Page 8 of The Pucking Wrong Rookie

I barely made it back to my room before the panic hit. My legs felt like jelly as I shut the door behind me, the sound of the latch clicking echoing in my ears. I stumbled toward the bed, my chest tightening. Maybe I should have expected this, but it felt like I’d just gotten here, and I was still getting my feet under me. Like I was still trying to dig out of a hole created by years of poverty and a spotty education. He’d never mentioned this once, that I would have to move out. What happened to this being myhome?

Eighteen. Out. On my own.

The words swirled in my head, overlapping with memories I hadn’t let myself think about in years. The tiny apartment with peeling paint and a refrigerator that barely worked. The foster homes with their cold beds and even colder rules. The times I’d gone to school wearing the same clothes for a week because there wasn’t anything else. The days I hadn’t eaten a single meal.

I clutched the edge of the bed, my fingers digging into the comforter as my vision blurred. I’d thought I’d escaped that life. I’d assumed that Everett’s house, with its countless rooms and glittering chandeliers, was my fresh start. But now…now it felt like the rug was being ripped out from under me, and I was falling back into the life I’d barely survived.

I’d be alone again. Even with Everett working all the time, I’d still had someone around. I’d had a family, even if it was small.

Pressing my hands to my chest, I tried to force the air back into my lungs. My breaths were fast, shallow and sharp. My mind was racing, a flood of worst-case scenarios crashing over me. What if I couldn’t find a job? What if I lost everything I’d been given and ended up right back where I started?

The room felt too small, the walls suddenly closing in. I sank to the floor, my back against the bed, and pulled my knees to my chest, trying to stop the trembling. The panic gripped me tight, refusing to let go, until I couldn’t tell if I was crying or gasping for air or both.

I pressed my forehead to my knees, squeezing my eyes shut.This can’t happen.I can’t go back.I can’t.

But no matter how hard I tried to push the fear away, it lingered, clawing at the edges of my mind, whispering that everything I had now was temporary. That I was just a visitor in this life, and soon, I’d be thrown out into the cold.

Again.

* * *

Eighteen.

It was my eighteenth birthday, and I’d woken up feeling like I’d reached my death sentencing day. Celebrating at the enormous birthday party my uncle was throwing me felt like celebrating the end of my life instead.

The grounds around the estate were alive with music and laughter, the kind of noise that should’ve made me feel like I was at the center of something spectacular. Balloons floated in clusters, tied with silver and gold ribbons, glittering under the chandeliers. There were tables stacked with foods I couldn’t even name and a massive cake that looked like it had been plucked straight out of a magazine. It was everything anyone could dream of for their eighteenth birthday.

But I wasn’t really there.

I smiled when someone called my name, nodding at their comments and laughing at jokes I didn’t hear. I accepted every hug and compliment like I was on autopilot. The noise around me blurred into a hum as my mind kept drifting to the conversation with Everett. His words looped in my head like a broken record.

You’ll be on your own.

I stood near the edge of the room, watching as my school friends crowded near the DJ, dancing and taking selfies. They looked so carefree, like they didn’t have a single worry in the world. I envied them at that moment, the ease with which they threw themselves into the night. Their futures were probably mapped out with scholarships, internships, and safety nets. They didn’t know what it felt like to be standing on the edge of a cliff, staring down into uncertainty.

“Sloane, this party isinsane,” Marissa gushed, pulling me into a quick hug. She smelled like expensive perfume, and her sequined dress sparkled as she moved. “Seriously, this is the best party I’ve ever been to.”

“Thanks,” I said, forcing a smile. “I’m glad you’re having fun.”

“You’re not?” she teased, tilting her head. “It’s your night!”

“I am,” I lied, my cheeks aching from the effort. “Of course, I am.”

She didn’t seem to notice my hesitation, her attention already pulled toward the tray of drinks being passed around. I’d learned since moving here that underage drinking was an acceptable part of rich people’s lives, and there were bars set up all around the room tonight.

Letting out a slow breath, I glanced at everything again, trying to see it from Marissa’s perspective. The decorations were perfect. The music was perfect. Everyone was having the time of their lives.

Everyone except me.

I wandered outside to the patio, needing a moment to breathe. The pool glowed under the soft lights, filled with people swimming and drinking. Voices and laughter were everywhere. Leaning against the railing, I stared out at the manicured lawn.

What was I supposed to do? I’d spent the last couple of years convincing myself that Everett’s house, his resources, had changed my life. That I’d left the chaos and uncertainty behind. I spent the last few years convincing myself I was safe…that I had a home.

But now, it felt like I was about to lose everything all over again.

“Sloane!” someone called from behind me. I turned to see one of my friends waving me over, a wide grin on her face. “Come take pictures with us!”

“Be right there,” I called back, forcing another smile.

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