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“Like hell I will!” My voice cracks, loud and raw. “What’s going on? What’d you do?”

“Not here.” His tone sharpens, his eyes cutting through me. “Go back.”

“No!” My voice is breathless. “What the fuck is happening?”

The taller cop sighs, clearly annoyed. “Mr. Grayson is being taken in for questioning. That’s all we can say right now.”

“Questioning for what?” I snap.

“Step back,” the shorter one warns again, his voice colder now.

Dad leans in, his voice dropping low. “Eli. This isn’t the place.”

“Where the hellisthe place, huh?” My throat tightens, but I keep talking. “You’re being dragged out in cuffs! In front of everyone! At my fucking game!”

His jaw ticks, but he doesn’t answer.

The cops start moving again, dragging him with them.

“Wait!” I grab at his arm, but the taller one shoves me back.

“That’s enough!”

I stumble but catch myself, my vision tunneling.

“Dad!”

He doesn’t look back this time.

The cold air hits me as I burst out of the arena, chasing after them. The squad car is parked right at the curb, lights flashing. People are gathering, murmuring. I shove through them, not caring who I knock into.

My dad stops, turning just as the cop opens the car door. His face is hard, but his eyes are tired.

“You’ve got a game to finish,” he says quietly.

“Fuck the game!” My voice cracks. “You’re all I have! Are you going away for a long time?”

When his gaze softens, it feels like this is the last time I’m going to see him. My eyes narrow, unable to sift through these thick emotions coursing through me. After everything that happened with Mom, and now this? I knew he was a manipulative asshole, but I underestimated how much.

The cop nudges him forward. “Time to go.”

Dad ducks into the car without another word. It’s almost an answer. The way he can’t meet my eyes, the way he’s staring forward too prideful to admit his current shame, and the way I’m left in the dark just like with everything.

I stand here, frozen. The car pulls away, the red and blue lights spinning, and I’m left in the middle of the chaos, people staring, whispering, and recording.

“Eli!” Logan’s voice cuts through the noise. He jogs up, still in full gear, his face twisted in confusion. “Dude, what the hell just happened?”

I don’t answer. My jaw clenches as I look at the night sky. This is some sick fucking joke from the universe or God himself, isn’t it? First my mom leaves me in this shitty lifetime, now my dad will be behind bars for who knows how long. What’s next? It better not be hockey because then I’ll start murdering motherfuckers.

I turn and head back inside, ignoring the questions, the looks, the coach’s furious shouting.

Because I don’t give a shit about this game right now. My dad’s in cuffs, and I need answers.

I rip off my gear like it’s on fire, slamming each piece into the duffel. My hands are shaking so bad I almost miss the zipper. My jersey’s stuck halfway over my head, and I yank it so hard I hear the seam pop. Whatever.

Logan lingers at the locker room door. “Dude, you’re really leaving? Coach is gonna lose his shit. He has you covered for second period, but he’s gonna expect you get back out there.”

“Let him lose his shit,” I snap, slinging the bag over my shoulder. “I don’t care.”