But I don’t want to think about such things here, in this fucking house, and certainly not in front of my mother.
“I’m doing what I want,” I bite. “Because it’s my life, Mom. Not yours.”
Maybe this,” she says, sounding defeated. “Maybe this is your sign to quit hockey and dosomethingbetter with your life other than—” She breathes a heavy sigh. “Maybe it’s time to grow up, Alex.”
Grow up.
I shake my head. She acts like I’m still a teenager despite the fact I’ve been on my own since I was twenty-one.
Everything I have is because of me—not them. Sure, I got my trust when I was twenty-one, and I used a good bit to buy my house and fix it up. Part of me wishes I could stay there, but when I asked my mother if she’d stay with me, in my house, because the doctors say I should be with someone during this process, it was a resounding no. Aside from my house and a few investments, I haven’t spent a dime of the money I got from them. I live off my Rioters salary. I grit my teeth, my jaw tensing.
I left Ashbourne so I could live out my dream and build a life onmyterms. Is my life perfect? No. But it’s mine and I do whatever the fuck I want. If that isn’t grown up, I don't know what is.
“You know what? I’m not doing this right now,” I say, grimacing as I hobble my way towards the door. I grab my keys from the bowl on the foyer table.
“Where are you going?” she shouts.
“Not here,” I say as I unlock my car.
“If you are staying in this house, Alex, you will abide by our rules. And I need to know where you are going.”
I shake my head. I hate rules. Especially theirs. Especially because I’m an adult and I don’t need to be here. I should be with someone, but it doesn’t have to be her. And at the end of the day, I don’tneedto be with someone. It’s not like the doctors are calling to check up. But if I do something to make my knee worse…
“Oh, don’t worry, Mom, I’m just going to find an orgy to work out my stress,” I hiss. “Then maybe I’ll stop for a quick hit of cocaine and finish up the morning with a nice little joyride.”
My sarcasm is thick, but I’m not stupid. I know that’s exactly what she thinks I do.
I don’t have the best track record, and there have been a couple crazy stories since I joined the Rioters that made the paper. Like my bike crash and all the steamy rumors that fester about me. I’m not an idiot, I know what people say. I’ve always known, and that’s part of the problem. It’s easier to be who they think I am rather than prove I’m someone else. Moving to the Rioters didn’t make a difference there. Especially when Vance is known for his partying antics and he took me under his wing. That man can drink like no one’s business, and I’ve blacked out more than once when with him.
Because he likes you best when you’re not all there.
I shove the thought down.
“This conversation isn’t over, Alex,” Mom says, standing on the porch, arms crossed, her hair stiff as a board.
I don’t bother answering as I pull out of the driveway and just… drive.
My mother is like a dog with a bone, and her favorite fixation is my life. Which is why I’m grateful to be living states away from her.
I miss Austen, of course, but my parents can go pound salt. I don’t hate them, but they didn’t, and still don’t, make my life easy. I’m sure they’d say the same about me. That’s how I ended up playing hockey in the first place. My dad thought it would help me learn discipline and teamwork. That maybe some other man yelling at me would kick my ass into gear and suddenly I’d listen and obey him.
He was right, I guess. In a way. About the hockey, and about some other man yelling at me.
Vance’s voice echoes in my brain at the thought.
You will obey me.
Who’s your daddy now, slut?
Don’t you want to please me?
I shove the thoughts aside, not wanting to go down that road, but six years is a long time. Vance’s wicked voice is part of my blood at this point.
I drive until I find myself parking at the shopping district in downtown Ashbourne. Maybe some retail therapy is what I need. My leg hurts like hell, no doubt from the exercises yesterday, even though they were minimal.
This has to be the worst welcome home ever. Not only did my PT suck, my therapist wasn’t even hot. And not to mention, there’s the whole run-in with Mack the other day at Bella’s.
I sigh as I get out of the car, taking it easy on my leg as I walk slowly towards the first gift shop I see, if only because I need to blow off some steam.
