Page 133 of The Off-Limits Play

I shake my head. No, he doesn’t. Nobody fucking needs me.

Clenching my jaw, I place the hot chocolate on the nightstand and grab my jacket and boots.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m getting out of here.” I gather my shit, not knowing where the hell I’m gonna go but just needing to get away.

“Carson, I’m not kicking you out. You don’t have to leave.” Zander steps into my path, but I slap my hand on his chest.

It’s taking maximum effort not to shove him away from me.

“I gotta go, man.” My voice cracks, and I wince.

“Is your head clear enough to drive?”

I sniff and nod, pushing past him.

I don’t fucking know if it is. All I know is that I have to get out of this house so Sienna and Zoey can be safe.

I can’t fucking stay here and keep ruining everything.

Thumping down the stairs, I slam the front door behind me and jump onto my bike. My insides are a shaking mess, and what I really want to do is find a bar and get shitfaced again.

You’re an asshole when you drink.

I growl, revving the engine and firing out of the driveway. Swerving around the corner, I head for the highway. I have to get out of this fucking place.

So I drive like a demon, ignoring the speed limit and careening down the roads until I’m pulling up outside Dad’s prison.

It’s not visiting day, but I don’t give a shit.

I need to see my old man.

Wrenching the door open, I storm into the reception area and am greeted by the stone-faced chick who usually signs me in.

Storming up to the counter, I slap my hands down and bark, “McAvoy, Griffin. I need to see him.”

She sighs and gets up from her chair. “It’s not visiting day, kid.”

“I don’t give a shit. Make an exception, please. He’s my dad. I gotta see him.”

Her hard gaze softens, her eyes taking on this look I don’t want to decipher as I rest my head on the plexiglass separating us and wonder how hard I’m gonna have to beg.

“Carson.” As soon as she says my name like that, I know I’ve fucking lost.

“Please,” I grit out. “Just let me?—”

“Even if it was visiting day, he doesn’t want you here.”

My head pings back, my eyes flicking to her as I growl, “That’s bullshit!”

With a soft sigh, she rests her hand next to mine. “He’s requested no more visits from you.”

“But I’m his son!”

“I know.” She blinks, looking kind of sad. “But it’s his right to choose who he sees. And he doesn’t want you coming here anymore.”

I back away from the counter, still shaking my head.

---