Page 7

Six

T hankfully, I take lunch before I have to deal with Dimitri. Knox was unpredictably pissy, beyond what I’ve come to expect of him, and Jaxon’s gaze still lingers on my body. I don’t want to deal with Dimitri quite yet.

After a few sobering breaths and some time away from the guys since I decide to go to a local restaurant and get a sub rather than chance the cafeteria, I almost feel in control of things again.

Maybe I can survive these guys being in my space. Maybe I can keep enough distance between us and push back enough until they leave me alone.

And if they do try to start shit, most of the guys on the team like me. I’ve made sure to build up my defenses. I won’t be alone like last time. I won’t be the girl who’s easy to pick on with no friends and no backup.

Jared would absolutely protect me. So would some of the other guys I’ve helped with injuries.

Mike is huge and dense. He’s a defensive lineman, which means he knows how to take hits and dole them out.

I half think the padding he wears in games is to protect whatever offensive players have to take him on because he isn’t the kind of guy anyone wants to fight singlehandedly.

Continuing to think about the guys who like me enough to invite me out to team nights at bars and pubs makes me feel better. I’m almost smiling when I finish my sandwich. Until my phone rings.

Then I just stare at the horror movie theme song.

I made sure my dad had a specific ring tone. I glare at the phone, watching it ring because I can’t deal with the idea of talking to him at all, even over a phone.

My hands start to shake at the memory of his voice, the mental image I have of him, of everything he put me through.

Dads are supposed to protect their daughters. They’re supposed to love them from a distance. They’re supposed to cherish them, help them grow, maybe scare the shit out of some boyfriends. They aren’t supposed to …

I shake my head of the thought. If I let myself slip into those memories, it will take me hours or days to pull myself out of them. So I just hit the button on the side of my phone to silence the ringing.

Dad always gets mad if I send him to voicemail.

And when he’s angry, it becomes an issue that I have to deal with.

Right now, I have enough on my plate. I can always just tell him later that I was working and I’m not allowed to have my phone.

Maybe that will curb some of his anger and let me off with a warning or just a very long tirade.

But after a minute where I’m hopeful I can escape without a call back, my phone starts ringing again.

Shit. He only calls back to back when he’s drunk.

He likes to say that I’m ungrateful, that I’d be the worst person to reach out to if he was in trouble because I never answer the phone, and that thought lingers in my head. What if it’s police telling me he’s dead? What if it’s someone telling me that they found his phone but not him?

No, it’s better to know and be able to evade him. I’ve been doing it well for the last few years. I’ve used plenty of excuses, and whether he believes me or not, it’s kept him from knowing where I live. It’s kept him from knowing where I work. It’s kept him away.

I have to keep that up.

Answering the phone, I wait for him to talk, like always.

“You’re not being very sweet, Hope,” he snarls. “Refusing to answer the phone the first time. That’s bad, and you know what happens when you’re this bad. ”

I swallow as my throat tightens. “I was at work. I stepped away to call you back.”

“ Sure you did. You’re always ungrateful, only think about what you want and need, never what I want,” he says.

Don’t think about his wants. Ignore them. Don’t think about it. Don’t let yourself slip. Stay in the present.

“When are you gonna come visit me?” he says, his words slurring together and dropping off oddly.

My whole body chills and my stomach rolls, threatening to empty everything I just ate. I stand up and start heading back to the stadium. I may hate the guys, but they’re better than the monster who’s currently drunk dialing me.

“I miss my little girl. It’s been so long since I’ve seen you… touched you… held you…” He trails off, then groans softly.

My other hand balls into a fist, but the tremble won’t stop. “We talked about this. You’re not supposed to—”

“You are the child! I’m the adult. I give you an order and you obey!” he yells. “If you’re going to keep being bad, you know what’ll happen. If you raise your voice at me, if you run, if you… fight.”

I hang up and hurry to the stadium. My surroundings swirl, and when the stadium wall is beside me, I crouch down. I put my hand on the brick of the building and the smooth concrete under my feet. I’m here. I’m not in his house. I’m not where he can reach me.

He doesn’t know where I live. He doesn’t know where I work. I have a P.O. box in another town specifically for him. Because I know that if he gets me again, there’s no stopping him. I’ve tried that already.

My stomach tightens, and I close my eyes to stop the tears and the gag that try to bubble up my throat.

I went to the cops. I told them everything my dad did. I told him that there was evidence because Jaxon outed that. Knox even confirmed it. All the police had to do was look. I showed them the bruises on my wrists, showed them my diary, but the officer didn’t even open the cover.

The officer just looked at me and snorted. “Another teenager who doesn’t want to obey her father.”

“It’s not like that,” I tried to argue.

“What’s this?” Dimitri’s dad had walked in, taken one look at me, heard me say my dad was hurting me, that when he was drunk, he was too rough and I was constantly covering bruises since I was sure they wouldn’t believe that more was happening, and he’d shook his head.

“Please. George is a good father. He might be a little rough, but he’s not a monster. ”

I’d tried to tell him, but he’d just put me in his car.

On the way home, while I’d been crying, he stopped the car. I flinched away, sure he was going to hurt me, that his son had told him I’m a slut, that I’m easy, that I like older men and never say no, but instead, Dimitri’s dad turned around and glowered at me.

“Your dad’s been through enough. After your mom left him for someone else, he had to pick himself up and take care of you. He had to take care of everything, and he’s good to my boy, to Knox, to Jaxon. I’ve heard what a good man he is and what a brat you are.”

“I’m not lying!” I’d insisted.

He’d scoffed and shook his head at me. “I’m giving you a chance to walk back in and pretend like nothing happened. Keep this up, and I’ll make sure your father knows what you’re trying to do to his reputation, his career.”

If the police wouldn’t believe me about physical abuse, who would believe me about the rest? I didn’t even bring up what the guys had done. I didn’t bring up anything but… the truth, the gentlest part, and I felt like I’d been slapped for revealing that.

If I couldn’t go to the police, there was no hope. And even though the officer had promised not to tell my dad, he had, three days later.

My father had come home from the bar and made an ‘example of me’ all night. I hadn’t been able to go to school Monday, but that hadn’t stopped him from having Jaxon and Knox over for dinner.

Neither of them had commented on my long sleeves, my heavy makeup, my silence. Jaxon hadn’t goaded me that night. Knox had mocked me whenever my dad wasn’t around. I knew that they knew. They knew everything but still made my life hell, still blamed me.

If they blamed me, if the police didn’t believe me…

The horror movie theme song blares again, bringing me to the present. It’s my father. Again. Because I’m not supposed to hang up .

I keep the side button pressed until my screen goes black and give myself another two minutes to try and calm down. I can’t let anyone on the team see me like this. I can’t let my three bullies see me like this.

If I’m weak, I’m chumming the water, just inviting those sharks to attack me, rip me to shreds, and dismantle my whole life until there’s nothing left.

I won’t be that girl again. I won’t be that girl again. None of these monsters get to take my future from me.