I’m shaking, trembling because my blood has turned to lava in my veins and I’m a volcano on the verge of erupting.

My dad's eyes widen as he processes what I just said. "Wait, your… boyfriend? What the hell are you talking about?"

I square my shoulders. "You heard me. I'm bi and I'm dating London. And we're fucking happy. You're not going to come in here and ruin that for me. I refuse to let you."

My dad looks like he's going to be sick. "You can't be serious. This is a joke, right? I didn't raise a faggot." He glares at me. "You're not dating that... that loser from Ravenloft. I won't allow it."

"London's not a loser," I say, my voice rising with anger. "He's a better person than you'll ever be and fuck you for calling him that. And last I checked, I'm an adult. You don't get to allow shit."

My dad shakes his head. "This is ridiculous. You're just confused. You need to get your head on straight and focus on school and hockey, if you must. Those things are what you're good at, not... this." He waves his hand dismissively at me.

"I'm good at a lot of things, but apparently being a Kensington isn't one of them." If I could kill him with a look, he'd be dead at my feet. "I'm done living my life according to your rules and expectations. I'm done trying to please someone who can't be pleased."

My dad stares at me for a long moment before shaking his head. "We're going to get you help—"

"Wanting to be with a guy isn't a mental illness, Dad! What the fuck is wrong with you?" My voice is shaking with rage now. "And I'm done listening to you tell me I'm not good enough or that I'll never be what you want. I'm done with all of it."

My dad's expression hardens. "You're being selfish and you don't know what you're talking about. This... this phase of yours isn't real. It's just a distraction from what you're meant to be doing." He looks at me like I'm a stranger. "But I will not stand here and watch you throw your life away."

I shake my head. "I've never felt more alive than when I'm with London. And if you can't accept that, then fuck you. You're right. You're not going to be around to watch shit. I'm done with you."

My dad's eyes narrow. "You'll regret this, son. Don’t come back begging me to help when all of this blows up in your face." He curls his lip in disgust before he turns and walks away, leaving me standing there shaking with anger and pain.

I take a deep breath and let it out slowly before heading inside to see Coach. I can't let my dad's toxic bullshit poison my future with London. Not now, not ever.

I square my shoulders and walk into the building, ready to face whatever comes next.

And with every step, a weight lifts off my shoulders until I almost feel... free.

20

RIOT

The morning sunpeeks over the horizon, casting everything in a rare golden glow as I load up the last of our supplies. After yesterday with my dad, I feel lighter this morning. Like my future finally belongs to me.

London leans against the passenger door, sipping coffee, still looking half-asleep. His hair sticks up in tousled spikes and it makes me want to run my fingers through it and kiss him breathless.

But we have a long drive ahead, so I resist the urge. For now.

I wonder where his hat is. He looks fuck hot in it, but for whatever reason it’s missing this morning.

"Ready for our escape from reality?" I ask, shutting the trunk.

London cracks a smile, the weak sunlight catching in his hazel eyes. "Hell yeah. Lead the way, Kensington."

We jump into the car ready to start our impromptu road trip, heading for the coast to get away from the pressures of recovery, school, and secret relationships. Just London and me on the open road, leaving all the bullshit behind.

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