Page 68 of The Vengeance You Crave

My fists curl, my short nails digging into my palms as my heart pounds dangerously fast in my chest.

"What I think we should do is—"

"No," I blurt, ensuring his eyebrows shoot up to his hairline.

"N-no?"

"Yeah, no. I'm fed up with having my life dictated by you." I push to stand, unable to confess this and not at least attempt to expel the adrenaline coursing around my body.

"But you want the NFL, you want the life I had," he says, looking genuinely confused that there's even a chance that I don't want that.

"That's whatyouwant, Dad. You're trying to relive your lost career through me and I'm exhausted. Honestly, I don't even know if I want to play again after last season." It's not a lie. It's a thought that’s almost been on repeat since walking off that field for the final time last season.

Giving up everything has been a pretty consistent thought, to be honest.

It's not just football. It's Leon, Letty, Kane. Everything.

The only thing that makes it seem achievable is her. And that's so many shades of fucked up, I don't even know where to start with it.

"You what?" he roars, suddenly jumping from the couch and coming to stand in front of me, forcing me to stop pacing. "You don't get to quit this, Luca. Dunns don't quit."

"You might not, but I'm balancing on the edge of doing just that right now."

"No, I haven't worked this hard for you to just throw it all away," he booms, the muscle I'm more than used to pulsating in his temple with his anger.

"Yeah, that's just it though. It's not about you. This is about me, about my life."

"No, Luca. It's about the future, your career, your success."

"And what if I don't want to succeed, huh? What if I don't want any of this?" I throw my hands up in frustration. "What if I never wanted any of this?"

Before he gets a chance to respond with some bullshit that I already know is going to add gasoline to my already raging inferno, I storm from the room.

Leon is standing right outside, probably enjoying himself listening to the kind of bullshit Dad never spits at him.

"Did you enjoy that?" I ask, slamming my palms down on his chest, forcing him to stumble back against the wall.

All the air rushes from his lungs as he connects with the wall but he makes no move to fight back. Whatever he sees in my eyes stops him.

"Did you really mean that? You want to give it all up?" he asks, sounding genuinely concerned, unlike our father who doesn't give two shits about how I really feel.

"I don't know. I don't fucking know anything anymore."

Ripping my eyes from his, I storm down the hallway toward the front door.

"Luca," he calls before I slam the door behind me and disappear.

"What?" I bark.

"Please, don't take this out on her."

"Get your nose out of my business, Lee. You don't know what you're talking about."

The door slams behind me, cutting off whatever response he might have had to that. I know what I said, but Lee is the only person in my life—aside from Peyton—who has ever had any clue. I fear he might have more of an idea about what I'm going through right now than he lets on.

I don't leave town this time, instead, after driving aimlessly for over an hour in an attempt to calm down, I find myself pulling into the parking lot behind The Locker Room.

Leon's parting words about not taking it out on her ring out in my head, but she's the only thing right now that makes sense. She's the only one who will calm whatever the fucked up shit is in my head.