Page 135 of Sweet Venom
Wait. He has, right? From Julian or his dad?
Hopefully, his mom?
She must’ve cherished the actual child who survived, right?
“Do you also tell yourself that?” he asks.
“Tell myself what?”
“That it was so hard growing up with a mother who only belittled you and made you feel worthless?”
“My mom was different.” My fingers shake on the cup. “She was a gorgeous socialite, but pregnancy killed her lifestyle, and she had no one to rely on, so she had to sell her body to feed me.”
“How is that any of your fault? Did you choose to be born? Because if you did, you sure as hell wouldn’t have chosen to be a degenerate, narcissistic woman’s daughter. Don’t make excuses for her.”
“I’m not. She did me wrong on too many levels that I’m slowly unpacking.”Like how sex is meaningless, and I shouldn’t get attached.
Last night was the first time in my life I’ve enjoyedpenetrative sex and didn’t have images of my mom lying like a lifeless doll as all sorts of men rammed inside her.
“But?” He tops off my orange juice glass.
“But she was my only family, so yeah, it kind of hurt not to be loved by your only family, you know.”God, why am I even telling him this?
Maybe because he opened up about his own mother, and I got to see the human side of him in full-blown colors.
Maybe it’s because this is the first time we’ve actually sat down and talked, and I feel oddly comfortable around him.
Jude rolls the black ring on his index finger and his next words hit me in the chest. “You don’t need that type of love, even if it’s from your only family.”
27
JUDE
The crowd’s roar pierces my ears as Preston skates toward me and hits me on the shoulder.
“Nice block, big man!”
Kane pats me on the helmet as I cross my stick with other players’.
Our crowd is going wild, cheering and banging on the boards. It’s understandable, given the way we turned the game around. We were behind against the Knights, mostly because I was sent to the penalty box and they had an effective power play.
What? Number 16 hit Preston, so I had to break his legs. I didn’t manage to actually do that and just flattened him against the ice, and so I found my way back to the annoying box.
Coach Slater was screaming his head off, but I don’t really give a fuck about that, since the main reason I’m here is for the violence anyway.
Hockey has always tamed the raging demons inside me and given me a venting outlet. I’ve been into impact sports since I was young because I could feel the aggression fading away with each blow.
Crunching bones, delivering punches, and sporting bruises all over.
Violence.
A way to fucking feel.
Of all of the sports I tried, hockey is the one that came out on top, and it turns out that I have an innate talent, according to all the hotshot coaches I’ve had. They tried to tame that talent, sculpt it into some boring technical prowess like with Kane and Preston, who I dragged into this, but, really, my unhinged side is what makes Callahan #71.
The beast Callahan.
The ‘watch out for your career if you’re up against him’ Callahan.
