“Lane didn’t drink—I did. I’m the one who had a bottle of tequila in my bag. I’m the one who took my seatbelt off and was acting stupid. Lane was trying to put it back on me, that’s probably when he swerved.”
Dad stands, mouth open, hands on his hips. Not sure where to go.
“I’m the one who should be in trouble.” My voice comes out quieter this time.
“Well, I don’t have a team to suspend you from.” He shifts his weight. “Listen, I don’t know what’s going on with you. But you and I both know this isn’t the first time he’s done something like this.”
It’s all going to come back to that night.
This isn’t my story to tell. Not my secret to expose, even if it changes Lane’s narrative.
“Dad, you have no idea what actually happened that night. No one does. If it was my thing to tell, I would. But, youknowLane. You have good men on your team. Why can’t you give him the benefit of the doubt?”
He walks to the front of the desk, leaning back on it and taking me in. “I am. That’s why I’m suspending him and not removing him from the team. And if Lane has something different to say about that night, he’s never shared it with me.”
“Why would he? You just showed that you expected the worst of him.” It’s more pointed than I mean.
It’s followed with heavy silence weighing the room down.
“Watch it.” He points his finger at me and his voice is low and firm. “Plus, there’s you… I’ve been very clear with my rules about you dating anyone on the team.”
Lane and me.
I glare at my father. “You’re really going to punish Lane for making sure I was safe?”
“I can’t act like this didn’t happen. Otherwise, how will he learn?”
“Right—how will he learn to make sure someone he cares about isn’t taking open drinks at a random ass party? Or doesn’t get too close to the water when she’s been drinking? Or won’t let her drive home? Consequences must be paid.” I can’t help the sarcasm mixed with anger.
My dad looks around the room, jaw flexed. “What is going on with you?”
“More than you know. I’m a walking cliché—the girl who demanded control until something she couldn’t keep her hands around throws everything off track.”
His face softens. “What things?”
This version of my dad is the one I’d hoped Lane would see. The one who listens. Who isn’t quick to judge. Who believes the best in people who have shown their true colors. Maybe I make the stakes too high or something, but that’s the part that hurts.
“Normal things that college students go through. I’ve tried to be one step ahead and it’s worked up to this point. But has it really? I’ve been anxious and stressed and chasing something that doesn’t exist.”
I know he wants me to give details. Examples. The full story. I just don’t have it in me right now.
My shoulders relax in defeat when I realize the damage has already been done.
“Last night is an example of that. You know what you’re doing with the suspension. He probably won’t be able to come back from this.”
“We don’t know that,” he says as a last-ditch effort.
My hands on the door as I end the conversation with, “Whatever you say, Dad.”
IknockonLane’sdoor and it feels like I shouldn’t be here. I swear, I hear him moving around inside, but he doesn’t come to the door.
“Lane?” I hate how my voice sounds. I knock again.
The silence is heavy and the cold from the lake makes me shiver.
I’m about to turn around when the deadbolt clicks. The door opens just enough for him to stand there. When I get a glance of him, he looksawful. Dark bags sit under his eyes, his skin is pale, his eyelids heavy. His hair’s a mess, like he’s run his fingers through it after a sweaty gym session.
He doesn’t look at me, but looks down at where I stand.
