Page 136 of Dirty Pucker

He screams in agony. I don’t care. He deserves this.

He takes a swing at me, but he’s so drunk and uncoordinated and slow that I have time to lean away. I land a punch to his face. He grunts as the side of his face hits the concrete.

Blood pools at the corner of his mouth. He winces, groaning.

I grab the collar of his shirt and pull his face close to mine. And that’s when I see something I’ve never, ever seen before in my dad’s eyes.

Fear.

He’s scared of me.

We’re the same height now, but he’s older. More frail. I’m bigger and stronger. I could finish him right here, right now. And he knows it.

I look him in the eye. “This ends now. If you come after her again, I’ll kill you. If you try to go after Dakota, I’ll kill you. Stay away from us.”

I drop him onto the concrete and stand up. Behind me, I hear a car door open. I spin around and see my mom, gazing up at me with tears in her eyes.

Something inside of me breaks seeing that terror and agony in her eyes.

I hug her. A second later, Theo, Xander, and Blomdahl jog up to me.

“You okay?” Xander asks.

I nod. Two police cars pull up. Officers hop out and run up to my dad, who’s still writhing on the ground.

And that’s when I finally see what’s happening around me.

Almost every person who’s in their car at this crowded intersection has their phone out, filming this shitshow. They filmed me beating up my dad. They’re filming me comforting my mom now. They’re filming the police too.

The car behind us rolls their window down. A guy sticks his head out. “Hey. Don’t you guys play for the Bashers?”

My teammates turn and look at him.

Blomdahl rubs the back of his neck, frowning. “Uh, yeah.”

The guy smacks his hand against the side of his car door. “Oh damn! I knew that was you guys. Congrats on the win tonight!”

“Uh, thanks,” we all mumble.

Just then my dad, who’s still lying on the ground, starts pointing at me, screaming that I attacked him.

One of the police officers walks up to me. My mom steps out of my hold and looks at me. “He’s lying. That man is my ex-husband and I have a restraining order against him. He was trying to run me off the road.”

The officer looks between all of us, a deep frown etched on his face.

“My son was just trying to protect me,” my mom says.

The officer turns to me. “Did you hit that man and threaten him?” he asks.

I could lie. I could try to explain what happened. But it wouldn’t matter. A dozen people filmed what I did on their phones. It’s going to come out soon enough.

When I glance around, everyone is still filming us.

Footage of me getting arrested, of me beating up my dad, is going to be all over social media and sports news. My standing with the team will be in question. I could lose my career over this.

Dread and worry crash through me. This is so, so bad.

But I can’t escape it. I have to accept what I did.

---