I almost don't answer. But I know if I don't, he'll just keep calling.
"Hey, Dad."
"Did you meet with your coach?"
"Yeah. Just finished."
"And?"
"Probation. Community service. One more screw-up, and I'm benched."
"I told you this would happen. I warned you that the girl would ruin your life, but you wouldn't listen. You never listen."
"Dad, it wasn’t her. It was me. Stop blaming her."
“Figure it out, Declan. I told you, I’m done with you. You screw this up, and you are on your own.”
He ends the call. I head to class feeling every eye on me. I can’t seem to make the right choices lately.
Is it Sutton? Am I allowing myself to get caught up?
The breakup was for the best. I just need to accept it.
Chapter Ten
SUTTON
Ican feel their eyes on me as I walk across campus on Monday morning.
I slide into my seat in the back of my seminar and pull out my laptop, hoping that looking busy will discourage anyone from approaching me.
The professor starts talking, but I can't focus. My phone keeps buzzing in my bag. People keep tagging me on social media. I don’t know why. Like the first hundred tags weren’t enough? I was there. I don’t need to relive it.
This is exactly what I was trying to avoid. The drama. The attention. The feeling that everyone on campus has an opinion about my life.
I make it through the class relatively unscathed, but as soon as I step into the hallway, I see them. The stares. Some sympathetic, some judgmental, all of them making my skin crawl.
I practically run to my next class.
By lunch, I'm exhausted—not from the coursework, but from the constant scrutiny. I grab a sandwich from the campus caféand eat it in my car, parked in the far corner of the lot where no one will find me.
My phone rings. It's my dad. He rarely calls me during the week.
"Hey, Dad."
"Hey, kiddo. How are classes going?"
"Fine. Good. What’s up?"
"I'm in the area," he says finally. "Thought I'd swing by and take you to dinner. You free tonight?"
In the area. Right. My dad lives two hours away and never comes to Avalon unless there's a game. He heard about Saturday.
"Dad, I’m fine. It’s over. You don’t need to drive over here."
"I'm already here. Text me your address."
He hangs up before I can argue.
