Page 82 of The Alternate Captain
“How do you feel about a do-over?” she asks.
“Johnny and I broke up,” I say, trying to keep my voice level. “So, thanks, but no thanks.”
“You’re kidding?”
“No. But it’s fine. I don’t have time for a boyfriend, anyway,” I say.
“If you’re putting all your effort into your music, then I get it, but you and Johnny—I wish Lyla looked at me the way he looks at you, Kel.”
She sounds so enthusiastic; it makes me sick.
“We weren’t meant to be,” I say.
“What happened?” she asks.
“We weren’t in the right place.”
There’s silence on the other end of the line for a moment before Charlotte talks again.
“I call bullshit, but whatever. I think you guys were perfect together. Most couples never find that level of chemistry.”
I let her talk at me for a few moments before hanging up, with the promise that I’ll call her soon, but as soon as I take a breath, the tears come, and I’m mourning a relationship that never really existed.
My dad calls asI’m finishing up with the barber and I answer after the first ring, shocked to feel excited to speak to him since it’s been a while.
“Johnathan. How are things?”
“Not bad, thanks. You?”
He ignores my question and presses on with the real reason for his call. Safe to say I’m no longer enthused to be speaking with him.
“Dinner plans. I’ll give Liam Preston a call, see if he can join us.”
I furrow my brow. “You realise Vicky and him broke up, right?”
He avoids that, too. “Jayne is really looking forward to meeting you all. Her son plays junior hockey, you know. He’s got lots of potential. Same barn you used to go to. I think this kid has the ability to go big, Johnathan. Like the twins did.”
The sinking feeling that sits in my stomach tightens.
Like the twins did.
“Well, if I can offer him any pointers, I’m more than happy to—”
He cuts me off. “Maybe Ryan can give him some advice.”
“Right.”
“And I’m proud of him. I mean, he works hard, and he listens. Honestly, I can’t wait for you to meet him.” Like a knife in the chest, Dad’s words hurt probably as much now as they did when I was a kid. And now he’s proud of someone else’s child, but not his own. Fucking brilliant.
“I need to get going. I’ve got something—”
“Before you go, son. Can you arrange tickets for the game on Saturday? Thanks.”
The reminder that I’m a disappointment, a failure, seeps into me, and I fight an inner battle with myself as soon as he hangs up.
All I ever wanted was for my dad to be proud of me.
A heat rises through my muscles, sitting heavy on my chest. I get back to my car, slide into the driver’s seat, and count to ten. Attempting to feel every part of my body, concentrating on each of my limbs—trying to ground myself.
