Page 199 of Hard Pass

The gravel crunches beneath my boots as I walk toward the house, and every step feels heavier than the last. By the time I reach the porch, my pulse is pounding so hard I can hear it in my ears.

I desperately want to turn around.

I knock.

There’s shuffling inside and then the door swings open. My mom freezes.

“Cole?” Her eyes widen in surprise. “Honey, what are you doing here?”

She looks older than the last time I saw her. Smaller somehow too.

“I could ask the same of you,” I say, the disappointment in my voice causing her to blanche.

“It’s not as easy as—”

“I need to talk to Dad,” I say, not wanting to hear the same excuses I’ve heard her make before. The same ones I’ve probably made myself.

But that stops here. That stops now.

I can’t help her when she doesn’t want to be helped. Doc Hawley’s patience with me unknowingly taught me that.

“Dad?” I repeat before I lose my courage.

Concern flickers instantly across her face. Not confusion. Concern. Which tells me she already knows why I’m here. Or maybe she’s always known this was coming.

“Uh . . .” She glances over her shoulder. “Okay.”

She steps aside and lets me in. The smells hit me first—stale coffee and cheap laundry detergent. That hasn’t changed. Neither has what it looks like. The recliner has been moved but is still the same. Family photos are on the wall above it, like proof that we’re some happy fucking family.

I look up and my dad’s standing in the hallway, his face scrunching as he looks at me. “What the hell are you doing here?” he asks. “Shouldn’t you be at practice?”

Fucking hell.

“It’s a bye week. I have the day off, but I can manage my own schedule, thanks,” I say as he raises his eyebrows. “I came to talk.”

“About?” he asks.

“Maybe I should—”

“No, Mom. You should stay.”

Dad scoffs. “Jesus Christ. What is this? An intervention or some shit?”

“No,” I say evenly, the trembling of my hand betraying the confidence in my voice. “This is me finally saying something.”

I’m met with silence. My mom wraps her arms around herself. My dad crosses his. Defensively.

“Okay,” he says slowly. “Say it.”

I stare at him for a long moment. At the man I spent my whole life trying to impress. Suddenly all I can think of is how fucking exhausting that’s been.

“You screwed me up.” Not a good start, but at least it’s one.

My dad laughs once like I can’t possibly be serious. “Oh, here we go.”

“No. You don’t get to do that,” I snap.

His face transforms immediately from amused to angry. “Show some respect and watch your tone.”