Page 55 of One More Time

The mention of last year triggered a pang of unease. After a particularly hard set of exams, Kinsley and I drowned our sorrows in alcohol which led to some pretty reckless behavior. I could still hear my father shouting about how we disrespected him in his own home.

“Yes, sir.” He signed off, sending me the details of the event in a detailed email.

Though it nearly killed me, I chose not to return to Tyler’s bedroom. I wanted to avoid those prying eyes that could read my expression. He’d only pry for more information, and I wasn’t sure I could keep it from him. Conflicted about my connection with Tyler, I knew I had to distance myself with the upcoming events. Tyler occupied every corner of my mind, yet I needed to withdraw.

I needed to protect him.

Choosing between avoiding Tyler and playing puppet for my dad was like a game of Pick Your Poison. The whole soiree was happening in some posh gentleman’s club, a space filled with people who probably voted against everything I was. They were all smiles and laughter, pretending everything was hunky-dory under my dad’s scrutinizing gaze. But he was keeping his word—Kinsley’s dad stayed put, thanks to some prison brawl. Kinsley’s ecstatic call was the silver lining in this unrelenting thunderstorm.

In the middle of it all, was Mr. Nolan White, with his slimy, veneered smile shining under the lights. It’s the kind of smile that lures you in, only to chew you up and spit you out. The rumors trailing behind him are as nasty as the smell in a high school boys’ locker room.

“So, your dad says you’re off to Harvard to finish your undergrad?” he asked, his eyes gleaming with some twisted power trip. I was half-tempted to dial child protective services or find someone who would. But before I could fire back, my dad slapped his hefty hand on my shoulder. I’ve always wondered if letting me play hockey was his way of justifying the bruises.

“Why didn’t you start there in the first place?”

My immediate response was an eye roll, but before I could say anything smart back, my dad butted in. His grip on my shoulder made it clear that there was no escape. Our unspoken family dynamics lingered beneath the surface, hidden behind forced smiles and polite small talk.

“I wanted him to get this little hobby out of his system while he studied. His university was the best hockey team in Boston, but they also do a lot for our firm.”

Nolan gave a knowing smile. “Of course, let him get all the rough and tumble out. I do follow your team; quite a season minus that one game.”

I nodded, not wanting to cue him in as to why we had a blip in our winning streak.

“That young Aussie was quite some player.“

The mention of him had me tightening my fists involuntarily. Before I could tell that fool to keep my Aussie’s name out of his mouth, Dad dug his fingers into my shoulder so hard I winced.

“He is,” I replied, hoping that he’d drop the topic and my father would ease his grip.

“What’s he like to play with? Is it true what they say about Australians?”

“Just like any other player, sir. Good at what he does, has something to prove,” I deflected. Nolan, having decided he wasn’t going to get the gossip he was after, politely excused himself from our presence.

I’d hoped my father’s grip on my shoulder would relent with Nolan’s departure, but each finger left its mark. I was already calculating how to hide these bruises from the team—especially Tyler.

“Next time, I expect you to keep the topic off hockey, you hear?”

My instinct was to spit back, but what was the point? This was a gentleman’s club, where they talked business, sport, and women. It just so happened that I played a sport popular in the state of Boston. But I decided it was better to hold my tongue.

“Yes, Sir,” I relented, another piece of my soul chipping away as I let my father walk over me again.

The feeling of my phone buzzing made me jump. The heavy sigh behind me revealed my father’s displeasure with the interruption.

“Take that and then turn it off,” he instructed. I nodded and scurried away into the dark hallway, pulling out my phone to see Kinsley’s name.

“Hey, I’m kind of busy. Is everything okay?”

“Well, I was calling to ask you that. You’ve been MIA for weeks. The last time I heard from you was when I called about Dad—way before midterms. One would think you’re avoiding me.”

I sighed, instinctively reaching to comb my hand through my hair. But just as quickly as they grasped the roots, I pulled them away, mindful of where I was. My father’s potential reaction to my disheveled appearance echoed in my head. “Gotta keep up appearances, Hunter.”

“I’ve been busy with training and midterms, that’s all. Everything is fine. Can I call you later? I’m out at the moment,” I attempted to keep my voice light and nonchalant, but Kinsley knew better.

“Hunter, where are you?”

I hesitated, not wanting to add any stress to her plate. I loved Kinsley, but sometimes she could be a bit overreactive. I didn’t need that right now.

“At an event with my father. It’s completely voluntary, and there are people from the firm here I need to know for when the time comes,” I fabricated, cursing myself for the silly lie. She gasped, and it was all I could do not to pull at my own hair.

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